#- I say playing Girl From Mars for the third time in an hour

[kochanski]

Study Buddy

Rimmer/Lister, rated E, no content warnings apply. Pre-accident fic. Rimmer is trying to study for his astro-navigation exams. Lister decides to distract him. (This is a repost so you can read while AO3 is down/for further archival purposes.)

"I haven't even said anything yet!" What a way to walk in the door on a Saturday morning. Lister only had a few hours to crash and recover from last night's drunken tomfoolery so he'd be prepared for tonight's drunken tomfoolery, and his roommate had carpeted the bunkroom in a colorful patchwork of neon squares. "What's all this?"

"Forget it, Lister."

"You know what they are," Rimmer hissed from the eye of the storm. "They're my revision timetables, and I was trying to organize them before you bungled into the room and destroyed an entire seven percent of all my hard work!"

Lister looked down. He'd stepped on one of the hundreds of papers Rimmer had strewn about the place.

"I thought you just failed the last exam. Don't you have months before you can retake it?"

"Exactly! I only have five months, twenty-eight days and three hours, so I have to organize my study time effectively or I'll never pass."

"Or," Lister offered, hesitant to even bring it up, "you could come out with me tonight. Me and the guys. Blow off some steam, y'know, maybe even take Kochanski's advice to heart and get laid."

"By who?" Rimmer snorted, gesturing at himself. "You've said it yourself- I have a snowball's chance of finding someone who'll put up with this."

"C'mon, man, you're not bad-looking. Just put on a short-sleeved shirt and keep your mouth shut."

"No thank you," Rimmer said. "Despite your best efforts to undermine me, Lister, I actually happen to have life goals that don't involve notches in my bedpost or setting the record for how many peanuts I can stick up my nose."

"I dunno, I think you could beat me at that second one by a long shot," Lister snickered, but he started towards his bunk, trying to tiptoe between the mess of paper and highlighters with little success. "You could do a lot of things if you just took a break from endless revisions and locking yourself in stasis."

"Forget it, Lister," he repeated. "Nothing you say or do can distract me. Go to bed."

Lister paused mid-tiptoe.

"Nothing?"

"Absolutely nothing."

"So anything I do, you're just going to keep on drawing squares with those stupid markers?"

"Yes!" He crossed his arms, nostrils flaring. "What don't you get about the concept? I am mentally shutting out everything and everyone that isn't a revision timetable, because I have to get this done today."

"Alright," Lister smirked, and he kicked up a cloud of pink and yellow on his way to grab his guitar.

"Very mature," Rimmer retorted, picking up the lime green and trying his best to ignore the situation.

Lister sat on Rimmer's thin mattress and twisted the knobs on the top bit of the guitar until the strings were as discordant from one another as he could make them. Rimmer wouldn't be able to tell the difference- he thought everything Lister played was trash- but might as well go the whole hog, anyway, right?

"Met me a girl, straight from Mars, and she spent all my money and broke my heart," Lister sang, savoring every last little crack in Rimmer's concentration. "Then I got me a date with a bird from Jupiter, yeah, fools rush in but I was stupider-"

It wasn't working nearly as well as he'd expected it would, though. Rimmer barely winced when he sang the verse about the bloke from Venus.

"Are you done?" he asked impassively when the song was over. "I'd like to put on some Tchaikovsky to cleanse my palette now, if you don't mind."

"What the smeg is a chai cough ski? A sport you do when you're sick in the Himalayas? D'you chug a cup of tea and try to keep it down while you're slalom-ing between the trees?" He mimed holding a pair of ski sticks and waggled his feet.

"For-get it, Lister," Rimmer said a third time, standing up and starting to walk to the locker where he kept his record collection. "I'm not dignifying your pathetic attempt at a joke with a response."

"You already have responded, though," Lister said, still unsure what exactly Rimmer had said. "I've won."

Rimmer paled and stopped in his tracks. Then, slowly, without disturbing his pile of highlighters, he silently sat back down and began furiously coloring in another of his squares.

"What? You're gonna just ignore me, then?"

No response.

"C'mon, Rimmer, I was just trying to loosen you up. You don't have to give me the silent treatment."

Nothing.

Well, Lister couldn't have that. He tossed the guitar up top and got down on the floor, peering over Rimmer's shoulder. Yeah, maybe invading his space was low-hanging fruit, but Lister'd always had stubby arms.

"Two hours for reviewing spherical trigonometry? You think that's enough?"

"Brush your teeth if you're going to talk directly into my ear," Rimmer said, but he shivered a little.

Hmm.

No, this was a horrible idea. And Lister was still clearly a bit buzzed if he was even considering it, and it seemed a bit on the cruel side as far as pranks went.

But Rimmer had said nothing would distract him. And that Lister could do absolutely anything.

"I thought you weren't s'posed to pay me any attention?" he murmured in a low voice, moving closer, so that he was sure his breath hit Rimmer's ear and neck.

"I'm not. I'm- I'm simply thinking aloud. To myself." His ears were red. "It just happens that I think you reek of watered-down beer."

"Well, you smell good, at least," Lister continued, leaning in to press his nose into Rimmer's hair. "You always smell kind of like laundry." It was a totally awkward attempt at flirting, horrible, but he was tired beyond belief. Lister's last good brain cells had gone on strike, and he was left with whatever half-witted scabs the boss had dragged up to do the job.

Not that it mattered to good old Arnie. He'd actually stopped coloring for a second, the ever-turning cogs in his head grinding to a violent halt. He leaned forward, brushing Lister away, and started scribbling like a madman.

"This is a losing game you're playing. All you're doing is making yourself look stupid and desperate. Time is of the essence, and I absolutely won't get mixed up in whatever slime-brained ideas you have about my sexuality."

"Hang on, who said anything about sexuality?" Lister grinned. "I just said you smelled nice, and then I smelled you."

"Ah, I'd forgotten, you and your Neanderthal friends think this type of behavior is normal. You all smell each other's crotches and pick fleas off one another in lieu of a hello or a handshake."

"Still just thinkin' aloud? 'Cause it sounds like you're having a conversation with me now."

"Troglodyte," Rimmer spat, and nearly put a hole in the paper with the pink highlighter.

Lister touched his back, lightly, just fingertips, and Rimmer flinched for a second but tried not to react.

"C'mon, Rimmer, relax. It's a Saturday. Saturdays are meant for lazing about and recoverin' from the long work week, not for stressing yourself out over a stupid exam that's six months from now."

Rimmer really looked like he wanted to correct Lister that it was five months and however many days and hours, but his mouth stayed shut. It was almost a shame, because normally Lister couldn't get him to be quiet for five minutes on a good day.

Lister moved his hand across Rimmer's back in soft strokes. His nose and mouth nuzzled into the corner where Rimmer's left shoulder met his neck. He could feel the skin get hotter, feel that Rimmer had forgotten how to think for a moment, the annoying marker-on-paper noise stopping entirely.

"Lister," he gasped, before remembering himself. "I- Lister! Look what you've done! Six o'clock on the fourteenth was supposed to be blue, and you've gone and made me fill it in with orange."

"Come on, Rimmer, just leave it."

"Can't you just go to bed and leave me to my misery like you normally do? Why torment me like this? Why today, of all days, when I'm doing something this important?" He sounded actually exasperated, somewhere between whining and pleading, and Lister might or might not have felt a tiny pang of guilt.

"Someone has to save you from yourself. Besides, if I went to sleep in here you'd either wake me up 'cause I was snorin' too loud, or I'd end up covered in timetable when you ran out of room on the floor." Lister wrapped his arms around Rimmer's waist from behind, leaning forward. "Just admit I've won, put the markers away, an' I'll quit bothering you. We can chalk the whole thing up to me being drunk, never speak of it again."

"No."

"No?"

Rimmer set down the highlighter and pulled Lister's arms apart, turning around to face him with this strangely calm look on his face. It was the same kind of weird serenity that usually happened right before he was about to do something insane, and Lister's stomach wrapped itself in knots.

"Lister, do you know what time it is?"

"What time is it?"

"One-thirty in the afternoon," Rimmer said in a monotone, "and according to schedule, I should have finished the timetables by one. Perhaps a few minutes I could have made up here and there, but half an hour?"

"So…"

"So I'm going to have to re-do all of it. All five months and twenty-eight days and so on. I'll have to write it all out and reschedule everything. Every last bit. And you-" Rimmer reached forward, grabbing Lister by the collar. "Help me," he choked, and it was more of a plea than the command he'd probably intended.

So Lister helped him.

He pressed his mouth squarely against Rimmer's, half-surprised when there was no resistance- but, yeah, no, Rimmer'd probably been relieved for an excuse to quit making himself miserable.

Rimmer had no clue how to kiss back, but his fist tightened around the fabric of Lister's shirt, yanking him closer, and that was good as anything. Lister broke the kiss, moving his hands up to cup Rimmer's face.

"Open your mouth," he said gently, and Rimmer opened it wide like he was at his annual checkup. "Alright, don't unhinge your jaw. Just-" He grabbed Rimmer's chin with his finger and thumb, moving his jaw upward until they were both properly positioned. It felt sort of like a movie kiss, like one of those black-and-whites, and he tried to channel Cary Grant as best he could as he pressed their lips together. He wanted this to be as perfect as possible, he thought, without really thinking about why he was doing any of it.

As Lister pushed his way into Rimmer's mouth, he was met with this little whiny sort of noise. God, he hadn't expected this to be so hot, but it was- Rimmer's whimpering in this context set all his nerve endings on fire. He stroked the side of Rimmer's face, slow, keeping rhythm. The kiss was the same way- Lister would lurch forward a bit, then pull back, scraping his teeth against Rimmer's bottom lip on his way out. If nothing else, he'd never been told he was a bad kisser. He only pulled away completely when he realized Rimmer wasn't breathing.

"You-" Rimmer panted, red-faced, letting go of Lister's shirt. He'd stretched out the neck of it beyond repair. "That isn't at all what I meant by helping."

"Well, I'm not about to spend the next ten hours doing the color-by-number from hell." Lister let his hands fall to Rimmer's shoulders. "I can think of better things to do, eh?"

"If you're asking my permission to- to have your way with me, I'm not going to just say it."

"Why not? What's the worst that can happen?"

"You're drunk."

"More hungover than anything," Lister argued, "and exhausted."

"Well, exactly. You're not in your right mind, as proven by the way you just forced yourself on me, so it's better if this doesn't go any further."

"Now hang on, that's not fair. We were both having a good time-"

"Having a good time. You thought that was good?"

"Wait, are you saying it wasn't good?"

"No, I mean- you thought it was good, you kissing me? That it was something you actually liked?"

"I don't know how to explain this, Rimmer, but you're not a hideous beast. Somebody might actually fancy you someday if you'd just let them."

"So this wasn't just a prank. You… meant to do this."

"It is a prank, but I also liked it. Smeg, it can be that simple." Lister slid his hands down from Rimmer's shoulders to his chest. "Come on. Give me a real reason we shouldn't."

"It's difficult to switch bunkroom assignments. As you well know."

"Why's that a problem?"

"Well, afterward, when you regret it, and you can't get rid of me." Rimmer said it without hesitation, in his same prim tone of disdain, like it was fact. Like it was some holy scripture somebody had carved on a rock ten thousand years ago, or some kind of scientific law everyone had memorized by primary school. E equals em cee squared. Nobody will ever like Arnold Rimmer enough to shag him twice.

It was depressing, was what it was.

"Look," Lister started, uncertain. This had all been completely impulse up to this point, and he hadn't come prepared to give Rimmer a pep talk. "We've been stuck together hating each other's guts for the better part of two years, right? What if we just tried something different for a bit?"

"Oh, like what? You can't expect me to believe you're actually, genuinely proposing-" He paled. "You are, aren't you."

"So?"

"You're just doing this because Kochanski dumped you, and she was the last woman on this ship with the unfortunate lack of self-respect to sleep with you sober."

"I dunno, you're sober, and you seemed pretty happy to have my tongue halfway down your throat a minute ago, didn't you?"

"You- I- well, who can have self-respect when they've gone and ruined their one chance at acing the exam? Anyone would feel depressed after that. You're the one taking advantage."

"Right, fine, then, I give up. I'm going to bed." Lister let go of Rimmer.

"Don't do that," he protested. "I haven't properly rejected you yet."

"Well, hurry up and pull the trigger. The bars open at four, so I only really have about two hours of good sleep before Petersen calls me up again."

"Alright, I will."

"Great," Lister said, shaking his head and pushing himself up into a squat, but in the next instant Rimmer had him flat against the floor, paper rustling beneath them. "Oh," he grinned.

"Don't say a single word."

"S'that an order?"

"I… maybe it is."

"You know I don't follow those."

"What if I make you?"

"Make me?" Lister echoed, delighted. Smeg, Rimmer was going to boss him around. How far could he push this? "You can't make me do anything. You're the second-to-last rung on the ladder."

"I'm the second technician," Rimmer insisted, "which means you're beneath me both literally and figuratively. You're a worm," he continued, moving his hands up Lister's chest, "and you should be grovelling at my feet, begging for your life like the insect you are."

He was good at this. Or maybe he earnestly believed it. Either way, whatever retort Lister had died in his throat and he nodded.

"Glad we finally understand each other." Rimmer took a deep breath, clearly trying to summon something. Courage, maybe. Or he was trying to ward off his disgust. "Er- what do I do next?"

Lister shrugged- not a single word, right- and pointed at his mouth.

"Not that again- not until you've brushed your teeth," Rimmer complained. "Somewhere else."

Lister pointed downwards.

"Oh, shut up," Rimmer said, grabbing his hands. "I'll figure it out."

He leaned forward, pushing Lister's chin back until it pointed towards the ceiling. He peppered soft kisses over Lister's neck, if you could call them that. They were less kisses and more Rimmer clumsily smushing his mouth and nose against Lister's skin, but it wasn't bad. Actually, it felt sort of nice, having Rimmer's full concentration leveled at him in a way that didn't involve yelling or a trip to the captain's office. He let out a sigh of contentment.

"You like that?"

Lister nodded.

"Can I…" Rimmer toyed with the too-loose neck of his poor ruined T-shirt. "I want this off," he said, quieter with each syllable.

Lister grinned, pushing Rimmer into an upright position. He shimmied out of his jacket with some difficulty, pulling his shirt up over his head and flinging it vaguely towards the hamper.

"Better," Rimmer said. "You're so eager to follow orders, now that you think you're getting something out of it. It's frankly disgusting."

"Yeah? You want me to start disobeying?"

"No. I'm just saying, think of all the time and effort we could have saved if you'd have listened to me from the start." His hands started exploring, and Lister's skin prickled everywhere his fingers touched. They were a lot softer than he'd expected, although it made sense. Rimmer never did any of the actual work, when would he have developed callouses? "Imagine. If I'd offered to have sex with you years ago, we could have been so efficient together. Why, we'd have rocketed straight to the top of the ladder."

"You think so? That's what was holdin' you back so long, not havin' proper access to my cock?"

"I-" Rimmer froze. "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

"I mean, I agree. Maybe if I'd been reamin' you every night, you'd be relaxed enough to score higher than a seven on your exams."

"This is why I wanted you to stay quiet," Rimmer said, and he leaned forward and pressed a shaky kiss to Lister's mouth. His hands didn't stop, cupping and squeezing Lister's chest like they were the best pair of knockers he'd ever felt up- probably true- and grazing his thumbs over both nipples. Lister squirmed.

"Feels weird."

"Isn't this what you're supposed to do?"

"Yeah, with girls. Nobody's done this on my tits before."

"Well, is it good weird or bad weird?"

"I can't tell." It felt vaguely uncomfortable, like when you hit the wrong spot digging lint out of your belly button, but on the other hand, that electric tingle seemed to feed right into the warm arousal happening in his groin.

Rimmer scooted down and kissed one of his nipples, the dirty bastard, opened his mouth and licked it, and Lister made up his mind very quickly that this was a thing he liked.

"Keep doing that," he breathed. Rimmer's tongue was hot, and when he moved to the other side Lister could feel cold air on the wet spot he'd left. His hips moved upwards of their own volition into Rimmer's stomach. "God, Rimmer, yes. Just like that."

"Keep still," Rimmer complained, grabbing Lister's hips, and of course that didn't help things. "If you keep fidgeting I'm not going to be able to concentrate on what I'm doing."

"I'm fidgeting because you're doing a good job."

"Well, I'm hardly going to be able to keep up my stellar performance if you squirm like that," he continued, clearly not getting it. "Just lay still."

"Rimmer, I'm not going to be able to lay completely still. I'm not Rachel."

"You- how do you know about Rachel?"

"C'mon, man, you're not subtle. I always have to keep an ear out for squeaking before I come in the door." Lister shook his head. "I'm the real thing, alright, I'm gonna move and react, and it's a good thing. Means you're driving me up the wall."

"I am?"

"Yeah," Lister said, dropping into a softer, huskier tone. "I want it bad, Rimmer. I want you."

"You want me," he repeated, skeptical, but his face was going pink again. "Are you- er- clean?"

"C'mon, you know they screen us constantly for that sort of thing."

"I meant physically clean, Lister, you idiot. I'm not going to take off these trousers if it means chemical warfare."

"I just showered yesterday morning," he protested. "You were there."

"Yesterday morning was before a night of debauchery and drinking."

"If you're going to be annoying about it, I'll make do with over-the-clothes, alright?"

"No," Rimmer said firmly. "I've already completely debased myself, there's no point in doing things halfway now."

"Look, do whatever's comfortable, not what you think you have to." Lister reached up, stroking the spot where Rimmer's jaw met his neck. "We're here to have ourselves a good time, and you don't have anything to prove, right?"

"I'd say there's a lot to prove, actually-"

"Rimmer. Turn your brain off. I want you and I like what you're doing."

Maybe being blunt did the trick, because he seemed to relax a bit.

"Alright. You first, and then me. Sound good?"

"Yeah, stellar."

"Lights off," Rimmer said, then fumbled in the dark with the fly of Lister's trousers. "Smeg."

"I've got it." Lister reached down and unzipped. He took Rimmer's hand, gently, and placed it over his crotch. Maybe there was something to the whole blindness-enhancing-your-senses thing, because he swore he could hear every minor change in Rimmer's breathing. He was either incredibly anxious or really aroused, judging by the way his breath hitched. Could be both.

"Lister," he started, hesitant. "How… I mean, obviously you just- how do I-"

"Move your hand up and down," Lister sighed. "Just pretend it's yours."

"Right, but if I can't feel it, how am I supposed to know if it's too rough? What if I… break it?"

"Break it?" Lister didn't know whether to laugh or zip his pants back up immediately. "How smegging hard's your death grip, man?"

"No, I mean, how do I know if I'm doing it right?"

"Well, if I'm not screamin' at you to stop, you're probably on the right track, yeah? I'm easy to please."

"Emphasis on easy," Rimmer retorted, and Lister was about to say something back, but Rimmer was peeling back his underwear.

He tested the waters, gingerly wrapping his fingers around Lister's shaft and applying light pressure. Then squeezed gently. Then a little tighter.

"That's good," Lister said. "Right there."

"It's wet," Rimmer complained. "You're over-excited already, aren't you?" He moved his hand slowly from base to tip and back, once, twice, three times, achingly slow. "You like this."

"Yeah, I do. I do," Lister repeated, grinding his hips up against Rimmer's fist. Any extra friction, anything to get him to pick up the pace. Lister's temperature was rising, unbearably warm, and his few remaining brain cells had all but melted away by this point. The only thought he could keep in his mind for more than a second was that Rimmer- his Rimmer, his annoying bunkmate, total straight-laced prick, had him lying naked on the floor arching his back.

"Tell me… tell me you like me," Rimmer tried, voice a little softer.

"I like you," Lister babbled. "I like you so much. God, you're so weirdly sexy, I honestly didn't think I'd be this desperate, but you're just so-" Kissing. Rimmer was kissing him all of a sudden, sloppy, just kind of wriggling his tongue around in there- but it was good, even if Rimmer didn't know what he was doing in the slightest. He sucked Rimmer's tongue and was rewarded with another one of those shaky, whiny noises. Too bad the lights were off- he would have thrown away half his salary to see the look on Rimmer's face then they pulled apart.

"I'm- I'm going to try something, and you can't laugh at me if it goes sideways." His voice was a little more determined. Clearly, he'd gained confidence somehow.

"Yeah, I'm game. Anything you want."

A bit of shuffling as Rimmer repositioned himself between Lister's legs.

He hadn't really expected much of anything, certainly nothing shocking- maybe Rimmer was going to use his left hand instead of his right- but oh, oh, all of a sudden his cock was in Rimmer's mouth.

A wave of pleasure rolled through him. Rimmer's whole tongue-waggling technique was a hell of a lot more effective brushing rhythmically against his head. "Ahh- just- just watch your teeth, alright?"

"Mmph."

"Finally found a way to shut you up," Lister laughed, and that stopped Rimmer dead in his tracks.

"If I recall, this started because you wanted me to talk to you." He could picture the furrowed brow, the annoyed frown, maybe softened with a hint of fondness. Wishful thinking.

"I just wanted your attention," Lister admitted. "I like when you pay attention to me, Arn."

"You- I- shut up and let me do this," Rimmer snapped, clearly flustered. Ah- he'd hit some sort of nerve.

"I mean it," he struggled, trying to find coherent words in the tangled state of sensation his brain was in. Rimmer was licking up the length of him, exploring at his leisure, and Lister only half-managed to suppress a groan when he found a ridge on the underside to rub against. "Mmn- you're so good at this- driving me mad-"

Rimmer put him back in his mouth, sucking tight around his cock, and- his hips jerked forward- with a jolt of molten, white-hot energy, he felt himself tumble over the edge. Smeg. He'd meant to say something before shooting a load into Rimmer's mouth, but-

"Lister?!" Rimmer sounded horrified.

"Sorry, man, I wasn't- I didn't expect to-"

"I swallowed it."

"You what?"

"It wasn't on purpose! What do I do, I mean- should I try to make myself throw up, or-"

"It's not poison."

"Well, I don't imagine it's good for you, either!" A pause. "And it won't- well, of course it wouldn't- I don't have the parts…"

"You're not gonna get pregnant, you prat!" He couldn't help laughing. "What sort of sex education do they have on Io?"

"Not the same-sex kind," Rimmer mumbled, hurt. Lister sighed and leaned forward into the dark, a scrap of timetable stuck to his upper back. He found Rimmer's shoulders, then the collar of his shirt, and finally his jaw, pressing an earnest kiss against Rimmer's lips.

"It's alright. Promise I'll pay the child support."

"That's disgusting. You know what's just been in my mouth."

"So? Maybe I like it." Lister pulled his underwear back up and shifted into a more comfortable position, leaning against the bottom bunk. "Anyway, we agreed on taking turns. Come on. You're next."

"That's hardly necessary. Really. I think I've gone through my phase, I've had my experience, and I'm done."

"If you really mean that, then I'll go on and get me clothes back on, but… so far, you've been kind of shit at telling me what you really want. I mean, you accuse me of coming onto you and then jump my bones the next second."

"Well," Rimmer said, cautiously, "what if you just… held me while I did it?"

"Alright." He reached out again, swinging Rimmer's legs over his lap. Like this, Rimmer could lean against his shoulder- did, actually, and his cheek was red-hot. Lister smiled and wrapped his arms around Rimmer's waist, tight. "Feeling cozy enough?"

"Cozy." Rimmer scoffed. "Sure. Chocolate and marshmallows next to a roaring fire."

"Can I kiss you during, or is this a totally hands-off sort of thing?"

"Again, I have your… your sperm in my mouth."

"Can't be worse than what I had for breakfast."

"Fine, then." Rimmer lifted his head. "If you- if you really want to, I suppose you can kiss me."

"Brutal," Lister grinned, finding Rimmer's lips and nipping at the bottom one with his teeth. Rimmer seemed to like being bitten, the way he dug his fingernails into Lister's arm, squirmed. This was probably a first for him, right? Lister pulled away, nuzzling Rimmer's cheek, and worked his way back until he could get Rimmer's earlobe gently between his teeth.

"Lister, are you trying to eat me?" His tone was half-incredulous, but strained, and he'd dug his nails in again.

"Yeah, guess I am." Lister grabbed Rimmer by the jaw, tilting his head so that he could get at the skin of his neck.

"That…" The argument died in Rimmer's throat, replaced by a soft, meek "okay."

Rimmer still smelled good, like pressed laundry, like aftershave, though the room around them was starting to smell of sex. His skin was way softer than it had any right to be- probably the regular bathing, the constant exercise, the annoying bottles of moisturizing such-and-such that crowded his locker. Lister bit down a little harder. Maybe it felt better than it should have, ruining Rimmer's stupid perfect skin. Maybe he'd leave a mark, right above the collar, annoyingly hard to cover up without being obvious about it.

"Lister," Rimmer groaned, one hand digging into Lister's back. The other had started to move back and forth, slowly, and Lister realized with a twinge of arousal that he was feeling himself up through his pants. Smeg.

"Such a hypocrite," he murmured against Rimmer's neck. "You keep callin' me disgusting and easy and everything, but I bet you won't last more than a minute if I keep this up."

"That's beside the point," Rimmer argued.

"Which point? The part where you gave me a handjob, or the one where you sucked me off?"

"Lister-" His tone was angry, but his hand was moving faster.

"I mean it. You're a total whore, I mean, now that you finally have someone to mess around with. You've been dying for a chance to do this, haven't you? You been rubbing one out, thinking about how good my cock would feel in your mouth?"

"Yes," Rimmer choked. "God, I- there's no excuse- I just wanted-"

"It's okay," Lister said, moving the hand that wasn't supporting Rimmer down his chest. If they had time, he would have unbuttoned the ugly beige uniform, slipped his hand under the tight white cotton shirt he knew was underneath. Maybe switched the light back on so he could have a proper look. But Rimmer was probably pretty close, judging by the way he was whimpering. "You deserve this. You needed this. And I liked giving it to you. You're so handsome, Rimmer, and you're such a good lay, really," he continued. "You're so good at this. Even this- if I had a round two in me, Rimmer, be on my knees begging you for it, I swear."

"Please," Rimmer whined, probably only having processed the word begging. "Please, Lister, please?"

"Alright," Lister shrugged, and he caught Rimmer's skin between his teeth again, and Rimmer shuddered, letting out a pained moan.

It really hadn't taken much at all to get him off, and Lister was sorry he hadn't had more time to try things.

"Alright," Rimmer panted. "You've had your fun. You can go back to tormenting me now. Tell all your stupid little friends I'm desperately homosexual, take out an ad in the ship newsletter."

"Actually, this is normally the part where we get a pizza and a bunch of curries and stay in bed for three days straight."

"Ah. Right. The only times I ever got peace and quiet were when you'd bugger off to some bimbo's bunkroom for a week-"

"Well, now you get to be the bimbo." Lister really wished he could make out more than faint outlines- Rimmer's expression was probably priceless. Yeah, enough. "Lights on."

It was a disaster- Rimmer's study schedule was scattered around them, torn and wrinkled; Lister's pants were still pulled halfway down, and his shirt had somehow made it around the top of one of the chairs when he'd tossed it aside.

And Rimmer- red-faced, rumpled, his tie crooked, a definite damp spot on the front of his pants. Beautiful.

"I need a shower," he squeaked, "and before you say a damned word, you aren't invited."

"Aw."

"When I come out, I want all the paper off the floor, and I expect you to be- less naked. Then we'll… we can discuss the idea of me not immediately putting in a reassignment request."

"Works for me," Lister grinned. Rimmer started to clamber out of his arms, but he pulled him back in. "Wait."

"What?"

Lister gave him a quick peck on the lips.

"Right. Need to brush my teeth, too," Rimmer bristled, but he looked flustered-mad instead of angry-mad.

Hmmm. Lister threw his shirt back on, kicking the abandoned timetables into a messy pile by the hamper. All things considered, this had been one of the few times an impulse decision had worked out well. Maybe, when Rimmer got out of the shower, he could convince him to cuddle in the lower bunk and watch a movie or two. At the very least, he was sure Rimmer's mind was as far from the astronavigation exam as it could possibly get.

"Holly, can you send Petersen a quick message?" he asked. "Tell him I'm busy tonight. Last minute plans."

