#I think ‘you don’t need to be intimidated by classic lit and/or they’re just Other Texts

[measureformeasure]

that post that’s like it’s not THAT hard to read classic lit! drives me insane because like yes it is. it is actually quite difficult to read at all

[jaybird-redhood]

propinquity

wc: 2.2k

pairing: jason todd // gn reader

The first thing you think when you see him for the first time is that he has the cutest smile.

That’s a lie, the first thing you think it that he is so incredibly in shape, and it looks great on him, but the smile thing sounds better in your head.

He's moving into the apartment across from yours a month after you moved into yours. Weird, because the two people in your building closest to your age are 2 and 63, respectively.

You suppose that some wicked twist of fate must’ve brought this upon you for missing your cousin’s birthday party last week, because the guy standing across from you is crazy hot. And looking right at you. And you are in the huge neon Wonder Woman t-shirt that your best friend got for your birthday last year.

Yeah. Karma.

“Nice shirt,” the guy offers, holding in a grin. “You’re really making it work.”

“I-”

“See you around, neighbor.”

And with a shut of a door and an awfully charismatic smirk he’s gone.

The next time you see him is a week later, and this time- luckily, you think- you’re dressed somewhat put together. You run into him while unlocking your door.

"What's got you in a twist?" he asks.

"Um," you start, "I just. Ugh I have so much to do. Like 3 hours of homework, a lecture tomorrow that I cannot skip, and I'm completely out of bread and eggs and can't even you to the store until, like, Thursday at best."

Once you start rambling you can't seem to stop. You slouch against your door. You're not entirely sure why you're telling a stranger all this, but he seems to be listening, so you suppose that’s a good sign

"I get the feeling," he offers, and you look up at him. "I'm majoring in English Lit and my classes are kind of kicking my ass."

You give him a small smile, "Glad to know someone in this building is struggling as much as I am."

"Jason," he says, and he reaches his hand out to you. "My name."

You shake it and tell him yours.

As you both turn back into your respective apartments you think that he maybe isn't as intimidating as you thought.

~

The next day goes by with a really boring lecture and another 3 hours of work you need to do.

The ride home from uni isn't that long, but it's long enough for you to contemplate all the ways that your life went wrong after moving to Gotham. And, maybe as payback for thinking mean things about the city, rain that you think should belong to a category 3 hurricane starts to whip around your car 10 minutes into your drive.

Your clothes are dripping water in literal puddles by the time you get back to your apartment.

Groaning, you start fishing for your keys in your purse while walking up the last flight of stairs.

When you get to your door you stop. Right in front of it there’s a grocery bag. Picking it up and looking inside you see a loaf of bread and a small carton of milk.

You pick it up smiling.

“Jason?” you ask, knocking on his door.

No response.

You shrug and turn around. Remember to thank him the next time you run into each other; you think.

~

That next time doesn’t happen to be that long and thank goodness for you.

“You know, we really need to stop meeting like this,” he says to you.

You’re sitting on the floor outside of your door looking rather pathetic, and he’s giving you the most awful smirk you’ve ever seen. (Not that it looks bad on him though. You seem to think that nothing could really look that bad on him)

“I swear I’m usually more put together than this,” you sigh to him. “You moving here jinxed me!”

“Yeah yeah. You’re locked out, aren’t you?”

You give him your best withering I’m going to kill you stare, but it must not be working because he just laughs even harder at you.

“This is completely not my fault it’s just I lost my second set of keys like right when I moved in and then today when I got home, I accidentally left them in my car, but my second set of car keys is in my apartment so now I can’t get them out, stop laughing at me!”

“God you’re a mess,” Jason says- finally finished laughing at you and maybe taking a bit of pity on how disheveled you look. “You couldn’t call anyone to get you in?”

You shake your head.

“My friend is the only other person with a set, but they’re out of town, and our landlord is being a dick and telling me it’s my fault in the first place, so I need to deal with it. I’ve been sitting out here for like an hour.”

“All I’m hearing is that it is your fault and now you’re just moping about it feeling bad about yourself.”

You tilt your head against the door so hard that it makes you wince a bit.

“Ok fine,” he says crossing his arms.

“What?”

“Wait right here.”

He goes into his apartment and comes back out with a skinny metal thing you don’t recognize.

You look at him in confusion and he just motions for you to scoot out of the way as he sticks it in your locks and starts to pick it.

You sigh in relief.

“Thank you thank you thank you. For everything. I swear I will get my life together, so you don’t feel like you have to keep cleaning up my messes.

“I don’t mind,” he says with a small smile, “Take your time.”

And with that he opens the door to your apartment and turns back to his.

“By the way, you should really get better locks. That was way too easy.”

You make a note in your head to get that done sometime. As you’re lying on your couch that night, you’re AirDropped a photo on your phone. Saving it up you see it’s a piece of paper with neat handwriting on it: a phone number and a smiley face, Jason’s name at the bottom.

You smile too and add the number to your contacts.

~

Over the next few weeks, you and Jason start talking more, both over text and through the various times when you run into each other outside your doors.

Each interaction is better than the next, and you soon start to realize that Jason isn’t just some hot guy with no brains. He’s sweet and charismatic, has a whole wall full of bookshelves, could probably quote any classical novel by heart, has incredibly good taste in music, and best (or worst) of all, would make incredible friend material.

It’s just that as you become closer friends, you start to realize that that might not be all you want.

It’s a stupidly cold Friday morning when he texts you, and you’re covered in blankets and wrapped in sweatshirts in your bed. Movie at my place tonight?

You text back your approval and a quick be there at 6 before getting ready for classes.

The day goes by slower than you hoped.

It might be the anticipation of seeing Jason again, or more likely the hours of lectures you have to sit through, but you’re elated when your final class for the day gets let out.

The hours in between are a blur.

A blur which leads to the two of you sitting on his couch watching Romeo and Juliet together, a blanket thrown over your bodies.

You have the obligatory bowl of popcorn resting on your legs, and every few minutes Jason reaches across your lap to take a handful.

The way you’re laying half on top on him is completely deliberate, as to take as much of his body heat as possible. Your landlord had turned off heating 3 weeks prior to ‘save money’ or some other bullshit.

Jason’s not complaining though.

Once your popcorn bowl is finished and your head is in his lap, he runs his fingers through your hair absentmindedly. It might be the nicest feeling you’ve ever felt.

Throughout the movie you exchange snide comments about the plot back and forth. You start trying to say funny things whenever you can just to hear how sweet his laugh sounds to your ears.

By the end of the movie, you’re only slightly in tears, or so you tell yourself.

“Are you crying right now?” Jason asks incredulously, wearing a teasing smile.

“It’s not my fault,” you half say half moan, “Leonardo DiCaprio just has that effect on me.”

He just laughs and pulls you upright until you’re sitting on his lap.

His eyes are a shade of blue green that you’ve never seen before, although you could swear their getting greener by the second.

You watch his gaze drop down to your lips before staring you right in the eyes again.

“Can I kiss you?”

“God yes,” you tell him, and kiss him right back.

~

The next week is somewhat uneventful, even though you and Jason had been meeting each other almost every night, rotating apartments based on whose house was warmer each particular night.

Tonight is your night, and you’ve been waiting the whole day to show him the film you had rented to watch together.

The walk up to your door is easier than usual, and you have a bounce in your step that’s making you feel even more elated than normal taking out your keys to unlock your apartment.

You open your door and your bag drops. The keys clatter when they hit the hardwood, and the silence that follows is deafening.

“You’re bleeding on my carpet,” is the first thing that comes out of your mouth.

There Jason is, bleeding quite profusely, and using your kitchen counter to keep himself vertical. He’s wearing what looks to be a torn half of a domino mask and an extremely hot leather jacket.

(Not that this was the time for noticing his fashion choices, but you filed that thought away for later.)

What really catches your eye though is the huge red bat symbol on his chest, and the red helmet next to it sitting on your counter.

He shifts a little to the side before stumbling through saying, “Um, so, I know this isn’t ideal and I’m really sorry to put you in this situation, but I seriously do not feel like bleeding out tonight and-”

“Oh my god this is great,” you cut him off with. “I thought you were a hit-man!”

“Wait what.”

“Shit no that’s not what I meant- kind of, hang on we should probably stop you from dying before having this conversation.”

You walk over to him to get a better look at his wounds.

“God Jace, you look like death warmed over.”

He just stares at you.

“You have a bunch of stuff in your bathroom, right?”

At least this elicits a reaction. He grimaces in pain but gives you a nod of his head in conformation.

“Ok I’ll be right back, don’t move.”

He gives you a look that says seriously, where would I go.

3 minutes later you’re back with a needle and thread, and some sterilizing spray.

“This should be fine,” you tell him, “I took a first aid class last year with my friends and passed with flying colors according to the nurse.”

“Just try to keep them tight and neat. I trust you,” he says, and your heart pounds just a little harder.

You respond with a nervous laugh but take a deep breath and start working.

~

An hour and a half later you’re done.

The combination of pain meds, bandages, and a whole lot of stitches eventually led to you and Jason laying in your bed together, both completely exhausted.

He turns his head to face you.

“Could we maybe go back to the hit-man thing?”

“Oh uh. Well I saw a bunch of shirts covered in blood in your laundry in the bathroom, not to mention all the weirdly specific first-aid you had,” you tell him.

“And also the assorted guns and knives you have hidden all over. I guess I just assumed? But the whole Red Hood thing is so much better,” you reassure him.

“You found all my knives?”

You smile up at him.

“I love that that’s thing you chose to focus on.”

“And you’re really not mad that I didn’t tell you about the whole vigilante thing before?” he asks.

“Jay, I had already resigned myself to life forever with some shady hit-man that also happened to be incredibly good looking. Red Hood is ten times better than that. I’m not going to run away from you just because you’re incredibly intimidating and probably could kill me. I see that as an added bonus,” you say, with as much charm as you can muster without yawning.

“Just. Be careful, ok? I’d hate to make this a routine.”

He responds by pulling you closer to his body.

“I promise,” he whispers into your head. “You really to remember to get better locks by the way, breaking in was still way too easy.”

You let out a small laugh and finally you let yourself give into sleep.

[iamanartichoke]

... All right, let’s do this. 

Under the cut bc there’s SO MANY images, and I’m sorry, and I know the cut is worthless to mobile users but, well, here we are. Please don’t unfollow me for this post specifically. 

^^ I can’t decide if this woman holding the Tesseract is impressive or not bc, I mean, she’s wearing a glove - but, Red Skull probably was, too? Also the TVA are obviously not humans, so “impressive” may be generous. On the other hand, “only beings of enormous power” can wield the Tesseract/infinity stones, so. 

Loki looks pissed. 

“I know what this place is.” I like this, bc it provides us with some narrative evidence that Loki has always known much more about the universe and How Things Work than anyone cared to realize. Loki’s always known what’s going on; that he isn’t ignorant to the existence or inner functions of the TVA feels in-character. 

Inception! 

Lokiception! 

Why does every shot of the TVA’s headquarters look like the inside of a poorly-lit DMV? Though I guess it fits with the “timelessness” of it all as, after all, time ceases to exist or have meaning once you enter the DMV. 

But I digress. 

I’ve already remarked on the “I’m smart” comment, but I do like this shot. 