[justtluffythings]

HOME: Book 4 - CHAPTER THREE

MASTERLIST

If asked, Veronica would say the last two months had been the worst months she had had since starting at Hogwarts four years ago. Tonks went everywhere with her and Charlie, and she was constantly trying to make Veronica uncomfortable by showing as much PDA as possible. At first, Veronica tried to ignore it; she didn’t want to give Tonks any satisfaction. But as the weeks went by, she couldn’t take it anymore. She began distancing herself from the couple and making excuses as to why she couldn’t spend time with them. In the span of three weeks, Veronica went from spending practically every waking hour with Charlie to only seeing him at the lake on Saturdays. She even stopped eating meals in the Great Hall all together. Instead, she would make her way down to the kitchens where the house elves would let her eat her meals with them. She also found herself spending a lot of time with Snape in his office. So much so that he brought in a small little desk and put it beside his, giving her a space where she could work on whatever homework she needed to do. She hadn’t volunteered any details to her professor or headmaster about why she was avoiding Charlie, and they hadn’t asked her. They knew she could handle whatever it was on her own. However, they ensured she had somewhere to go in the meantime when she needed to be alone.

Now, after more than two months of torture, Veronica felt like she couldn’t even spend Saturdays at the lake with Charlie anymore. All he did those days was talk about Tonks, and she didn’t think she could handle hearing anymore about the love of her life snogging someone else. Especially when he went on and on about how much he enjoyed it and how much he liked her. That was how she found herself, on the most beautiful Saturday afternoon she had seen in a long time, in the farthest reaches of the library, where students rarely ever ventured to, sitting and reading alone. It was depressing, she knew that, but she had told Charlie that she had a meeting with Dumbledore and Snape that afternoon, and she couldn’t risk him finding out she was lying. First, he would never forgive her. Second, he would never trust her. And third, and almost worst of all, she would have to go back to the torture that was hanging out with him. She couldn’t believe the way she was feeling now. She never would have imagined hating being around her best friend, but she didn’t know if she could even call Charlie her best friend anymore. He wasn’t the same. He didn’t care about her now that he had Tonks.

“Hey, Veronica!”

Her head shot up at the voice, but she quickly relaxed as she saw Maribelle peeking her head around the bookshelf that was concealing Veronica from the rest of the library. She was extremely glad to have a distraction from the painful thoughts that plagued her mind every waking second of the day. “Oh, hey Mar! You know it’s always great to see you, but what are you doing inside on a day like today? You should be enjoying the weather.”

“I would say the same to you, but I’ve noticed you avoiding Charlie ever since he started dating that Hufflepuff girl, and you’ve been spending most of your time inside… except for when there’s practice of course.” The sixth-year girl chuckled at the distressed look on her teammate’s face. “Don’t worry, I won’t ask what that’s about. I’m just making an observation.” Maribelle raised her hands to emphasize her words. “Anyway, I'm here looking for some of the books I need for Charms and Transfiguration. I figured it would be easier to find them when the library’s empty.”

“You’re still working on getting your grades up for Quidditch?”

“Of course! I’m so anxious to get back on the team, you have no idea. Seeing you lot playing in the first game of the season last week against Slytherin and not being able to play was rough to say the least. Especially knowing we could have won if I was playing; I definitely would have caught that Snitch. I don’t want to have to deal with that again. I need to be back on the team ASAP.”

Veronica smiled sympathetically. “I hear you. I can tell you we definitely want you back on the team ASAP. Walker is okay, but he isn’t you, Mar. You’re irreplaceable.” Veronica chuckled at the blush creeping onto her friend’s face. “But, you know, the Charms and Transfiguration books aren’t here. They’re all in the first two rows of bookshelves at the front of the library in front of Pince’s desk.”

“Oh, I know. I’m actually looking for books on non-verbal magic. That’s been my biggest challenge this year. I don’t know if you know this, but in sixth year, students are taught about non-verbal magic, which is where you learn how to perform spells without the incantation.” Veronica tried not to laugh as she allowed the older girl to explain a concept to her that she knew and understood better than most. “It comes in handy when you’re fighting or dueling someone, and you don’t want them to know your next move.”

“Fascinating. And you’re having some trouble with it?”

“Yeah, it’s some pretty advanced stuff, and a lot of people struggle with it, but everyone is usually able to do it by now. I’m the only one in my year that hasn’t gotten the hang of it.”

“Oh no! Is there anything I can do to help?”

“Sorry, no offense, Veronica. I know you’re a gifted witch, and you’re the brightest witch of your year. Honestly, of any year ever. But, unless you know how to perform non-verbal magic at all, let alone well enough to teach it to someone else, I don’t think you can help me. Besides, no matter how many people explain it or try to teach it to me, I just can’t do it. I’m really hoping reading about it will help.”

A slight chuckle escaped Veronica’s lips, despite her trying so hard to hold it in, and she attempted to cover it with a cough. Maribelle didn’t seem to notice. “I’m sure it will.” With a slight wave of her hand, which wasn’t necessary for anything more than to have a dramatic effect, four books came floating down from the shelves behind her and landed gently on the desk beside her.

Maribelle gasped as her eyes widened. “Wait… did you just… there’s no way that you… how did… I mean… wow!”

Veronica smirked at the look of disbelief on her friend’s face. “Yeah, not to brag or anything, but I can actually do non-verbal wandless magic pretty easily. I learned it in second year.”

“What? You realize how unbelievable that is, right Veronica? Why doesn’t everyone know about this? It should be something you brag about any chance you get.”

Veronica shook her head adamantly. “No, I’d rather everyone not know. I don’t need the whole school asking me to teach them how to do it.”

Maribelle chuckled, but pursed her lips and nodded in understanding. “True, I guess I never thought about that. Well, don’t worry, your secret is safe with me. How’d you learn how to do that, anyway?”

“Come sit.” Maribelle obliged and sat across from her. “I actually taught myself after the incident with Archie at the lake. So, my offer still stands; if you need help, I am more than happy to try to teach you. I’ve read every book there is and spoken to all the professors. I’ve gained as much knowledge as possible, but still made a lot of mistakes and learned a lot through months and months of practice, and honestly, I’ve learned a few things along the way that I was never told. Things that might help you.”

“That would be amazing, Veronica! I would really appreciate that.”

“Well, then it would be my pleasure.”

***

As Veronica made her way through the halls towards the library, she heard the voice she used to love so much but now only brought her pain calling her name behind her. She tried to ignore it and keep walking, but Charlie pulled her arm and spun her around. Veronica noticed this was one of the few times he wasn’t with her. “Hey, why are you ignoring me?”

“Oh, hey Charlie! I wasn’t ignoring you, I just didn’t hear you. What’s up?”

“‘What’s up’? Where were you yesterday? I waited for you by the lake for hours, but you never showed up.”

Veronica felt like her heart had been ripped out of her chest and smashed into pieces, but she tried not to let it show. “Sorry Charlie, I’ve been helping Maribelle with learning non-verbal magic so she can bring up her Charms and Transfiguration marks and rejoin our team before the next game, so I’ve just been really busy. You understand, don’t you?”

“Sure, but this isn’t like you. For three years, you never once missed a Saturday. Now, all of a sudden, you miss two in a row? Plus-”

“I know, I’m really sorry Charlie, but I really need to go now. Mar’s waiting for me, and we’ve got a lot to do. I’ll see you.” And before Charlie could say another word, Veronica jogged away from him around the corner and out of sight. Once she knew he couldn’t see her anymore, she leaned her back against the wall before sliding down until she was sitting. Sighing deeply, she closed her eyes and leaned her head back. Fuck me.

“Hiya, Veronica, are you okay?”

Veronica smiled with her eyes still closed, willing the tears away before opening them and turning her head to look at the young boy crouching in front of her. The sweet first-year boy she knew well and loved dearly. “I’m alright, Percy darling. Thanks for asking.”

[rose-madder-gaze]

Alright, next game before my side account gets suspended or whatever the fuck is the soup du jour.

12:59 PM · Feb 15, 2021 Instead of doing one long thread for all three games, I'm gonna do THREE THREADS FOR ARBITRARY REASONS!

FFXIII is in QRT, FXIII-2 begins here. Not spoiler-free.

1:13 PM · Feb 15, 2021 XIII-2 thoughts so far:

1:43 PM · Feb 15, 2021 Lightning is wearing, like, a unitard under her outfit, so I'm willing myself to think of the costuming in this game as outfits for an opera instead of…what they are…

1:43 PM · Feb 15, 2021 The person we're watching play this changed Serah into the bathing suit as soon as they were able. I hate it here. Where's Sazh

5:48 PM · Feb 15, 2021 Noel really is just riding his own vibe. The "I live in a world with no future, so literally anything that happens to me that doesn't kill me is an improvement" vibe.

5:48 PM · Feb 15, 2021 He also sounds like they pulled him out of a 90s animation, and I don't know enough to know if that's just his voice or if it's on purpose.

8:18 PM · Feb 15, 2021 If they wanted to do a different ensemble cast from the first game, Team NORA is right there, I'm just saying. It's not ideal, but damn.

4:12 PM · Feb 16, 2021 Orion pointed out that L/aura B/ailey, Serah's VA, is doing her "Catherine" voice for Serah, and my soul has officially left my body.

4:23 PM · Feb 16, 2021 Ba…ba…baby boy 🥺️😭

8:03 PM · Feb 16, 2021 I've spent 19 hours in complete emotional turmoil after, like, THREE minutes of Hope being on-screen, just wait til I see Sazh.

2:24 PM · Feb 17, 2021 me, to Serah: why are you so SMALL also me: *is the same height as her*

2:35 PM · Feb 17, 2021 Noel met Snow and was like "at last, you've activated my Personality."

2:35 PM · Feb 17, 2021 Me 🤝 Noel Seeing red whenever Snow speaks

2:45 PM · Feb 17, 2021 Man, they're gonna go back to tell Hope how Cocoon falls in the future, and he's gonna be like "I see, just like in Over*cooked."

1:45 PM · Feb 18, 2021 So hold on. Was Snow just hiding the proto-Saix haircut under his bandana for the entire first game? He was waiting for the awkward layers to grow out???

1:54 PM · Feb 22, 2021 No updates for a min because we got to the third-to-last video in that person's playthrough, and we were both like…surely there is more game left than can fit in two videos. So we're watching someone else's playthrough now WHICH IS GOOD BECAUSE THERE'S DLC???

1:54 PM · Feb 22, 2021 It's really adding to the whole paradox experience, tbh.

6:04 PM · Feb 26, 2021 Realizing I had a "I forgot there was a clown in DMC3 after googling the clown in DMC3" moment wrt XIII-3, except it's worse because it's a core mechanic that Orion and I have talked about AT LENGTH because we want to use it in one of our own games.

6:04 PM · Feb 26, 2021 My Maximum Courtesy brain immediately pushes spoilers to the back of it while interacting with media, only to randomly re-spoil me while I lounge between dreaming and waking. This is all Seeress Serah's fault.

4:24 PM · Mar 1, 2021

4:26 PM · Mar 1, 2021 I wonder if Noel comes from the future where it's FF Versus instead of FFXV.

8:39 PM · Mar 1, 2021 The fact that I still haven't seen Sazh in this game is HATEFUL.

12:47 PM · Mar 3, 2021

12:59 PM · Mar 3, 2021 Girl, what if you were trapped in the Void Beyond and you followed my voice to the end of the dream we were sharing and Fang called you her girl. Haha just kidding. Unless…?

1:35 PM · Mar 3, 2021 Caius really waited for the end of humanity before pulling out the discount "I'll tear down the sky" shit after some asshole starts pulling his strings. Meanwhile, Yeul is just like:

7:32 PM · Mar 5, 2021 SAZH

7:36 PM · Mar 5, 2021 We only have one video left of the main game, then it's time for Episode Sazh.

1:21 PM · Mar 6, 2021 This game really was an opera, holy shit. "If you change the future, you change the past," sings the chorus (as Noel and Hope bring in the last duet). [This Tweet includes a Quote Retweet of the earlier Tweet: Lightning is wearing, like, a unitard under her outfit, so I'm willing myself to think of the costuming in this game as outfits for an opera instead of…what they are…]

1:32 PM · Mar 6, 2021 ALSO, FOR THE RECORD, I am less mad about the things they admittedly spent THE ENTIRE GAME TELLING ME WERE GONNA HAPPEN happening than I am about Team NORA getting left 500 years in the past. I slept on it, and I am still sooo mad.

1:32 PM · Mar 6, 2021 My curse is my unending loyalty to side-characters. Orion has assured me that they are at least brought up in the next game, but fuck, man.

1:32 PM · Mar 6, 2021 I'm going to just. Be mad for a minute over this decidedly small thing while applying the balm of Sazh playing cards directly to my brain.

1:32 PM · Mar 7, 2021 I love Sazh so muchh. He's a faceted character despite getting boxed into being the comedy relief (I'm assuming at least SOMEONE really loved him and fought for him where they could). Watching him fight against despair (and backsliding more than once) is so… 😭

1:32 PM · Mar 7, 2021 It's wild having the contrast between a more grounded character like him and the trad RPG-style hero characters (Lightning, Snow, Noel most of the time). Idk where the division came from in terms of writing (maybe bc he's an "older" character?) but I wish we got more of him.

8:31 PM · Mar 14, 2021 (Watching "The Future is Hope" paradox ending) Orion: He called the cops? That's not Snow. Me: Snow would TOTALLY call the cops on a government official, though.

8:31 PM · Mar 14, 2021 Hope's priority order upon seeing Snow again for the first time in 400 years:

Clock Snow's bralette

Yell at him

8:37 PM · Mar 14, 2021 I cannot tell you how much I appreciate the fact that Hope jumped immediately into scolding him, even though Snow was mentally hitting the Skip Dialogue button.

8:42 PM · Mar 14, 2021 Stiria: If she's YOUR girl, why is she sitting on MY tits?

4:26 PM · Mar 16, 2021 Okay, we've finished watching all the secret bosses, monster collecting, DLC, secret ending's secret ending, ETCETERA. Here's what I have to say about all that: that SUCKED

4:26 PM · Mar 16, 2021 I would go so far as to say that Lightning's DLC made everything I disliked about the ending WORSE

4:26 PM · Mar 16, 2021 I would go even further and say that rn I feel like Serah's fate is worse than Luna's. You don't play a whole game as Luna or make decisions as Luna or have THREE GAMES FIXATED ON LUNA

4:31 PM · Mar 16, 2021 "I have no regrets," GIRL YOU ARE CRYING THE BLACK OOZE FROM D/EATH STRANDING, LOOK AT ME AND SAY THAT AGAIN WITH YOUR T/ROY BAKER EYEBALLS

4:31 PM · Mar 16, 2021 "Just remember me," GIRL WHY? THE WORLD'S OVER! THAT'S IT!! YOUR MAJOR STORY ACCOMPLISHMENT IS ENDING HUMANITY 200 YEARS EARLIER THAN ORIGINALLY PLANNED. CONGRATS, I'LL BE SURE TO REMEMBER IT, SEEING AS TIME HAS CEASED TO FLOW OR WHATEVER THE FUCK.

4:34 PM · Mar 16, 2021 This all could be compelling as hell if it weren't for the fact that, despite these repeatedly bleak ass story decisions, they keep turning towards the camera and hitting me with the "Hold onto hope" thing as everyone gets eaten by the Demon Tide from KH3.

3:38 PM · Mar 17, 2021 Other…non-screaming closing thoughts…it was a steep curve, but I came around to the new characters in the end and am genuinely looking forward to seeing more of them. I honestly don't know what to expect of the next game except that it'll be…grim.

3:38 PM · Mar 17, 2021 Also, Caius better stop shape-shifting into girls or I'm gonna have to start headcanoning some things.

End thread.

Because I was too funny to die, here's the first of three posts archiving my "live" tweets for watching playthroughs of the FFXIII trilogy with Orion. Includes original timestamps, typos, and 2021 memes. I'll approximate GIFs if I have to.

4:23 PM · Feb 6, 2021 Watching a playthrough of FFXIII, so here's my not-really-live tweet thread for my own amusement; not spoiler-free.

5:23 PM · Feb 6, 2021 Me, seeing a pretty standardized "boy big and strong, girl small and nice" couple like Snow and Serah: T4T…

5:30 PM · Feb 6, 2021

7:19 PM · Feb 6, 2021 Love that every time Snow says something heroic and ends up digging his grave deeper, Hope is just like

7:19 PM · Feb 6, 2021 Admittedly, even if I had FINALLY resolved myself to abandoning revenge, if Snow Villiers turned around and burped at me, I would suddenly no longer possess the presence of mind to open a survival knife and would instead body him over the balcony of a Palumpolum rest area.

8:10 PM · Feb 6, 2021 Snow: I need everyone to stop trying to blow me up, these tits were expensive.

8:22 PM · Feb 6, 2021 okay this chapter is too long, WHERE'S SAZH

2:11 PM · Feb 7, 2021

2:16 PM · Feb 7, 2021 lmao when the Pompa Sancta parade started, I blurted out "oh, it's opera," and Orion immediately jumped into a baritone "MAAARIA!"

1:55 PM · Feb 9, 2021 YOOO SHE WENT FOR IT

2:04 PM · Feb 9, 2021 Serah 🤝 Vanille Head in tiddies

2:06 PM · Feb 9, 2021 Snow: [talks for too long] Fang: Man, I'm outta here. Lightning: We have to stick together. Fang: Oh. Okay :)

2:07 PM · Feb 11, 2021 WUH HUH SERAH AND VANILLE HAD A MEET-CUTE???

2:32 PM · Feb 11, 2021 One small thing that endeared me towards Hope is that we just watched a playthrough of The Sinking City, and both he and Reed do a similar pensive idle hand animation. Two good, complicated lads.

3:19 PM · Feb 12, 2021 Rygdea to Raines

3:22 PM · Feb 12, 2021 (As the old adage goes, all humor is derived from excruciating pain because, if they don't come back around to the gravity of what happened with Raines, I don't know if I'll be able to take whatever "face the future with hope" thing they're gonna throw at me next.)

3:27 PM · Feb 12, 2021 anyways, cannot BELIEVE the pope took the opportunity to put his face in Snow's chest. it served literally NOTHING to pretend to be Serah for 0.5 seconds, and yet, he went for it.

5:24 PM · Feb 14, 2021 Orphan: and I hit them with the goo goo gaga. *turns all your friends into Cie'th*

5:38 PM · Feb 14, 2021 The leading problem I have with XIII's story is that they'll present A Rule, and, if the rule gets broken, there isn't an explanation. It just worked out in a specific instance For Some Reason.

5:38 PM · Feb 14, 2021 Like, "we hoped really hard against all odds and it worked out" only works for the main characters. Lots of lofty ideas about faith and conviction that hold exactly zero water inside the narrative.

5:38 PM · Feb 14, 2021 It's a shame because characters will have an impactful moment that the story then minimizes in some way (again: Raines?!) or vice versa. Idk, some of the storytelling decisions are just too goofy to overlook when they abut emotional scenes.

5:44 PM · Feb 14, 2021 ANYWAYS THAT WAS PRETTY GAY OF THEM TO CRYSTAL FUSE INTO UHH HECAMUT. BAHATON. THE WAY THEY BAJA BLASTED TO SAVE COCOON. WHO HOLD THE WORLD? GORLS.

5:48 PM · Feb 14, 2021 Fang: I'm lesbian. Hope: I thought you were Pulsian.

End thread.

[oh2e]

You ever get really really into a half decent band and suddenly you own all their albums on CD and then after a couple of months you realise they’re actually not that good and the only one you like is the collection of singles?

[askaalaska-vdeppressed]

Seeing Stars and Stripes

18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

This is just porn, I have no excuse for it other than I need the practice

Here you go babes 

You were sure that many would see the upturned lip, the finale of the cacophony of scars that marred his face as off-putting. They’d see the way the injured skin forced his lip up into a permanent snarl as a warning. Yet as you stared at him from across the room you couldn’t help up imagine what it would be like to run your tongue across it. Letting the tip slide quickly over the before quickly jumping back and smirking. Would he grow at you? Call you a minx? Drag your head back to do it again? Put you over his shoulder and take you away to have his way with you? You hoped a version of all three.

So engrossed in your daydreaming you completely forgot where you were or whom you were with till one of your friends—Alma-- cleared her throat.

“Y/n?..... Y/N?” She playfully slapped your shoulder getting your attention. You turned to her, still clearing your head of the vision.

“Are you going to continue to make eyes at strangers or are you going to take your turn?” Your other friend at the table Jordie chimed in.

“Are you saying I have a choice?” you replied. As they both laughed you reached out to grab the dice that were in front of you on the table.

“I say you just go for it” Jordie said looking down at the scores for the game and then back up at your roll,

“Damn Y/n, 650 you gonna take it?”

“What’s my score again?” You asked coyly. Jordie looked down at the board with the scores and back up at you.

“Plenty high” She said not giving you a proper answer. You had been ahead of both the girls for quite some time. Poor Alma having only just gotten on the board about three rounds ago.  

“I’ll take it” you answered passing the dice to Jordie.

“I’m with her on this one” Alma stated splitting her attention between you and Jordie’s rolls “You never go after men on our girls’ nights, if this stranger’s got something that’s getting you going I say chase after it”

Jordie let out a small curse as the dice went cold for her. You waved a server down to refill your drink as you contemplated Alma’s words.

It was true you never were one to go get lost in a man’s arms. It wasn’t that you were prudish or that you lacked offers. It really boiled down to two factors. The first being that your town was small. And any news, especially who slept with whom was bound to get spread as soon as your legs were. The second being that all the men and near all the women for that matter lacked depth. There lives were firmly planted in this village. They were born in this land, they grew in this land, they will die in this land and they will eventually become this land.  Every thought in there heads was of this land. Even your friends were not immune to this. Sleeping with men here felt more akin to sleeping with a very polished rock.

Your mother blamed your wanderlust on all the reading you did. Your family was the only completely literate one in the whole village. You and your mother being two out the three women that knew how to read. The third being Jordie. Together you were trying to teach Alma, though she insisted it was a wasted endeavor.

Altogether the village was simple, routine and safe. You had given up years ago of trying to force yourself to be complacent with it. You soothed your wanders heart by travel for business. From a family of farmers you took up soap making to cure your boredom. During the summer months you would travel to different markets to sell your wares and see the different villages and cities. But one woman can only travel so far on her own, and summer can only last so many months. And then it was back to this. Back to the cage of a home set in stone.

Yet looking at the traveler he seemed to ooze an aura complexity. You imagined he had seen many places, fought many fights and tasted many flavors. For a brief moment when you first saw him you contemplated asking him to tell you of his travel rather than anything untoward.

Then he’d rolled his neck, thrown down his pack with a clamor, and with a voice of gravel ordered a meal, a bed and an ale.

And it was all over for you.

Alma smiled as she rolled a cool thousand points in one role and surpassed Jordie on the board when you put your hands on the table and forced yourself up. Both girls gave you a wink as you passed the server from before grabbing the pitcher he had brought to refill your drink. You sauntered over to the man in the red striped jacket. He was looking absentmindedly at the wall when you approached—the sound of the pitcher landing on the table breaking him out of his daze.

He looked up to meet your gaze and his golden amber eyes hypnotized you for a moment.

“Can I help you lass?” The low tone of his voice mixed with the roughness of it made you weak at the knees. You got control of your legs and broke the spell his eye had cast on you and fixed a smile on your face.

“You looked like you could use some company” You grabbed your skirts and swished them to the side in order to sit on the chair cattycorner to him. He turned his body to you, his eyebrows held high on his head in a face of skepticism.  He looked around the room before addressing you.

“It looks like this place is filled with men that are much more suited for you company” He gave a half hearted gesture to the lively bar.

You gave a snort and rolled your eyes.

“Oh believe me I’ve tried but the whole lot of them is either boorish or simple” You scooted your chair closer to him not touching shoulder. You pointed at a blonde gentleman in a green vest.

“That’s Karlson, he is completely convinced that boiled beaver testicles are curing his wife’s monthly pains” The man pulled a face and your let out a snort.

“She replaces them with boiled eggs when he’s not looking. The real thing helping her is the whiskey she mixes in her tea.” The strangers hand shot up to cover his mouth as he struggled not to laugh.

You turned a bit and pointed at another gentleman. This time a balding man in a shirt much to small for him.

“The man one bend over from busting a seam is Magnus. He once lectured me for two hours on the science behind putting grooves in your teeth to make you a better warrior.”

The man scoffed looking up. His hair fell from his face falling behind his ears in a motion like water.

“Humans will try anything to be more than they are” You fixed him with a look.

“You say that as if you aren’t one” He turned to you perplexed.

“I’m not”

You made a big gesture out of looking him up and down. Inspecting his eyes and hair. You stuck your hand out and poked his arm—careful to avoid the spikes that poked out of his shoulders.

“You seem pretty human to me” You looked over to him smiling from ear to ear. Your cheeks forcing your eyes to squint. He broke your gaze as a small smile crept onto his face for a moment.

“Your too cute for you own good….”

“Y/N” you filled in for him

“Y/n” He parroted back.

“And I don’t know…”

“Eskel” he provided.

“I don’t know Eskel” you started “I think I balance on the perfect ratio of sweet timid kitten and sexy goddess” You waited until he was posed to take a drink to continue. “After all I came over here too see if you wanted to fuck my  brains out”

Your timing had been perfect and Eskel’s hand shot up again to his mouth to try and stop the spray that was currently coming out of his mouth from the shock of your statement.  He wiped his hand with his mouth and gave a harsh swallow.

“Your funny Y/n.” he choked out. You put your arm on the table and placed your head in your hand.

“True, I am masterful in whit” your gaze lingered on his lips, a small amount of ale his hand had missed dripped down his chin. You moved fluidly reaching one hand to wipe his chin and the other to rest on his thigh. You leaned in close as your thumb moved from his chin to his bottom lip.

“But I was being quite sincere with that request” His eyes seemed to take you in for a moment. In his irises he seemed to be fighting something. For a split second he looked like he might start crying before his gaze turned hungry. He leered down your top then back up to the pout of your lips, slightly ajar.

“Eskel” you regarded him, the name low in your voice.

“Y/n” he returned. The combination of his gaze and his voice sent a shiver down your spine and caused your cunt to clench. You caught your breath for a moment, ever so slightly rubbing your legs together.

“You have a room upstairs?”

“Indeed I do” he smirked at you. That damned notch in his lip driving you even crazier. You lifted yourself up going to grab your bag from your friends quickly.  You three had planned on staying with Jordie that night since her husband was away.

You were sure she’d understand.

As you passed they both smiled and winked at you again. Eskel—having gathered his own belongings—met you at the entrance to the stairs. He stuck out his arm, making you giggle. You hooked your hand into it as you made your way up. You looked more like a pair of nobles ready to meet a monarch than you did strangers on their way to hook up in a backwater inn. He lead you too one of the inn’s three rooms. You made your way across the threshold, heading to place your bag in a chair in the corner. When you turned around Eskel had set his belongings down and was anxiously shifting on his feet. A hand behind his head playing with the skin of his neck.

The moment was awkward. Back in the crowded bar you had both been in high confidence. Safety in numbers giving you courage to speak boldly. When the doors were closed and it was just the two of alone it was a different story.

Fearing he may be getting cold feet you strode across the room. A woman on a mission. At the very least you were going to fulfill the fantasy from earlier. Coming this far you were not about to walk away with nothing.

When you reached him your hands sought either side of his face. Pulling him towards you. Your lips met tenderly. The plushness of his lips not being lost on you. Eskel became more and more receptive to the kiss, the two of you now beginning to push against the other. Your thumbs caressed the bones of his cheeks. The sun ravaged skin providing just the slightest bit of drag against your finger pads. He stepped into you deepening the kiss and your hands migrated so that your arms were hung on his shoulders. You rubbed your core against the leg that was nestled there, releasing a small moan at the friction. You broke apart for air for a split second before diving back in. His mouth much more open this time. It was now or never

You swiped your tongue along his bottom lip first. Then migrated up. In a split second you ran your tongue into the divot in his upper lip. Sliding it back and forth before pulling away. You looked at him through your lashes, biting your lip to try and control the giddiness inside you.

Eskel looked wild. His mouth was still agape and his breath was ragged. His brain seemed to need a second to catch up. With a jolt he fixed you with a stare. His pupils blown out and his lips in a snarl. Eskel grabbed your waist and lifted you with no effort. Instinctively you wrapped you legs around his torso as he all but slammed you against the wall. The force of the impact causing a tapestry to fall from it’s place on the wall.

Ravaged against a wall… You were so close.

Eskel pinned you again the wall with his hips. The pressure of it causing you to whimper. With his hands free he violently wrung the jacket from his torso, dropping the leather to the floor unceremoniously. The blue undershirt underneath open and loose on him.  You reached out push open the center. Running your hand down the firm muscles of his neck and into the coarse field of hair on his chest. The muscle underneath was firm and the heartbeat usually slow.  

Eskel leaned into you, his mouth making its way to the junction of your neck and shoulder. He nipped at the spot, forcing a breath out of your lungs. You brought your hands up to tangle into his hair and bring him closer. Pushing him into you. As Eskel began littering your chest with bruises he started to grind you into the wall. You whimpered at the friction, griding back with enthusiasm.

Eskel had made his way to the tops of your breasts, giving one a playful bite as he looked up at you through his lashes. You felt his hand grab your ass lifting you with his arms. He slid down to his knees as you yanked up your skirts to see what he was doing. Eskel fixed your plush thighs on his shoulders, moving his hands up to play with the band of your undergarments.

“You’ve had your dinner, am I dessert?” you asked, quickly scolding yourself for never being able to stop your mouth. Eskel laughed, the puffs of air cooling the damp fabric surrounding your pussy.

“Do you want to be?” he smirked, giving your waistband a quick snap. You let out a high pitched “mmhmm” and it was all the confirmation he needed. HIs large and calloused hand peeling the garment down, flinging it behind him with no regard for where is landed. He moved in closer, at first nuzzling your thigh and placing languid open mouth kisses on it.

You fisted the skirts in your hands, trying desperately to be patient. However as he continued to tease you, you started to inch your cunt closer and close to him, using the wall as leverage. Eskel caught on to what you were doing and gave out a tisk before pushing the pair of you closer to the wall. Using the same momentum he dove head first into you. Flattening his tongue and lapping at the excitement that was dripping from you. You pulled the skirts up higher in your clenched fists as he ate you out like a man starved. Alternating between long broad stokes and precise attacks using the tip of his tongue on your clit.

Eskel shifted on his knees. One hand coming to press your sternum to the wall.  And the other coming to join him at your pussy. He suctioned his lips around your clit and gave a hard suck as he thrust two fingers into you. The double assault caused you to convulse. Moaning out his name, glad that his room was upstairs and not closer to the crowded bar downstairs. You switched to hold your skirts with one hand, tangling the other into his hair. Your pleasure becoming tug of war as he fought to push against the wall and you fought to push away from the wall to get even closer to him.

As the pumping of Eskel’s fingers continued he added a third finger to the mix, causing you to hit your head against the wall as you panted up towards the ceiling. Just as you were starting to look down again he curled his fingers inside you, hitting that soft spot in you head on. The intense pleasure sending your hear careening once again with the wall. Eskel began to hit your g-spot full on increasing the pressure and speed. It only took a minute at this speed before your legs were clamming on his head and you were coating his face in release.

Eskel worked you through your release, stopping as you dismounted your legs to try and stand. He stood up backing up to give you room. The first step was rocky but it didn’t take long for you to reach him and slam up into him in a kiss. You felt the very need to consume him as you tasted yourself on his tongue. Your hands forcefully yanked his shirt from where it was tucking into his breeches. He broke the kiss to toss the shirt over his head to join your undergarments somewhere in the room.

Your hand reached out to him, nails dragging over the chords of muscle and scars. Eskel’s hand traveled over your waist to the back of your dress, unlacing it. As the fabric dropped to the floor his hands stayed in there position beginning to unlace your corset. However after the dress he seemed impatient, because all you heard was a growl and a quick “fuck it’ before a second hand joined its brother and pulled the corset open. The laces violently popping out of the weaving. It would be a pain to relace in the morning, but right now your mind was elseward. Mainly on trying to get him to join you in being naked.  

Your hand fumbled with the belt and Eskel granted you mercy in helping you take it off. Once rid of it you took hold of his pants and underwear and pulled them down in one fell swoop. Caught off guard by it Eskel stumbled back, landing with a bounce on the bed. You knelt down, finalizing your mission in making him naked. You looked up at him and he looked as if his mouth had gone dry. You moved your hands over his thighs, his breath hitching up as if the gentle touch had scared him.

Lifting up even more you threw your arms over his thighs his cock coming into your direct eyesight. Thick was the first word that came to mind. It was thick, the head starting to turn purple as it leaked onto his stomach. You moved you hands up over his stomach you brought your mouth closer. You followed the prominent vein on the underside with the tip of your tongue as you made your way up.

You readjusted his cock with your hand and placed you mouth just so over the tip. You looked up at him and gave him a smile.

“You will have to forgive me Eskel” you started, “I’m quite starved” and that was all the warning you gave as you sunk your lips down over the tip. Eskel let out a groan, bending over slightly as he twisted a hand into your hair. You played with his tip a bit. Giving it a hard suck using your tongue to play with the slit. Trying not to tease him to much you sunk down quickly, using your hand to stimulate what your couldn’t reach.

Eskel seemed to struggle holding back as you sucked his cock. With each pass of your tongue over his head or hard suck on his shaft the string seemed to fray more and more. Eskel moved you off of him, urging you up and onto the bed. He pressed you down onto your stomach with an almost shocking tenderness. As he mounted you he pressed a languid kiss over the back of your neck, breath coming up to tease the shell of your ear.

You felt him spread your lips pressing his head in through the first ring of muscle. Being so close to your ear you cloud hear each and every delicious sound as it escaped his mouth. The gravel of it only deepened as he pushed further into you. The thick cock pushing your further apart and your walls clenched around him. He fully seated himself and pressed his chest into your back. As if Eskel was trying to get as much skin to touch as possible.

Slowly he pulled out, the tip just barely in as he slammed back home, causing your to shriek out in pleasure. He set a brutal pace. Simultaneously sweet and sinister at the same time. His hands gentle as he toyed with you, roaming over your sides. Yet his thrusts were brutal and punishing. His mouth was ajar and pressed into your shoulder.

Eskel’s thrust began to get erratic and your legs began to shake. The sounds he was making into your shoulder going up in tone. He slithered a hand to play with your clit and your body gave a jolt. Bucking up into him his paced increased even more. Suddenly his thighs began to shake and he gave a few hard thrusts before spilling into you. His bottom lip between his teeth as he pressed a far into you as possible. The fingers on your clit continued to speed up and combined with the feeling of his release inside you, you clenched down onto him in your second organism of the night.

Eskel stayed on top of you for a few moments before heaving himself off and onto the other side of the bed. His chest still driving up and down. You crawled your way over to him, grabbing the blanket that lay on the end of the bed with you. You halfheartedly draped the fabric over the two of you as you rested your head on his chest. As the fuzziness of sleep began to over take you, you reminded yourself of one thing.

To ask him if he would be interested in a traveling partner.

[creatureofmystry]

MLB x DC Universe Headcannons

I just love the idea of MLB and DC (expecially Batfam cuz Mari is such a Wayne) being in the same universe and crossing over. So one night, I just had an idea overload of different ways the Marinette would know the batfam/be a part of the DC universe. And if any of my shitty ideas somehow inspire or prompt you, then please be my guest. 😊 _

1) “Ladybugs of Past and Present”

Hippolyta, Wonder Woman’s mother, was once a previous holder of the ladybug miraculous. When Fu activated the miraculous and put them in circulation, Hippolyta could feel its magic waking back up. Knowing there must a reason for it to be out, she sent a message to her daughter. Diana searched, finding Marinette and Adrien as the present holders of the ladybug and cat miraculous. She vouched and brought them into the Young Justice program while they also made their own team, Project: Zodiac (or something like that).

[Sometime when Diana takes Marinette to meet Hippolyta]

“Great Hera, Tikki, you have not aged a day” -Hippolyta, cause she does know how to make joke. 

“And I would say the same to you” -Tikki

“Mother, you can make a laugh?” -Wonder Woman, honestly a bit confused cause her mom have never not been serious before.

And Marinette is just speechless cause she’s starstruck meeting Wonder Woman’s mom AND a previous Ladybug holder.

_

2) “Rockstar Niece”

Jagged Stone is Marinette’s Sweet Uncle J. During the summers, Jagged Stone would take Mari with him on tour. HIs summer tours are throughout America, so Mari gets to sightsee the country. Jagged’s first tour that he gets to take Mari on (5-ish), he’s also booked for the annual (for whatever reason) Wayne Summer Gala. When Marinette meets the Waynes, they are so enamoured (Dick and Tim couldn’t help it) that they tell Jagged he’s always invited as a guest, Mari of course being added to the permanent guest list too. About 6 years later, Mari is practically adopted, spending the first half of her summers with Jagged, going to the Wayne Gala, then spending the rest of her summer with the Waynes. Overtime, she figured out the secrets of the family and was there to welcome Jason back from the dead (when that happens). Anyways, now 11(-ish?) Mari meets Damian and the two become good friends… after an… impressionable first meeting.

“Tch, let me guess, you’re another one of father’s adopted strays” -Dami

“YOU MUST BE DAMIAN!!! DICK TOLD ME ABOUT YOU!!” -Marinette, who just ignores what he said for a hug.

“hiiiiiiiiissssssss” -Dami, touchy with touch

“...” sprays water in his face since he decided to act like a cat.

“I say, Master Bruce, the children are getting along quite well” -Alfred

_

3) “Pen Pals” 

Jon Kent and Marinette Dupain-Cheng are part of an international pen-pal program, starting when they were very young (maybe like 4 or 5-ish, super super young) where they told each other everything (Jon can’t just say that his older bro is a clone made from Superman and Lex Luthor’s DNA, or that his dad is Superman, or that his best friend is Robin, but yea. Lois and Clark probably proofread his stuff until he’s like 9) with pictures and everything. When they’re old enough to get phones & stuff, they call, text and vid-chat along with their letters (love without blood). When Mari is maybe 9-11 (somewhere around there) she starts flying over during the summers to hangout with Jon (and his friends and big brother). While there, she meets Kon, Bat fam, and Clark (some who she already knew, some who she didn’t) & lightly hints that she knows who all they are once she figures it out (it didn’t take her long to do so). 

Now whenever she visits and is at Wayne Manor (Jon likes to have sleepovers practically every weekend) while they’re on patrol, Mari subtly messes with their minds (super subtle, they’re the world’s best detectives after all) until they finally look through the cams and see Mari giving them one of those smiles (those shit-grinning cause it’s just so hilarious how it’s gone on for so long) & and a playful wink. 

[5 seconds later]

“Mari!” “Pixie-pop!” “Angel!” “Teacup!”

“Seriously, am I the only one with a normal nickname for her?” -Tim

“Ms. Marinette would like to inform you that ‘it took you long enough’” -Alfred (who so knows that the girl has been playing them since the third night she stayed at the Wayne’s)

“Where are my adoption papers?” -Bruce (who is seriously adopting any talented black-haired child)

_

4) “Mari and Mar’i” 

When Mar’i is young, Dick and Kori take her with them to see Paris (btw, this would be during the winter). They’re strolling along through a park and lose track of Mar’i who finds Marinette (9-10 ish). Marinette comforts and distracts Mar’i while noticing the young(er) girl is Tameranian (her hair is very warm and she’s wearing significantly less layers than should be worn for a human of that age during the winter, plus that sun-kissed skin tone. She’s seen Kori in her fashion magazines (and, from time to time, on the news as an ambassador) so she easily make the connections). Dick and Kori finally spot Mar’i with Mari who introduces herself to them. Mar’i asks if she can see her “Auntinette” again and Marinette just goes “if your parents are okay with it.” Dick and Kori are totally cool with it (not many are willing to watch her and have the time to do it) so they ask Marinette if she can babysit Mar’i whenever (with good pay of course) if she’s up to it (cause she’s still pretty young). Marinette can’t say no to Mar’i’s babydoll eyes (and she’s so much easier compared to Manon, who’s only 2 rn), so of course, she says yes. 

Now Marinette is Mar’is official babysitter and sees Mar’i often whenever her parents drop her off (using zeta tubes to quickly get to Paris and back). Marinette gets treated like an honorary Wayne (cause she’s the most responsible) and gets invited to their family stuff (w/ travel pay taken care of, of course). It doesn’t take her long to realize the fact that she babysits Bruce Wayne’s & BATMAN’S granddaughter, but of course, being the responsible one she is, keeps the secret… while also playing with them via Mar’i.

[One Day]

After Marinette leaves for her plane…

“Uncle Dami!”

“Yes, Spawn?”

“Auntinette said to tell you after she left that Robin’s sut needs a major upgrade & that you look like a traffic light… whatever that’s supposed to mean.”

[Another Day]

“Uncle Jay!”

“What’s up kid?’

“Auntinette said that to let you know that Red Hood doesn’t make any sense ‘cause Red Hood wears a helmet. Not a hood.”

[The next time]

“Uncle Tim!”

Yawn. “yea?”

“Auntie told me to give you this” (pulls out super caffeinated coffee) “and that Red Robin’s cowl is a menace to all things fashion”

[Again…] 

“Daddy!”

“Yes, Starshine?”

“Auntienette said she’s proud of Nightwing’s costume ‘cause it’s one of the only in the batfam that isn’t an astro-city to the fashion society.”

_

5) “Marinette, the one who’s always getting chosen”

Before Mari became (becomes(?)) LB, she comes across a different powerful piece of jewelry, from a different order of guardians where her will of mind is not only her shield from being akumatized, but it is also what drives her powers. That’s right, Mari walks past a flea market and activates a GL ring. The guardians pick up on this activity and send Hal (it is his sector) to check it out. Hal finds the ring with Mari but it still needs the light of a GL to charge and fully work. 

[During the explanation]

“Look, kid-”

“Marinette.” 

“Look, kid, I just need to know why you have that ring.”

“You think I know? I was just walking through the market and all of a sudden, this possessed ring, if that’s even what this is, started following me, then zipped in front of my face til i held my hand up so it can put itself on my finger.” 

“Kid-”

“It’s MARINETTE. Get it wrong one more time and you’ll see why I don’t need a possessed piece of alien jewelry.” -Marinette, making sure you get her name right. “Besides, if I stole it, I would remember. I’m a klepto” -Marinette, probably holding his ring too at this point.

Hal obviously doesn’t want the wrath of the Dupain-Chengs (just the kid Marinette scares him enough), so he tells the guardians that JL will take care of most of Mari’s training (once they get her a lamp for her ring, of course) & has her take part in training at Mt. Justice with the Young Justice team and special training with the Bats. Mari does all this under the guise of an international student exchange program for Mari to stay with the Waynes (not yet knowing that it’s the bat fam) and attends G.A. Mari doesn’t do much, but it takes her 24-36 hours to know who EVERYONE is.

[the next week after settling in]

“Hey, Mars,” -Dick, in his Nightwing gear

“Hey, Di-is the GREATEST SHOW!” -Mari, changing the subject(… not really)

“How long did it take you?”

“Not as long as the Kryptonians…” -Mari, going off into a tangent (still trying to change the subject”

[When Marinette meets Tikki]

Back in Paris:

“Sooo… I’m getting powerful jewelry that gives me powers and a suit, needs to be recharged, and comes from some Order of the Guardians? What’s the difference between you and my ring?” -Marinette, who at this point is very confused as to why she keeps getting picked on for this kind of stuff. 

“One’s alien, one’s magic” -Tikki, hoping Mari will end it there & lowkey hates that the GL Corp. got to her first.

“They’re both non-human made energy sources” -Mari, cause once you’ve seen it once, you’ve seen it all before. 

“You can’t heal the Akuma without the miraculous, and there are more than just rings. Yours are earrings, there are hair clips, bracelets, necklaces and more” -Tikki, after having a minute to think

“Fine, only because you said they’re the only way to heal the, what was it again, akuma?”

_

6) “Their Unofficial Official Barista”

Part of Tim’s job as Co-CEO, is to make sure all the branches are running smoothly, sometimes that means he has to fly abroad to manually check in. Tim goes to Paris to check on the W.E. Paris branch. He goes to a nearby Patisserie (Tom and Sabine’s) to see a young Marinette (somewhere from 8-11) drawing in her sketchbook at the counter. She explains that her parents are at a catering event, but she’s there to man the little bakery. Tim asks for a super caffeinated coffee and Marinette makes it with ease, claiming it was on the house with how bad he looks (and how much sleep the man clearly needs). Tim begs for her knowledge and asks if she can teach his butler. Mari’s willing to show him the next time he comes, so he gets the whole fam to go (viz tubes so they don’t waste time) maybe a week later. Everyone gets their own drink (plus a free pastries) and Marinette teaches Alfred her coffee, but it’s just not the same so Tim, using the tubes, goes to get coffee from the girl whenever he can. 

Mari is horrible at getting up on time (the life of an insomniac, never getting to sleep even if you want and then barely waking up on time) that she is up super early, makes Tim his coffee (plus a croissant) and tries to go back to sleep (making her inevitably late). Tim would walk up to the pick-up counter where his cup and to-go bag is while Marinette runs out of the house to get to school. Eventually, the rest of the Batfam (as well as the Laegue, TT, and YJ) frequent the place, slowly becoming (Dami too) Mari hides it, but she knew all the batfam the first day they came and she showed Alfred how to make the coffee. When the others start making more regular appearances, she learns the identities of YJ team, WW, GLs, and others. Obviously when LB and CN appear as heroes with HM as their villain, they immediately reach out to help. Because 1. Batfam clearly notices that it’s Mari and they sure as heck won’t let her deal with that by herself, and 2. The JL is worrying too much about their favorite barista (even though she’s not really one), especially with the Gigantitan scare. So, of course LB & CN (can’t make him bad everytime) get inducted into YJ.

[After Ladybug finishes defeating Gigantitan and detransforms] 

“Bean! Are you okay? You’re not hurt, are you?” -Tim, being an even more protective older brother than Dick, which shouldn’t be possible

“Yes, I promise. I’m fine” -Marinette, who just accepts the fact that she’s adopted an older brother (and his famliy)

“Tube over, we’ll have Alfred make sure” -Dick, already pulling out the medical supplies for Alfred.

“I-” 

“You shouldn’t worry your brothers like that, Marinette. Now come over so Alfred can clear you,” -Bruce, who just happens to overhear the conversation

“I’m sorry, Miss Marinette, they are very adamant that you’re in pitch perfect health before going out again,” -Alfred, who’s not actually sorry

“Fine” -Marinette, accepting her fate of her adopted, protective family. 

_

7) “Thicker Than the Blood We’ve Shed”

Why is Marinette so freakishly strong? Because she was trained to be. Before she could even talk, Mari was taught to be an assassin. She and Damian were frenemies, both competing for top spot as best in the League (of Assassins). They often spared together and became rivals who pushed each other (which sounds great in that context if you forget about the fact that they’re killing people and turning it into a competition). When Damian’s care is turned over to Batsy, Mari also comes along for the ride. She implements herself into Dami’s classes at G.A. & watches him from afar. (Damian, not being an idiot, of course knows all this and knows that it’s probably for Mari to give a report to Talia.) When he becomes Robin, Mari obviously knows, but waits to see if anything drastic would happen (his care was given to the Batfam, they had already expected this to happen.) She then heard word of the bounty Talia put on Damian’s head. Marinette knew there wouldn’t be much she could do to help, but she ave Dami a warning about the upcoming situation before fleeing the country. 

From there she got to France, changed her name (it wasn’t originally Marinette, it was Shénqí, chinese for miraculous/magical (or something else if you want)), was adopted by Tom & Sabine, and left her time in the League in the past. When she received Tikki, she didn’t want to be a hero because she didn’t think she deserved it after her up-bringing. Eventually, she did become LB (being a trained assassin does help with lucky charms, considering she was taught how to kill with basically every and anything), and life was good for her. Then Rossi came.

[Gotham field trip]

While at Wayne Tower…

“How idiotic are they?” -Damian, who after reuniting with his long-lost sister-from-a-different-mister (yes, Marinette was able to convince him to say it once), can’t understand the stupidity she has to deal with.

“Are you Robin?” -Mari, who is too tired, so just goes straight into the analogy

“Yes.” -Obvious and simply is.

“Exactly” -Mari, who can’t even put a limit to the amount of thought the one brain cell the class shares doesn’t use. I mean please, the so-called “reporter” believed that the first cosplayer she saw was the actual LB when they don’t even have the same hair! And let’s not forget the origins arc, where LB’s first citizen save was Chloe.

[thecrownnet]

Congratulations to Adriano Goldman , ASC, BSC, ABC, Director Of Photography, for his Creative Arts Emmy win OUTSTANDING CINEMATOGRAPHY FOR A SINGLE-CAMERA SERIES (ONE HOUR) for season 4 episode 3 ‘Fairytale’ on September 11, 2021. Here are his insights on filming the episode with director Benjamin Caron.

‘The Crown’ Used Lighting and Composition to Trap Its Characters Inside a ‘Fairytale’

Director Benjamin Caron and cinematographer Adriano Goldman discuss how they destroyed Diana and Charles’ marriage before it even began.

Behind the Scenes of “The Crown” Season 4, Episode 3 Photo: Netflix

Over “The Crown’s” four seasons, the halls of Buckingham Palace have become familiar visual signifiers for both the grandeur and the pressure placed upon the royal family. But in the third episode of this most recent season, “Fairytale,” cinematographer Adriano Goldman and director Benjamin Caron stretched the limits of the show’s visual language to create — and then to destroy — Princess Diana’s (Emma Corrin) fairytale fantasies.

Much of the episode is given over to Diana slowly realizing that, like many princesses stuck in a castle before her, she has fallen into a trap. But Goldman and Caron opened up the ways they shoot their Buckingham Palace sets to show how the demands of the Crown consume everyone on the eve of the fateful marriage.

They force the jaws of the trap open wide with a pre-credits sequence of Diana’s night out with her friends after Charles (Josh O’Connor) proposes to her. The scene is a departure in every sense, not just to the swank ’80s members’ club that Diana frequents.

“You try to deliver something that is more romantic, a little bit more colorful, fun to start,” Goldman said of the sequence in an interview with IndieWire. “We wanted to not change the style too much, but there should be a transition from a very colorful pre-title sequence, a very interesting and more romantic beginning.”

That romance is on full display, most noticeably in the brighter, guadier colors of the club and much warmer tones of Diana’s Earl’s Court flat. But Goldman’s camera also interposes itself almost as a fourth (slightly intoxicated) friend, swinging around inside the girls’ cab to get a look at both Diana and Buckingham Palace, or flinging itself down onto the bed with the girls at the end of the night. The look of the sequence stands in contrast to the stately shots and slow tracks which are the show’s normal rhythm for everyone in the royal family. Well, for everyone in the royal family except maybe Princess Margaret (Helena Bonham-Carter), who gets to dance by a pool every now and again.

“We really considered how we could reverse [that fairytale opening] and be very present with her, and [how we could] make her feel young, actually. Part of this is she’s a young girl going into the palace,” Caron said.

Caron and Goldman gave the audience several visual signifiers that are easy to clock in this sequence, as well as Diana’s goodbyes to her friends that follows: the gold and neon hues of the night out, the warm, eye-level close-ups of Diana dancing in the club, and a signature spiral staircase Diana descends to begin her life as a princess.

Over the course of the episode, these colors will fade. The close-ups inch slightly above Diana’s eyeline, so that it feels like the camera, along with the rest of the Royals, is looking down on her. And when a spiral staircase reappears, it will lead to Diana’s lowest point.

“The Crown” Season 4, Ep. 3 “The Fairytale” Screenshot

With Diana ushered inside Buckingham Palace to shield her from the press in the run-up to her and Charles’ wedding, Caron and Goldman emphasized how small and vulnerable Diana looks inside the palace walls. The opening of “Fairytale” had a long shot of the club, and Diana fit snugly within it. Once inside Buckingham Palace, the negative space often overwhelms Diana, and the camera backs away to show just how alone she truly is, perhaps best exemplified in the scene of her grandmother (Georgie Glen) physically tying her up while instructing her in how to speak like a royal.

Caron and Goldman deliberately call back to the romance of the opening to twist the knife, having Diana dance ballet inside the palace and then try to break out of the regimented structure of it as the pressure on her mounts. “I remember sort of holding the frame and I remember the camera operator was trying to follow us, but [I said no,] just hold the frame static and let her move in and around it,” Caron said. “So it really felt like someone trying to break out [of] somewhere.”

But of course, the camera never does let her leave the frame. Unlike the quick, fun cuts of Diana dancing in the club, there is no pressure release here. There is nowhere for Diana to go.

“The Crown” Season 4, Ep. 3 “The Fairytale” Screenshot

Caron wanted to use visual features that would feel right at home in a Disney princess story to their most punishing effect and perhaps the most powerful one of these motifs reoccurs when “The Crown” has Diana descend another spiral staircase. “[Ben] was very specific about this spiral because she’s going down on a spiral emotionally,” Goldman said of the shot that leads Diana down to the kitchen, a moment of late night desperation that kicks off her eating disorder. “He didn’t want to follow her on the steps, like on a steadicam. He wanted [the camera to be] facing down and going down with her to the very bottom of her feelings and her emotions.”

Caron described it as going to the “bottom of a well,” once Diana enters the kitchens and becomes enveloped in darkness — except for the fluorescent blues of the refrigerator lights, which makes the space feel like a morgue. This strong use of color, like all the changes in the episode, is grounded in the reality of whatever space Diana finds herself in. But the emotion and, indeed, the foreshadowing that Caron and Goldman are able to imbue those spaces with give Diana’s spiral real visual potency and a visceral sadness.

“The Crown” Season 4, Ep. 3 “The Fairytale” Screenshot

What is so thrilling about “Fairytale” is that it spares no one. Two striking scenes toward the end of the episode don’t have Diana in them at all, and yet push the series’ visual language to show how the palace and this marriage will swallow the characters who have been there all along.

In the first of these, Margaret tries to persuade Elizabeth, the Queen Mother (Marion Bailey), and Philip (Tobias Menzies) to call off the wedding. Caron wanted the scene to have a “conspiratorial, almost a Jacobian feel” to highlight the cold, businesslike calculations these four people are making for the happiness of two others.

“I remember saying to Adriano,’no no no, let’s go darker,” Caron said of this sequence and the next one. Goldman also recalled the desire to push the scene even further visually, lighting characters at harsh, dynamic angles or in almost complete shadow, so that the scene would feel spiritually closer to “The Godfather” than to the show’s usual style. The comparison is apt, given the mahogany browns and greens of the sitting room and the firelight that Goldman and Caron used to emphasize shadows falling into the crags on the characters’ faces. Vito Corleone could easily be sitting in a corner of one of those frames.

“The Crown” Season 4, Ep. 3 “The Fairytale” Screenshot

The next scene — when Elizabeth goes to find Charles and offer him a final few words on his marriage — Caron and Goldman viewed as a way to visually crystalize their relationship and how it is marred by their obligations to the monarchy. “Wouldn’t it be painful if you had Charles looking out the window and he felt the reflections of the fireworks and the noise and the celebrations outside?” Caron said about how he started conceiving of the blocking and framing of the exchange between mother and son. Each cinematic choice builds from a sense of what would be more painful, what would put more strain on the relationship.

“The Crown” Season 4, Ep. 3 “The Fairytale” Screenshot

The filmmakers created this visual strain between Queen and Crown Prince not just by keeping them at opposite sides in the composition, but by keeping one of the pair always just out of focus in the shots with the two of them — they can’t even occupy the same level of detail in the frame. Color plays a role, too, with bright blues and reds from the fireworks, reflections of the Union Jack, always being part of the light through which the audience sees the resigned sadness on Colman’s face and the abject misery on O’Connor’s. Goldman said this is the scene where he realizes he will never escape the system of the monarchy. “He realizes it’s too late. It’s a trap. He’s been trapped.”

“It always comes back to the Crown,” Caron said, and it is really from the perspective of the Crown itself that we watch the characters prepare to head to church on the day of the wedding. When the audience finally sees Diana in her dress, she faces away from the camera and moves into that oppressive cavernous space which has put so much pressure on her throughout the episode. It’s a slow, almost funereal march toward the fate the audience already knows awaits her. Charles, on the other hand, gets the close-up this time. But the camera, with equal grimness, tracks slightly down and in, so that his face begins to loom over the frame, making him look monstrous.

“The Crown” Season 4, Ep. 3 “The Fairytale” Screenshot

Of course by now, the visual choices that Caron and Goldman made for “Fairytale” have taught the viewer that there is another monster, a much more powerful one, looming over the episode’s final frame: The Crown is the monster that always gets you in the end.