I really love what Loki’s hair is doing here, I don’t even care. For better or for worse, his hair’s doing it’s own all-natural thing and I dig it. Let it move, let it dance, let it fall into his face and obscure his features as fanfic has allowed so many times. 

I’m not a fan of the exaggerated jump or “wtf” expression along with “this is absurd” but THIS moment? Classic Loki. He looks 500% done and we’re only 51 seconds in. Also, I refuse to believe that stack of papers is everything Loki’s ever said. I know we all complained about the “you love to talk” line but, I mean, certainly he’s said more than approximately the total sum of Ulysses in his 1000 years of existence. 

Here’s what I want to know: 

1. How does Loki taking the Tesseract result in so many new timeline branches? Surely he’s only responsible for one new timeline? I really, really hope they address that this is all the Avengers’ fault. 

2. What timeline is WandaVision and TFatWS taking place in? The main one, I presume? How do we know it’s not one of these alternate ones? 

3. Which timeline is Agents of SHIELD in and will they be addressed? Bc they got up to all kinds of Time Shenanigans in seasons 5, 6, and 7 to the point where I’m pretty sure they split off into their own universe (which is why they weren’t affected by the Snap or that whole thing, or so I’ve heard). If Loki crosses paths with Coulson & crew, I may pee my pants.

4. So where does Jessica Jo - ah, forget it, I’m not even going to ask. 

I wonder what it is about this “unique Loki perspective” that Mobius is interested in recruiting. (Incidentally, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Owen Wilson in, like, a real role - wherein he’s not playing some version of Owen Wilson, that is. He’s got a costume and everything here. Fun to see!) 

This is a bamf shot, okay. The way it’s framed is pretty intimidating. 

“You listen well, brother -” 

“I’m listening.” 

^^ I figured out what kind of energy this moment has, lmao. 

“It’s adorable that you think you can manipulate me.” I mean, do I even have to comment? I am here for narratively validating the “Loki is ten steps ahead” (heh, and I quote) canon. Here’s another place where I feel like Tom was involved, since I’m pretty sure that somewhere, he’s literally said “Loki’s always ten steps ahead of everyone else.” 

That said, I’m not crazy about the delivery of this line; the over-confident tone of it smacks of “here’s someone about to get knocked the fuck off their pedestal” and I’m not here for that. 

That said, these next scenes - 

- not only show Loki with the upper hand but, also, it’s clear that Loki goes rogue at some point, possibly early on, and I do like that. Drag me if you will, but I want to see Loki scheming and being manipulative, in his own interests. 

I think that Loki being the protagonist will allow them to portray his manipulation in a way that the audience is on his side. I don’t think that the TVA is being framed as the “reliable narrator” through which the audience should view Loki, or “good guys” at all; I think that maybe they’re not evil, but there’s probably a lot of morally-grey shenanigans and goings-on. 

I also think Loki is capable of outwitting them; Loki, being ten steps ahead, has probably figured out something that the TVA has not even thought of yet, so he’s going to fix things his own way, according to his own plan. And I want to see that, because I think that this will give the narrative room to really explore both how Loki thinks and what he does when his plans go awry (as I’m sure they’re bound to do); like, how will he fix it and still remain on top in the end?

So, I mean, I’m pretty intrigued (and still cautiously optimistic). 

Lots of action shots happening, I won’t add even more images to this post, but this magic is still giving me life. 

What is this, a food court? (Speaking of which , what’s up with all the action in the mall earlier?) 

“I’ve studied almost every moment of your life” 

(^^ Missed opportunity)

“and you’ve literally stabbed people in the back like 50 times.” 

Receipts or it didn’t happen, and that’s all I’m gonna say about that line right now. 

Thanks, I hate it. This is all wrong, this whole thing - just awful, scrap it, toss it out. Tom, I love you, but this was the wrong delivery and an all-around bad acting decision. It’s too over-the-top, too earnestly “well I never!”, too comical (as in, feels like it belongs in a comic with a speech bubble as opposed to funny). 

Once more, with feeling. From the top! 

I like that we get to see Loki doing a wardrobe change, as I don’t think we’ve gotten to see that before. He always just shows up in a new outfit or illusions one on. 

That’s one ugly ass outfit, but you make it look passable, Loki. You’re beautiful, in case no one’s told you that today. 

The remaining shots are very visually pleasing and action-y and I dig them, except the volcano one (stop posing with your arms outstretched every five seconds, Loki, it’s kinda cringe. In the above still, it works; in front of a volcano, it’s just tonally off. I say this with love, don’t @ me). 

Overall, I think I maintain my 7/10 rating. I think that the trailer hints at a lot of potential in the story that I will enjoy seeing, and I think that the nature of it being a trailer means that it’s a little tonally hyperbolic (this is kinda the format for Disney shit; show the flashy bits, the funny (”funny”) bits, to draw in the casual viewer. Save the story bits for the show. (Case in point: there’s a lot of great material in TFatWS that happened just before or after the one-liners shown in the trailer.) 

So, yes. Sorry this is such a mammoth post, I just needed to explode my feels. If you think the trailer’s awesome, kudos and I love you. If you’re disappointed and upset, I’m sorry and I love you. If you’re hovering in the middle, still in cautiously optimistic territory, pull up a seat and have some popcorn with me. 

That is all. 

[machine-gun-casie]

Co-Stars

request: Hey cutie! I love your writing and i was wondering if you could write a Pete imagine where he and the reader are in a movie together where they play a couple and he falls in love with her. Pretty please! ♡♡

wc: 2.6k

a/n: i made her the love interest for the king of staten island cuz i just watched the movie and its so good!! but dw no spoilers

You walked onto set with your iced coffee in hand and your earbuds blasting music in your ears. The set for this movie was probably the most fun and relaxing set you’ve ever been on. Except when Marisa Tomei or Steve Buscemi was there. It was only intimidating to you because of how new you were to the acting scene and how iconic they were.

But you had almost no scenes with them, all of your scenes were with Pete for the most part. Technically, you didn’t even need to come on set today. You just couldn’t stop yourself.

“Hey!” Maude called out to you when she saw you, motioning for you to come over. “Didn’t think you were needed on set today.”

“Oh, I’m not.” You replied and shrugged. “But I’ve got nothing better to do.”

“Really?” Maude raised her eyebrows at you. “You’re staying in New York City and you took the free ferry ride to Staten Island? Because you had nothing to do. In New York fucking City?!”

You furrowed your eyes and looked up in thought. “Well, when you phrase it like that…”

“y/n, it’s gonna sound weird no matter how I phrase it.” Maude chuckled.

You shoved her shoulder lightly and laughed with her as you explained. “I have no friends here, I have no one to hangout with.”

“Mhm, okay.” Maude teased you. “So we’re gonna pretend this isn’t about you-”

“Shut the fuck up Maude.” You hissed. “Shut up or I’ll tell your dad.”

“Tell her dad what?” Judd asked from behind you. You jumped slightly as you turned to face him as Maude snickered next to you. “Why’re you on set, y/n? We don’t need you today.”

“Because y/n has a crush on Pete.” Maude sang like she was teasing you on the school playground. 

“Maude!” You snapped at her. “He could hear!”

Judd laughed and shook his head. “Don’t worry, he’s filming.”

“In the firehouse?” You asked and your eyes lit up when Judd nodded. “Thanks Judd!” You yelled as you ran off to the front doors of the firehouse. 

“They really think they’re hiding it?” He asked his daughter.

“I think so.” She nodded, joining her dad in watching you run up the stairs. “If they’re not together by the time we wrap, I might strangle one of them.”

“Not if I do it first.”

You smiled and waved at the firefighters in the station today. Because the firehouse that was being used was still a functional one, the actors and the firefighters all became pretty well acquainted. You skipped over to the back room where you could hear them filming.

Bill and Pete were sitting at the table in front of the camera. You stood over by the sound guys and just watched them play out the scene. 

“What take is this?” You whispered to the closest person to you.

“Fourth.” They replied. “I think we got it, though. Fingers crossed we take fifteen after this.”

You nodded and leaned back to enjoy the show. Your favorite scenes to watch were when Pete and Bill were bickering. It was so clear that they both enjoyed it because they could improvise some jabs at each other. You noticed that Pete absolutely adored including the handlebar moustache during these scenes.

“Cut!” Someone called out. “Everyone take lunch!”

Pete looked around and made eye contact with you when the camera cut, smiling when he saw you. He turned to Bill and said a few parting words before coming up to you.

“Hey, what are you doing here?” He asked, leaning his shoulder against the wall to face you. “You don’t have any scenes today.”

“I don’t.” You nodded. “Came to see you.”

“You just can’t get enough of me, can you?” Pete smirked.

You rolled your eyes and turned slightly. “I’ll fucking leave, Pete.”

“Hey, no no no!” Pete stumbled over his words as he grabbed your arm. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding! Thank you for coming all the way out here for me. I am very very grateful.”

His hold on your arm slowly slid until he was holding onto your fingers, you curled your fingers into his and held his hand loosely. “You better be.” You scoffed. “Come on, let’s go grab lunch.” You gently pulled on your intertwined hands and led him out of the back room towards the front.

“Where do you wanna go?” Pete asked as his steps fell in tandem with yours. 

“You’re the local, you decide.” You looked up at him and swung your conjoined hands lightly in between you. “Surprise me.”

“Oh, so we’re doing romantic type shit now?” Pete laughed, raising his eyebrows at you. 

“Romantic type shit is my favorite, you know this.” You giggled, smiling and playing along. This little act you had going on was strange but somehow comforting. You would go on these ‘dates’ that were never called dates. And neither of you would discuss the logistics. But you both knew. And that’s what was comforting. There was no lying or hiding, just collective evading.

“I’ll take you to this place Casey and I would go to when we were kids.” He paused when he opened the door and motioned for you to go first. You walked down the stairs together and started walking along the sidewalk. “The owner knew my dad, so he used to give us free ice cream sometimes.”

“You think we can get some free ice cream today?” You asked, somewhat joking but also. Free ice cream.

“Not sure, but if he sees you we might.” Pete laughed and shook his head. “Last time I took a date there was during junior year. You should’ve seen his face, he was so fucking happy for me.”

“Junior year Pete was getting laid, huh?” You asked teasingly.

“Pfft, he fucking wishes.” He snorted. “Junior year Pete would pass out if he was here in my shoes right now.”

“I bet he would.” You hummed. “This movie is insane.”

“Not what I was talking about.” Pete said with a tight lipped smile on his face. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion, looking at him for an answer. He simply looked down at your interlaced hands.

“Oh.” You smiled shyly, warmth blooming in your chest. “I thought the sappy stuff was my department?”

“I can contribute.” He shrugged as he came to a stop at a crosswalk. “It’s that one over there.” He pointed to the classic pizzeria looking joint right across from you.

“Thank god, I’m starving.” You sighed, stomach rumbling at the thought of food of any kind. 

You walked in and followed Pete as he led you to the booth in the back corner. You peaked behind you to look through the windows at the front and saw what Pete no doubt took notice of before you. A guy with a camera up to his face was on the sidewalk adjacent to the one you and Pete were walking on. Lovely.

The paps were a problem you weren’t expecting to face in Staten Island, but Pete warned you otherwise. They were a hindrance on set, but they were even worse off set. A few times you were followed when you would go to get food on your own or you were heading home for the night. Pete promised you to always accompany you whenever he could after that, not wanting you to deal with the paps alone.