[wolf-and-bard]

The Geraskier Dungeons and Dragons AU of my dreams (inspired by the TAD AMA and Joey apparently being an amazing dm):

-"Why do you hate fun," Eskel complains - for the fifth time that day - after Geralt refused his invitation to a new DnD campaign - for the fifth time that day. Geralt doesn't hate fun. He hates play-acting and games, especially if they rely on luck and are overly complicated, he hates big groups of people, and he hates being told stories. Dungeons and Dragons encompasses all of those aspects and that is why Geralt avoids it like the plague. "It's not for me," he mutters and hands Eskel the sandwiches he made for him to take to work. - "But this Jaskier guy is legendary, like I heard he's the best Dungeonmaster in the state." - "Likely an exaggeration...." - "Pleeaaaase. I had to bribe the hell out of Aiden to have him give up the two spots he had." That piques Geralt's interest. "What'd you bribe him with?" Eskel scratches his head sheepishly. "I may have sold our brother's hand in marriage." - "That's ballsy for you... does Lambert know of his luck yet?" Eskel shakes his head and Geralt huffs a laugh. His brothers are unbelievable, one so nerdy it makes up for Geralt's complete lack of interest in pop culture, the other an oblivious prick that tends to get arrested for being offensive. Ciri is their only hope. "So are you coming?" - "Absolutely no way."

-Geralt doesn't want to go and until half an hour before the game is supposed to start, he keeps his resolve. But then Eskel bursts into their shared living room - their flat is still attached to their father's house, but separate enough that it feels like their own; Lambert has a type penthouse suite to himself and Ciri still lives with Vesemir in the main house - with an excited blush and wearing a WoW shirt and the biggest, brightest puppy eyes, and begs Geralt on hands and knees to come with him. "Why though?" Geralt asks. "Would be more fun if I stayed away..." - "But I'm awkward and your pretty face may distract from that." - "Esk, we have the same face." Which is true, save for... oh. The scars. Of course, Geralt wants to smack himself. Eskel always tends to be more self-conscious in groups of new people because of his marred face, an accident in the zoo when they were young. He believes having Geralt with him shows other people how he is supposed to look like. Geralt doesn't believe it's a great coping mechanism, but he can never deny his twin anything. "Fuck," he grumbles and a triumphant grin blooms over Eskel's features.

-That first session is to go over the basics for anyone who needs a refresher and to talk about what each player expects from the campaign bla bla bla; Geralt doesn't contribute more than the odd grunt and is soon distracted by Jaskier's bright eyes, his pretty mouth, his whole energetic demeanor... he develops a little fixation over the course of the evening and gives up on trying to understand the game

-Jaskier approaches him after, while everyone else is exchanging notes on their characters, excited and electric and Geralt hasn't the first clue on what to do. A light hand on his shoulder, a welcoming smile. "Geralt, right?" Geralt nods curtly and Jaskier pulls up a chair and sits. Way too close for Geralt's comfort. He doesn't... mind? Fuck are those butterflies? Already? "If you have trouble figuring out your character, we could always do a private session to get you going. What do you say?" - "Saturday," Geralt grunts in reply. Jaskier claps delightedly, then is distracted by one of the women, Calanthe Geralt recalls, asking if she can play a lioness shapeshifter. He lets Eskel collect him, endures his brother's constant prattle on the ride back. He dares to give the whole thing a shot.

-Their private session starts out with Jaskier explaining different classes of characters, a few bottles of Geralt's favourite Redanian Lager on the side. He tries to listen, at least at first. But then Jaskier keeps licking froth from his lips and some of the perspiration from the cold bottles runs down his exposed neck and fuck, Geralt just can't stop himself. Eskel said over and over that Jaskier was basically a magician, but Geralt thought that would be restricted to the game. Nope. His dick definitely twitches when Jaskier leans over him to grab the dice Geralt brought upon Eskel's recommendation. Geralt catches a whiff of his shampoo - vanilla? - and Jaskier's arm brushes Geralt and well. He lets out a low whine. Jaskier hums a question mark, but when he sees the look on Geralt face his encouraging smile turns devilish, knowing. "Good," he breathes, drops the dice and climbs onto Geralt's lap. "I thought it was only me." Geralt catches Jaskier's hips and they kiss. No classes are studied that day, no alignments picked, no attributes determined. Instead, Geralt learns all the beautiful noises Jaskier can make, learns some of his own anew. They will need another private session to make up for lost time

-"Perhaps I should just design a character for you," Jaskier pants into Geralt's neck as he slow-fucks him on their couch, Eskel being out with Lambert to clear up the whole Aiden thing. It's the third time they're meeting to figure out Geralt's character. Geralt grunts and accelerates just enough to keep them both on the edge. His skin is burning and Jaskier writhes, his shoulders littered with bite marks. "Oh, fuck, Geralt, please." Later, Geralt agrees to Jaskier's suggestion. He makes him pancakes for breakfast.

-When the first session is well underway, everyone quickly realizes that this game really isn't for Geralt. He tries, he does. Jaskier was kind, gave him a stoic half-orc warrior that communicates mostly with grunts, but he still doesn't get all the rules and Calanthe is getting impatient with him, her boyfriend Eist amused by this, and Eskel keeps throwing the dice for Geralt, and these girls, Téa and Véa, stare daggers at him. Jaskier's watches it all with amusement, gently steering the group back towards their adventure - not that Geralt has the first clue what their objective is. But Geralt wants to keep playing if only because Jaskier is so fucking beautiful in his element, imitating voices, using the most ridiculous vocabulary, glowing with pure joy. It's a privilege to see, Geralt understands that now. And he has to thank Eskel for taking him despite his reservations

-"Won't you go on a normal date with me?" Geralt asks one night when they are wrapped up in Jaskier's bed, contented and tired from their earlier activities. "I could take you hunting or whatever." - "That's what you call a normal date?" Jaskier laughs and kisses him lightly. They haven't defined whatever it is they're doing, but Geralt is in no rush. Especially because he hasn't yet dared to breach the topic with Eskel who quickly befriended Jaskier (and everyone else of course, at the end of the day Eskel is a social butterfly, no matter what scars he bears). "Just... go out with me." - "You know, usually I have a strict policy for dating players, but... well that's already way out the window so, yeah, okay. I'll go out with you. But we're absolutely not going hunting, I'm a vegetarian." Alas, there had to be some catch.

-Geralt keeps playing and his permanent confusion becomes part of his character as well. It isn't ideal, but the others - and Jaskier's forgiving storytelling - drag him through to the end of it. By then, Geralt almost gets it. "Well," Jaskier concludes. "That was a bit of a different campaign. Hope you all liked it." The bastard acts abashed. Hah. Geralt and Eskel are the last ones to leave after they all toasted and talked about playing again some time. "You coming?" Eskel asks, hovering near the door. He's long past his initial anxiety, his fangirling, his self-consciousness. That too has been a glorious part of this, seeing Eskel unfold, gain confidence, be at ease. He likes that he could give his brother the safety he needed. "I, uhm," Geralt starts, but Jaskier interrupts by threading his arm through Geralt's. "We are! What's for dinner?" And he drags Geralt past Eskel who raises a brow. Geralt tries to communicate with his eyes all he neglected to tell Eskel. It's only because they're so close that Eskel at least understands that they are something like boyfriends now. He laughs.

-"My baby brother," Eskel lulls later when Jaskier is already passed out from too much wine and Geralt and him stand outside, sharing a rare cigarette. He ruffles Geralt head. "I'd wondered why you stuck around so long." - "Fuck off," Geralt says.

-The next time Eskel invites him to a campaign, Geralt tags along. Not because he particularly wants to, but because now there are two pairs of puppy eyes, begging him, and he can't say no to either of them, let alone both (maybe someday he will actually enjoy the game for its own merits)

[piratewithvigor]

My first thought in regard to every band that gets played on my radio station

ACDC: Every dad’s favourite band

Adams, Bryan: Every mom’s favourite singer until Michael Buble came along

Aerosmith: haha they thought Vince Neil was a lady

Alice Cooper: he’s a Game Of Thrones fanboy and I have proof

Alice In Chains: my sister doesn’t like them because she decided AC were Alice Cooper’s initials ONLY

Allman Brothers Band: good music for dropping acid to

Allman, Gregg: That’s too many Gs for one name

Animals: House Of The Rising Sun, or who even cares

Argent: Sometimes Hold Your Head Up is really catchy

Asia: Tuesdays

Autograph: one of the members went on to be a pharmacist

Bachman-Turner Overdrive: There are just so many pop culture jokes about Taking Care Of Business that whatever I say won’t be as funny

Bad Company: with their song; Bad Company, off their album; Bad Company

Benatar, Pat: Always getting her confused with Patti Smith

Black Crowes: I like them for Lickin, but it doesn’t seem to exist outside of one shoddy video on youtube and my old CD

Blackfoot: this band name feels kind of racy

Black Sabbath: Dio was not better or worse than Ozzy; just different

Blondie: I like Call Me, but Blondie confuses me stylistically

Blue Oyster Cult: MORE COWBELL

Bon Jovi: Hello, childhood trauma, I missed you

Boston: ONE GUY. ONE GUY DID IT ALL AND NO ONE KNOWS

Bowie, David: Don’t let your children watch The Man Who Fell To Earth, or David Bowie’s will end up being the third penis they see in life

Browne, Jackson: Another musician ruined by Supernatural

Buffalo Springfield: Jack Nicholson was at the riot they sing about

Burdon, Eric: no ideas, brain empty

Bush: ditto

Candlebox: ditto once more. Who are these people?

Cars: This band feels so gay and so straight at the same time, I can only assume they’re the poster children of bisexual panic

Cheap Trick: I played Dream Police on Guitar Hero so fucking much because it was the only song anyone who played with me could keep up with

Chicago: Chicago 30 exists, but they do not have 30 albums. Fucking riddle me that

Clapton, Eric: 6 discs in one Greatest Hits is too many. That’s called “re releasing your discography”

Cochrane, Tom: For some reason, everyone thinks Rascal Flats did it better

Cocker, Joe: Belushi did it right

Collective Soul: who?

Collins, Phil: If his biggest hits were done by MCR, they would be emo anthems, but because he’s 5′6″ and from the 80s, they’re not

Cream: *Vietnam flashbacks on the hippie side*

CCR: *Vietnam flashbacks on the war side*

CSNY: David Crosby; meh

Deep Purple: THEY’RE SO MUCH MORE THAN SMOKE ON THE WATER

Def Leppard: the only music for when you’re a heartbroken bitch but also a sexy one

Derek And The Dominos: Clapton and ‘Layla’ broke up

Derringer, Rick: Tom Petty if he was from the midwest

Dio: You thought it was an anime reference, but it was me, Dio

Dire Straits: You can tell how bigoted a radio station is based on how much of Money For Nothing they censor

Doobie Brothers: I have yet to smoke weed, but I listen to the Doobies, and I think that’s pretty close

Dylan, Bob: I take back everything I said about him in my youth

Eagles: Hotel California isn’t their best song, but the memes that come from it are second to none

Edgar Winter Group: @the--blackdahlia

Electric Light Orchestra: Actually an orchestra and sound a fuckton like George Harrison

ELO: I really hesitate to ask what happens with the 7 virgins and a mule

Essex, David: no prominent memories of him

Fabulous Thunderbirds: cannot spell

Faces: Who on earth thought that was a good album name?

Faith No More: I got nothing

Fixx: One Thing Leads To Another is a damn bop

Fleetwood Mac: I ain’t straight, but I’m simply not enough of a witch to enjoy them to full potential

Fogerty, John: He got sued cause he sounded like himself

Foghat: Slow Ride slowly becoming less coherent feels like a drug trip

Foo Fighters: He was just excited to buy a grill

Ford, Lita: deserved better

Foreigner: dramatically overplayed

Frampton, Peter: a masterful user of the talk box

Free: dramatically underplayed

Gabriel, Peter: leaving Genesis changed him a lot

Genesis: if someone likes Genesis, clarify the era, because yes, it does matter

Georgia Satellites: sing like you have a cactus in your ass

Golden Earring: Twilight Zone slaps, but it doesn’t slap as hard as this station thinks it does

Grand Funk Railroad: Funk

Grateful Dead: I like their aesthetic more than their music

Great White: there are so many fucking shark jokes

Greenbaum, Norman: makes me think of Subway for some reason

Green Day: the first of the emo revolution

Greg Kihn Band: RocKihnRoll is literally the most clever album name I’ve ever seen

Guns N Roses: They have more than three good songs, but radio stations never recognize that

Hagar, Sammy: I’m still trying to figure out where he lived to take 16 hours to get to LA driving 55 and how fucking fast was he driving beforehand?

Harrison, George: He went from religious to rock, and if he had continued rocking, he would have gotten too cool 

Head East: I respect people who use breakfast foods as album names

Heart: Magic Man and Barracuda are played at least once every goddamn day. They’re not even the best songs!

Hendrix, Jimi: I have both a cousin and a sibling named after Hendrix references

Henley, Don: Dirty Laundry gives me too much inspiration

Hollies: Somehow sound like they’re both from the 60s and the 80s at the same time

Idol, Billy: he’s doing well for himself

INXS: Terminator vibes

Iris, Donnie: knockoff Roy Orbison

James Gang: too many funks

Jane’s Addiction: if TMNT had a grunge band representative

Jefferson Airplane: *assorted cheers*

Jefferson Starship: *assorted boos*

Jethro Tull: The only band to make you feel not cool enough to play the flute

Jett, Joan: icon

J. Geils Band: I requested them on the radio once and it got played

Joel, Billy: he really did just air everybody’s business like that

John Cafferty And The Beaver Brown Band: literally wtf is that name

John, Elton: yarn Elton sits in my basement, unstaring. Please someone take him from me

Joplin, Janis: Queen

Journey: Stop overplaying Don’t Stop Believing. It takes away from the rest of the repetoire

Judas Priest: literally started the gay leather aesthetic

Kansas: another fucking band Supernatural stole

Kenny Wayne Shepherd: the man confuses me to the point where he isn’t in the right place alphabetically

Kiss: Mick Mars and I will simply have to disagree on the subject

Kravitz, Lenny: runaway vibes

Led Zeppelin: Fucking fight me if you don’t think they’re the most talented band (maybe not the most talented individually, but collectively, no one comes close)

Lennon, John: My least favourite Beatle for reasons

Live: I got nothin

Living Colour: slap a decent amount

Loverboy: do you not get TURNT the fuck up to the big Loverboy hits? Who hurt you??

Lynyrd Skynyrd: Sweet Home Alabama is a Neil Young diss track

Marshall Tucker Band: no opinion

Manfred Mann’s Earth Band: VERY STRONG OPINIONS THAT THEY AREN’T GOOD

McCartney, Paul/Wings: Power couple

Meatloaf: I have nothing but respect for a man who willingly named himself Meatloaf

Mellencamp, John: voted cutest lesbian of 1987

Metallica: I liked their appearance on Jimmy Fallon

Midnight Oil: I get them confused for Talking Heads a lot

Modern English: who?

Molly Hatchet: Hollies vibes, but also Georgia Satellites vibes

Money, Eddie: DAN AVIDAN, IF YOU SEE THIS, COVER TAKE ME HOME TONIGHT

Motley Crue: Stan Mick Mars and John Corabi. They’re the only ones who deserve it

Mott The Hoople: no one loves them except for David Bowie

Mountain: props for naming an album ‘Climbing’

Nazareth: I want to make a John Mulaney joke here, but I can never come up with one

Nicks, Stevie: witch queen

Night Ranger: I get them confused with Urge Overkill

Nirvana: Kurt Cobain was the ally grunge needed

Nova, Aldo: he’s Canadian, at least

Nugent, Ted: *serves a ghost as jerky*

Offspring: nothing here

Osbourne, Ozzy: this bitch crazy

Outfield: Your Love is kind of a sketchy song, but it slaps hard

Palmer, Robert: low quality Eddie Money

Pearl Jam: *grunts in Eddie Vedder*

Petty, Tom: I have so many feelings about Tom Petty and they are all good

Pink Floyd: which one is Pink?

Plant, Robert: solo career is a crapshoot, but his voice is unparalleled

Poison: I want them to write a song called ‘Alice Cooper’

Pretenders: I want to say good things, but I have nothing to say

Queen: A doctor of astrophysics, a screaming girl, a disco queen and a diva walk into a bar. It’s Queen; they’re there to play a gig

Queensryche: neutral opinion

Quiet Riot: they got big because of a song they hated. I love that

Rafferty, Gerry: the second-sexiest sax opening in all of music

Rainbow: Ritchie Blackmore created something very magnificent

Ram Jam: one good song and they didn’t even write it

Ratt: I’m sure they have more than Round And Round, but I don’t know it

RHCP: funky, but if you have paid money to hear them, you’re going to The Bad Place (I don’t make the rules)

Red Rider: basically Golden Earring

Reed, Lou: Walk On The Wild Side would be such a cool song if it wasn’t so dull

REM: American Tragically Hip

REO Speedwagon: Props for having a dad joke as an album title

Rolling Stones: Never in my life could I imagine the drummer being named anything but Charlie

Rush: How to make being uncool the coolest fucking shit

Santana: The world needs more Santana

Scandal: There’s something really funny about The Warrior being my brother’s “song” with his girlfriend

Scorpions: Was Wind Of Change written by the CIA? Only the spotify podcast I got an ad for once could say

Seger, Bob: A different variety of Eric Clapton (frankly a better variety, but that’s just me)

Simple Minds: we ALL forgot about you

Skid Row: Sebastian Bach is prettier than all of us

Soundgarden: music that makes you feel like you dunked your head underwater

Springsteen, Bruce: my arch-nemesis. Maybe someday, he’ll find out about it

Squeeze: according to my friends, the stupidest band name ever, but they’re theatre kids, so you know

Squier, Billy: If he can make it through 1984 alive, you can make it through whatever bad day you’re having

Stealers Wheel: Yet another band who I always mistake for George Harrison

Steely Dan: my house’s nickname for the Robber in Settlers Of Catan

Steppenwolf: Either makes me think of Jay & Silent Bob, Jack Nicholson, or that time I had to cut 6lbs of onions

Steve Miller Band: when you’re in the right mood, they slap hard

Stewart, Rod: my soundtrack to summer 2015

Stills, Stephen: Love The One You’re With Is Catchy, but the lyrics are questionable

Stone Temple Pilots: the only band to write a song about goo you smear on yourself

Stray Cats: an obscene amount of merch is available for them

Styx: Supernatural would have ruined them for me too if I hadn’t been into them previously. 

Supertramp: I hunted for Breakfast In America for two years and it was worth every hunt

Sweet: I will never understand my two-month obsession with Ballroom Blitz when I was 15, but it was legit all I listened to

Talking Heads: you may find yourself in a pizza hut. And you may find yourself in a taco bell. And you may find yourself at the combination pizza hut and taco bell. And you may ask yourself; ‘how did I get here?’

Temple Of The Dog: I keep confusing them for Nazareth

Ten Years After: somehow still relevant

Tesla: not the car or the dude

The Beatles: Evokes a lot of opinions from people. Mine is that I love them

The Clash: I showed my sister the ‘Lock The Taskbar’ vine ONCE and it still kills her

The Doors: evokes teenage terror from deep within my soul

The Guess Who: Canada’s answer to confusing question-themed band names

The Kinks: kinky

The Police: wrote the theme of 2020 and everyone somehow forgot it was about a teacher resisting becoming a pedophile

The Ramones: playing all of their songs in a row wouldn’t take more than 2 hours

The Romantics: you don’t think you know them, but if you’ve seen Shrek 2, you have

The Who: If someone can explain Tommy to me, I’d be glad to hear it

The Zombies: I think they happened because of the 60s

Thin Lizzy: Could the boys maybe leave town?

Thorogood, George: blues, but make it modern

Toto: the most memed song behind All Star

Townshend, Pete: just makes me think of the end of Mr. Deeds

T-Rex: Mark Bolan is an icon

Triumph: The no-name brand of Rush

Tubes: like the yogurt

Twisted Sister: they did a christmas album and my mom does NOT hate it

U2: U2 Movers; we move in mysterious ways

Van Halen: RIP Eddie

Van Morrison: honestly, who’s named Van?

Vaughn, Stevie Ray: Steamy Ray Vaughn

Walsh, Joe: The Smoker You Drink The Player You Get

War: Foghat, but even groovier

Whitesnake: the most successful band to be named after a penis

Wright, Gary: the 90s thanks him for writing the song every movie used for the “guy sees cute girl and it’s love at first sight” scene

Yes: To Be Continued

Young, Neil: The best part of CSNY

Zevon, Warren: the album cover of Excitable Boy makes me deeply uncomfortable for reasons I don’t understand

ZZ Top: has been the same three guys since 1969. Lineup unchanged. 

3 Doors Down: They feel a little modern to be on a classic rock station, but whatever

38 Special: Why 38?

[multibug]

Passion Fruit Lip Gloss

AO3

HAPPY (late) BIRTHDAY MY LOVE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I LOVE U SO MUCH @emsylcatac

tags: identity reveal, fluff, kissing, aged-up characters, slight crack

Marinette adjusts the bedazzled party hat atop her head, the bright gold a stark contrast to her jet black hair. It doesn’t exactly go with her outfit of choice, though she’s not necessarily angry at it. 

It was either that or the bedazzled green tiny cowboy hat.-

(“Green?!” she had asked Alya, when she was showing Marinette ideas about what to do for the hats.

“For our school colors, silly. We probably won’t use them anyway.” 

Alya did end up using them in the end.) 

Marinette’s wearing a peach-colored long-sleeve silk button up with thin red and white stripes vertically lining it. It’s tucked into a pair of black shorts with a leather belt. 

In a moment of pure hastiness, she had chosen her tallest thigh high black heels, with a heel that raised her three full inches over her normal height. 

A small beret keeps one side of her hair pinned back so her ear is exposed. She tied a thin choker around her neck to complete the look and a small touch of makeup with glossy lips. 

It’s passion fruit flavor. 

The clock hanging on the wall reads 23h00, giving Marinette a good hour and a half before she can beg off feigning tiredness as her excuse so Alya doesn’t call her a party pooper. It’s not that Marinette doesn’t like to party per say, it’s that she’s not exactly the third wheel type. 

She’s had more than enough of it the last few days, thank you very much. 

All of their friends are paired up with someone, whether it’s platonic or not. Alya and Nino, Kim and Ondine, Luka and XY—a big shocker to all of their friends with how much Luka despised him back in the day. There’s the obvious Juleka and Rose still holding strong, Kagami and Chloé, another eye-opener when they revealed it to their friends earlier last month. 

Ivan and Mylène, who endured a long-distance relationship for a while before Ivan and his family moved back to Paris in August. Nathaniel and Marc, who sadly weren’t around a lot to cause Marinette much of a heartache, but enough nonetheless. 

Even Alix and Max, two entirely platonic friends, were enough to make Marinette feel like she was third wheeling. 

They aren’t doing it on purpose, at least Marinette thinks they aren’t, yet the longing to have someone on this chilly New Years Eve is almost unbearable. Almost. 

A mix of something fruity and strong loiters in her hand long enough to help kick the feeling. 

“Girl, what are you doing all the way over here by yourself?” Alya gently bumps her hip into Marinette’s, eyeing her over the top of her straw as she takes a sip of her drink. “You’ve been off all night!” 

Alya’s cowboy hat is nearly slipping off her head at this point, though it looks as though the redhead hasn’t noticed. 

Marinette stifles a giggle, shoving her half-filled drink into Alya’s free hand. She watches in bemusement as part of the drink sloshes to the floor and goes about fixing the small hat on top of Alya’s head. “There! All fixed.” 

“Don’t think I didn’t notice you trying to avoid my question,” Alya remarks with a sharply raised eyebrow. 

“Me? Trying to avoid your question? Alya, you must be drunker than you think!” Marinette quickly takes the drink back from Alya’s hand and downs the rest of it, throwing an overly enthusiastic thumbs up in its wake. 

“I’m on my first drink, M,” Alya deadpans. 

Pursing her lips together, Marinette shrugs her shoulder sheepishly. “Sorry?” 

The song changes from a slower song to a more upbeat one, the accompanying lights Nino installed in his and Alya’s apartment changing to the tune of it. 

Alya knocks back the rest of her drink and slams the cup onto a nearby counter, a devious glint in her eyes. 

Oh no. 

“Come dance with me, M!” Her hand encircles Marinette’s wrist, tugging her onto the makeshift dance floor whether Marinette wants to or not. 

Marinette nearly trips over her heels in an attempt to keep up with Alya’s longer legs, knowing it's fruitless to argue with Alya when she has her mind set to something. 

Out of the corner of her eye, a familiar tall blond squeezes past them with relative ease, Marinette briefly making eye contact with them. Time feels as though it slows down, Marinette’s lips parting slightly as she peers into the bright eyes of Adrien, who she hasn’t seen since Nino threw him a spectacular 19th birthday party in September. 

A birthday party that Marinette still can’t remember to this day. 

All she recalls is getting extremely plastered after seeing Adrien pictured with a girl in his newest edition of Vogue Paris. He hadn’t spoken about whether the girl was his girlfriend at the time, yet seeing them together had her feeling as though she was on fire. 

Months of Marinette working towards getting over him just for her to realize it’s seemingly useless. 

He’s always going to have a special place in her heart, she suspects. 

His eyes soften as soon as he realizes it's her, his lips curving into a beautiful smile that outperforms all of his photoshoot pictures by a landslide. His hair’s grown slightly longer since she’s last seen him, curling around the back of his ear—a bit reminiscent of their collège days. 

Adrien’s still just as gorgeous as she remembers. 

“You look good,” she squeaks out over the bass of the music, inwardly screaming at herself to shut up. 

“Thank you—” he cuts himself off as Alya drags Marinette across the room, his hand outstretched in reaching towards her. 

Gosh, how she yearns to see if it’s as soft as it looks, even in the dim multi-colored lighting. 

“Honey, I think the liquor is getting to you,” Alya whisper-yells into her ear, a tiny smirk lingering on her face. 

Marinette rolls her eyes and shakes her head, the party hat sliding with the movement. “No way, Al! I haven’t been drinking like that. Only enough for some liquid courage, you know?” 

Just then, she trips over the heel of her boot and nearly forces them to the floor from using Alya as leverage. Thankfully, Alya was standing close enough to the wall to support them before that happened. 

“Sure, babe. I’ll make sure either Nino or I take you home later.” 

Sticking her tongue out at Alya, she sets her empty drink onto the nearest flat surface and throws her arms around Alya’s neck, losing herself to the beat of the music. Her hips move in time with the songs, some she faintly remembers, and others she’s never heard of. 

Alya’s close enough to her that she begins to feel a bit sweaty as the songs pass. 

At some point while Hot in Herre by Nelly is playing, Nino saddles up to them with drinks in his hands. 

“Babe, I think she’s had enough,”Alya all but snaps.

Nino shoots her a look that says relax without actually saying it. 

“Thanks, Nino! You’re a real pal.” Marinette loops her arm through his and leans her head against his bicep, taking a sip from the drink he gives her. “Yuck, water.” 

“Yeah, you are a real pal,” Alya says with a fond grin, pressing a slightly sweaty kiss to his cheek. “Thanks, love.” 

Marinette huffs. “I take it back. You’re not my pal.” She ruins this statement by tightening her grip on his arm. 

“Ooh, she’s clingy tonight. Are you drunk, Nette?” 

“I’m not drunk. I’m just abnormally tipsy is all! I think it might just be hitting me now. Oh dear, maybe the water is a good idea.” Frowning, she sips at the water with her nose scrunched, a small pout forming on her face. 

Raising her arm up to stare at the watch on her hand, she squints her eyes and is barely able to make out the time: 23h50. 

Another New Years Eve, another kissless year. 

“Hey guys! Kim is looking for you two. He said something about a major spill in the kitchen?” 

It’s Adrien, dressed in a light blue—is that Givenchy?!—cotton button-up with yellow and green flowers scattered on it. The sleeves are rolled up to his elbows and the shirt itself is tucked into a pair of black skinny jeans and a pair of brown chelsea boots. 

It suits him well, so much so that she clenches her jaw to stop it from dropping.

Snap out of it. 

Marinette blinks owlishly at Adrien, the liquor causing her head to feel fuzzy. 

“I don’t want to leave Nette alone—”

Adrien laughs softly, hands shoved into his pockets as he interrupts, “Nino, I can take care of Mar while you guys go help Kim, yeah?” 

“I am not a child.” Marinette detaches herself from Nino and stands proudly, chin held high. “I can take care of myself!” 

“I didn’t say you couldn’t,” Adrien replies gently, as to not spook her. “I’ll just be around to make sure you’re okay in the process, is that cool?” 

He’s so nice. It warms her heart. “Yeah, sure.” 

“Cool, let’s go.” He slings an arm over her shoulder languidly and smiles down at her. 

Her heart races. 

“Do you want to go onto the balcony to watch the fireworks? Nino and Alya said it’s off limits, but I’m sure they’ll make an exception for us, right guys?” 

Alya winks over at Marinette as Adrien’s head turns away to glance at Nino, and she replies, “Yeah, go for it.” 

A blush rises on her cheeks, heat stinging her face. She’s going to kill Alya. 

“C’mon, Mar, we’re out this bitch.” Adrien steers them over to the balcony and easily has them through the sliding doors within seconds.

It drowns out the party lingering behind them. 

Glancing down at her wrist, Marinette notes that her watch reads 23h55. Five minutes until midnight. Time feels as though it’s gone so fast yet so slow, strangely enough. 

She shivers, though the sensation is mostly coming from her stockings as her shirt’s fairly thick. She’s surprised when she feels a weight on her shoulders. 

Out of thin air, Adrien produces a heavy bomber jacket that warms her to the core immediately. Maybe he grabbed it on their way out without her realizing it? Whatever the case may be, she’s very grateful for the heat seeping into her body while they’re out in the frigid Parisian air. 

“Thank you,” she murmurs in response, her arms crossing to grab either side of the jacket and hold it around her body. 

“Of course,” he replies, shooting her the same smile from earlier. 

It warms her more than the jacket does. 

“You know,” he starts, hands twitching on the balcony railing, as he glances from the beautiful city view to her face. “I have so much to talk to you about. So much to say. Now isn’t the right time obviously, as you’ve been drinking—”

Her eyebrows furrow together. “I’m perfectly coherent, Adrien.” 

“I didn’t say you weren’t,” he defends easily, his arm groping her elbow to ground her. “I’m just saying that I think this is a conversation where both of us should be completely sober and open to hearing the topic at hand.” 

What does he mean by that? She’s not sure where she should be confused and worried or elated that he wants to talk to her about something serious. Either way, it’s puzzling her already fuzzy brain to the point where she bites down on her lower lip and lets out a huff unknowingly. 

“Is it bad?” she finally asks, eyes flickering to her watch. 

23h58. 

“No, no! It’s not bad at all.” He squeezes her elbow reassuringly and smiles warmly at her, eyes glittering even in the dim light that shines above them. “I’m hoping it’ll be a good conversation, though I want you to remember it. That’s why I’m waiting.” 

Waiting. Good. it’s good. For a good conversation. Ugh. Her brain hurts. 

“Okay,” Marinette murmurs, blinking up at him slightly confused. She returns the smile once she notices his, it being too contagious for her not to. “Okay, I believe you.” 

He hasn’t removed his hand from her elbow. She hasn’t shaken him off either. 

Beyond them, miles and miles away, in the sea of twinkling lights and crowds of people, fireworks explode into the night sky as bright sensations. They light up the dark with their vibrant colors and intoxicating patterns, making it irresistibly hard to look away. 

The second she does, her eyes are drawn to another light, this one alive. 

Adrien, who is watching the fireworks with an expression of wonder. A tilt to his eyebrows and a small drop of his jaw, cheekbones dipping high with the shadow of the night. 

“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” she asks, rather than wishing him a Happy New Years. Rather than stare at the beautiful swirls and patterns happening adjacent to her. She’s too focused on the beautiful boy in front of her, whether he knows she’s talking about him or not. 

It has to be said.

He lets out a small chuckle and nods his head, free hand rubbing at the back of his head as he whispers, “Yeah, it sure is.” 

“Bonne Année, Adrien, “ she whispers, so gently that she’s unsure as to if he’s heard it. 

Wonder-filled eyes flickering over to her helps in answering her question.. He grins impossibly wide, all of his teeth showing so it’s nearly comical, yet it’s so unabashedly Adrien that she can’t help but return it for a second time tonight.

Adrien leans in, and for a second, Marinette truly thinks he’s going to kiss her. Her heart starts stuttering and the color the cold had ripped from her returns to her body so fast it feels like whiplash. 

He doesn’t kiss her. 

And yet, that isn’t the exact truth either, is it?

Lips brush against the apple of her cheek, so light that the touch feels both hot and cold simultaneously. It sends shivers throughout her body and the spot on her skin that his lips linger on burns hotter than the temperature of the sun. 

She can’t think. Her brain is complete mush.

The tip of his cold nose nudges against her cheek afterwards briefly as he leans in to whisper into her ear, “Bonne Année to you as well, Marinette.” 

Her heart continues to flutter until she falls asleep minutes later, curled up in his jacket all while leaning on him.

---

Daylight shines in through the slits of her blinds faster than Marinette would’ve liked, considering the horrible ache in her head. Except, she can’t exactly remember how she made it back to her apartment, which is a weird feat for her. 

She rarely drinks enough to where she doesn’t remember what’s happening—Adrien’s birthday party being an anomaly. 

How did she make it home yesterday? 

Hm, maybe it was Alya or Nino? They aren’t the type to abandon one another in their times of need. even in times of absolute peril. There’s no way they didn’t have some part in getting her home, even if it meant physically seeing that she made it into her apartment building before leaving.

The thought makes her feel all fuzzy inside. 

It could’ve been any of their friends at the party, if she’s honest. She doesn’t remember anything after Hot in Herre played on the dancefloor; hopefully bits and pieces come back as time goes on. 

Oh well, it mustn’t be that important.

Peeling open an eye has her glancing over at her nightstand, a bottle of paracetamol and a glass of water sitting neatly on her otherwise messy cupboard. She makes a move to grab the bottle and water when movement near her balcony door has her freezing in place. 

Chat Noir is standing there, back turned to her—she can even recognize him in horribly-taken photographs—as though he’s trying to sneak out. He turns to glance back at her and she soundly slips her eyes shut, feigning sleep. 

As her balcony door creaks, her eyes open and she watches Chat shut the door and bounce off the balcony with his staff. 

“Tikki?” 

Her small, red friend flies out from her little nest. “Yes, Marinette?” 

“Was Chat Noir just in my room?” Her voice is thick with sleep and slightly hoarse. 

Tikki’s eyes widen and she glances around the room nervously. “No? Were you dreaming? Chat Noir was most definitely not in here!” 

Marinette’s eyes squint up at her. “Don’t lie to me. I just saw him!” 

“Well, then why did you ask me?” Tikki whines, deflating a bit as she floats closer to Marinette. “Yes, Chat Noir was here. If you want to know more, I’ll tell you as you are the Guardian and it’s your decision, but if you don’t, I won’t utter a word.” 

“Will it jeopardize me knowing his identity? I wouldn’t want to do that to him,” Marinette worries, using her thumb and forefinger to toy with her lower lip. 

Stroking her chin thoughtfully, Tikki shrugs. “It may. I can’t say yes or no for sure. It would have to be a risk you’re willing to take.” 

“Ugh, no. I’m not going to do that to him. It wouldn’t be fair.” Marinette sighs, finally opening the bottle of paracetamol and downing two with large gulps of water. “Though I am curious.” 

“As they say, curiosity killed the cat!” Tikki replies with a giggle. 

Face-palming, Marinette groans aloud. “Oh no. He’s rubbing off on you too!” 

---

“Girl, I’m surprised you haven’t called me,” Alya tells her, a few days later, when the New Years resolution goals have already lost their momentum. “I figured I’d get a phone call as soon as you got home.” 

“What are you talking about, Als? Sorry, hold on.” Marinette pauses, readjusting the phone between her ear and shoulder. Her classes haven’t let back in for the semester, yet she’s trying to get a headstart on pinning a new design she’s working on so she doesn’t fall behind. “Okay, go on. I have my brain screwed in now.” 

Things aren’t going according to plan, obviously. 

Alya snorts. “With you and Adrien, duh! Do you seriously not remember it? I thought you weren’t plastered.” 

“I wasn’t plastered! I guess I was just more tipsy than I thought I was.” 

“So, you were drunk?” 

“Shut up.” 

Letting out another round of laughter, Alya says, “Well, I can fill you in if you’d like. It’s pretty juicy.” 

“I don’t know if I want to know,” Marinette groans, rubbing an exasperated hand over her face. 

“Oh come on! It’s not even bad! You did pretty well considering the circumstances!” 

A pin falls to the floor at Alya’s word, forcing Marinette to tell her friend to hold on again. Three minutes later, she successfully finds the pin that somehow hid under the mannequin stand where she couldn’t see it. 

Lucky? Pft. Not Marinette.

“You were saying?” Marinette asks.

Alya fills her in on all of the details rather quickly, from Adrien whisking her away while still being a gentleman about it to them having alone time on the balcony. The story lasts all of a minute, even with Alya’s expertise in story-telling, and it has Marinette’s heart fluttering. 

The puzzle pieces start to connect. 

“Als, I just remembered what happened on the balcony,” Marinette says, eyes slightly wide. 

“Bitch, you better tell me right the fuck now or I’m going to come over to your apartment and sit on you.” 

“You say that as if it’s a threat.” 

“Marinette!” 

Marinette lets out a snort and slaps her knee. She sets the last pin before rolling the mannequin back into its temporary home for the night. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding. I’m just playing around, Als!” 

“I love you, babe, but you’re killing me here.” 

“Sorry,” she replies, though she’s really not. 

“.....Marinette?” 

“Oh! Right!” Marinette can hear Alya face-palming over the phone. “Well, all I remember is us talking and him telling me that he has to talk to me about something important. I don’t really remember much else but he kissed me on the cheek, Alya.”

Alya squeals—a sound Marinette’s never heard come from her mouth—and a jostling noise comes from her end. “Holy fuck, M! That’s amazing!” 

“Right? At first I thought he was going to kiss me, but a cheek kiss is just as good nonetheless!” 

“Babe, you were drunk. It’s a good thing he didn’t kiss you. That means he respects you, regardless of whether there’s any feelings or not there.” 

Marinette lets out a small laugh, her heart swelling at Alya’s words. “You always know how to make situations better, don’t you?” 

“It’s kind of my job,” Alya replies. 

“And I love you for it.” 

Alya blows a smooch over the phone. “Mwah! Right back at you.” She pauses, then quickly continues, “Oh! Did he say anything when he left your apartment after he dropped you off?” 

Wait, what? 

Marinette has no recollection of this happening whatsoever. She faintly remembers falling asleep against him—he was just so warm, okay?—but him taking her home? Alya has to be mistaken.

“He took me home? Are you sure? I don’t remember that.” 

“Yeah, he specifically told Nino and I that he’d take you home and then sent us a picture of you tucked in bed that night to ease my worrying. You know how much of a motherly hen I can be sometimes.” 

None of it makes sense. Even if he did take her home that night, why was Chat Noir in her room early in the morning? 

Unless…

No. There’s no way. Absolutely no way that she’s been this blind. No way that Marinette’s this lucky. 

She’d know if her two favorite people in the world—excluding Alya and Nino—were the same person, right? There’s no way that the miraculous could’ve hidden it that well from her that she wouldn’t have noticed.

Except maybe... It had? 

It comes together like whiplash. All of their mannerisms. From the way both Chat and Adrien rub their necks when they’re nervous, or when they make jokes but immediately retract them so as to not hurt the person’s feelings. Both of them having a rough home life and awful dads. 

Piercing green eyes that remind Marinete of a home away from home. 

It reminds her of those times in collège and lycée when Adrien would disappear and reappear whenever she would. She had attributed it to him being afraid of the akumas and finding somewhere safe to hide that entire time. It’s not like it was her place to judge anyone’s ways to cope with what was happening!

The quirks that the both of them share. Two halves of a whole. They merge together beautifully in her mind, filling a void she hadn’t known existed until now. 

Her heart is so, so full. 

“Als. I think I just had the world’s biggest revelation,” she breathes out, sounding absolutely lovesick. 

“What is it?” Nino’s yelling about something incoherent in the background, and Marinette can just faintly hear Adrien’s voice.

“I think I’m in love with Adrien.” Her stomach flutters at her words. 

Alya splutters out a hearty laugh. “Oh, M. We’ve been knew.” 

---

Three days. Marinette’s lived with her secret for three whole days and she’s losing it. 

She begged off spending time with Alya, Nino, and Adrien to try and gather her thoughts. Adrien being Chat is the best possible outcome for a partner she could’ve ever dreamed of, but she wants to tell him how much he means to her without fumbling over her words too much. 

It’ll probably still happen. He is Adrien, for crying out loud.  

Earlier, Marinette transformed so she could write some notes down in her compact in case she gets too flustered. Adrien’s nice enough that he won’t judge her for it, so she’s not too worried.

After a quick application of her favorite passion fruit flavor lip gloss, she sets off for their patrol meetup point. 

“Tikki, I’m so nervous,” she says. 

No response. Yes,. Marinette’s aware that her kwami can’t hear her or speak to her while she’s suited up, yet the hope still lingers for some absurd reason. 

Marinette wholeheartedly blames the nerves.

Spotting Chat—Adrien is difficult. He blends into the shadows so easily that Marinette nearly falls off the building when he blinks his eyes open. She’s lucky that he has fast reflexes to catch her by the waist, because with how out of it she’s been today, she might’ve forgotten to use her yo-yo. 

“Bug! It’s so nice of you to drop in.” 

Oh no. His jokes just make him more attractive. She’s fucked.

Marinette’s hands fall to his biceps, and she’s unsure as to if she wants to tug him closer or push him away at that awful joke that has her heart racing. A look of surprise crosses his face and she squeaks, ducking out of his grip. 

“Thanks,” she replies quietly. 

“You didn’t make fun of my joke. Are you okay?” Concern etches its way onto his face. Out of the corner of her eye, Marinette sees his fingers twitch in her direction. He stops himself as soon as he notices, choosing instead to idly twist the ring on his finger. 

Taking a deep breath, she places her hand over his restless one. “Relax, kitty. I’m okay. Just nervous, because I have to talk to you about something.” 

His eyes widen at her words, lips parting as he exhales a breath. She faintly feels it on her face as he says, “I have something to tell you too. It’s kind of urgent.” 

“You can go first, okay? I can wait a little while longer.” 

Adrien nods, tilting his head to the side with a cute smile on his face. “How much do you trust me?”

“With my life,” Marinette responds instantly. 

It isn’t a lie, either. She genuinely trusts him with her life. Transformed, detransformed, heck, she trusts him blindfolded at this point. 

He nods his head at her words and starts towards her, arms outstretched. Even as he scoops her up into his arms, her trust in him is unabated. “Hold onto me tight and don’t open your eyes until I tell you to, alright?”

“Alright,” she echoes. 

Then, Adrien’s off, running over rooftops at speeds that seem unimaginable when it isn't of her own doing. Her ponytail whips about in the frigid air, Marinette using his neck as a shield from the harsh wind. 

She’s thrown back to Glaciator, where she and Adrien spoke about misfortunes and missed opportunities. He ended up showing her a beautiful scene atop a nearby rooftop, as both Ladybug and Marinette. Thinking back, her racing heart should’ve been a sign that her feelings for Chat weren’t platonic, yet it took years of walking on eggshells for one of them to finally crack. 

“We’re almost there. You good down there?” 

“I’m fine,” she says, laughing into his suit. “This isn’t where I find out you’re going to drop me off a building as a prank, is it?” 

He scoffs, softly landing on what she assumes to be another rooftop. “Hardy har har, Bugaboo.” 

The sound of a door opening and closing lets her know they’ve arrived—apparently it wasn’t a rooftop—and the temptation to look around is higher than she expected. She waits for his approval, wanting him to trust her as much as she trusts him. 

“I’m going to set you down now, okay?” 

Marinette nods into his neck, extending her legs so she can place them on the floor as he lowers her. Her arms stay wrapped around his neck, while her eyes continue to stay closed. 

“I’m going to step back and then you can look.” Adrien lingers for a brief moment, breath fanning over Marinette’s face. 

As he shifts away from her, her arms drop to her sides. Her eyes blink open seconds later and she peers around the bright room a little dazedly. 

They’re in her shared apartment with Alya—in her room. 

Younger Marinette would be freaking out about having Adrien Agreste in her room. 

(Older Marinette isn’t faring much better.) 

For some strange reason, Adrien knowing her identity never popped into her head when he said he had to talk to her. She had no clue as to what it could’ve been—especially not that.

“Oh,” Marinette breathes. 

“Please don’t be mad,” he rushes out, hands shaking about in front of him in a nervous manner. “I couldn’t figure out how to tell you that I know. And I didn’t mean to find out! I swear! It kind of just happened? I can’t even tell you how I found out unless you’re willing to know my identity too—gosh, I’m going to stop talking now.” 

Seeing him so jittery helps to calm the rattling of her heart.

Marinette wordlessly grabs his hand and brings him over to the fluffy rug in the center of her room. She flops on top of it and criss-crosses her legs so he has enough room to do the same opposite her. 

He follows, albeit a confused expression lingers on his face. 

Their hands stay joined together, a nice weight resting on her knee. The tip of his claw is rubbing small circles into her palm, whether he notices it or not. 

“I’m not mad,” she says, the softest of smiles spreading onto her cheeks. “I could never be mad at you, kitty.” 

Adrien lets out a sigh of relief and squeezes her hand, her heart flipping at the fond look he gives her. “Good, good.” 

They stare at one another for a moment too long, before Marinette murmurs fuck it under her breath and detarnsforms. 

His suit is oddly cool against her bare knee, his eyes flickering to their hands then back up to her face. He licks at his lips and breathes out, “Oh.” 

“Hi,” she greets, with a small wave of her free hand. 

“You’re so beautiful,” he blurts out. 

Marinette lets out a surprised laugh, red peeking out under the dip of his mask. Her voice is teasing as she says,“Thank you, I can’t tell if you’re trying to make me blush or not.” 

“Marinette, please.” 

Hearing him say her name has her heart fluttering, and she detangles their hands to push up onto her knees, crawling towards him. She nudges his legs apart so she can fit between them, arms wrapping around his neck. Her cheek presses against his, the cool material of his suit helping to soothe her burning cheeks. 

Even with the suit protecting him, she can feel the thumping of his heart against her chest. 

“You wanna know my secret?” she asks faintly, as his hands move to settle on her back. 

“Yes, tell me.” His claws rest lightly against the fabric of her shirt. 

Her nose brushes against the tip of his ear and she feels him shudder. “I think you’re really, really cute, Adrien.” 

“Plagg, claws off.” The transformation light has her eyes slipping shut briefly. When she reopens them, Adrien’s sat in front of her with a blinding smile on his face. “Hi.” 

For some reason, she’s brought to tears by the situation. She holds them back the best she can. “Hey.” 

She’s just so happy. 

“I’m so glad it’s you, by the way,” Adrien professes, blinking back his own set of tears. “Like I know I’ve known for a while and all, but this still feels like finding out for the first time.”

“Are you trying to make me cry? You asshole,” she whines, tears sliding down her face.

Before she can reach up and wipe them away on her own, Adrien’s hand is there to do it for her. His touch is so gentle, and instead of returning to its previous position on her back, he tucks her hair behind her ear.

“I’m so glad it’s you, Adrien. You mean so much to me. And to know that two of my favorite people are the same person? How could I be so lucky?” 

“Two of your favorite people?” His head tilts to the side cutely, his hand idly stroking her jaw. 

A blush returns to her face as she replies, “Yeah, I’m shocked you didn’t know, if I’m honest. I was so obvious about it! I’ve liked you as Adrien for so long, and then as soon as I realized that you’re Chat, all of my feelings for Chat were brought to light.” 

“That’s the cutest thing I’ve ever heard,” he murmurs, licking at his lips. 

“Oh, shut up. Don’t tease me!” 

“I’m not teasing you, Mar! You’re just really cute!” 

Oh god. Her face hides in his shoulder as she emits a small groan, gripping the fabric of his sweatshirt. “I’m going to pass out if you keep talking about me like this.” 

Adrien lets out a laugh that vibrates against her chest. “Well, I don’t want you to pass out, but I need you to know how much I like you.” 

“Adrien,” Marinette squeaks, face digging into his shoulder. 

“Marinette,” Adrien echoes. 

Slowly, she raises her head to shoot a pouty look in his direction. “You’re mean.” 

“You don’t think I’m mean,” he starts, a devious glint in his eyes. Uh oh. “You like me.” 

Marinette’s heart flips as his words, her lip only jutting out further. She tries to maneuver out of his arms, yet he doesn’t budge,  his hand rubbing soothing circles against her back. “I take it back.” 

“No, you’re not allowed to do that. I will cry again!” He widens his slightly bloodshot eyes to prove his point.

“How did you even find out?” she asks, smoothly changing the subject.

“You told me. At my birthday party. You were drunk, so I sat with you for a while and you started rambling about things that didn’t really make sense—”

“Oh no.” 

He sends her a small smile, then says, “Yeah, I hadn’t really believed that you were Ladybug at that point because you were really drunk, yet you mentioned our patrol meeting spot for the week and called ‘Chat’ your annoyingly hot partner that has a nice ass and it clicked.” 

“That’s it. I’m leaving and never coming back. Why am I so embarrassing? Annoyingly hot partner that has a nice ass? I could’ve lived without knowing I said that to you!” Her forehead drops to lean against his cheek. 

“It was cute! You’re cute and I like you so much, yeah?” His head turns so he can make eye contact with her, their noises brushing with how close they are to one another. 

Marinette really wants to kiss him. 

“Can I kiss you?” she asks, chewing on the inside of her cheek as she awaits his response.

“Of course. You really didn’t have to ask, because I’d let you kiss me any day of the week, but I think it’s really nice that you did ask—”

She cuts off his nervous rambling by kissing him, her hand sliding up into his hair at the base of his neck. Her heart feels like it’s about to burst out of her chest. 

He tastes like flavored lip balm, hand moving from the dip of her back to her hip to hold her steady. 

He tastes familiar. 

It’s weird to think of. She kissed him when Kim became akumatized. According to the picture Alya showed her after hers and Nino’s joint akumatization, they had kissed for whatever reason. 

Their almost kisses come to mind and she feels a different type of heat rise on her cheeks. 

Marinette pulls back with a groan, nearly squeaking as Adrien follows her blindly to press a chaste kiss to her mouth. He lets her slip out of his arms and shove her face into the carpet, a hand trailing gently over her back. 

“Was it that bad?” he jokes, sifting his other hand through her hair. 

“No, oh my gosh. It was everything I’ve ever dreamed of! Your lips are really soft! I just thought of how I tried to kiss you when you faked being a statue all those years ago and now I’m embarrassed!” 

“You’re the cutest ever,” he says, flopping onto his side to lay next to her. He brushes his lips over the shell of her ear and nudges at her cheek with his nose. “Don’t be embarrassed! I’ve said and done so many things in front of you that could be considered embarrassing, but because it’s you, I don’t care.” 

She turns her head and shoots him a look. “You never tried kissing a statue version of me!” 

“And I like you even more for that! Look at us, Mar! We’re 18 and 19 respectively, and we’re laying on your fluffy rug around midnight! Everything about this could be considered embarrassing, except it’s not! Because it’s us.” 

Adrien’s words only make Marinette more attracted to him at this point.

“We’re allowed to be embarrassing, but only when it’s us?” she asks.

He nods, lips quirking into a big smile. “Yes, exactly. I won’t be embarrassing with anyone else but you. You’re my embarrassing person, Marinette.” 

“My heart shouldn’t be fluttering at you calling us embarrassing,” she whines, laying her hand on his chest. 

“Embarrassingly in love idiots?” he whispers, finding her hand to tangle their fingers together so he can bring them up to his lips and brush his mouth over the back of her hand.

Marinette exhales a quiet laugh and says, “Very embarrassingly in love.” 

They fall asleep like that, his arm wrapped around her waist while she lays her head on his chest, breaths mingling together. 

It’s the best sleep she’s had in ages.

---

Marinette’s phone buzzing wakes her up the next morning. 

She fumbles around for the device, letting out a small aha as her fingers grip the electronic. It’s hard for her to open her and stare at the small screen, yet when she notices it’s a message from Adrien, her eyes snap open.

Wait, when did she get in her own bed?

Quickly opening the message, she reads it with increasing vigor as the message goes on.

Adrien: Hey, Mar. I couldn’t stay long after you fell asleep because I had a photoshoot this morning and you looked so cute that I didn’t want to wake you. I feel like I did a poor job at letting you know how I felt yesterday, so I’m going to say it here so it’s clear and you know, okay? (Don’t judge me!!!) 

I like you, Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You have such amazing qualities that I admire and adore. You’re a leader who isn’t afraid to stick up for what she believes in, whether you’re in the suit or out of it! You make the world a better place just by being you. I couldn’t think of a better person being Ladybug, and it makes me so happy that it’s you.

I’d love to get to know you more. I think we both know that we click really well at this point, but I want to do this right with you. We’re a team, Bug. You and me. So, what do you say? 

Her hand groggily slaps the call button, wiping back a few tears that slide down her cheeks from his works. 

The phone rings three times before he picks up.

“Hey, Mar. Did you get my message—”

“You stupid cat! I’m sitting here at eight in the morning crying because of you! I loved every second of it.” 

He lets out a soft chuckle, and she can hear the smile in his voice as he asks, “So does that mean it’s a yes?” 

“We should go to the museum and reenact our statue scene as our date,” Marinette suggests, a large grin making its way onto her face. 

Adrien nearly chokes. “Of course. I wouldn’t want it any other way, little bug.”

[sortasirius]

15x20 Coda 3

AN: I will fight for his true ending until the end of time, it’s what he deserves.

Tossed it on AO3 here.

Dean has to get used to not having nightmares when he gets to Heaven.

Nightmares, bad dreams, they had been a part of his nightly routine for as long as he can remember.  Even before his mother had died and he had had to grow up too fast, he remembered having bad dreams, with shapeless things chasing him or falling when he tried to fly.  So when his mother burned and his father became a shell, Dean was used to the dreams that woke him with a racing heart in the backseat of the Impala.

Sometimes, as shitty as it was, they were his only constant, he could always count on the nightmares.

So in Heaven, with no bad dreams to haunt him, it was sometimes like his body needed the release, like the pent up energy of him not waking up every night covered in sweat and reliving some twisted memory was holding itself in his chest.  On those nights, after who knows how many days of peaceful rest (and a full eight hours at that) Dean would wake with a gasp and a start, sitting straight up in bed.

There was no bad dream to run from, but it didn’t make the experience any less jarring.

The first time it happened, he had just started awake, unsure of what brought him out of sleep, but feeling like he had just run miles.  He had downed what felt like a gallon of water before collapsing back into bed, not even bothering to pull the sheets up.  He didn’t think about why he was firmly tucked in when he woke in the morning.

He spent a lot of his time just being with the people he had lost.  Ellen, Jo, Ash, Pamela, Bobby, his mother, Charlie, even Benny (who, when Dean had finished giving him a bear hug, had said something distinctly vague about how he got raised from Purgatory, but Dean hadn’t felt like asking many questions), but it always felt like something was missing.  He tried to shake it, he had everyone back, everything was fine.

The second time he woke from this non-nightmare, it’s like he can feel a presence in the room with him, but by the time he flicks on the lamp by his bed, there’s only an empty room.  He must have been imagining things.

He gets to learn how to fish, how to cook better burgers than even Ellen, he works on the Impala.  He and Jo dance to every Bon Jovi song on the jukebox, and Dean drives until he finds a deserted clear lake in the shadow of a mountain, and he builds himself a little cabin, where he can come when he wants to get away, his own slice of Heaven in Heaven itself.  It’s great, but there’s still that hollow ache that sometimes creeps in at certain moments: when “Kashmir” plays on the jukebox, when the sky turns from orange to dusky pink when the sun sets, when the lake turns a perfect shade of blue.

He pushes it from his mind.  Or, well, tries to.

The third time Dean wakes, it’s more violent: he wakes up gasping and thrashing, trying to get out of his bed and get away from the danger that was all in his head.  He imagines strong hands on his face and his chest, these calming, warm hands, and he doesn’t even open his eyes, he lives in the moment where he can almost remember the smell of that person’s hair, the color of their tan skin, the blue of their eyes.  These memories calm him so much that he’s almost certain he’s asleep before he hits the pillow.