Cozying up in the corner booth, you were almost sure they couldn’t see you from outside. You let out a sigh of relief and leaned back, letting your shoes bump into Pete’s. “So, what’s good here?”

“They’ve got this eggplant tower thing that barely tastes like eggplants. It’s crazy good.” Pete told you, hands going up to show you how big it would be. “Should be good for both of us.”

“Great, we’ll take that then.” You smiled and nodded, glad to not have the anxiety of looking over a menu for the first time and take forever to read through it only to end up with a cheese pizza or something basic like that. 

After flagging down a waiter in the semi busy restaurant and ordering the food, Pete dropped his arms onto the table and looked over at you. “Maude give you shit today?”

“I think she writes it down in her schedule.” You replied and laughed. “I think she means well, though.”

“She’s like my real little sister now.” Pete nodded as he spread open his palm next to your hand on the table. “Her and Casey have joined forces.”

Lifting your hand gently, you traced the lines on his palms with your fingers. “How is Casey? She excited to shoot next week?”

“Yeah, yeah. She’s a little nervous.” Pete replied as he held your hand in his, trapping your tracing fingers in between his. “She’s going back and forth on whether she wants to come or not.”

“No, she should come!” You said, whining at the thought of losing that scene in the movie. “She’s gonna be great. Did you tell her that she’s my favorite character in the movie?”

Sighing, Pete rolled his eyes and nodded. “I did and she won’t shut up about it.”

Lunch included lots of jokes and laughter, with your hand in his the whole time. Neither of you said anything about the hands, or the fact that you trapped one of his legs in between yours under the table. No lying or hiding, just collective evading. 

Both of you only managed to eat half of the truly gigantic eggplant tower, so you decided to have it packed up for later. You called over a waiter, a different one this time who seemed to be a teenager by the looks of it, who clearly recognized you or at least Pete. They quickly nodded and smiled, taking the plate of food from your table and the empty glasses. You saw them skitter off and whisper to one of their colleagues along the way, no doubt telling them that you were here.

“I think we’ve been caught.” You whispered to Pete. He looked over to where you were facing and sighed.

“I think we have.” Pete chuckled. “Watch, Andy’s gonna come out any minute now.”

Exactly as Pete predicted, a tall man with a huge grin on his face came out from the back. He marched over to your table with open arms. “Peter! It’s been so long, young man!”

Pete stood up and gave the man a hug. “Hey Andy, how are you?”

Andy pulled away and gave Pete a heavy pat on the shoulder. “I ain’t any younger pal, I can tell you that.” He said with the heaviest New York accent you’ve ever heard. He sneaked a few glances at you as he spoke, clearly curious. “Who’s your friend, Peter?”

Pete’s cheeks grew a little red as he cleared his throat. “Andy, this is y/n. She’s my co-star in this movie we’re shooting.”

“Co-star? Is that what they’re calling it nowadays?” Andy mumbled as he turned to look at you as you stood up to face him. “Is he treating you good?”

You laughed and nodded. “Of course he is, Pete’s a great guy. You should know, Pete says you’ve known each other since he was a kid.”

“I have, I have. Used to give him free ice cream. I bet he didn’t tell you that.” Andy pointed at Pete accusingly. 

“He did, actually.” You hummed. 

“Good, ‘cause you’re getting some today too.” Andy nodded before turning to face the kitchen. “Sammy! Get me two ice cream cones, mixed!”

“No, that’s alright-” You started before Andy interrupted you. 

“It’s my treat, kid.” Andy said with a kind smile. “For Pete and his co-star.”

With your ice cream cones and bag of leftover food in hand, you and Pete said your goodbyes to Andy as you left the restaurant. You kept close to Pete as you walked down the sidewalk, the same pap from earlier could be seen in the corner of your eye. But he didn’t seem to be following you, so you calmed down slightly. 

“Holy shit!” You gasped when it hit you, eyes wide. “We’re late! I didn’t even feel the time.”

Pete glanced at his watch and saw that it had been way more than fifteen minutes. You had been off set for almost forty minutes at this point. He looked at you and you both paused for a second before bursting into laughter. He shrugged with a frown. “Oh well.”

You continued your stroll in a comfortable silence as you both finished your ice cream. You spotted a little playground hidden behind a few trees as you popped the last bit of the crunchy cone in your mouth. “Look Pete, swings.” You pointed.

“You wanna go on the swings?” He asked and you nodded. “You’re not worried about Judd on set?”

“What set?” You asked with faux confusion. “I wasn’t called on set today.” Pete laughed as he let you pull him towards the swings.

Neither of you were swinging really, your younger self would have been disappointed at your lack of enthusiasm. You were both just swaying next to each other, holding the two chains in between you to keep yourself from swaying too far away. 

“Isn’t it weird how normal people don’t have to make things official?” Pete asked all of a sudden. “With relationships, I mean. If they figure that shit out with each other, that’s it. They don’t need to post something stupid on Instagram or whatever.”

“I guess, yeah.” You nodded. “But who do you consider to be not normal?”

“Us.” He said, eyes downcast at the bag of food he put on the ground between the swings.

You paused to articulate your thoughts. “We don’t have to do anything if we don’t want to. Fuck Instagram. We are normal people.”

Pete laughed at your tone, defensive but not against him. “We are.”

This time you looked down at the ground and avoided Pete’s gaze. “Is this… Is this about us? You and me?”

Pete didn’t answer. His silence on this topic has never scared you until now. Was he thinking of being serious with you? Or the opposite? Was this his messed up way of letting you down slowly? The collective evading was no longer comforting but frightening. Was he just playing around with your feelings while you thought it was a slow start to something you didn’t know you wanted?

“I think I’m in love with you.” 

With wide eyes you looked back up at Pete, seeing the anxiousness in his eyes. “What?” You asked softly.

“I-I wasn’t sure, but then I was talking to-” You cut him off with a kiss, pulling his swing closer to yours and placing a hand on his cheek. He moaned lightly into the kiss and placed his hand on your waist, turning your swing to face him properly.

You pulled away slowly and sighed. “I think I’m in love with you, too.”

That was your first kiss with Pete. The thought made you laugh. “What’s funny?” He asked.

“That was our first kiss.” You said and he nodded. “So you’re saying that you fell in love with me before we even kissed?”

“Yes?” Pete furrowed his eyebrows. “Is that a bad thing?”

“Not necessarily, no.” You shook your head. “But what if I was a bad kisser?”

Pete clicked his tongue and pulled away with a laugh. “You’re not a bad kisser.”

“But what if I was?” You retorted, giggling. “Would you still love me if I was a bad kisser?”

“First of all, yes.” Pete pointed out. “Second, you wouldn’t be a bad kisser.”

“But what if I was?” You repeated.

“We would have lots and lots of practice.”

[oftenderweapons]

The Power Couple - maknae line

Pairing: maknae line member x reader

Wordcount: 1.0k words

Genre: (hinted/mild) smut, fluff, (JK’s a tiny bit angsty but also humour), 

Rating: suggested 18+

Hi, I’m finally back with the maknae line version. I thought I would have loved to explore how the couple would interact in more public situations, especially when under pressure because of fan, photographers and press, what kind of vibe would they emit, what they would do, whether they felt nervous etc.  TRIGGER WARNINGS: smut, only mentioned or suggested, with some mildly kinky stuff going on in Jimin’s scenario (that boy is filthy as hell), Taehyung is in Love™️, please don’t kill his vibe (and don’t bite his head off), softest angst in Jungkook’s piece, slight invasion of privacy, insecure Googie who wished he were a normal boy feat. mild exhibitionism and very loving Lowkey Kinky girlfriend. 

Enjoy!

Here you can find the hyung line

And here you can find my masterlist

Jimin

The first thing you noticed was the fans, phones out, recording and snapping pictures of you.

The second thing you noticed was the little groups of celebrities, influencers and models chatting, exchanging greetings and fashionable “bisoux”. It actually intimidated you.

“Don’t worry about those. We steer away. I’ll just say hi to a few friends. You’ll like them, they’re not that bad.” He said with a teasing grin.

You were at Paris Fashion Week, attending Chanel’s special runway, with your amazing boyfriend. He had personally styled your look, your matching apple green skirt and jacket paired with a plain white t-shirt. At your feet a very daring combination of white ankle socks and black leather loafers. On your slightly tanned skin -- thanks to your holiday together -- the palette of colours looked absolutely amazing, giving you a fashionable but also a classic look. His signature all-black look today was made of skinny black pants, a sleeveless turtleneck tucked in and, just like you, black leather loafers.

You were actually pretty glad he had that turtleneck in his luggage: explaining the bruises on his neck would have been impossible. Paris, Jimin and champagne were a deadly combination for your libido and it had been sheer luck that you had managed to exit the room this morning. You had spent the last twenty hours or so in bed, macarons delivered to your suite together with wine and chocolate covered strawberries. As if you hadn’t just spent a week in the middle of nothing, on a private island, enjoying nothing but each other, someplace where Jimin could just hang out naked all day long, being nothing but your pet, making as much noise as he wanted. And you had enjoyed listening to his every whine and scream. It had been amazing.

Coming back to civilization had made you jumpy, and seeing him back to his usual social butterfly personality slightly ticked you off. Your own personality didn’t quite fit the socialite in the spotlight, and you weren’t absolutely comfortable with the way everyone seemed focused on the two of you.

The photographers kept calling his name and he kept stopping for them, looking at you with nothing but sin in his eyes, his intentions unmistakeable. He let his fingers dance on your inner wrist, knowing how that makes your skin tingle and your nerves catch fire.

How could you possibly let that brat go unnoticed? Of course you would remember this for later, when you'd be back to your room. Still, when he stopped once more, putting his hand on your waist, you latched your thumb on one of his back belt loops, the rest of your hand spread wide on his glute and hip. The half coy, half obscene smirk on his face made you melt a little more, and you felt embarrassed that such a small thing had you actually turned on. He bit his lip. Little teasing brat.

You entered the venue after a few greetings to glossy-haired, glass-skinned demigods, wide california smiles plastered on their faces, beautiful and scary. Jimin was polite as usual, dismissing some guys with a cold, formal manner. As you sat on front row, he bent to your ear, grazing your earlobe with his plump lips. “You look beautiful. The only true queen out there.” He nuzzled in your hair. “Can I put my hand on your leg or will you drag me to the closest bathroom to eat you out?”

“You are walking on very thin ice, Jiminie.” You replied before laying your hand heavily against his knee, your fingers reaching for his inner thigh. Distracted by your touch he didn’t notice the way you leaned in. “Enjoy sitting while you still can, baby brat.” You smiled innocently, placing a soft kiss on his cheek.

“Oh, come on, what did I do?” Your conversation went on undisturbed, no one around there understanding his native language, except for the bodyguards, who were otherwise occupied, or who were not interested in your anthem.

“I’ll make you a list once we’re in our room.” Once more he used his flirty smile on you. “And trust me, no chance of you getting away with it this time.” You continued.

Suddenly you were interrupted by a photographer, asking you for a picture. You posed with a kind smile on your face, Jimin’s arm around your shoulders. “Big smile, kitty.” You said, before the flash lit up and caught him midlaugh, cutely collapsing on your shoulder. The photograper took a few more pictures, thanking you and moving on.