If this is the Heaven he deserves, surely he should be blissfully happy, so why does it feel like a piece of himself is missing, locked in a place that he will never be able to find.  He doesn’t mention it to anybody, but he feels like there’s whispering behind him when he gets too quiet at the Roadhouse or at his mother’s house when he stops by for dinner.

The fourth time Dean wakes, he goes from lying down to half standing, starting to run from nothing again, even though there were no dreams to make him run, he knows he has to.  He collapses on the ground, his foot twisted in the sheets, and he tries to free himself, acting less like a human and more like a trapped deer caught in a barbed wire fence.

“Dean, slow down.”

It’s the once voice that could make him stop, pull him out of whatever trance his brain had fallen into.

Those strong hands, the ones he was sure were only his imagination before, are back on him, one tenderly touching his bare back and the other reaching to untangle his foot from the wadded up sheets.  His breathing hasn’t slowed, he feels like he might be hyperventilating.

“Breathe, Dean.”

His brain can’t connect what’s happening, because he knows that voice, even in the darkness, he would always know that voice.

“Cas?” he croaks out, fumbling blindly for the light by his bedside, trying to make sure this wasn’t another perfect dream.

“Yes, let me get that.”

The light flicks on, and there he is.  Amazing how he can take all the air out of Dean’s lungs.  He’s not in that stupid trenchcoat, not in a button down shirt and tie, he’s in a ratty t shirt Dean knows was in his dresser in the Bunker and soft flannel pajamas.  The look is jarring but...fits him.  It fits him so well.

“Cas?” Dean repeats, unable to take his eyes off of him, “What, what are you-”

“I didn’t want to get in the way of your Heaven, so I’ve been...watching from the sidelines, you might say.”

“But I need you,” the words are out of Dean’s mouth before he can stop them, even think them through, “I, it’s always been you Cas.  You know that?  I’m not, I won’t be happy, really happy, until I have you.”

It’s sorta embarrassing, he feels like a girl, but when Cas’ face splits into a smile as bright as the sun itself, that worry vanishes.

They bridge the gap between each other simultaneously, and Dean feels like a part of his heart he’s kept so dead and buried has finally awakened, ready to make him whole, as he’s always meant to have been.

“Have you been watching me?” he asks sleepily half an hour later, lying in bed with Cas’ hands tracing a thousand intricate patterns on his skin.

“Yes,” Cas’ voice sounds sheepish, “I couldn’t stay away from you fully, and you’ve always been such an angry sleeper, figured I could save the furniture.”

“Stalker.”

Cas laughs.

“Only across Universes for you.”

Dean hums, letting his arms tighten around Cas’ waist, and slipping into a totally peaceful sleep, not marred by what ifs and could have beens and racing hearts.

[illfoandillfie]

5 Simple Rules For A Successful Fake Relationship: Picture Perfect

5 SIMPLE RULES MASTERLIST

Pairing: Ben Hardy x Reader

Summery:  A whole day with Ben's family and no way to escape. How will you survive? And will any rules be left intact by the end of the night?

Warnings: SMUT (finally lmao), nothing like super kinky but it is explicit, plus the usual stuff,  drinking, mention of smoking.

Words: 6284

A/N: ARE YA'LL READY FOR THIS? smut scene is marked with a *** so you can skip it if you like.

Taglist:  @laedymoon  @dtfrogertaylor  @vee-ndetta @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama @deakyclicks @jennyggggrrr @drowseoftaylor  @hannafuckingsucks  @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming @queenmylovely @supersonicfreddie @tenement-funstah @taron-egrotten @johndeaconshands @borhapbois @thefairyfellersmasterstroke @queenlover05

@coni-martina @hardforbenhardy @cubedtriangle @vicouscirce @arianabrashierstuff @pattieboydwannabe @maggieroseevans @theprettyandthereckless @im-an-adult-ish​

A week later you were in the passenger seat of Ben’s car, your bags in the back, watching the scenery pass by. You found your eyes drawn to him more often than usual but he didn’t seem to notice. Maybe it was that he was so focused on the road and the traffic around you or maybe it was because you were playing I spy and a few glances from the person who’d spied the object were expected. I spy was a good game. Distracting enough to focus your mind on something other than wanting Ben. For the most part at least. “And we can definitely still see it?” “Yuuuuuuup,” you popped the ‘p’ and glanced over at Ben again. “And it starts with ‘M’ but isn’t ‘Mazda’ like what’s driving behind us, or Mars Bar like what I was just eating?”” “Nope,” you popped the p again and laughed, “d’you want a clue?” “Go on then, otherwise we’ll be stuck like this all day,” “We’ve been following them since we got on the motorway,” Ben’s forehead creased as he thought about your clue, “Truck doesn’t start with ‘M’,” “Clever boy. You deserve a gold star for that one,” “Bite me,” You laughed and gave in to the temptation to look at him again, noting the crease of his forehead as he thought about your clue, “Should I just tell you?” “Fine, I’m never going to get it at this rate,” “I spy with my little eye a mudflap girl. Two of them actually,” “What the fuck is a mudflap girl?” You pointed at the silhouette on the tuck’s mudflaps, “Her. The chick with the stupidly pinched in waist and big knockers.” “Is that what they’re called?” “What knockers?” “No, I’m perfectly familiar with those,” Ben laughed and you whistled teasingly, willing your mind to stop picturing what it was picturing “Shush, I meant the mudflap girls, is that what they’re called?” “Yeah. You didn’t know?” He shook his head slightly, “Never really came up.” “Sorry, would have picked something else if I’d realised,” “‘s fine. Just means I won’t hold back with the next one.” You’d been a little nervous at the prospect of driving hours with just Ben for company, still coming to grips with the fact you wanted to knock boots with him. You couldn’t even think about it in direct language, just roundabout phrases your mum used to use. But, thankfully, all your concerns had disappeared the moment you got into the car, infected by Ben’s bright smile and insistence that he’d make it fun. His definition of fun was a lot of classic driving games, hence the I Spy, plenty of road trip snacks, and a healthy dose of a specially curated driving playlist. You’d made fun of him for including I’m In Love With My Car on it but he just turned it up louder and sang it at you which only made you laugh more. It stopped any awkwardness or uncomfortable silences in their tracks. But all the laughter and playful teasing was just another reminder of how close you were and that made you think about how badly you wanted to do the dirty with him, hear him whining your name, feel his hands all over you, cuddle up with him and doze as he read to you. You shook your head as the third image sprang to the forefront of your mind. That wasn’t right. Bumping uglies was one thing but dozing was out of the question. Unless it was in a post-coital come down of course. Not that any of it mattered since you weren’t going to act on it. Joe had made it very clear that something actually happening was a bad idea. Although, looking at Ben now he didn’t seem to be that bad off. Certainly not white knuckling it as Joe had said. He was happy and bubbly and you couldn’t see a single sign of him falling apart. What did Joe know anyway? He lived so far away, how could he possibly know what was good for Ben or, for that matter, you.

Halfway there you found a place to pull up so you could stretch your legs and refresh your snacks but then it was back into the car for the second leg of the trip, winding through the traffic until it thinned out and you pulled up outside a nice white house with a tidy yard. “This is it?” you asked, the nerves back in full force. “Yeah, you good?” You just nodded your head but Ben gave your hand a reassuring squeeze, “Remember the plan, yeah? Hold hands as much as we can, look as loved up as possible, just like what we do for the cameras. What’s our story?” “Met at the audition for Edith since you’d already been cast. Hung out a lot as prep for the movie. You asked me out a couple of days before filming began and we dated secretly for a while but then, partway through filming, we were caught by paparazzi and decided to be open about it.” “Very good. What el- shit, no time for the rest of the pop quiz, the front door just opened.” “It’s okay, I’m good. We’ve been doing this for months now, it’s just more of the same.” Ben nodded and then let your hand go so he could get out of the car. You opened your door and stepped out, smoothing out your skirt, your hand cold outside of Ben’s grasp. But he fixed the problem, taking your hand again as he led you towards the front door and the person who’d come out onto the driveway. He squeezed your hand again. “Hi mum. This is Y/N,” “Well it’s about time,” his mum said, already stepping forward to hug you, forcing you to drop Ben’s hand “lovely to meet you, darling.” “Pleasure to meet you too Mrs Jones,” you smiled politely as she stepped back. “Oh, Angela, please,” her hands were still on your shoulders as she examined your appearance, “Gosh aren’t you pretty.” You managed to stutter out a thank you, suddenly feeling much more shy than you normally would have. “Oh c’mon mum, let her go.” “I’m just saying she’s beautiful, what’s wrong with that?” but her hands fell from you as she turned her attention to Ben, “I still think you’re very handsome too Ben. Need a bit of a haircut though.” He rolled his eyes but hugged her all the same. “Mikey’s already there setting up with your father and I expect you’ll be giving him a hand soon?” “Can I not have five minutes out of the car before I get piled up with chores?” Ben whined as you both followed her inside.

She led you on a brief tour of the house, pointing out where the bathrooms were and coming to an end at Ben’s old room where you’d be staying. She promised you enough time to grab your bags and freshen up before you’d be asked to help and then she headed back towards the front of the house. You peeked inside the bedroom door hoping to see what teenage Ben’s sense of style was but it had since been redecorated. “Don’t look so disappointed,” Ben laughed, “Mum had the whole house redone a few years ago and it didn’t make sense to keep my room how it was.” “Please tell me there’s photos here somewhere,” “Probably but you’re not seeing them,” “You have to tell me something, I’m your girlfriend and I need to know.” “Fuck off, you do not,” “Please?” you extended the word in a childish whine, pouting at him until he broke. “What d’you want to know then?” “What’d you have on your walls? Band posters?” Ben laughed, “Uhhh, a few sports things – my favourite teams and that. Some girls with big tits leaning all over cars…Couple of theatre posters too,” “Nerd,” “Shut up,” he laughed again, pushing against your shoulder, “Sorry about Mum by the way,” “It’s totally fine,” “I promise it’ll all be over soon,” You were taken aback as he wrapped you up in a tight hug but very happily relaxed against him. Carefully, so as not to break the moment you looked up at him only to find him looking back at you. It was the closest you’d been since the almost-kiss in the hotel. Sure, you’d been close, even hugged before, but not in this long, lingering way and even then, it was mostly just in public. A sharp knock at the door made you break apart. “Sorry to rush you but Mikey’s just called asking after you. Better get a move on,” “Who’s Mikey?” you asked, refusing to acknowledge the tension in the air. “My brother, Michael. S’pose we should crack on. You’ve got about twelve bags to pull from the car.” “Fuck off, it’s only two and one of them’s a hand bag. Plus, it’s you’re fault for not being more specific about dress code.” You hadn’t known exactly what to pack and got no clear answer when you’d asked, so you’d packed a few different outfit options, from casual jeans and a nice blouse to a slightly more fancy little black dress, the clutch you’d taken to the French restaurant packed with it in case you needed a stylish purse. “You’re such a drama queen. Just help me with them yeah?”

You would have known he was Ben’s brother even before you’d heard about him. His face was thinner and his shoulders less broad but they had the same smile, same eyes. He was lovely too, jumped down off a chair and dropped the coil of fairy lights he’d been holding so he could shake your hand and introduce himself. Then came their dad, maybe not quite as warm as their mum but just as welcoming. Both you and Ben were handed lengths of lights and sent off to find places to hang them. Inside it wasn’t necessary since the restaurant was already lit up, staff busting about making sure everything was ready for that afternoon. So Ben led you away from the big open door, into the beer garden. It was mostly paved, small shoots of grass sprouting up through the bricks, though there was also a large strip of grass at the very end of the yard. Ben’s brother and dad were on one side of the yard, securing their lights to the fence so you and Ben headed straight for the grassy end where the light of the restaurant wouldn’t quite reach. “Wait here a sec,” Ben said, handing you his coil of lights and turning back towards the paved area. You watched as he dragged on of the sturdy wooden tables over to you. At the first scrape of the wood on the brick he looked inside to see if anyone was going to go mad at him but, aside from his family members, no one noticed. When he finally got it in position, he climbed up onto the table and held out his hand for the lights. You kept lookout as he wound the wire around a tree branch and then jumped down again, handing the end of the lights to you so you could wrap it around the tree trunk and secure the battery pack out of harm’s way, as he pushed the table back into place. It wasn’t long before the yard was covered with lights extending from the doorway all the way to the fence that blocked the yard from the road. Of course, all that work meant you deserved a drink so, by the time Ben’s mum and other family members began arriving in the late afternoon, you were already halfway through your first glass. Ben gave you a running commentary of everyone who walked into the restaurant. “That’s my cousin and her daughter. And the couple behind her are my,” he thought for a moment, “Well let’s call them cousin’s too because I don’t know how seconds and removals work. The bald guy over there talking to Mum is my great uncle. And the woman who just waved is an Aunt. Whatever you do, don’t mention her son. He’s had a run in with the law and it’s a touchy subject.” “Noted. But shit, when you said family get together you really meant it,” “Yeah,” Ben laughed, “The Jones’ don’t do things by halves. ‘Specially not when there’s drinking involved.”

As the place began to fill Ben took you around to meet people. You felt a little like the ball in a pinball machine, bouncing from one person to another, introducing yourself and then moving on to someone else, almost immediately forgetting any names you’d just been told. It was almost like doing interviews again except with more movement and more alcohol. Ben kept a hold of you, either interlocking his fingers with yours or else wrapping his arm around your waist, keeping you close to his side, only letting you go to grab you another drink or light up a cigarette. At one point you had a small crowd gathered beside you, all pointing out things they’d seen in magazines or on the internet about you, all wanting to hear about how you met. Thankfully you’d become quite practiced at telling the story. “We met at the audition actually,” Ben said, “I had the part but they wanted to try me with different actresses to find someone that would work well on screen. I’d met, I don’t know, eight or nine women and then Y/N came into the room. She looked kinda nervous,” You shook your head in disagreement but Ben ignored you. “but we got a chance to say hi before we had to read the lines and we just clicked.” “Our director really liked us together so I got a call back and we did another scene,” “So they could, y’know, see us kiss, make sure the chemistry was there.” “They must have liked it because I got the part. We did a couple of weeks of all this, um, like, bonding stuff. The rest of the main cast was there too but me and Ben had a few one on one things because we were playing a couple that was already engaged so they wanted us to look really connected.” “Anyway, I wanted to ask her out after day one but I wasn’t sure if I should because we’d be working together,” “I took a little longer to see him in that light but he was so sweet and charming and fun to be around, and by the end of the week I was thinking the same thing. Only neither of us wanted to make the first move because if it wasn’t mutual then it could make the next few months of work really awkward.” “Eventually one of the other actors pointed out how into me she was so I asked her out for a coffee and it went from there.” He returned your smile and then pulled you closer into his side, dropping a kiss to the top of your head as you leaned against his chest. “Well your casting director knew what they were doing because you two are adorable together.” A few more questions followed but eventually Ben was able to extract you from the crowd with the excuse you needed more drinks. “Actually, I gotta run to the loo, I’ll bring some food back with me though, okay?” “Okay, I’m gonna grab another cocktail, you want anything?” “Beer’d be great,” “Sure thing, babe,” He smiled again as he left you but you were smiling too. There was something fun about the act. Even with everything that had happened and how mixed up and hard it had been at times, an evening like this was fun. He made you laugh and made sure you felt comfortable in what could have easily been an extremely uncomfortable situation. Plus, it meant you got to indulge the part of you that was still fantasising about being with him. You were allowed to kiss him and touch him because you were acting. There was no confusion about why, no worries about if you were crossing the line you’d put down, nothing to stop you from enjoying it. So what if occasionally your fantasies extended beyond just doing the horizontal tango? It wasn’t so bad to think about cuddling up in front of the TV with him.

Drinks in hand you headed back to where Ben had disappeared, trying to spot him in the crowd. “Y/N!,” You spun round to see who was talking, finding yourself face to face with Ben’s mum again. Angela, you reminded yourself. “Come join us over here,” she said leading you to a table where a few others sat, “You’ve met my husband Keith already, yes? And this is Doug and Katherine. This is Y/N, Ben’s girlfriend.” You took a seat and chatted with them, glancing around for Ben every so often. Eventually Doug and Katherine got up to talk to someone else and Keith went off in search of more food, leaving you and Angela alone. “Now, darling, Ben tells me you’ve got a work thing to get back home for tomorrow so you’ll be leaving a bit earlier than originally planned.” Angela said, patting your hand. “Yeah, um, it’s an audition,” you lied. It was a cover Ben had come up with so you didn’t get guilted into staying an extra day. “Well that does sound important. I’m sad we won’t have longer to get to know you though. I must admit, I saw a photo of you and Ben a while ago and I was hoping he’d bring you up because you just looked so lovely. And you obviously make him very happy, which is of course what every mother hopes for. So you have to come back soon so we can have a proper chat. Make a weekend of it or something.” You were a little taken aback, stunned to hear how much of an impact you’d had without meaning to. It made you feel a bit guilty. This was Ben’s family and you weren’t part of it, you shouldn’t be there. But you swallowed the doubts, tried to ignore how much you wanted it all to be real, and smiled back at her, “I’d love that. Just say when.” “Oh now don’t tempt me or I’ll have the date picked out before the end of the night. I don’t want to jump the gun or seem too forward but just seeing how you two are together…I hope you know you’re welcome in our family. Ben loves you a lot, I can tell.” “I know. And it’s very kind of you,” “I mean it darling. And if the next family get together was your wedding, well….but of course that’s neither here nor there.” You laughed it off but your insides were churning. “So this is where you got to,” Ben’s voice interrupted as he dropped into the seat beside you and lay his hand on your knee. You hadn’t realised your leg had been bouncing but you stopped it the moment he touched you. “I was just telling Y/N that you should come back again soon, when there’s no auditions to interrupt your stay.” “Sure, Mum,” Ben said, still touching your leg. You chatted for a bit longer until she got distracted enough for Ben to lean into your ear and softly ask, “You okay? Or do you want to get out of here?” “Please,” you whispered back. “Okay, follow me,” He took your hand and told his mum he wanted to introduce you to someone but you barely heard it, your head buzzing as you made a polite exit and let Ben lead you outside, making excuses to anyone who tried to stop you. As soon as you were clear of the venue he pulled out his phone to find a car, one hand on your lower back, rubbing soft circles over your shirt until you felt you could breathe easy again. “Better?” “Thank you. How’d you know?” He shrugged, “I just know you. I saw your leg bouncing and figured Mum had said something,” “She mentioned us getting married,” “What? Why the fuck would that have come up?” “It was just a passing comment but I….” You half shrugged, trying to find the right words. “It’s okay, c’mon, let’s go home you can tell me everything.” You nodded and let him hug you as you waited for the car.  

Once you were inside Ben grabbed a couple of glasses from the kitchen and then headed into the dining room. “Thank you dad,” he mumbled as he pulled a bottle of Johnnie Walker Black Label out of a cupboard and turned to show you, “He’s kept a stash of this stuff in here since I was a kid. Got in trouble for stealing some a couple of times.” “Better not let him find out about this then,” you laughed, feeling more relaxed now that it was just you and Ben, a sizeable distance from the rest of the party. Ben chuckled along as he poured a little into each glass and carefully replaced the bottle, “So what happened back there?” “I don’t know,” you accepted your glass and took a sip, leaning against the corner of the table. Ben didn’t cut in, he just took his own drink and waited until you could say more. “I guess it was just harder to be around your family than I was expecting. It wasn’t the same as sitting in a restaurant on a date,” you drew the quotation marks in the air with your fingers, “That was a room full of people who care about you and they were all so lovely and welcoming and your mum said she’d been hoping you’d bring me here since she saw a photo of us and invited me back so she could get to know me and I said I’d love to because what else could I say and she seemed so happy about it and so pleased that you’re so happy and I feel so guilty about lying to them all. What if they find out? Your mum’ll be so disappointed.” “Don’t worry about lying to them, I’ve done it plenty before,” when you didn’t laugh he put his glass down beside you and took you free hand in his, “Seriously, Y/N, there’s nothing to feel guilty about. The premiere is coming up in a couple of weeks and then pretty soon after that we’ll break up and I’ll tell them it just wasn’t working, and they’ll accept it and never have to know the truth. And then we can forget this whole thing and move on.” You weren’t so sure that was what you wanted anymore, but you weren’t sure enough to say it. Instead you put your glass down as well and said, “but it must be hard for you too. Having me here and everything.” It was only when you looked at him that you realised how close you were standing. He was still holding your hand, his thumb rubbing back and forth over your fingers. “I’m a big boy, I can handle it.” You weren’t sure what compelled you to do it, the drink maybe, or just pent up sexual tension, but he was so close and he was looking at you with those eyes and before you could stop yourself you leaned in to kiss him. He seemed a bit shocked, taking half a step back, and you were sure he was going to tell you it wasn’t a good idea and then leave you standing there alone. But then his hand was on your jaw as he kissed you back, all hesitancy gone. You felt him sigh against you as if he’d been holding his breath, waiting for this to happen again, and pulled him in closer.

***

Maybe it was the months without sex, or maybe it was how often your mind had conjured similar scenes, or maybe it was just how good it felt to have him press you against the table to kiss you again, but whatever the reason it wasn’t long until you were pushing the hem of his shirt up over his stomach. He took the hint and stopped kissing you just long enough to pull it over his head, quickly finding your lips again as his fingers worked on the buttons of your shirt. He got about halfway through and then stopped, instead dropping his hands to your arse so he could lift you up and carry you up the hall towards his room. He kicked the door shut once he was through it and pressed you against it, kissing you as if to make up for lost time. It was a heady experience, being pinned to the door, your legs wrapped around him as you kissed messily. Too much and not enough all at once. You needed him closer still and clutched at his shoulders to try and make him understand. Either he really could read you well or he wanted the same thing because a moment later there was no longer a door behind you, Ben taking the few steps towards the bed and letting himself drop to the mattress. He pushed your shirt from your shoulders, no longer needing to hold you up, and ran his hands over your sides as if trying to map out he lines of your body. A whine escaped you as your need to remove layers grew and you dropped your hands to his belt, fumbling blindly with the buckle. A voice in your head told you it was a bad idea. You still weren’t certain of your feelings, weren’t sure doing this would cure you of them or if it’d just make everything messier than it already was. But the voice got quieter with every shift of your hips and every stroke of his fingers. “You’ve no idea how much I’ve thought about this,” he mumbled against your neck. All you could manage was a small whimper of agreement as he kissed you again, and traced his fingers up to the clasp of your bra. It was on the floor in seconds, his hands replacing the material, only making you want more. You arched your back into his touch, panted against his lips. He smiled, circled a nipple with his thumb, delighted in your response.

Suddenly he flipped you over so you were sitting on the bed, kissed you again and then stood up. “Ben?” you were worried he was going to put an end to things before they got too far. Thankfully he didn’t, just shucked off his pants. You almost laughed in relief as he leaned over you again, making quick work of the fastening of your skirt so it too could join the clothing on the floor. The voice in your head was gone, silenced by the pure desperate need to have him touch you more, and he was making no moves to stop it either as you shuffled further up the bed, pulling him along with you. You let out a choked off moan as he kissed a trail down your neck, tilted your head to the side so he could reach all the spots that made you gasp. But it still wasn’t enough. You were going to go crazy with need if you didn’t get something more soon, so you let your hand fall between you, rubbed your palm over the front of his boxers, felt him rock his hips against your hand, already hard. He sat back on his knees so he could slip your underwear down your legs. “Fuck,” he groaned as soon as he realised how wet you were. You grabbed his wrist and put his hand between your legs, hoping he’d take the hint. He did, trailing his fingers between your lips, over your clit. Your breath caught as he slipped a lone digit into you, slowly, easing you into it before he added a second. He watched you closely, eyes half lidded and soft, the tip of his tongue poking out from between his teeth like he was concentrating on memorizing every inch of you, inside and out. Even in that moment, when your breaths were coming shaky and uneven, and your skin was burning under his gaze, even then all you could think was how hot he looked, hair ruffled, lips kiss swollen, completely enraptured by you. He shifted his finger slightly and your eyes fluttered shut. “There, babe, fuck, right there,” you sighed. “Like that?” he asked softly, twitching his fingers against you again. You nodded though he drew a more vocal response from you a few seconds later when he added a third finger and leaned down to suck your nipple between his lips. He hummed when he heard you say his name and repeated the same motion in the same place, so you said his name again, louder, and then again and again as he kept going, hitting you exactly where you needed him. You were almost surprised by how quickly he managed to pull you over the edge. Almost. But it had been a while and he’d always promised he was good. He worked you through it before he carefully withdrew his fingers and kissed you again, stealing what little breath you had left.

And then he stopped. Sat back again. You blinked your eyes open and reached for him as he leaned over the edge of the bed, opened the draw of the beside cabinet and swore. Pulling himself back towards you he took your outstretch hand and kissed the back of it, “I don’t have any condom’s here,” he sounded apologetic. “I have some, wait,” you kissed him quickly before you stood, a little unsteady, and opened the wardrobe door, thankful Felicity had given you the handful of them and that you’d brought the bag with you. He looked like he was about to ask why but the sight of you climbing onto the bed, straddling him, with one hand on his chest to lay him down, made the question die in his throat. He let his head fall back onto the pillow as you pulled his underwear off and rolled the condom on as quick as you could manage. And then you sank down onto him, trying to take your time. “Fuck,” you whined, pausing to give you both a moment to adjust. His hand grabbed onto your waist, fingertips pressing into you, encouraging you to move. It was soft but not quite, both of you panting and groaning as you raised and lowered yourself on him, building up to a steady rhythm. His hands roamed over you, grabbing your arse the way he had done on his couch, moving over your breasts, squeezing your hips, gentle but firm pulling you to speed up each time. You needed to be closer though, so you leaned down to kiss him again, grunting at the change of position. But it interrupted your flow, made you stutter out of time, so Ben propped himself up on his elbows, and then when that wasn’t enough, sat up fully, his knees rising behind you. One hand was braced on your back to keep you steady as you circled your hips, the other cupped your cheek as his forehead leaned against yours, every uneven breath audible, able to feel the rapid rise and fall of his chest under your palm. “I love you,” he sighed, his nose bumping against yours as he searched for your lips again. You were on the verge of repeating his words back to him when he dropped his hand from your cheek, let it fall between you and brush against your clit, the confession lost in your moan. “You gonna c-cum for me?” You nodded, leaning into his neck as you did your best to keep riding him, legs shaking with the effort and your approaching release. He didn’t let up until you were crying out into his shoulder, following close behind you with his own moan.

***

You lost track of how long you sat there, leaning against each other as you came down, lost track of where you were, lost track of the reality of your relationship. Your instinct was to keep clinging to Ben, keep kissing along his jaw and nose as you pulled yourselves back together. But it was too much for him. He let go of you suddenly, as if just touching you was painful. “I’ve gotta…” he said with a half hearted nod in the direction of the doorway. “Oh. Right, yeah,” you climbed off him, trying not to react to the sudden emptiness, the sudden cool of the air outside of his embrace. Ben moved to the edge of the bed, glanced at you, ran his hand through his hair. “I wasn’t expecting that to happen,” you offered somewhat lamely, not sure how to explain everything you were feeling. “Neither. Are you okay?” “Yeah. I, um, it was really good and I-I think I kind of needed it.” This was it. There was no more running from what you were feeling. No more pretending it was platonic or just physical. You had to come clean, to yourself as much as to Ben. Ben smiled but it was a pained kind of smile, “It was good for me too. Really good. But it can’t ever happen again.” He stood up before you could say anything else, tied off the condom and put his boxers back on, making a hasty retreat. Something stirred in your memory and you had the sudden urge to tell him he couldn’t leave you because he owed you a third orgasm, but it was too late. He was gone and you were left sitting there, naked and alone, waiting for him to come back so you could explain. When enough time had passed without his return you got up, put your pyjamas on and went to the bathroom, running on autopilot as you considered everything that had just happened. Maybe Ben was right to walk away. Maybe it had been a mistake. He probably wouldn’t believe you if you told him how you really felt. You’d taken too long to work it out, been too vocal about not feeling it. And it would be poor timing to say it right after you’d slept together. He’d think you were saying what he wanted to hear so he wouldn’t be embarrassed about saying it himself. And maybe it was down to all the tension between you. You’d spent all day pretending to be the loving girlfriend after all, maybe it had influenced you a bit, made you think you felt things you didn’t actually feel. But something that good, that tender, didn’t just happen with anyone, surely. It certainly hadn’t been like that with anyone else you’d been with casually. And you’d assumed that having sex with Ben would be the solution, that you’d finish and be fixed. No more thinking about him, no more wanting to be with him. But all you really wanted was to cuddle up beside him. Fall asleep in his arms. That wasn’t something you usually wanted from one night stands. Normally you’d want to get out as fast as possible not sit in their bedroom and wait for them. And the thought of everything else that could happen if he just knew it was what you wanted – waking up beside him, making him coffee, listening to him play stupid love songs on his stupid guitar, comforting him on bad days, being his actual fucking girlfriend and not just his pretend one – all of that sounded so fucking wonderful. It couldn’t just be endorphins making you feel like that. There had to be something of substance behind it all. Afterall they’d been there for a while now, those feelings. It wasn’t like the sex had conjured them. You’d been pretending not to notice them but they’d been there for months. So the only way forward was to tell him.

When you got back to the bedroom Ben was there, curled away from you on a makeshift bed on the floor. He could have been sleeping except his shoulder’s were too rigid, holding too much tension. “Ben?” He didn’t respond, just kept feigning sleep. So you switched out the light and tiptoed to the bed, crawling under the covers. The sheets still smelt like him and it made your heart ache. What if you just said it? You sat up, turned your head in his direction. “Ben?” it came out as more of a whisper than you’d have like so you tried again, “Ben, I-I-” If you said it now would he join you? Or would he pretend he hadn’t heard? You fell silent again at that thought, not sure you could cope with it. Maybe you’d just hold off for a bit. Wait until the premiere. Give yourself time to find the exact right words to explain your apparent change of heart. He couldn’t write you off as trying to spare him some embarrassment if you said it weeks after he’d let it slip in the throws of passion. He’d have to take you seriously then. “Goodnight,” you sighed, and lay down again, though try as you might, you couldn’t sleep. You lay there in the dark, sure Ben was just as awake as you were, with only one thought in your head. You loved Ben. And you didn’t know what to do about it.

[yamithediaperdork]

Cutest widdle champion part 2

To say the last 24 hours of Umbraby's life had been interesting would be a understatement. Having gone from one of the most handsome and dashing Starlit angel knights in service of his god he was now now basically a toddler and was learning to deal with the enhanced powers his new form gifted him with, as well as the limits and draw backs.

He was stronger then before of course but that came with a lost of reach, His flying skills were vastly improved and he was a aerial ace now but that had come with a lose of speed and balance while on the ground, due to his new stubby legs and well the thick massive diapers his Goddess (Who insisted on being referred as mommy now, a term and arrange he was rapidly warming up to) had made clear he needed.

As a godly force he had never learned to use the potty and in such a small body well, let's just say he had gone though more then a couple of diaper changes. (he wasn't keeping count though Mommy was, but she was nice and didn't bring it up.)

The other Starlit angel's, those that reminded loyal to their diminished goddess had been confused when she had invited them to meet her new champion. Quick beat, the second in command asking if she was allowed to just abduct a helpless little boy from the mortal plain, and asking if Allimir had been made aware of this.

upon finding out the former head of the knights had been given a promotion and was in fact the cute widdle guy being cradled by the goddess and being bottle fed, all worries were addressed and some chuckles rang out among the knights, as well as comments about how adorable and cute the former captain was.

"Congratulations on your promotion friend. You deserve." Quick beat said, smiling widely and while there was hint of teasing in it, the other angel meant it, and even offered to take over feeding his friend.

well fed and a diaper change later, Lulnyq didn't want there to be any doubts that her chosen form for the new champion was a mistake and also wanted to give her cute widdle champ a chance to adept to combat in his adorable new body and so arranged a series of matches between the starlit angels as Umbraby sat in her lap, sucking his thumb with the winners of each match then getting a chance to spar with the former captain.

Umbraby naturally struggled with the first few matches but before long was dominating the fights, even the one against the now captain of the guard quick beat and sharing a hearty handshake with his friend, a awesome moment somewhat marred by the fact that Umbraby had started to soil himself again and cried for mommy.

deemed ready for his mission he was escorted by Mommy and all his 'brothers and sisters' as he saw them now, Clad in his heroic champions grab and playing with his cloak as mommy worked to prepare a portal to take him to the exact location where her three worshipers were waiting.

"i didn't have a temple in the area the tournament is being held, but the three children you'll be meeting know everything about you and were more then willing to host you. they know about your 'needs' and don't mind handling that so make sure your on your best behavior." Mommy was saying, kneeling down and putting her hands on his shoulders and trying to ignore the soft comments about her ample backside coming from the other starlit angels. "Your representing mommy..heck all of us." She added and kissed Umbraby's forehead.

Maybe it was his small size, maybe it was he'd never actually left the realm before, but Umbraby suddenly felt more like Allimir, as in less of a champion and wanted to cry and toss his arms around his goddess, his mommy and beg to stay. to offer up the role of champion to anyone else.

Mommy clearly could see what he was thinking and gave him anther kiss , this time on his cheek. "You'll be ok little champion. I stocked everything you'll need in your cloak, and you can call upon them as needed. in fact the cloak itself can shape change into a soft and warm blankie should you find yourself missing us."

Reach into the cloak herself she pulled out a soft and cute bat stuffie and offered it to her scared widdle champion who hugged it and seemed to draw courage from it.

"There's a book in there about the other god's and their champions, more about the rules, Your weapon Night Blade and of course the most important thing.." And she paused and winked before finishing. "Lots and LOTS of extra diapers." She giggled and tickled his tummy.

Allimir blushed and went to argue, but one does not merely ignore the tickles of a mommy, let alone a goddess.

with some last words of encouragement from his brothers and sisters, and a last second diaper check from mommy, Allimir/Umbraby took a big breath and stepped into the portal, not quite sure what to expect.

Dwere nibbled on her lip, checking a wall clock. The goddess had said to expect the champion half a hour ago and she couldn't be out of bed much longer as it was nearing the nightly bed check.

14 year's old and average size for her age, she had her long brunette hair loose around her shoulders and was in a light black nightgown with it being so late.

She was a priestess in training at the wayward soul's Orphanage and the only worshiper of the night goddess in the city (or for a good 400 miles around at that)

As a priestess she wanted to be there when Allimir arrived and greet him but at the same time while some of the non priests or priestesses in training were given more leeway on night time wandering (it still wasn't smiled upon) it was a very big nay nay.

"I hope he shows up soon, oh gosh, what if he doesn't show up!? Those papers i forged will be left with no child to prove an-" she started to whine and then suddenly the back of her nightie was lifted and her modest white bloomers were suddenly yanked up between her cheeks and Dwere had to clamp her hands over her mouth to keep from shrieking.

"Relax will ya, he'll git here when he git's here!" Giggled the prankster of the gathered gathers, A dirty blond 4 year old who hair was cut short because she loved to play in the dirty and would get tangled with leaves and the like and this just saved time.

Vivi was her name, and unlike the girl ten years her senior she was clad in just layers of faded white cloth diapers, secured with a oversized safety pin.

She was yanked out from under the nightie by the third and final member of the group, who was chuckling softly and trying and failing to scold Vivi.

Dressed in a pair of tight olive green shorts and a faded white top, his hair was in a semi mohawk and was light grey, contrasting with his light grayish skin as a half drow.

"Vivi, I think we've had this talk before, you can't -snk- just go around yanking on peoples undies." Selen scolded, picking her up and cradling the four year old in his strong despite his slim frame arms.

Dwere turned around, fire in her eyes and Vivi say the wisdom in seeking shelter in the arms of the slightly girlish half drow.

"Gosh, I'm Sooooo sorry Dwere." Vivi said, the words and tone making you think she was but the HUGE grin on her face as the oldest of the three (Selen being 7) glared and yanked at her crack.

And wouldn't you know it, with her back to the area where the champion was suppose to show and a hand digging at her wedige, the portal opened and out came Allimir, who paused for a moment, watching Dwere and tilting his head, then rubbed the back of his head.

"Uh.. Is that how you greet people on the mortal plain?" he asked cutely, and started to turn around and grab at his behind.

"NO!"

One misunderstanding explained later, and introductions made, Allimir had lots of other questions for the trio even as he hugged his stuffie and looked around the room.

"ok..First question.what's with all the mini prison beds in the room and that large table over there?" he asked, pointing at cribs and then a changing table.

"heh, never seen a nursery before?" Vivi asked. "It's where diaper butt like you n me sleep! Those are called cribs, and that's a changing table where they can put you while changing yer diapies." Vivi said, then after a second added. "Oh you'll be bunking with me by the way, but don't think you'll ever out do me when it comes to booms!"

"Vivi! we do NOT challenge a champion of our goddess to a boom boom contest!" Dwere hissed, not for the first time wishing there was a minimal age requirement to worship the goddess.

"Though you gotta admit that would be cute to watch.. from a distance." Selen chimed in.

"I'm sure that the champion of the goddess does NOT go boom boom th-" Dwere started and then was cut off.

"Actually I'm open to any and all challenges, and I was told I was a super duper big boomer by mo- I mean my goddess and fellow Starlit angels." Allimir chimed in and smiled.

"..Can we PLEASE try and get off the topic of boom boom diapers?" Dwere asked, face palming.

"ehehehe sorry. Ok, why so many beds when it's just the three of you, and are you two diapered as well?" Allimir asked, thinking this was just the three kid's home.

"Oh sweetie, this is a orphanage. a nice and open one that that offers training in priest and priestess's and offers training for any religion. they keep a big nursery because you can never be sure HOW many babies they'll have in here. Normally most of the kids here are potty trained by 2 or three at the latest bu-" Selen was explaining when Vivi cut him off

"But who wants to give up AWESOME diapies n' being able to just go whenever fer icky undies and having to sit on a smelly potty?" Vivi giggled.

"..what's a potty?" Allimir asked. " I just learned about getting rid of body waste like, 24 hours ago.."

"And now you being in diapers makes sooo much sense." Dwere said, then wrinkled her nose as a smell started to fill the nursery. "Speaking of.. ok which one of you?"

"heh, if it was ME ya would know it." Vivi said and winked, turning around and wiggling her butt and slapping it.

Allimir meanwhile was hiding his face in his plushie and whining softly.

"I'll handle changing him, you better get moving double time Dwere, it's almost bed check." Selen said, nodding at a clock and goiving over to the changing table, then frowning as he looked in the compartment for diapers.

"oh uh.. yeahhh they hafa wash more diapies because I kinda you know.." Vivi said said sheepishly.

"We CAN NOT leave a champion in stinky diapers!" Dwere whined, panicking and getting ready to offer her Nightie for the cause when Allimir chimed in.

"it's s'ok, I got this." he said, setting his Bat plushie down and then reaching into his cloak as the three mortal watched, eyes going big as saucers and he pulled out a spare diaper. "Mommy looks after me!" he beamed happily.

with the with the champion changed and Vivi seeing she had some serious competition in the nursery, the champ and the brat were put in her crib and quickly conked out, Allimir sucking on his thumb and hugging his stuffie while Vivi hugged a silver fox plushie, though instead of sucking on her own thumb she was sucking on Allimir's.

Dwere made it back to her own room just in time and had to explain why she was so out of breath and getting a lecture on proper behavior for young girls, but otherwise was left alone with cheeks burning red.

Selen was spotted in the halls and started to get a semi lecture on wandering the halls before saying he heard some of the little ones crying and wanted to help out and changed the diapers. Thankful to not have to do the dirty deed themselves, the caretakers who'd caught him let him go with a pat on the head and telling him what a good boy he was.

All was calm and good, at least until the next morning.

Vivi couldn't be sure exactly what time it was, having not bothered to learn how to read anything as of yet, but she was woken up by the panicked screams and whimpers of terror of Allimir and sat up in their crib, rubbing a eye and basking in the morning sunlight.

Despite the crib rail still being up, she was alone in the crib, and as she listened, she could make out the cry's of terror from UNDER the crib and pulled herself up, JUST too short to get out of the crib on her own.

"Allimir? Buddy? what's wrong?" She called out, trying to get her face between the bars so she could look down, though the bar's were JUST too close together.

"S-Something awful and strange is happening! it's some sort of energy attack or something!" Allimir Cried out.

"Huh? I don't see anything.." Vivi said, turning her head towards the window.

All she saw was a bright and sunny day out.

"But..but..it's so bright out there!! What's going on!?!" Allimir whined and whimpered, choking back a sob of terror and doing something else, as the smell reached Vivi.

Ironically it was as the funk reached her it clicked what was going on.

"Heh..hehehehehehehe Allimir that's called daylight. didn't you have that back home?" She giggled, thinking of how silly it was. "Daylight can't hurt you..well as long as your not out in it too long." Vivi added, thinking of the time she had played outside all day and gotten wicked sun burn.

The sniffles slowed down and Allimir slowly came into view, coming out from under the bed and locking his tear filled eyes with Vivi's amused ones.

"Y-You promise?" he asked, hovering in the air, making his diaper droop more then it normally would of as he hiccuped and ran a arm across his eyes.

"Swear by the goddess." Vivi said and gave him a warm smile, then added "but you better get your stinky butt back in here, if a caretaker find your hovering that's gonna be all SORTS of questions."

Allimir nodded slowly and floated back into the crib, though he made a grossed out face as he plopped down on his muddy back side, Just in time as the door opened and in came one of the adults.

"Oh great..anther stinker.. as if there weren't enough of them in here." The balding older man said, rolling his eyes.

"heh, G'morning ta you took Kalect!" Vivi giggled, then turned to Allimir. "That's Kalect and he's the one who gets the pleasure of wiping our BUTTS!"

Hearing the utter delight in Vivi's voice and seeing the older human frown, Allimir couldn't help but break into a fit of toddlerish giggles.

One series of diaper changes later and Allimir was trying to get used to the outfit he'd been dressed in, Mortal clothing was just so weird!

his own clothes had been taken away to be washed,save for the cloak which he had turned into a blankie and the caretaker let him keep with him at least.

but bow he was in a pair of grayish white socks, a white diaper shirt and a pair of shortalls over them, and was trying to adjust to the mortal diapers that just didn't feel right on his sensitive booty and had him wiggling like he had ant's in his pants. (he hadn't told to take out extra diapers when he'd gotten his change the night before and a look from Vivi told him that offering one now might not be a good idea)

"How are you not bugged by how rough this material is!?" Allimir whined for the forth time as Vivi in just her diapers (they had given up long ago on trying to dress her for the most part) snugged.

"I never knew anything else. but hey, your a CHAMP right?" She said, putting a arm around him and pulling him in. "You gotta get used to a little discomfort."

"Ngggh.. I suppose that tr.." Allimir trailed off, as his nostrils flared and then he covered his nose and gagged."whats that awful stench!?! I thought a poopie diaper was bad!" he cried out.

"Heh, this is where all the stupid big kids go tinkle and boom boom. it's called a bathroom." Vivi explained then added. "and NOW you see why I just go in mah diapie."

"Really, I thought that's just because you like tormenting other people." Selen said, coming out and smirking, and getting a raspberry blown at him but no denial from Vivi.

"How's my favorite little pamper packers?" he asked, Bending a knee and drawing both of the diaper butts in for a big hug.

"Eh, We're ok..Right Allimir?" Vivi said the asked, she had agreed to keep his little fit to herself to help him save face.

"Uhh yeah! Totally! no crying fits or hiding under the crib here!" Allimir said, blushing and giving a shaky grin, and making Selen raise a eyebrow.

"where's Dwere?" Vivi asked, trying to change the topic.

"oh she got roped into helping make the morning portage to teach her purity or something like that." Selen said and shrugged. "Anyways, ready for your first taste of mortal food little guy?"

"Yeah!" Allimir said, giggling and holding up his arms to be carried.

To be continued

[idy-ll-ique]

Holi Hai! 

Pairing: Loki x Desi!F!Reader

Warnings: None

Genre: Pure Fluff

Requested: By @marvel-madness

Hi there! Could you do a Loki x Desi American!reader where she takes everyone to a holi festival? And it’s super adorable and kinda crack!fic at the same time?

Summary: Y/N, an American born Desi, takes her friends, the Avengers, to India to show them what a real party looks like.

Author's Note: Hi!!! A huge thanks to @marvel-madness for requesting this fic and sending the prompt! It was amazing to write! For the Indian friends, I used the names of my own friends (and I oop). I hope y'all desis reading this enjoy it! Sorry if it's crappy I tried my best—

---

Loki stared at his girlfriend of 8 months in confusion. He was confused as to why she was staring at the calendar so longingly. "Um, love, is anything—" She groaned loudly, startling him. "I wanna go! I wanna go home so bad! Haaye mein mar jawa…" That phrase was spoken in Punjabi, even though Loki knew his girlfriend was of Marathi origins. 

He didn't understand it, but her sadness was clear. "What happened? Where do you want to go?" he asked soothingly, wrapping his arms around her. "Back to India! The festival of Holi is in a week and my family is inviting me. I want to go, but…" she sighed, turning around in his arms. Y/N was a second generation desi American, her parents having moved to New York. 

Y/N was born here, but she had a lot of family back in India. She loved Bollywood, the Indian festivals, the culture, the food, everything. Every year, she went to India during the festival of Holi, it being her favorite one. This year, though, things seemed difficult. Now she was a part of the Avengers and had a lot of work. If only she could get a 2 week break. 

"But what? You have to go! It's your favorite festival, you've told me that a hundred times," Loki scoffed as she buried her face in his chest. "I know! But the Avengers, my work…" she whined. "Don't worry about that, we'll be fine," Loki laughed. Suddenly, she had a brilliant idea. They should go to India with her! "Why don't you come with me?"

"Me? Uh… okay, I don't have plans, visiting India sounds nice…" Loki stammered, taken aback. "Not only you, all of you! Thor, Tony, Steve, Nat, Bruce, Clint, Wanda, Vision, Sam, Bucky… I'll take you to a brilliant Holi festival! You'll have a lot of fun," Y/N said excitedly, jumping up and down. Loki smiled softly at her excitement. 

"Why don't we call a meeting and ask them?"

Fifteen minutes later, all the aforementioned people were assembled in the sitting room, smiling at the couple. "So, did Loki propose? Are you getting married? Is Y/N pregnant?" Loki and Y/N rolled their eyes at Tony's questions while the others laughed. "This one is pretty mild. I have a question to ask you all." Steve beckoned for Y/N to go on, everyone listening attentively. 

"As you all know, the festival of Holi is a week away, and I've been to India for the festival every single year of my life. This year, too, there isn't a problem with me going there but I wanna ask… any of you interested in tagging along?" For a few seconds, all was silent. Y/N grew nervous, should she not have asked? She got startled badly when everyone cheered loudly.

"We're going to India! We're going to India! Finally!"

A wide smile bloomed on Y/N's face; she glanced at Loki to see him already looking at her with a smile of his own. "Okay, my dudes, start packing! We leave tomorrow! Can we borrow your private jets, Tones?" He agreed instantly, hugging Y/N. "We better get to packing," Steve laughed, running out of the room with Nat, Wanda, Sam and Bucky. 

---

"Ugh… so… hot…"

"It was your idea to come to India, Y/N."

"Yeah, we feel fine."

Y/N glared at her teammates, which caused them to look at her smugly. Their jet had just landed at the Chhatrapati Shivaji Maharaj International Airport, in Mumbai. One of Y/N's relatives lived in a huge apartment complex in Mumbai, and she had invited their other relatives, too. Every year, that complex saw the best Holi party ever, complete with water, colours, bhaang, songs and dance. 

Y/N had been there a couple times. The Avengers and herself had decided to stay at a nearby hotel. Being 12 people, they had booked 6 double rooms in one of the hotels at the airport, called Grand Hyatt. The entire trip was sponsored by Tony Stark. Since Tony and Bruce spoke Hindi a little bit and Y/N… well, she was Indian, they decided to get 3 cabs. 

In one cab sat Loki, Y/N, Thor and Vision, in the second sat Tony, Steve, Wanda and Nat while in the third cab sat Bruce, Clint, Sam and Bucky. Their cab arrived at the hotel, they checked in and went to their rooms. 

---

"Loki, Lokes, wakey-wakey!"

Loki blinked his eyes open at the persistent awakening, turning over on the hotel bed. Y/N grabbed his shoulder, shaking him. "What? It's… 7 in the morning!" he whined shamelessly, pushing her hands away. "It'll take us 15 minutes to reach the apartment complex but the celebrations start early there," Y/N insisted. He sighed, right, today was the day of Holi.

"Fine, I'm getting up," he muttered as he sat up. Y/N stood in front of him, wearing a white kurti and white pants underneath. She looked so beautiful, he couldn't resist pulling her on his lap. "Loki," Y/N chuckled bashfully as he kissed her cheek. She turned her head to face him and placed a proper kiss to his lips. "That dress is beautiful, like you," he whispered to her.

She giggled, giving him a hug. "Okay, go get ready, I need to wake the others up," she smiled, pushing away from him. He nodded and stood up, stretching. He picked up his suitcase which was kept in the corner of the room while Y/N left to wake the others up. He picked out a white t-shirt and a pair of jeans. 

Y/N had explained to the others how wearing white during the festival was the best option. Everyone had brought along a white tee to wear. He first cleaned up and wore his clothes, finally sitting down to apply some oil to the exposed parts of his body. Y/N said it helped the colours come out faster. After preparing, he grabbed the room keys and left, locking the door. 

---

"Y/N! How are you? I thought you wouldn't visit this year," Krsna, one of Y/N's friends, grinned as she moved to hug her. The Avengers quietly stood behind, taking in all the beautiful sights. The buildings were decorated, there was a drinks table nearby, the colours were neatly kept on another table and nearly 30 other people there. Many children, a few adults and even fewer oldies. 

Since Y/N visited the apartment complex nearly every single year, you could say she practically grew up with the kids there, meaning Krsna and a few others. They had formed a strong bond.

Most of the kids were staring at these foreigners in shock and awe. "Hell no! I wouldn't miss my favorite festival for anything. Meet my friends." Krsna gathered a few of her friends too, namely Shruti, Drishti, Harsh and Ritvik. "This is Loki," Y/N introduced first. Loki moved forward to wrap his arms around his girl from behind, smiling at her Indian friends. 

"Oooh," Harsh smirked, which earned him a slap on the arm from Krsna. "Kadhi pasun?" Drishti asked cheekily, crossing her arms. "Since 8 months," Y/N replied, shaking her head. She quickly introduced the others too. They were a bit surprised, because holy hell, the Avengers but they got over their shock immediately. "This place looks nice," Wanda commented. 

"Thank you! We usually start preparing a week before Holi," Ritvik grinned. Harsh, Drishti and Ritvik decided to give the Avengers a tour of the apartment complex and they readily agreed to go along with them. Loki, Y/N, Tony, Natasha, Krsna and Shruti decided to stay back. "Tujhya mom dad la mahiti aahe?" Shruti questioned, motioning towards Loki. 

"Ho! Tyana kahi farak nahi padla," Y/N laughed, sending a smile in Loki's direction. "New York ka kya? Isne hi kiya tha na? News mein dekha meine…" Krsna asked worriedly. "Don't worry about that! Abhi thik ho gaya hai ye…" Y/N winked. Loki was trying his hardest to decipher what they were saying, but all in vain. As Tony stood to the side, listening to the three ladies talking in their native tongue, he noticed a few people walking up to him. 

They were small kids, around 8-9 years old. "Happy Holi!" one boy grinned, raising his colour filled hands up to wipe them on Tony's cheeks. Tony grinned broadly, taking some colour to return the favor. "Happy Holi, kid!" he said happily. Natasha joined him, applying some red colour to the kids' cheeks. The kids led them somewhere and the two of them went readily. 

Y/N looked around the place, trying to find her friends. She smiled proudly when she saw everyone enjoying themselves. A few of them were talking to the adults, most of them were playing with the kids and Wanda was following Drishti, who was teaching her a dance step to the songs that were playing. The scene warmed her heart. As she enjoyed the scene, a water balloon collided hard with her back.

She turned, shocked, only for Loki to cover her face in pink colour. He ruffled her hair, screaming 'Happy Holi'. "Grr, get back, a-hole!" she screamed, quickly wiping her face before she took off running after him. Krsna handed her a water balloon and with expert precision, Y/N threw it at Loki. It hit his back. He turned around and smirked at her. 

She grabbed a handful of colour and went to each of her friends, applying colour to their faces and wishing them a happy holi. She chatted with some of the aunties of the society, and also wished her relatives. Soon, the volume of the songs increased and party, holi songs started playing. The first song was Balam Pichkari. Y/N cheered loudly, dancing along with some of the others. 

"Balam pichkari, jo tune mujhe maari, toh seedhi saadhi chori sharabi ho gayi!" Y/N sang along, enjoying very much. Loki stood to the side and took out his phone, discreetly taking a few photos as she enjoyed. By the end of 2 hours, all the Avengers were soaked in water, every single colour visible on their clothes, their faces and their hair. They were a bit drunk, having had nearly 4 glasses of bhaang each. Still, they had huge grins on their faces. 

"Stay for lunch! We also organize lunch! After lunch and ice cream, we also have a game of housie but I'd understand if you—" Y/N scoffed, cutting off Ritvik's trail of words. "We're staying for as long as we can! We'll be back in about an hour, after cleaning up." She checked the time, it was 12 noon. "Sure, sure. We'll be waiting. Bye!" Harsh, Krsna, Shruti, Drishti and Ritvik waved as the Avengers walked out of the complex. 

"Did you enjoy?" Y/N asked the Avengers immediately. "Of course we did! This was the most fun I've had in years. I wanna celebrate Holi every year now," Wanda squealed. Everyone agreed with her. "See? Indian festivals, always the best," Y/N winked. They booked cabs, went to their hotels and cleaned up, taking a bath and wearing fresh clothes. 

They went back to the apartment complex just in time for lunch. Everyone there had also cleaned up. As Y/N watched her friends mingle with her Indian friends, she made up her mind— to bring the Avengers to every single Holi party from that year onwards. 

---

A/N: Yeeeee!!!! I'm sad because I couldn't play Holi this year [one of my relatives passed away, RIP :')] but writing this released dopamine in my brain.

For those of you who don't know-

Balam Pichkari is very famous Bollywood song related to Holi

Bhaang is kind of an alcoholic drink prepared from milk (?)

I've mostly used Hindi and Marathi since those two are the Indian languages I speak (I can also speak Gujarati and understand Telugu, which is my father tongue) but yeah :/

I hope you like this!!

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

Eccentricity [Chapter 2: You Can Run Around Infinite In My Head]

Series Summary: Joe Mazzello is a nice guy with a weird family. A VERY weird family. They have a secret, and you have a choice to make. 

Potentially a better love story than Twilight (we’ll let @killer-queen-xo​ decide when it’s all said and done 😉).

Chapter Title Is A Lyric From: Rome by Dermot Kennedy.

Chapter Warnings: Language, mentions of violence. 

Other Chapters (And All My Writing) Available: HERE

Tagging: @queen-turtle-boiii​ @bramblesforbreakfast​​  @killer-queen-xo​​ @maggieroseevans​​ @culturefiendtrashqueen​​ @imnotvibingveryguccimrstark​​ @escabell​​ @im-an-adult-ish​​ ​ @queenlover05​​ @someforeigntragedy​​ @imtheinvisiblequeen​​ ​ @seven-seas-of-ham-on-rhye​​ @deacyblues​​ ​ @tensecondvacation​​ ​ @brianssixpence​​ 

Please yell at me if I forget to tag you! 💜

Missing In Action

I wish she would stop staring at me.

Lucille sat at the Lees’ usual table and apathetically picked through a heaping salad. (Friday was salad bar day, which I appreciated considerably more than the chicken finger obsession that marred Mondays at Calawah University.) Every once in a while, Rami nudged her and Lucille would spear a cherry tomato with her fork and bite it in half with perfectly even, white teeth. But her large blue-green eyes—they reminded me of webs of seaweed tumbling in the cold, frothing La Push waves—always found their way back to me, strangely focused, inquisitive, perhaps accusatory.

Ben probably told them how much he hates me for whatever nebulous reason and now they all hate me too and I’m going to spend the next two years being death-glared by five ridiculously attractive and somewhat incestuous foster kids.