He recomposed himself, drawing closer this time. You grabbed his chin with two fingers delicately. You could only imagine what everyone could think of the two of you. “Do you have any idea how much I love you?” You asked, a little roughly.

He giggled flirtatiously. You figured all the macarons must have made him sweetly poisonous. “You must love me a lot.” He put his hand on your thigh, contrary to your warnings. “But I love when you manhandle me a little.” He started kneeding on the soft flesh there. “So I really hope you’ll give me the punishment you’ve promised me later--” he stopped and exhaled sinfully, “-- mommy.”

For the rest of the show he was restless in his chair, impatient to have you again.

Taehyung

“Oh my god, Namjoon will bite my head off if we’re late.”

“Is my lipstick okay?” You asked panicked.

He came up close, staring at your lips. “You’re incredible. It’s perfect.”

“I should have bitten your head off.”

“Such a shame you love it.” He commented with an arrogant smile. He helped you up and leaned against your ear. “You love both of them.” He said, tucking himself in and fixing his clothes.

Of course he was right. Of course you were just done taking him in your mouth, trusting him enough not to mess your dress. It was an avalanche of deep blue chiffon. Tonight you were attending a charity event in a popular art gallery celebrating the opening of a new building for recreational use. Your dress resembled the dark twirls of Van Gogh’s starry skies, punctuated with small rhinestones; Taehyung had bought it for you, leaving it on your bed before you got ready for the event. When you had seen it you had felt slightly conflicted between your own pick and his choice, but seeing his own blue silk tuxedo, you gave up any hesitation, slipping into the dress -- which unsurprisingly fit you perfectly -- after letting him choose your underwear first.

“Do I look messed up?” You asked again, at which he fixed a loose strand of your hair delicately before bending down to kiss you. The kiss wasn’t chaste at all.

“I wished we had more time...” He commented, accompanying you to the ensuite and turning you towards him, fixing your makeup under your eyes and on your chin.

“Do you think they’ll notice if I get under your dress during dinner?” He grinned and tapped a humid towel around your mouth, kissing you once more.

“Depend on whether I can keep a straight face or not.” You caressed his face and caught his wrists.

“Well, then we’re fucked.” Yeah, his head game was that strong. No keeping a straight face at that. And he knew.

You laughed together at that. You looked at yourself in the mirror. “God, I need to know what lipstick she used. It’s still there. No smudge, no stain. It’s perfect.”

“That’s because you’re perfect.” He kissed your forehead. “Let’s go. They’re gonna kill us.”

“We’re not that late. Plus I’m sure we can still beat Jimin.” You grabbed your purse on the way out of the bedroom.

“Wait babe.” He said, “I--” He had been distracted. This should have gone in a very, very different way.

You stilled, waiting for him to talk. “Tonight might be difficult.” He wished he had been patient. He wished he had more time. The plan was to give you something that might keep everyone off you. Insecurity invaded him. All the men who would be seeing you tonight… The small box felt heavy in his hand. “And I--” God, he had a talk, a whole discourse. “Just, it’s not like-- I intend to do this properly, sometime in the future. This is just-- A promise thing. I want us to wear these.” He fumbled with the lock, his eyes blowing wide open as the box fell to the floor and a tinkling sound echoed in the hall.

You threw yourself at it, noticing the thick platinum band covered in blue shiny stones rolling on the floor. You saved it right before it hid under the wardrobe.

In the meantime he had clutched the box to his chest, protecting the other half of the pair with his body.

You smiled widely. Rings. Actual rings.

“It’s not like, wedding. Though I absolutely intend to. I mean, to propose. Not today.” He sounded like a broken record, his words interrupted and mechanic. “It means I love you, and you got me, and I got you. That’s all.” He looked like a lost puppy.

"Come here, darling." You say quietly.

He looks absolutely terrified, approaching you like you were about to punish him.

"I love you. And I really hope that someday we will be wearing another kind of matching rings." You kissed his scrunched brow. "Let me put this on you, yes?"

He offered you his hand.

"I don't want to promise too much. I can only promise that I'll always take care of you, protect you and be loyal to you." You slipped his band on.

"Uhm--" He fumbled with the box some more until you held it for him as his shaking hand took off the ring. The thin circlet was lined with small blue crystals, dominated by a bigger stone of the same colour. The overall blue theme was really soothing, and it was also what kept it from looking too much like a proposal ring.

"____, I promise you to give my heart to you, and to hold yours with care, I promise to stay close to you and love you as long as you allow me to." His voice was deep but slightly shaking, which made you really emotional.

You offered him your hand, helping you wear the ring.

You observed how it fit you. You knew it wasn't sheer luck. He probably had taken one of your rings for measurements.

You smiled at him and intertwined his hands. "Joon is going to kill us."

"He's a sucker for romance, he'll probably get teary eyed." He commented. Taehyung kissed your cheek. "Let's go, I've got a beautiful girlfriend to show to the world." His smile was radiant.

Jungkook

"Baby, can you please come?" He called you to the sofa. Probably he just wanted some company while he was playing games. Maybe he just wanted someone to play with.

You reached the end of the corridor leading from the bedrooms to the open space living room. "What's up Koo?"

"Look."

A gossip TV-show was talking about the two of you and your recent holiday.

"The couple was spotted in an exclusive resort in Thailand, the BTS member spoiling his partner with a sweet summer getaway. As you can see they had plenty of time for some steamy romance on the beach." The description was accompanied by a small clip of you kissing, water lapping around your calves, the whole picture absolutely innocent and appropriate, and of course the press had to spice things up, exaggerating everything about the two of you. "The sweethearts have also been caught sharing a bit more than an innocent smooch during a canoeing excursion." And of course you weren't canoeing, but rather paddle boarding, you resting your head on Jungkook's chest as you basked in the sun. These people were outright ridiculous.

"They must be desperate for a scoop." You commented, sitting beside Jungkook, as he cuddled into you. "Are you okay baby?"

"I'm just thinking what if we had been less careful?"

You kissed his head and caressed his hair softly. "But we were careful."

"I almost fucked you on the beach." He lifted his head from his chest.

"Having a hard on and pressing it against my bum while kissing my neck is hardly almost fucking, Koo." You touched his neck and shushed him back towards your bosom.

"We've been dating publicly for like a month and we've already been on the news four times."

"God, the strip club scandal was exhilarating." You reckoned.

"The whole picture was a work of art." He commented. "After the fright I kinda hoped I could meet the one who photoshopped it."

"Do you think they could send us a copy? It looked so hot," you said appreciatively.

"You looked so hot, with that cliché pink bob cut." He looked up at you from under his lashes.

"Got a new kink, baby? Stripper role play?" You smiled teasingly.

He blushed violently. "Not really. But you really looked hot with that hair." He toyed with your loose locks. "Even though I love your hair long."

"I can only wonder why." You let him in his comfort zone, still cuddling him.

"And then that time they spotted us outside the hotel."

"As if we needed an hotel to get laid." He said, half disappointed.

"And I was wearing your sweater, don't forget the kinky detail." You joked as he broke in giggles. "'Cause of course, if I'm wearing your sweater we must have done the nasty."

He started laughing even more. "Done the nasty, God that actually broke me."

"Next time we meet for lunch with my parents we'll tell them we're doing the nasty." You murmured in sarcasm.

"My mother called me that night asking me why I was taking you to an hotel when we've been sharing an apartment for almost a year." He said. "I told her we were there to meet your parents. She said she was glad I could get laid at my place."

You both exploded in laughter. His mom is great.

"Did you tell her you tried to corrupt me on a beach in Thailand?" You joked some more.

"Fuck, she'd laugh her eyes off." He kissed your breastbone innocently.

"They love making a fuss about us." You commented, combing his hair delicately.

"I don't understand why they can't let us be. If I want to take you bare against my window that's our fucking business. Wanna get naked in a private beach in the middle of nowhere, fucking let me!" He was getting upset and he sounded so absurdly cute.

"Bare against a window, uh?"

He blushed to the tip of his ears, half frustrated, half shy.

You loved his cute slip ups, when his more dominant persona jumped out.

"It's-- You know, we don't have to do it, I was just saying it as a joke." But his shy expression said otherwise.

"I don't oppose to it." You replied quietly.

He shuddered a little, but changed the topic of the conversation. "Sometimes I just wished it only the two of us. I wished we could just be two kids twenty and in love."

You already knew what he would say next. "No, I just want this strange normality with you. No other man could love me like you, you know it. And I don't want anything but you. But this."

This time you ignored all the sweet pressing of lips for an intense kiss, mouth against mouth, your hand already insinuating under his sweater.

"I promise you I'll find a more private location next time we go in holiday." He murmured, his voice covered in guilt.

"It's okay. As long as you're okay with it. We're a power couple. They can't help but watch."

"You looked incredible with that bikini, it would have been a shame if they didn't look." He kissed your jaw.

He meditated in silence for a couple seconds. You waited for him to drop his idea. "Do you think they'll see if we do the nasty in our balcony?"

You both laughed out loud. "Let's go."

[fanficfeeling]

No Place Like Home - Jaskier x Modern!Reader

A/N: Jaskier x Modern!Reader for anon. Thanks for the request, I had a lot of fun with this! Also, I feel like all some of these references might be a little bit dated, which I didn't realize until they were all in there. They're all still fairly famous though, so I hope you don't mind! I went with she/her pronouns on this, but if anyone wants to see me start using gender neutral pronouns, please let me know, or just add specific pronoun requests in your requests!

Request: hi! a jaskier x reader request for the witcher! would love a one shot of a modern!reader, who decides to follow the boys, either about them singing modern songs or making stupid modern day references that they wouldn't understand!

Warnings: Possible second hand embarrassment ahead? Also Wonderwall

Word count: 2300

Requests are OPEN

~~~

Y/N starts her day like she does every other day: by opening her window and breathing in the comforting Velen air.

Y/N doesn't know how she ended up in this world. For the first few months, she searched for a way home, or even just for answers about why she found herself in this place. She ended up empty-handed, and with no more leads to follow. She was forced to give up, and start making her own way. It was by a pure stroke of luck that she'd ended up with the house, and with a fairly easy, flexible job to pay for it, and after a while, she found she preferred this life to her old one. She stopped wondering why, and let this place be home. After the few years she's been here, she finds she's glad it all happened the way it did.

She finds herself smiling as she looks out into her little village, reveling in the peace it offers.

"Get out of here, you filthy Witcher!"

And that shout from the main road was the end of Y/N's peaceful lack of involvement. As she saw people go running towards the sound of the growing shouts, Y/N quickly left her home and began to follow suit in that direction, eager and anxious to see what could cause such a fuss. When she reached the scene of the commotion, her shock was evident.

There, trying his best to make his way through this small village with a bard at his side, was a Witcher. An actual, real life Witcher.

Well, as real as this world actually is, anyway.

Even more shocking was the townspeople harassing the seemingly unassuming men -- it seemed that most of the town were in on heckling them, despite their usual, friendly neighbor attitudes. It seemed the Witcher was used to the treatment, as he did his best to shield himself and his horse and continued walking calmly forward, although the bard was a bit more theatrical in his defenses, holding up his lute to cover his face and sighing dramatically at every passing insult.

I wonder if this could be the pair that the internet flipped out over when that tv series came out before I left? I never got into it, but I'm fairly sure that's where I am, and their faces seem familiar.

Y/N's heart nearly stopped when the Witcher's golden eyes made contact with hers. It seemed to take him but a split second to make a decision and begin a new course in her direction. She held her breath the entire time he made his way over.

When he finally stopped, he stopped directly in front of her, looming over her, far closer then she expected him. He was shockingly intimidating.

"You don't seem in the business of heckling strangers. I'm here to clear out a noonwraith I'd heard of in the vicinity. Do you know anything about that?"

It took Y/N far too long to gather enough courage to speak, and when she did, she could only hope her voice wasn't shaking too much, "A... noonwraith? Oh, yes, the ghost in the abandoned barn, just a little ways out of town. It's, uh... been a nuisance for farmers and travelers for some time."

The Witcher let out a small, "hm." in response.

"I could... show you to the location, if you need assistance? I know this area very well, and I would be happy to assist you if you would rid us of the... wraith."

"Geralt! How could you leave me to fend for myself like that?" The bard came up behind the Witcher quickly, like a burst of raw energy. He smiled when he spotted the Witcher talking to the woman, "Hello! Thank you for not hurling insults at us as we walk past! My name is Jaskier, a humble bard, at your service." Swiftly, he reached for her hand and pressed a swift kiss to her knuckles.

"Oh! It's really no problem, It certainly does no harm to not go out of my way to be rude. My name is Y/N, it's nice to meet you."

"Y/N has offered to lead us to the noonwraith, Jaskier. Y/N, how soon can you be ready to go?"

"Oh, well, I'm off work today, and I really don't have that much to take care of this morning -- if you'll allow me to grab some better shoes I should be ready in minutes."

"Take your time, I need some to prepare potions for the battle."

"You can come spend some time at the tavern with me while we wait for him." Jaskier punctuated his sentence with a wink.

Y/N felt her heart palpitate, and she'd never scrambled to get ready so quickly for anything.

When she found him in the nearly deserted tavern, he sat with a notebook in his hands, writing something down leisurely. If he's a bard, Y/N assumed it was some sort of song.

"Jaskier, yes? May I join you?"

He flashed a smile up at her, "Anything for such a beautiful woman." Y/N felt herself flush at the compliment as she sat down.

"So, Y/N, where are you from? You don't have the Velen accent, nor do you have the same... dispositions as your fellow townsfolk, I can't imagine you were born and raised here."

Y/N felt her heart speed up once more, just a fraction, "I wasn't. I came here just a few years ago, just sort of ended up here by chance. I was looking for something, but it didn't exactly work out, and I just never really bothered to leave. I'm thankful enough for it, Velen suits me very well."

"Very cryptic and fascinating story! You are dodging my original question though."

"Only because I don't think you'd have heard of where I'm from. It's not very well known around here."

"I'm not from around here."

"I doubt it's well known where you're from, either."

Jaskier gave her a quizzical look, but left her odd behavior alone, "Well then, what does the mysterious lady do for fun?"

This was the thing Y/N struggled with the most in this world. Her access to all her favorite tv shows, books, and movies were gone, and all she was left with were the only few books she had at her disposal, most of them terribly dry reading. Even worse: every pop culture reference she ever knew was now rendered completely useless.

"Well, I read as much as I can, with what little I have, and I go for long walks, but other than that, I mostly just work. Not much to do around here, honestly. I sing a little to myself sometimes to pass the time-"

Jaskier's face lit up like a Christmas tree, "You sing? What songs do you know?"

"I highly doubt you'd have heard of any of them."

"Nonsense, my trade is music! At the very least, you must sing something for me!"

"No! I don't sing for other people-"

"But if I've never heard of these songs of yours, you must educate me!"

"That's not exactly my job-"

The pair only stop upon hearing a gruff voice clear behind them.

"Are the two of you done?" Geralt asks, a minor level of annoyance evident. Y/N is the first to scramble to her feet, embarrassed.

Their departure is smooth, and Y/N promptly informs the pair that the journey should take but a half an hour or so.  

In response, Jaskier slings an arm over Y/N's shoulder, flashing her a smile, "Plenty of time for you to teach me a song or two."

"Are you really back at this again? My answer is still no."

"But would it not benefit my musically inclined soul to be exposed to a bit of your culture, wherever it may be from? You mustn't let my poor, culturally deprived soul wither away like this, fair lady."

"Don't you travel for a living?" Before Jaskier could sass her further with another response, Y/N took a less than graceful stumble over a tree root.

Geralt stopped walking and grabbed her arm as she steadied herself, "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I think I'm fine. Unfortunate that such a lack of grace had to come out around near strangers, but that's on me, I suppose." She laughed it off, playing glaring at the root that tripped her, "I'm walking here!" She said quietly to herself in her best fake New York accent, reveling in her classic movie references that no one else in this world could understand. At least they brought her a little bit of personal joy.

"Y/N, did you just speak to that tree root?" Jaskier asked, trying his best not to look concerned, and failing miserably.

The lady flushed crimson, "Oh, no, well, actually yes, but it's just a -- well, I guess it's just a reference to something you wouldn't understand. I apologize, that must have looked odd."

Jaskier let out a small chuckle (which Y/N had to admit, was distressingly attractive), "You've said a lot of odd things so far, but I'm certainly not minding."

In an attempt to escape her ever-expanding blush, Y/N began walking ahead of the men, "Right, well, on we go then."

After but a minute of silence, Geralt spoke up, "Y/N, would it suit us better to take an actual path, instead of just cutting through the forest?"

Y/N turned back to him and shook her head, "This will get us there much quicker, if we cut through here we'll end up right across the field from where you're trying to go."

Jaskier shook his own head now, "For a non-native, you do know this area very well."

"Elementary, my dear Watson. To anyone living in the area, anyway. Besides, I take lots of walks, remember?" She laughed to herself, and quietly shook her head once more as another movie scene came to her, muttering quietly, "Roads? Where we're going, we don't need roads." Thankfully, the men seemed to not hear that second reference, but she failed to see as they turned to each other in confusion over the first.

Y/N's impressive knowledge proved accurate after about the half an hour she promised, as the trio cut through the trees and ended up in a large field, a run-down barn just visible on the other side.

"See? That's where you're trying to get to."

"Thank you very much, Y/N. I'll take it from here." With that, Geralt strode off through the field, radiating with purpose. He really was truly quite intimidating.

After a moment of silence, in which Jaskier decided to make himself comfortable as he sat down, Y/N spoke once more, "So do we just wait here now?"

"That we do."

"What if he doesn't come back?"

"He will. No need to worry your pretty little head about that. However, if you're concerned about the waiting time, you could sing me a song to pass it."

Y/N sighed, "You truly won't give that up?"

"I had no plans to."

"I never should have told you about that."

"Or perhaps it was destiny that you did."

"You're so determined to make clever remarks, but that one didn't even make sense."

"Fair enough. Perhaps I would stop talking nonsense if you would keep me occupied with a song."

"Fine! Fine." Y/N let her shoulders sag in defeat as she sighed. "What do you want to hear, then?"

Jaskier pretended to contemplate her question for a moment, but he spoke far too quickly when he replied, "Sing me something romantic."

"You sly bastard. Alright, let me think a moment. Uh..."

What's something easy to sing, something well known enough that I'll know all the words, something romantic? Oh, I have a bad idea.

"Well, I suppose this could be interpreted as romantic." Y/N had to suppress her laughter. "And it's terribly catchy, so I know all the words quite well. And it's been around for quite a while. A lot of people don't like it because it's sort of overdone-"

"Y/N."

"Alright, fine, anyway, here's Wonderwall.

Today is gonna be the day that they're gonna throw it back to you By now you should've somehow realized what you gotta do I don't believe that anybody feels the way I do about you now"

Before Y/N knew it, the song was over - perhaps she'd just heard it so many times she blacked out the rest of the song - and to her dismay, Jaskier began clapping.

"And you say you don't sing for other people. That was lovely."

"You only say that because you haven't heard the song a million times."

"Also because your voice is joy to listen to."

"Oh stop it, you're just saying that-"

"Oh, is that the battle you want to fight?"

~~~

By the time Geralt had slain the wraith, Jaskier had insisted that they walk Y/N home ("Geralt, she helped us out here, it's the right thing to do!" "I'm quite capable of finding my own way home." "We insist."), and the trio had finished their more leisurely walk back along the main road, it was approaching evening. Before Y/N even knew it, they were at her front door.

"Ah, here we are. Thank you gentlemen, for your assistance."

"And thank you for yours, my lady."

"Anytime, Geralt. It would be my pleasure to assist you again if you're in the area and need a guide."

"I may yet take you up on that. Until then, have a good evening."

"You too. Safe travels."

The duo began to walk away, leaving Y/N feeling just a little bit sad, when Jaskier turned around and walked back to her. When he reached her, he grabbed her hand and pressed yet another kiss to her knuckles, like he had that morning.

"I will surely be counting the days until I can have the privilege of hearing your voice and odd sayings again."

Before she could retaliate, he had run off, and soon he was out of sight. She felt a little less sad now.

This is a home worth having. Yes, I'm quite happy things turned out this way.

[prettyyyboyluke]

Siren

inspired by this song, this one, and this one too, if it does well, we will turn it into something good ;) but for now, we’ll leave it at this. there will be lots of angst, some violence, and of course smut 

~ 

Siren: In Greek Mythology, each of a number of women or winged creatures whose singing lured unwary sailors onto rocks

The small lights decorating the streets barely did any justice. Everything that surrounded me was pitch black, with the occasional yellow and red lights from crosswalks and stop lights. I don’t understand why Kaileen would pick somewhere that is underground. Literally underground. Since it was such a secret location, you were either walking or you didn't go at all. I could practically rip Kaileen's head off right now if she was next to me. The heels she told me to wear weren’t giving much room for my toes, and I could already feel the blisters and pain in the morning. 

Tonight, I couldn’t pinpoint the exact idea of what I was doing. All I was told that once I got to a red brick wall with the numbers 11, 9, 12, 12, 5, 18 spray painted in black, I was at the right place. Oh, and I guess the most important detail was to tell whoever the security guards were the word, siren. 

This is not the night I was expecting at all. 

~

The wall came into my vision dimly, and I looked over the numbers, once, twice, three times before finally going up to the red rope. The two guards looked at each other before looking at me like I was some kind of lamb going to play in the tiger’s den. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing in these streets?” The man, who looked like he could practically step on someone, asked. I looked at him with a dead expression on my face before opening my mouth and speaking, “Siren.” 

That seemed to knock them off their boots. They took the red rope and moved it just enough for me to slip inside. I quickly whipped out my phone to text Kaileen to tell her I was here. 

To: Kaileen Rivers 

I’m here, where are you? 

Read 10:53 pm 

From: Kaileen Rivers 

Go down the stairs and I’m standing by the entrance 

Sent 10:54 pm 

Entrance? I thought I was already here. I rolled my eyes and followed her very vague instructions. The stairs were very narrow, and you could see just how sticky they were. The heels clicked and clacked against the metal until I finally reached the bottom. The room was lit by a red and blue light, some corners were even purple. I saw Kaileen exactly where she said she was, all in her tall, blonde glory. She notices me by the sound of her Louis Vuitton heels she let me borrow. 