Chemistry was a three times a week class. Ben hadn’t shown on Wednesday, and I was 99% sure he would skip again today. I spotted him around campus periodically, always from a distance: dropping quarters into a vending machine, clandestinely vaping behind dorm buildings (what self-respecting pre-med student VAPES?!!), browsing YouTube videos in the library next to a tower of unopened textbooks, biology and chem and physics and calculus. He wasn’t home, he wasn’t sick; there was no attempt made to construct any sort of pretext. He was patently avoiding me.

I stabbed moodily at the serrated disks of cucumber in my salad. Jessica was blathering away about the latest season of The Bachelor and ranking the contestants’ eyebrows from best to worst. “...Like seriously, has she never heard of microblading?!”

“For real,” Angela offered, not especially invested but forever a good sport.

Lucille’s eyes settled on me again as she sipped a cup of steaming tea, staring until her forehead crinkled with the effort, staring hard, almost leering.

“What’s her problem?” I muttered.

Jessica shot a glance towards the Lee table and slurped her Sprite. The great mystery surrounding her potential Mormon-ness persisted. “Who? Lucy?”

Only Lucille’s friends called her Lucy. Jessica, a shameless aspiring socialite, presumed she was everybody’s friend unless they explicitly informed her otherwise, which of course no one ever did.

“Yeah,” I answered glumly.

“Maybe it’s your dress.”

“My dress? What’s wrong with my dress?”

Jessica wrinkled her nose and surveyed me as if I were a bug, and not a cute bug like a roly-poly bug or The Very Hungry Caterpillar or whatever. Like a really hideous bug. Like one of those spider-cricket hybrid things that hopped straight out of a hell dimension and into the dark, drippy corners of your basement. “It’s, like, very 1960s. But not in a sexy Woodstock way. In a ‘I’m about to join a hippie murder cult’ way.”

“I got it at TJ Maxx. It was on sale.”

Jessica snorted. “Probably for a reason.”

“That’s it. I’m giving all the hippies in my new murder cult your address.”

She and Angela laughed. Mike and Eric, the missing pieces of our daily lunch puzzle, were preoccupied with a campus protest to convert fried fish day (Thursdays) into tacos day. I sympathized with their efforts, but didn’t feel that my one-week tenure as a Calawah University student gave me much right to go around overhauling the dining hall schedule.

“I doubt she’s actually offended by a dress,” Angela said, nibbling on French fries that shed grains of salt like snowflakes.

Jessica sighed dreamily. “But Lucy’s just so fashionable...and that accent...” She drifted off into some daydream which began—I could only assume—with Lucy’s invitation to go shopping together and concluded with marrying Ben on some lush tropical island in the South Pacific.

Lucille was definitely fashionable, especially today: short black dress with sheer sleeves that ran to her fragile wrists, black polka dot tights, black heeled oxfords, dangling ruby earrings like beads of blood. She would have blended in perfectly at Paris Fashion Week. Rami was wearing a cardigan and khakis, per usual; Joe was in dark fitted jeans and a roomy U Chicago hoodie despite the fact that Forks was at minimum a thirty-four hour drive from the Windy City. What did Angela say his major was? Finance? No, Mathematical Economics. So he’s probably aiming at Chicago for an MBA or Econ PhD someday. Angela had told me that Joe was wicked smart. He better be if he’s entertaining fantasies of grad school at the University of Chicago.

Scarlett had come straight from Fencing Club and was wearing bright pink yoga pants and a t-shirt with the sleeves cut out, sprinkling Hot Cheetos into her open mouth, her blonde hair secured in a tight French braid. You know those girls who are so irrationally, gluttonously, unfairly beautiful that it doesn’t seem possible the genetic lottery could spit out so many winning numbers at once, and you comfort yourself with the certainty that there must be some set of circumstances that would level the playing field—I bet she looks like anyone else without all that makeup, she just has a really good sense of style and knows how to maximize her assets, there are definitely some goofy oversized ears hiding beneath that hair and that’s why she always wears it down—and then one day you run into them wearing sweatpants and a ponytail in the tampon aisle at Walmart and they’re still so perfect it stings you, baffles you, makes you feel like there must have been some divergence in the evolutionary chain because there’s no freaking way you’re the same species? Yeah, Scarlett was one of those girls. Scarlett was the queen of those girls.  

Ben was conspicuously absent from the table.

Scarlett’s pink leopard-print iPhone rang and she answered. “Hello?” She turned to Joe. “Dad says you left your phone at home. Do you need it?”

Joe was gnawing his way through his third slice of pepperoni pizza. “No, I’m good, thanks though.”

Scarlett relayed the message. “Dad says he’s going to bring it by just in case.”

“Oh my god, ScarJo, I’m fine! Tell him not to!”

“Dad says he doesn’t trust you and he’s going to be here in fifteen minutes. He’s also bringing the Game Theory homework you left by the hot tub.”

Joe groaned and rolled his lively dark eyes as Rami grinned at him; Lucille was still watching me and entirely oblivious.

“Isn’t it weird that Ben and Lucille have accents?” I asked Jessica. “That they’re from the U.K.? I didn’t think fostering kids was an international thing.”

“It’s not that weird. Dr. Lee is British too. Maybe there’s some kind of exchange system, I don’t know. But you know what I do know?”

“What?” Now my interest was piqued.

She smiled. “That the British accents are hot.”

“Ugh,” I exhaled involuntarily.

“Please get a hobby,” Angela begged Jessica. “Start a YouTube channel. Make care packages for orphans. Grow marijuana. Adopt a cat. I have a shift at the animal shelter this Sunday morning, you want to come with me?”

“Sorry, can’t. I have a temple thing.”

Temple on Sunday. The mystery is solved. She’s a Mormon for sure. I mentally resolved not to let her set me up with anyone unless I was still single on Valentine’s Day. Which, obviously, assuming I’m not dead in a ditch somewhere, I will be.

I gathered up my trash and slung my backpack over my shoulder. “Okay, well this has been a bizarre lunch to be completely honest, and now I have to go to Chemistry so I’ll see you later and hopefully we can brainstorm some more alternatives to Jessica’s current life trajectory on Monday. Because I am not looking forward to being a bridesmaid in these impending Lee nuptials.”

“Oh please!” Jessica lamented. “He doesn’t even know I exist. You, on the other hand...”

I scoffed. “Yeah, he wants to kill me. I truly have a gift.”

They waved as I left. I could feel Lucille’s eyes on me until I reached the door.

Sure enough, Ben wasn’t in Chemistry. I tried not to notice. I drew my atoms, wrote my equations, took my notes diligently and in my favorite sky blue ink. But I felt the emptiness in the chair next to me like a black hole, like an immense and dragging weight, like a snag in the fabric of all those interwoven strands of physics that orchestrate the universe like an immortal puppeteer. Why can’t I forget this guy? Why do I still feel like I’ve met him before?

Halfway through class, I hauled my emergency sweatshirt out of my backpack and pulled it on over my dress, floral and flowing and golden yellow like the sun, the sun that never shines here in Forks. I had liked it plenty under the florescent lights of the fitting room at TJ Maxx, and I had still liked it this morning; but Jessica’s words hummed around in my skull like wasps. The zipper of the sweatshirt was broken, but it accomplished the task of obscuring my dress well enough.

After Chemistry, I journeyed to the campus library to find a book I was supposed to read and present for a different class. I looked it up in the computer catalogue, spent an embarrassingly long time trying to figure out how the Dewey Decimal System works, eventually wound up finding the book on the highest floor of the library...and, to add a little extra peril to the mission, on the highest shelf. The book mocked me from its lofty, unattainable stronghold. The title was embossed in gold letters down the crimson spine. The Walruses And Me: A Transformative Experience. Idiotic title, I’m aware. It’s about some marine biologist who spent months alone in the Arctic studying the lifecycles of walruses. A noble pursuit, sure, but still a terrible title.

There wasn’t a chair or stepstool in sight. I tested my weight by stepping up onto the second-lowest shelf. The metal immediately squealed and shifted in protest. I retreated back down to the carpet, defeated by gravity. I scowled up at the book and sighed melodramatically. Ugh.

“Need something?”  

I spun around to see Joe in his University of Chicago hoodie and pale flawless skin and intangible magnetism, that bewildering trademark Lee ethereality. I instinctively crossed my arms, clutching the sleeves of my sweatshirt, shrinking inwards like a startled armadillo in the Arizona desert.

“Are you, uh, anemic...?” he ventured.

“Oh no, I’m not cold. I’m just trying to hide my dress. My friend said it was too hippie-murder-cult 1960s.”

I figured he’d laugh, make a snide comment, maybe just blink in confusion. Instead, he glimpsed down at my dress—what could still be seen of it, anyway—and shook his head. “The neckline isn’t right for the 60s. And you seem like you’ve showered at least once in the past two weeks, so definitely not a hippie.”

I smiled, completely unexpectedly. “I didn’t realize Econ majors knew anything about leftist counterculture.”

“Disparaging it is our favorite pastime. Are you trying to get a book or are you just disrespecting university property for entertainment?”

I pointed. “The big red one.”

“The Walruses And Me...?”

“I know, it’s a horrible title. Not my personal preference. It’s for a class.”

“Bestiality 101?”

“Good guess. Marine Mammals.”

“Ahhh.” He glanced up and down the aisle, tapped his chin with agile fingers, pondered something I wasn’t privy to. “Turn around for a second.”

“What? Why?”

He waved his hand mysteriously in front of his grinning face. “It’s a magic trick. I’m going to make your problem disappear.”

“You can’t climb that,” I warned. “You’ll fall and break your neck. Or you’ll knock the whole shelf over and cause a tragic domino effect and the university will withhold your diploma until you pay them restitution.”

“I’m extremely athletic.”

“Are you sure?” I appraised him with exaggerated skepticism for comedic effect. “My dad refers to you only as the spindly annoying Lee.”

Oh my god, WHY did I say that?

Now he would definitely hate me. Now I’d have two mortal enemies on one campus. I mentally calculated how humiliating it would be to transfer to some Florida college, any Florida college, after only one week at Calawah. Hi mom, yeah I’m coming to live with you and Paul, a gang of hot pasty foster kids wants to slaughter me.

Instead, Joe threw back his head and cackled wildly. A librarian—mid-fifties, angry red hair from out of a box, fuzzy cat sweater—glared into the aisle and shushed him.

“Chief Swan...he actually...he calls me that? Really?!” Joe managed, wiping his leaking eyes. “That’s hilarious. I’m so glad my life is in his hands. Okay seriously, turn around.”

“Why would you help me?” I asked suspiciously.

“That’s just what I do. I’m a friendly guy.”

“This friendliness must not run in the family.”

Again, Joe’s cheerful demeanor didn’t falter. “You mean Ben? Forget about Ben, he hates everyone. Don’t take it personally.” Then he added: “Plus, as I’m sure you know, we’re not biologically related. No overlapping genetic material whatsoever. I didn’t get the male supermodel gene, he didn’t get the irresistibly charming gene, life’s not fair but the world keeps spinning.”

“It sure does,” I agreed softly. Unexpected wisdom from my new favorite Lee. I turned away from him. “Fine, I’m not looking, go ahead and dazzle me with your supernatural friendliness—”

“Done.”

“What?” I whirled around. Joe held The Walruses And Me in his hand. “How...did you...?!”

He passed me the book as I sputtered incoherently. “I told you. Magic trick.”

“I don’t....?!” I gawked up at the top shelf, at Joe, back to the top shelf. Sure enough, the space where The Walruses And Me once lived was now just a vacant slit in the row of dusty books. How could he have climbed up there that quickly? How could I not have heard anything? “The shelves didn’t even creak,” I murmured shakily.

“Yes, well, that’s due to my conveniently spindly physique.” Joe winked. “Any other problems I can help you solve at the moment, Baby Swan?”

“No. And don’t call me Baby Swan, or I’ll push this whole bookshelf over and tell the feisty librarian lady you did it.”

“That’s cold, ma’am.”

I liked that Joe didn’t make me feel like Ben did: unworthy, unloved, infuriating. Joe made me feel something else, something lighthearted, casual, buoyant; like the world didn’t have anything in it worth worrying about, regretting, agonizing over. Like unadulteratedly myself was all I ever needed to be.

I heard a muted buzz and Joe slid his iPhone out of his jeans pocket. Dr. Lee must have successfully delivered it. “Whoops, I forgot that Ordinary Differential Equations existed. Got to go. See ya.”

“Bye,” I replied. And then Joseph Lee was gone, very quickly, a little too quickly, the same way that Ben had vanished on that first afternoon after Chemistry.

Forks is weird. Calawah University is weird. And the Lee kids are super fucking weird.

Long Walks On The Beach

“Can I ask you a random question?”

“You just paid me $100 for an oil change that took fifteen minutes. You can ask me anything you want.” He grinned, flashing bright teeth and deep dimples.

It was Saturday afternoon. I had shoveled down a Chipotle veggie bowl as Archer changed the 1999 Accord’s oil in a small garage with a cracked concrete floor and the searing pungency of gasoline fumes thick in the air. He had apprenticed all through high school and rented his own shop after graduation. Archer now had a loyal clientele that encompassed virtually the entire Quileute reservation and a growing chunk of Forks...including Charlie and me, of course. Archer was the only child of Larry Foxchild—Charlie’s best friend since they worked together at Dairy Queen as teenagers—and the closest thing to a son my dad would ever have. I guess that made him like a brother to me, something that seemed intuitive now that I’d thought of it.

After the Accord was serviced we drove it down to La Push to walk on the beach, climb the salt-lashed rocks, toss pebbles into the roiling surf, reprise our childhood enthusiasm for poking dead washed-up marine creatures with shards of driftwood.

“Do you know anything about the Lees?” I asked Archer, investigating a deceased green shore crab.

His brow furrowed. He looked so serious like that, suddenly so much like Larry: the same tan skin, jet black hair, umbral eyes like oil wells, strong jaw overlaid with the stubbled shadow of a beard. We really aren’t kids anymore, are we? “The doctor and his kids?”

“Yeah. The foster kids. They’re really pale and strange and half of them are British.”

Archer chuckled. “I know who you mean. They’re hard to miss.”

“Are they...” Just eccentric rich people? Traumatized from abusive childhoods? Government experiments? CIA agents? Secret murderers? The image of Ben in that first Chemistry class came roaring back to me, including the adjective that had flashed red behind my eyes like an emergency exit sign: fierce. Finally, I decided: “Dangerous?”

Now Archer full-on laughed, gripping his belly, shaking his head. Drops of saltwater flew from his short hair. “Seriously?!” he exclaimed. “Come on, they’re freaks but they’re not, like...that kind of freaks.”

“Are you sure?” I was starting to feel better already. Of course they’re not actual demons, you fucking idiot. This is Washington, not The Twilight Zone or Black Mirror. Not goddamn American Horror Story.

“Yeah.” Archer skipped a grey pebble over the water, something I’d never been able to do. “I’ll be honest, I don’t know them all that well. They usually keep to themselves. But I’ve never heard anything bad about any of the kids. And everyone respects Dr. Lee and appreciates him for taking the pay cut to come to some bumblefuck town like Forks. He’s insanely highly credentialed, has degrees from Harvard or Yale or somewhere like that. Super impressive. We’re lucky to have him. I definitely sleep better at night knowing he’ll be the one to fix me up if I ever get a few fingers ripped off on the job.”

“Don’t even say that. Then who would I grossly overpay for oil changes?”

Archer smiled, then sobered as he peered out over the Pacific Ocean.

“What?” I asked, feeling a plummeting in my guts like primal fear.

“Well...okay, so there is one thing that’s always bothered me. You remember Grandpa Foxchild?”

“Yeah, of course.” He had been an impossibly ancient man with long grey braided hair, a low rumbly voice, gnarled arthritic hands, ceaseless wrinkles. I remembered Charlie calling me when he passed away last spring. Renee and I had picked out a flower arrangement to send to the funeral.

“So,” Archer said slowly, like he was still puzzling it out himself. “Grandpa used to say things like ‘That Dr. Lee has been around a long time.’ Which of course makes no sense, the Lees moved here like two years ago. And I’d tell Grandpa that, but he completely ignored me. He would just keep repeating it. ‘That Dr. Lee shouldn’t still be here.’ ‘That Dr. Lee should go on home to where he came from.’ ‘That Dr. Lee isn’t right.’ Creepy shit like that. My dad and I always assumed it was the dementia talking, but...I don’t know. It just bothered me. Because Grandpa...he wasn’t just being gossipy or suspicious. He was angry. And he was afraid. Grandpa was at Guadalcanal and Iwo Jima and he would talk about that no problem, mention landmines or flesh melting off a soldier’s face like it was nothing. He was a tough guy. Immeasurably tough, I’ll never be half the man he was. But if you mentioned the Lees, Grandpa got scared. Why the hell would he be so scared of them?”

I didn’t have an answer for him, not a single word. I just stared at Archer, my eyes growing huge, my heart sprinting, blood pounding in my ears. He knew. Grandpa Foxchild knew there was something off about them, and now I know it too. I don’t know how I know, but I do.

Archer tittered nervously. “Anyway, that was genuinely disturbing. But like I said. It was probably just the dementia.”

“What if it wasn’t?”

“It had to be,” he insisted. “There’s no other logical explanation.”

“I guess,” I agreed, scooping up the green shore crab corpse with my bare hands. I hurled it out into the waves, imagined it sinking through murky water and suspended grains of sand, the body settling into prehistoric silt, the scavengers descending upon it, the inescapable wheel of birth and death and resurrection through those who unwittingly carry our atoms with them into the next generation, into the perpetual future.

That night my dreams were full of pale skin and scorching eyes, Ben and Joe and Rami, Lucille and Scarlett, crashing waves, cold water and bleached bones; and Grandpa Foxchild’s mistrustful refrain: That Dr. Lee has been around a long time.

Benjamin

I soared down the staircase and through the dining room. Gwil was working late at the hospital, Mercy outside tending the animals, everyone else presumably scattered throughout the house. I had to get out before anyone noticed me. I had to get out without Rami or Lucy knowing.

I yanked open the door to the back porch. Rami was waiting there.

“Good evening,” he greeted me in that slow, thoughtful drawl.

“Stay the fuck out of my head.”

“You know how it works, Benny Boy. I can’t ignore the loud thoughts. And you’ve been having some very loud thoughts lately.”

I stared down at my shoes, all black Adidas. Black is good. It doesn’t show stains. For example, purely hypothetically, splatters of human blood and organs. “I can make it quick. I can make it painless.”

Rami’s aura flared maroon; not enraged, no, not quite that, but certainly revolted. I was always finding new and horrifying ways to revolt them, whether I was trying to or not. “She has a family, Ben. A father. You know Chief Swan, you’ve seen him around town. He’s a good person. She’s a good person. You really want to do this? You really want to relapse like this?”

I didn’t reply. I didn’t have to. Hearing thoughts is a tricky thing, and not a gift that I would ever want; unspoken words are rarely a steam and usually a storm, disjointed and twisting, interrupting each other, bottomless layers of whispers and screams. But I was sure Rami could catch the important parts: that I didn’t know the difference between good and bad people, that I didn’t know what to think of people at all, that for me her blood was not a desire but a compulsion. I couldn’t stop envisioning it spilling over my tongue and teeth, down my throat, hot and pulsing erratically and fading. “Why can’t you hear her? Why can’t I see what she’s feeling?”

Rami shrugged, characteristically placid and restrained. It was maddening. “There are seven and a half billion people on this planet. So maybe every once in a while you get one that lives in our blind spots, there’s something chromosomal or psychological that puts them on a different frequency. I don’t know. How the hell should I know? All I know is that you definitely shouldn’t be seriously considering...well. What you’re considering.”  

“Have you ever met someone whose thoughts you couldn’t hear before?”

“No,” Rami admitted; and was that a ghost of unease that crossed his face?

“Please, Rami. Let me go. Pretend you never saw me.” My words come out strained, hushed, like a spilled secret, like a confession. I’ve never wanted anyone’s blood like I want hers.

He heard that; I could see the dismay in his eyes. Now his aura is dark grey, almost black. Disappointment. Resignation. Mourning. “I told you what Lucy saw.”

“What she saw is impossible and you know it.”

Again, Rami shrugged. That blind, mindless faith. I wished I knew what it felt like. “She’s never wrong.”

“Have you told him?”

“Who, Joe?! Of course I haven’t told Joe. He...”

“He wouldn’t believe it either?” I snapped, like it was a victory.

“No,” Rami amended carefully. “No, he would believe anything Lucy saw.” Lucy had visions: flashes of the future, the past, the present. They were rare and unpredictable, often fragmented, snapshots rather than arcs. But they were always true. Or, rather, the other Lees claimed they were. The real Lees. “I don’t know what he would do about it,” Rami said finally. “So I’m waiting it out. And killing one of the primary participants is definitely not waiting it out.”

I seethed as I glared at him, hating him in that moment, hating myself only slightly more; and he heard that too. But then that wispy, fleeting haze around him was a pink like the last threads of sunlight sinking into the Western horizon. Forgiveness. Attachment. Love.

“Come with me, Ben,” Rami said gently, opening the door. “Come back inside. You can beat this. You’re better than this. You’re a good soul. You wouldn’t be with us if you weren’t.”

I tried to laugh. It came out like a snarl. “I haven’t had a soul in a long time.”

[astrophysicist-guitar-god]

I was curious if Jimi Hendrix had ever played in Columbus, and it turns out that he did, one show in March 1968. 

I found two stories about it, one in the Columbus Dispatch marking the 50th anniversary of the show, and this one, about Hendrix hanging out with one of  the local support bands afterwards, and partying very wholesomely. 

I. Love. This.

The night Jimi Hendrix partied with the Dantes in Linden

By Eric Lyttle, Editor, Columbus Monthly

Posted Mar 3, 2018 at 1:45 PM

Fifty years ago tonight, Jimi Hendrix was sitting on the floor inside a small, nearly empty house in Linden enjoying a post-concert glass of red wine. No, not London. Linden. As in the working class neighborhood of northeast Columbus.

Lynn Wehr doesn’t remember much about the show itself. Neither does Barry Hayden. The two were members of the Dantes, arguably the most popular local band in Columbus at the time. The Dantes served as the warmup act for Hendrix that night, March 3, 1968, at Vets Memorial Auditorium on West Broad Street, just across the Scioto River from City Hall.

Wehr, now 71 and living in Delaware County as a retired T. Marzetti Co. executive, thinks he watched the flamboyant rock guitarist from the side of the stage. “I don’t even remember what he played,” says Wehr. “I remember there was a cover or two. I believe he did ‘Hang On Sloopy.’ ”

Hayden says he couldn’t even see Hendrix. “I was stage left, between the second or third curtain,” says Hayden, now 70 and retired in Powell after arranging guided tours of the Ohio Statehouse for nearly 20 years. “I had a straight-on shot of Mitch Mitchell’s kick-drum foot. It was the fastest kick-drum foot I’d ever seen,” Hayden says of the Jimi Hendrix Experience’s drummer. “I watched that all night and couldn’t believe how he did it.”

But before the show and after—that they both remember.

Before the show, all the bands on the bill—including Soft Machine, progenitors of England’s prog-rock scene, and Four O’Clock Balloon, another local Columbus favorite—shared the same dressing room. Hayden, the Dantes’ boyish, blond heartthrob of a lead singer, remembers that he wore a silk scarf around his neck that night. When Hendrix entered the dressing room, he, too, was wearing a scarf. “But it was tied differently,” Hayden says. “I kept looking at it, trying to figure it out. I finally went over to him and asked him about it. He says, ‘You’re tying it like an American ties it.’ I did the crossover thing, like a necktie. He says, ‘Let me show you how the British tie it.’ And he showed me. And I tied it like Jimi forever after that. What the hell? If Jimi Hendrix says this is the way you’re supposed to do it, that’s the way you do it. It’s not open debate.”

After the scarf-tying lesson, Wehr, the Dantes’ rhythm guitarist, remembers, “Barry said, ‘Hey, we’re having a party afterward. Would you guys like to come?’ Mitch Mitchell and [Hendrix bass player] Noel Redding immediately said, ‘No.’ But Hendrix said, ‘Yes.’ We were like, ‘Wow. OK.’ ”

After the show, Wehr arranged to pick up Hendrix at the Christopher Inn, the city’s iconic cylindrical hotel on Broad Street, where the Experience was staying, and take him back to the house on Howey Road, a couple of blocks south of Hudson Street, that the Dantes used as a party house and rehearsal space.

“We get to the Christopher Inn—I think Jack White, the drummer for Four O’Clock Balloon was with me—and it’s late, probably after midnight, and there’s one guy at the desk,” Wehr says. “We told him we were there to pick up Jimi Hendrix. Here we were, a couple of guys in polka-dot pants and long hair. I’m sure we looked like groupies. And the guy at the desk says, ‘He’s not staying here.’ But we were like, ‘Look, we just were on the show with him at Vets, we told him we’d pick him up.’ We must have been convincing enough, because the guy picks up the phone and makes a call. Then he turns around, kind of sheepish like, and tells us, ‘He’ll be right down.’ ”

“Not five minutes later, the elevator doors open and out steps Hendrix, colorful, flowing clothes, a big hat with a big feather in it, completely dressed the part,” says Wehr.

Hendrix climbed in the passenger seat of the Dantemobile, a blue Chevy Caprice station wagon with “Dantes” in letters down the side. “We started down High Street, and when we got to campus, students were still out doing their thing,” says Wehr. “Every time we’d stop at a stop light, they’d see the Dantes car, turn and look and see Hendrix sitting in the passenger seat, and start running. The light would change and I’d speed away before they could catch us, until the next light, and the same thing would happen. We were like the Pied Piper, with kids running after us down High Street.”

The Dantes’ Howey Street house wasn’t much—nothing but a few mattresses thrown on the floor, egg cartons stapled to the walls of the basement to help muffle the sound during rehearsals. “We basically had nothing to offer him,” says Wehr. “We asked what he’d like, and he said he’d enjoy a glass of red wine. We all kind of looked at each other and thought, ‘What do we do now?’ Fortunately, one of the girls there said she lived close and could get a bottle. In short order, she came back with a bottle that she probably took from her parents. We sat around on the floor and talked and drank the bottle.”

“There were no drugs of any kind, nothing crazy,” Wehr says. “He was really soft-spoken, nice, mild-mannered—nothing like the guitar-burning wild man you’d see on stage. I think we just talked about music. He wasn’t put out. I think he genuinely wanted to be there. It was a scene.”

“After about an hour or so, he says, ‘Hey, I’ve really enjoyed being with you guys but have to get up early,’ ” Wehr says. “I think he had a gig in New York the next day. So we got in the car and I drove him back to the Christopher Inn.”

Both Wehr and Hayden say there was no idol worship—no photos, no autographs. They weren’t starry-eyed teens. They were in their early 20s, only a couple of years younger than Hendrix. They’d opened for other big names, had toured the country and had enjoyed their share of success. Their first single, “Can’t Get Enough of Your Love,” had cracked the Billboard Top 40 nationally and had become the No. 1 song in the Columbus market in 1966, pushing ”(You’re My) Soul and Inspiration” by the Righteous Brothers off the mark.

“I looked at it like we were all peers,” says Hayden. “It was another gig. We were happy about it for sure, because we liked him. But we basically had the same clothes, the same gear.”

They thought it would last forever. It didn’t. Within two years, Hendrix was dead of an overdose, and the Dantes were done. “I realize now, in later years, it was a big deal. It’s cool. I’m glad I get to talk about it now,” says Hayden. “But I miss it. It’s not the same now as it was. I liked it better then. I feel bad for anybody who didn’t grow up when we did. Being a teenager was just about the best thing you could be. We ruled. To be truthful, if you brought a time machine to my house, I’d set it for 1964 and leave right now.”

I wanted to include a link to the venue, but the old Vet’s Memorial has since been demolished to make way for a brand new national Vet’s museum on the same spot, and that’s mostly what I’m finding. But! Here’s an interesting article (with a picture) about the politics behind tearing down what was a pretty major landmark in Columbus to make way for the new building.

And! To make a long post longer, the shows before and after Columbus on that tour; from setlist.fm:

March 2, 1968: Hunter College Assembly Hall, New York, NY (two shows)

March 3, 1968: Veterans Memorial Auditorium, Columbus, OH

March 4, 1968:  Paul's The Scene, New York, NY

March 5, 1968:  Paul's The Scene, New York, NY

Looking over his entire concert schedule, he must have been exhausted. I hope he enjoyed hanging out with a local band for a little while, just drinking a little wine and talking. He probably needed it. :-(