“Ryder! I thought I told you to be here at 10:30, missy.” She speaks, reapplying her classic sheer pink lipgloss. 

“Sorry I had to walk a mile in your Louis Vuitton’s! This isn’t something I normally do, Kai.” I sigh. 

“Enough of that! Tonight, we’re going to have a good time, and if that means I make you take shots and drink vodka cran all night, then I’m gonna do it.” She says, pointing her finger at me. 

That’s Kaileen. Kaileen June Rivers, a daredevil, and a somewhat intimidating blonde girl. She was just like Bubbles from The Powerpuff Girls, but when you pushed her buttons, she fought back with everything she had. Everyone told me that since she was Bubbles, I was Buttercup. Not giving a shit about what people said, sometimes bitter, and would not hesitate to knock someone out if I had to. We haven’t found our Blossom yet, and I’m not sure we need to. 

I’m Ryder, Ryder Hailey Thompson, to be exact. I like adventure, but I never dared to enter a scene like this. It took the guts that I didn’t have, but Kaileen did. If you ask me what I’m doing on a normal day, I might just say either getting way too high to sit still or go drive to the nearest cliff and watch the world beneath me. 

We met in high school when we got paired to do our Chemistry project. She had the brains, I had the artistry, it was a perfect match. Ever since then, we’ve stuck together like glue. Most of the time she had to drag me to things like this. 

“How did you even find this place?” I ask, following her through the red lighting of the palace. 

“A little birdy told me about it, and I knew we had to come and check it out.” 

As we walked further into the palace, I was met with a beautiful smell of alcohol, sweat, and some type of narcotic I haven’t tried yet. Everyone was dancing, drinking, not having a care in the world. My steps were put to a halt once we were at the bar. Kaileen begins to talk to the bartender, they seem to know each other. I have never seen this man once. 

His hair was a jet black color, and it looked curly. He had sprinkles of tattoos on his arms, bicep, and wrist. He had a contagious laugh and smile. I couldn’t exactly make out the color of his eyes, but they looked like a hazel green from what I could see, with the strobe lights constantly going, it was hard to tell. 

“So, what are we drinking tonight?” He asks. 

Kaileen turns to me, giving me the ‘you need to loosen up’ look. I just shrug, not caring what I’m drinking, as long as it’ll get me to look like the people on the floor. 

“We’ll take two vodka crans, don’t hold back on the vodka.” Kaileen giggles, pushing a piece of her hair behind her ears. And there it is, the shameless flirting. The bartender hands us the drinks and continues to talk with Kaileen. 

I spin around in my seat, watching how the people on the floor looked. It might be weird to some, but I love to people watch. Watch how if they’re carefree, stressed out, or just a go with the flow type of person. I always used to make up stories in my head when I was younger until my mother scolded me for staring at others. 

That’s when I found the person to watch tonight. A tall, tan, tattooed man. He looks carefree, but aware of his surroundings at the same time. I assume the drink he is sipping on is whiskey, considering the shortness of the glass and the brown liquid inside it. We make eye contact for about a minute, which is way too long for two strangers. He gives me a sly smile and starts making his way over. But once he moved, I couldn’t help but stare at the man behind him.  

He looked about the same height, long blonde hair with half it covering his face. He also had tattoos, is there some tattoo memo I’m not getting? The room might be dark, but it looked like a spotlight was on him. It was like everything and everyone around us was floating, except the two of us. I didn’t realize I was practically drooling until Kaileen nudged my arm. 

I look up and see the man who I originally was watching. Okay, thinking that makes me sound like a total creep. 

“You sure got shy, I’m Calum.” The man, Calum, states. 

“I’m Ryder, it’s nice to meet you.” I smile up at Calum. 

I couldn’t help but focus back onto the other man who was standing behind him. We make eye contact, holding it for a few seconds before I break away with a blush creeping onto my cheeks. I look back just one last time to catch a small smirk on his lips. 

“So, tell me, Ryder, what’s gotten you to the palace tonight.” He asks, taking a sip from his drink. 

Before I could even answer, Kaileen jumps right into the conversation. “I decided to take her out, she needs more adventure in her life.” 

I roll my eyes at Kaileen’s response. “I’m plenty adventurous, I’ve just never been into the club scene.” 

“Hate to break it to you, Ryder, but doing shrooms and walking to 7/11 isn’t adventurous.” Kaileen giggles. 

That catches the bartender’s attention. “Shrooms, huh? Have you ever tried acid? Take a tab from Luke, and you’ll wish you felt like that all the time. I’m Ashton by the way.” 

So that’s his name. The conversation about narcotics continues, but I’m not listening one bit. The only thing on my mind right now is that blonde boy on the other side of the club. He was now sitting comfortably on one of the black velvet couches, in what I’m assuming is the V.I.P section. He has another blonde boy next to him. His hair long and curly, a red shirt that was opened down to his chest with a chain around his neck that hung down to his chest. And to my surprise, there were no tattoos, at least that I saw. 

Ashton and Calum seem to notice my stares. With the way my straw was sitting on top of my lips, the hooded look in my eyes, I was in a complete trance. “I’m starting to think you’ve got eyes for someone else, pretty girl,” Calum whispers down to me. 

I look up at him again, his chocolate brown eyes looking down on me. “Sorry, but, who are those guys?” I ask, trying to point across the club discreetly. 

Calum clicks his tongue. He looks over to where the two blondes are sitting, now with multiple girls surrounding them. “You don’t wanna meet those men, Ryder. They’re too, dangerous, for a girl like you.” 

My brows furrow, definitely not liking what he just said. “And how do you know I’m not dangerous, Calum? I could be your worst nightmare.” 

He just chuckles, not taking what I said seriously. “You’re a fiery one, aren’t ya? I like that.” 

“Don’t push her, Calum. That is a battle you will not win.” Kaileen defends. I huff and turn around, trying to push the image out of my head. 

Ashton slides me a shot. I don’t ask, I down it like it’s water. After that shot, I see another vodka cran in front of me, along with two more shots. I chug the drink, hiccuping before grabbing one of the shots and downing it. 

I close my eyes and my head starts to spin. The blue in my eyes becomes invisible as soon as my pupils dilate. With the music beaming throughout the palace, it only makes my head pound harder.

I tap on Kaileen’s shoulder, “I need to pee!” She nods and begins to get up, but I stop her. 

“Ryder, I am not letting you go to the bathroom alone.” She fights back. “It’ll be fine! Just point me in the right direction, and I’ll go and come back, nothing in between.” 

Once I know the direction, I make my way across the sticky floor. I come face to face with a black door and some normal lighting, no more of that red bullshit. I do my business and wash my hands. I take a quick look in the mirror, and I look completely disheveled. I don’t know how since all we’ve done since we got here is sit, drink, and talk. I smooth down my hair, fix the top a little bit before heading out. 

As I’m walking, I carelessly bump into someone, knocking me down onto the sticky floor. 

“I’m so sorry! I wasn’t looking where I was going at all.” I apologize before standing up. A hand reaches down, insisting I grab it and pulls me back to my feet. When I finally look up, I see the man sitting next to the one I was looking at. 

His eyes are crystal blue and his teeth pearly white. It feels like I have to strain my neck just to look up at him since he is at least a foot or so taller than me. You can tell that he used to have a piercing in his lip from the tiny hole that was still healing. 

“It’s all right, angel. I don’t know where you were heading, but a girl like you shouldn’t be wandering this place alone.” The way he spoke was cocky. You sir, need an ego check. 

“I-I was just coming back from the bathroom, thought I was sober enough to go alone, but I guess not,” I say.

 He then asks if I’m headed back to the bar, and he walks me there, a hand hovering over my lower back. I mentally slap myself for running into someone as attractive as him. But hey, at least it wasn’t the other one. 

We’re back to the red scenery, the music is still pounding in my head. I point to where I was sitting, Kaileen perched high on the barstool, and he quickly recognizes Calum and Ashton. Once I’m back to my rightful spot next to Kaileen, Calum and Ashton begin talking to the other man. “Luke, this is Kaileen, and the little lady you bumped into, is Ryder.” 

Luke. Well, Luke, you’re a sucker for sore eyes. Wait, is this the Luke that Ashton was telling me about? 

“Ryder, you’ll be happy to know that Luke has any drug you could possibly want. If you’re still up for that acid, he’s got you covered.” Ashton says. I shake my head, not sure if I 100% trust him since Calum was the one to say they’re ‘dangerous’ even if it’s true, I’ll find out for myself. 

~ 

The next morning I wake up with a pounding headache and a large bruise on my thigh. I unplug my phone and adjust my eyes to the brightness. Apple really needs to have a ‘you drank way too much last night’ complimentary mode. And I see I have about four messages from Kaileen. 

From: Kaileen Rivers 

Wake up, Ryder! 

Sent 8:37 am 

From: Kaileen Rivers 

I have tea! Wake tf up! 

Sent 8:40 am 

From: Kaileen Rivers 

Okay, I forget how much you like to 

sleep after a night out, but my god woman

take some advil, chug some water

and get your shit together! 

Sent 8:42 am 

From: Kaileen Rivers

If you’re not up by 10

I will be knocking down your door 

Sent 8:45 am 

And that was the last one before I finally called her. It rings three times before I hear her speak, “Finally! Jesus woman, you need to hold your liquor better.” 

“Excuse me, we all can’t have the tolerance of a fucking mammoth.” I groan into the phone. 

“Alright, I’ll let that slide, but I have tea!” 

“What could you possibly know now, Kai. I swear you’re like a book of secrets growing by the minute.” I mumble. 

“Can you just shut up and let me spill!” Kaileen huffs. I couldn’t see her through the phone, but I know she’s rolling her eyes at me. 

“Okay, okay, what is it?” I asked. 

“You remember Ashton and Luke from last night?”

“The cocky asshole with bright blue eyes that I fell in front of? Yes, I remember.” I sigh, looking at how the nail polish has chipped in various places on my nails. 

“Well, while you were staring at whoever, Ashton asked me on a date, and of course I said yes.” She beings to say. 

“Okay? This doesn’t seem like tea, Kaileen, it just seems like a normal Friday night for you.” 

Yes, Kaileen is the one that all boys fawn over. If you look at her, she is the perfect mixture of an angel and a devil. She’s blonde, she’s pretty, she’s smart, hell even I wanna go out with her. I’m surprised Calum and Luke spoke to me without trying to win her over. 

“Anyways, Luke was eyeing you and he asked if you two could come along, so you, my sweet girl, are coming on a double date with me.” 

I groaned as soon as she finished her sentence. I don’t like the whole dating scene to begin with, after being in a four-year relationship and then just to get your heart ripped out when you thought everything was fine, sucks. 

“Do I have to go? Can you tell Luke I have, like, fucking crabs or something?” I was completely serious when finishing that sentence. 

“Ryder! I will not tell him that, I want you ready by 8:00. So, you go eat, shower, take a nap, and do whatever else you need to do so you’re ready on time.” She demanded. 

“Yes, mom.” 

Great, I expected to spend my day in nothing but sweatpants and ordering pizza while watching reruns of Bob’s Burgers. Now, I have to get dolled up again for this date. Part of me wants to blow the whole thing off, but the other half of me wants to see what’ll happen. I know Kaileen is only doing this because she cares about me, and would kill to see me happy like I was with Andrew. She still resents him to this day. 

Pushing all of those thoughts to the back of my mind, I start brewing some coffee and pull out whatever I find appetizing. I’m now starting to regret Ashton giving me those shots once I take a bite of the toast. Instead of focusing on not throwing my guts up in the kitchen, I focus on the man on that goddamn black velvet couch. If only it were him I bumped into and got this fucking bruise. Oh, who am I kidding, if it were him, I’d die of embarrassment. 

As soon as I’m finished eating, I get a notification. I grab my phone, expecting to see Kaileen’s name across it, but instead, it’s an unknown number. 

From: Unknown 

You’re quite hard to get a hold of, darling. 

Sent 11:02 am 

To: Unknown

Do I know you? You might have the wrong number… 

Read 11:03 am 

From: Unknown 

You should, you were staring at me 

all last night. Has anyone told you 

that it’s rude to stare? 

Sent 11:03 am 

It might be this fucking headache, but if I’m not crazy, this could be the man that I can’t get out of my head. How could he have even gotten my number? None of us even spoke to him! 

From: Unknown 

Be on your best behavior tonight, for Luke. 

I’ll be watching you, and if you want out,

well, you know the code word. 

Sent: 11:06 am 

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

[tgai-spock]

A sharp intake

Chapter 9

It smelt like swimming pools, packed and empty at the time, the air conditioning the was the only thing keeping things together. Spock stood beside the captains chair, unbeknown to him much like his older self did.

“Are you just….gazing at the stars?” Jim asks his chin resting on his hand as he stared intensely at him, like a fool might stare at a kitten.

“What else would I do?” Spock asked.

“Oh I don’t know” he said, deciding that this was what Spock did most of the time. He always thought he was thinking, doing some math or some science - but maybe not, maybe he really was just staring out the window. Chekov looked over the back of his shoulder and scratched his head, a paranoid itch going down his arm.

“Don’t you have hobbies? Something you can be doing? Reading maybe?” Chekov suggested. 

“I’ve tried to read.” Spock said.

“What do you read, history?” Uhura asked.

“Terran classics, ‘Lord of the rings’, ;Alice in wonderland’ ’50 shades of grey’ ‘Jurassic park’. Although I was somewhat prompted to read jurassic park…”

“I’ve got a few classics you might like” Kirk suggested.

“No thanks. Everytime I open a book and begin reading them I remember I’ve already read them.” Spock said.

“Oh. So what are you going to do with your time then?”

Spock shrugged “I dunno.”

Kirk grinned his cheeks raising to his eyes “well I’m sure we’ll find something for you. It won’t do to have you stand here all the time, though I don’t mind, I think Chekov does.”

“Sir, please” Chekov said turning in his chair “I am just nervous, when Spock is older he will recount Thursday, and he will say chekov, you hit the button to slowly, chekov you tapped your foot too much, Chekov you’ve were navigating us in the wrong direction and corrected without telling anyone in hope no one would notice, chekov your uniform is crinkled when you sit on it.”

“Hmm” Captain Kirk nodded “Sulu are we on the right course?”

“Errrr” Sulu said, his eyes spinning from the Chekov to the Captain, he hits a few buttons on the console “of course, Sir.”

“You two aren’t filling me with confidence today.”

“It is like examiners day, I will loose points because I sweat” Chekov said.

“Hmmm” Kirk said. 

“I could give you some books to read. They wouldn’t be classics, but they would be written in this decade. It’s logical to read them because you can see how modern humans talk and interact with eachother, and compare the changing of the genres.”

“I suppose” Spock nodded.

“Or you could just read them because they’re fun” Chekov said.

“No. I need a purpose to read them.” Spock said firmly

“Oh? And what purpose did you have to read lord of the rings?” Kirk asked.

“History.” Spock said. Sulu glanced back to Spock and then to Chekov.

“That was my favourite time in history” Sulu said.

“Yes I was fond of the orcs” Chekov said.

“I feel like a hobbit myself.” Sulu said.

“It’s a shame they went extinct.” Chekov said and Sulu giggled.

“Mr Spock, perhaps you are related to Legolass.” Chekov suggested.

“Captain. These men are idiots. This is a new level of illogic I have not seen before, and I find myself unsure whether this ship will survive for twenty eight days in space.”

“Spock, don’t be mean, not everyone knows their books as well as me, or you apparently, nerd.” Kirk said light heartedly.

“What?” Spock asked sharply.

“Would you like to educate Sulu and Checkov on why ‘Lord Of The Rings’ is historic?” Kirk suggested.

“Lord Of The Rings is symbolism for the second world war.” Spock said.

“Oh” Sulu rolled his eyes “good guys vs bad guys, I guess I should have seen that coming “isn’t… that every war to someone?”

“I love reading for symbolism.” Chekov joked.

“I do read symbolism in books” Kirk said offended “thats enough talking I’m sure you should be paying more attention to the ship.”

Chekov gave a hearty chuckle “of course Sir.”

Kirk spoke to Spock quietly after that. Quiet whispers about ‘Lord Of The Rings’ and favourite characters. 

“Captain” Officer Finnegan said approaching him from the lift with a paid “is it wise to have Commander Spock? He is a child.”

“He’s not working as the Commander right now” Kirk said with a smile.

“I don’t think the bridge is the safest place for a vulcan.” Finnegan said his eyes glancing over the tiny vulcan.

“Finnegan” Kirk said sitting up “it’s a quiet day, it is perfectly safe for him to be here.”

“I don’t think it is-”

“I will leave then.” Spock said taking a step back from the captain.

“Spock you don’t need to do that.” Kirk said “Finnegan who the fuck even are you? God this writers so lazy summoning up villains just to move the plot on, and make you say oof.”

“It’s fine. I’m well adapted to telling when I’m not wanted, I’m sure I can find something else to do.” Spock said and turned on his foot, walking past Finnegan with a breeze that even with his small height seemed intimidating.

“Spock come back. Come on” Kirk called.

“No” Spock said almost huffed as he entered the lift.

Spock was an adventurer. In the days before he’d go to the mountains, to walk deep into the desert finding what he could to survive with I-Chaya in tow. Today he wandered the halls of a starship. He started where he would always begin, at the bottom of the mountain. So the lift took him to the bottom of the ship.

He snuck out the lift into a hallway of pipes, where his ears stung from loud shouting humans. No one noticed him as he stayed close the side of the walls. The crew in engineering was different from anywhere else on the ship. Hands on and intelligent thinkers, tinkers and inventors, it was officially professional work, but the lack of professionalism they had would not be seen nor put up with else where on the ship.

Knowing that if he were spotted he would be made to leave, Spock ran and crouched, hiding behind pipes and boxes. Some meters from him Spock spotted a group of humans leaning over an upside down box that they were using like a table. They were smoking, and fans drifted the fumes away from themselves. A red shirt leant with cigarette in hand as he looked bright eyed at the other four around him.

“So I said to him, maybe if you had the surgery on your eyes and not you dick, we wouldn’t even be having this problem.”

His sentence ended with hearty laughter from the others, the sense of the joke, the story, a glimpse of documentation escaping the sense of Spock. 

There were boxes piled high in the corner of the room. There were boxes piled high in most places, but the pile in the corner caught Spock’s eyes. The boxes left little more than a meter between themselves and the roof, but on the roof, was a vent. Perfect to climb into. Dangerous to climb into. The perfect challenge. So Spock ducked and rolled to the boxes, and began his climb. He did it slowly and he did it carefully but that wasn’t the hard part. Spock laid flat on the top of the boxes, he had perfect sight over the people. Groups and couples that walked, carrying tools and scanners, tapping at pipes and - Spock squinted. One man was placing duct tape around a leaking water pipe. Spock sighed shaking his head. He should probably mention how bad that is - when he’s older. That can’t be proper procedure. When he was certain no one was looking Spock began to undo the screw’s from the vent by twisting them with his hand. When all the screws were undone he carefully and quietly pulled down the vent grid and put it on top of the boxes. He climbed into the vent.

No matter how quietly Spock tried to crawl he was sure he was making a racket. He was sure every time he moved his arm forwards the metal clinked and banged. He was sure a knee forwards sent a shuddering though the whole of the ship. After spending ten minutes slowly climbing forwards Spock rolled on to his back and rubbed at his head. He was sure when he came out where-ever that be, there would be a group of people waiting to question him. To ask him what he thought he was doing. Why he had opened the vent. What the purpose of doing so was. This was why Spock had stopped. What was his explanation? He had not words he could say to those people. To the Captain, to McCoy. After a while, Spock rolled back around and made his way forth deciding to keep a vow of silence when they found him, because they would. He was certain.

The vent ended at a grid looking in to a dark room. It wasn’t fully dark, there were large windows that looked out in to space, and space lit his way. It took a while for Spock to realise why he couldn’t see anything in the room. There was nothing in the room. Spock slipped his fingers through the holes of the vent to unscrew it. But his fingers, from this side, weren’t long enough. He was stuck. He took a deep breath, and carefully turned himself around. Laying on his back with his feet facing the vent he gave it a few solid kicks. At the fifth kick the vent flew off the wall. Spock escaped. Walking over to the vent Spock picked it up. The screws were still firmly attached to the vent as was a small portion of the wall around the screws. Sighing Spock stood on the middle of the vent attempting to straighten out the mess he had made. The vent actually straightened enough to be passable so he carefully balanced it back on the wall. He took a few steps back examining the vent carefully. No one should notice unless they got close.

The room he had discovered was dark, and empty. It was some sort of unused, perhaps even forgotten observation deck. Could things be forgotten on a spaceship? The door showed the most sign of life, and that door had spider cobwebs across it. How? They must have sneaked on by sitting on someones shoulder. There was also a bench against it and some other planks of wood. The entire place was empty. There were other vents but they didn’t really take Spock’s attention. Spock walked up to the window and sat staring cross legged out across the stars. He wasn’t sure what he would be doing for the next few days, but at least he had found this. He laid down on his side, one elbow beneath his head. It wasn’t quiet, wherever he was, he was too close to the engine room still. But it wasn’t a horrible racket he could hear, it was just a gentle purr.

Spock woke some time later, and he turned over on his other side as he watched the door shake. A crowbar shot through the centre of the door. Spock sat crossed legged silently watching the feat as fingers slipped between the door pulling it opened. There stood the Captain, McCoy, Finnegan and Uhura.

“Spock!” McCoy was the first to push himself through he door “what are you doing here?”

He ran forth, making Spock flinch slightly as he ran a scanner over Spock. Spock looked carefully at McCoy wondering if he should keep his vow of silence as the Captain rushed over.

“Is he okay?” Kirk asked crouching.

“According to this he is perfectly fine.” McCoy said standing up.

“Spock, what are you doing here?” Uhura asked concernedly.

“I didn’t even know this room existed. On my ship as well.” Kirk said looking around the room.

“Was it because of Finnegan?” Uhura whispered.

“Yeah Spock” Finnegan said in a carefree attitude “I’m sorry if like I upset.”

“I’m vulcan. You did not upset me.” Spock said standing up, as he decided he didn’t like the attention he was getting. He literally hadn’t spared a second thought to Finnegan.

“Wait, Spock where do you think you’re going?” Uhura asked “you can’t just go off by yourself.”

“Spock, I thought you had gone back to McCoy, do you realise what the ships been like since we discovered you missing? This past hour has been chaos looking for you.” Kirk said. Spock looked at the people surrounding him. His way was thoroughly blocked. The vent Spock had propped up fell on to the floor with a bang, cascading dust surrounded it as the humans jumped to look at it. They turned back to Spock, looking for an explanation as he finished a yawn.

“Oops?”

[Chapter 1] [Chapter 2]        [Chapter 3] [Chapter 4]        [Chapter 5]

[Chapter 6]     [Chapter 7]       [Chapter 8]   [chapter 9]   [Chapter 10]

[Chapter 12]

----

Yeah I did just rewrite chapter 9 again, but consider this, now, it is better. Huh? Huh??

[jojoreadwhat]

can i stay at home? i don’t want to go / honey & smoke - m.h. x OFC story

Lucy's POV.

I lied on my new mattress, staring at the freshly hung tapestry, draped with lights on the other side of the room. Waiting patiently for one of the girls to pull me along to this party that I was dreading.

I decided to get ahead of myself before I was fashionably late, rummaging through my closet, pulling out at cute little outfit. Simply a loose pullover sweater, some necklaces that danced around my neck. Hugging jeans that gave a little bit of curvature, and my docs. There was no way I was leaving without edge. Lacing them up before planting myself in front of my mirror.

Did I have to go? I just want to stay home.

I thought to myself, moving onto my hair as I separated it into a half do. Loose baby hairs hanging around my face, almost making it heart shaped.

A small town girl who was stuck in daydreams but scared for them to come true. So used to being the home body she knew for so long.

Lucy you're going. End of story. My mind commanded back, it was right.

I had to advantage of the whole idea. Take on adventures I never endured before, fulfill that crave of a new scream. Being stuck in my worry mind wasn't going to get me anywhere. It was time to introduce myself.

I smoothed the fabric down on the torso of my sweater, "Lucy! Are you ready?!" Liz had called from down the hall, startling me from my self-induced daze.

I did a double check at myself in the gold trimmed mirror before scanning my room for my hobo bag, and my phone.

"Be right there!" I replied, taking my over-abused copy of To The Lighthouse by Virginia Woolf from my night stand and stuffing it into the jam packed bag. Shutting off my light, and leaving the twinkle lights to dance in the dark.

What? Who knows if this party is a flop? At least I'm prepared to venture elsewhere...

----------------------------------------

The party was much more crowded than I had anticipated. But it was completely different than the few I could count on my hand that I had been to back home.

The flat was filled with booze smelling breath, interlaced with the odor of a musty skunk from the Mary Jane making its rounds. Hypnotic indie sounds of Pixies 'Hey' played faintly against the banter of the crowd.

They pulled me right into the action, with a little help from Liz and Abby introducing me to everyone. I swear if furniture could talk, I think they would've introduced me to them too. Talking for me like I was four, which I didn't have much of problem with because since I got here. My anxiety was preparing for take off at NASA.

They were all nice, very welcoming and so interested in what I was here for. Almost being like this new 'thing' for everyone.

Eventually though I was able to make friends with the sofa in the middle of the living room. Sipping rum and coke, observing like I always do. And nodding to whatever had played next.

But that didn't last long before two sucking faces were going at it next to me.

I found myself pondering away from the sofa. Steadying myself against a wall, observing at a higher angle of 5'3.

Laughs and loud talk still surfacing, I felt a little bit creepy as I sipped at my drink and scanned. I found myself eventually glued to the glowing screen of my phone. Jotting down things about the party for my journal. Switching apps between Tumblr, Facebook & Instagram. Reading the outpouring support from my friends and family that had gotten wind of my new journey.

In the middle of an emotional post from my brother, the tone of the room had changed. My head shot up to the unison roar that had taken over. Four new figures joining the tight space, all dressed in black from head to toe.

As much as I wanted to go back to the post, my eyes were still stuck in the direction of the new faces. Each one of them shading something intriguingly different from one another.

One was a tall, slightly lanky with an upper broad build. His hair covered under a cap, flipped back to front. A white tee, complimenting his black jeans and was the only one with a colored jacket. Almost like honey mustard. Flashing a very friendly grin as he was pulled into a hug by one of the party goers.

Two were slightly bearded men, one muscular than the other. One of them seemed to be very shy, barely making contact with anyone who had made an effort. The other a complete opposite or at least he showed off about. Wrapping his arm around a friend near, incredibly loud with his banter and talk.

All three being easy to paint pictures of as they expressed themselves immediately after walking through that front door.

But the fourth one... Not so much.

He was something else, his hair almost like dark chocolate, loosely tied up into one of those 'trendy' man buns with a black turtleneck that wrapped tightly like a non-threatening noose that was complimented by a jean jacket. Over a thin but slendered out build. Toned in all the right places. My eyes scanning down to his tight black pants with a hole torn at the knee and some vans. Topping it all off with these tiny rimmed grandpa glasses that made me gush.

He definitely caught your eye from the rest of the posse he had come in with. And everyone noticed it too, practically throwing themselves at him.All pretty, upper crest gals. He didn't seem to mind... He seemed used to it.

I couldn't pry my eyes away. Tracing him like he was etched braille on a sign, but still unable to figure out who he was.

I watched as his lavished lips curled from the attention he was receiving.

Oh my god. I thought to myself.

My eyes had widened, being caught in crossfire when his dark ones collided with mine. Timidly, I trailed down to my feet. Trying to play cool that, maybe just maybe he was looking next to me at the red head.

Nope, he caught me. I answered myself as I met his gaze again. I bit my lip, engulfing myself into my drink as I mentally tried washing out the embarrassment.

When I didn't feel his glare against me anymore, I scanned the room once more. Thinking of a way to escape and breath. Finally my eyes spotting the french doors that led to the back yard.

------------------------------------

I made my way through the crowd, swaying along to the song everyone was dancing to. I opened the door, to the lightly lit backyard that surround an in ground pool. The lights in the pool reflecting off the blue water. I sighed to myself, not a person in sight. Just me, the moon and silence.

I walked around a bit, placing my bag down on a chair. The autumn breezing catching the hem of my sweater. Before I settled, sitting above the water on the diving board. My boots had barely touched the water as it danced under the moon. Turning the page where I left off, retreating to my back up plan.

"For now she need not think of anybody. She could be herself, by herself. And that was what now she often felt the need of - to think; well not even to think. To be silent; to be alone. All the being and the doing, expansive, glittering, vocal, evaporated; and one shrunk, with a sense of solemnity, to being oneself, a wedge-shaped core of darkness, something invisible to others... and this self having shed its attachments was free for the strangest adventures...."

A summit of the most true, sincere way into my homebody heart. Solitude.

Engulfed in the lines that I had read over and over many times before, feeling new everytime I needed reminding.

But the solitude and silence I was searching for out here had been misplaced. I didn't realize I wasn't alone anymore..

"Not much for parties?" The unfamiliar voice laced with a thick accent greeted, startling me from the trance I was in.

I turned to follow the voice, and I couldn't believe it.

It was him.

The pool lights reflecting off him, leaving him in a glow.

Before I could answer, I had lost my balance on board and fell into pool. The arms that had verbally pushed me in were outreached. Pulling me onto the ledge. Gasping and trying to regain my breath that was ambushed by the rush of cold hitting my skin.

He helped me to my feet, walking me to one of the chairs that had aligned the pool. He walked away for a second, scanning the yard until he had found what he was looking for. Coming back with two towels and handling me one as he placed the other over my shoulders.

"You're a bit clumsy too." He smirked, taking a seat on the chair next to me.

"You could say that." I replied, not running off my tongue so melodically like it did his.

He was staring a bit, watching as I ran one of the towels across my face.

"You're the American girl... Cindy?" He hesitantly began, I smirked at what I thought was so... mysterious. Was so scared of guessing my name wrong.

"It's Lucy." I corrected, meeting his chestnut eyes.  So much more vibrant than I had seen them before.

He smiled, relieved that I didn't hit him or something. "I like that better... I'm Matty." He replied, placing his hand out to shake. His skin so soft to touch.

We were sitting in silence for a moment, I was trying to regain my thoughts after the plunge I took. He was looking at me, then back at the pool. Squinting his eyes at it before rising from his seat. My eyes followed as he bent down to grab something from the water. My book.

"Virginia Woolf... You're into classics?" He asked, walking back to where he once rose from.

I nodded, "They're my favorite..." And it was the truth. I enjoyed old proper grammar.

He smiled, handing it over to me with an apologetic look on his face. I smiled at him, reassuring that I wasn't mad. "It's seen it's better days."

"So, what brings you to London?" He began, I chuckled looking back at pool. "Didn't the whole party tell you my life story?" I remarked. Since the girls just blabbed everything but my social number.

He nodded, "But I want to hear it from you.."

His voice hitting me like wild winds during a hurricane. I gulped, finding myself intimidated and unsure on how to make myself appealing.

"I write." I replied, different visions of those two words falling from my mouth, floating in my head. And I ended up there.

But to my dismay, he didn't seem mind.

Books became a big deal, but it didn't stop there. Questions pouring from his mouth, I found myself watching it as each word fell. His lips moving around them in such perfect sync.

I was watching those words shrivel to shreds when Liz had come into view. Signaling that we were heading out soon. I retorted that I'd be there in a second, placing my eyes back onto Matty's.

He was staring a bit intently now, kind of making me nervous. "Is everything alright?" I asked, was there something in my teeth?

He nodded, "Your eyes. They're like crystals."

I felt my cheeks overflowing with shades of red, but before I could thank him. Liz was calling me again.

"I've gotta go." I insisted, rising from the metal chair. "It was really nice talking to you."

Flinging my bag over my shoulder, and turning on my heel.

"I'll see you around... Blue." He remarked after me, awaiting impatiently on our next encounter.

+

[crowkingwrites]

Bang Bang! (Ch. 14)

Pairing: Ramsay Bolton x Reader

Summary:  The Red Wedding happened a week ago. Your boss, Petyr, insists on celebrating the men who “won” this victory, the Red Kings, an assassination group run by the sour-looking Roose Bolton. You, one of Petyr’s favorites, is tasked to find out more about these Red Kings. Who are they? Who are their clients? Who is next?You’re very good at what you do until you meet him. What do you do? Girls like you can’t fall in love. Does the Pretty Bird fly away with him? Or does she ruin the Bloody Bastard and everything he has?

Words: 2761

Read on Ao3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/11108982/chapters/28302969

You opened the door to the Bird Cage to find a mixture of chaos and order. Boxes were stacked in various piles. Furniture was moved around in separate corners. You stepped on a piece of moving tape that was connected to a box that was labeled ‘Kitchen’.

Quickly, you carried your bags to your room. Other favorites had their doors open and boxes outside their door. You heard a squeal behind you. Arms flung around you and held you tightly.

“You’re alive!” Ros yelled into your ear. “Thank God! I thought the assassin prince was going to kill you or hurt you.”

“He didn’t,” you replied. “He wouldn’t hurt me.” Ros made a face at you.

“Oh really now?”

“Yes, really,” you said with confidence. You heard a loud noise from Vanessa’s room. “What is going on around here?”

Upon entering Vanessa’s room, you find make-up spilled everywhere, and a very frustrated woman about to lash out. Vanessa’s room was mostly packed. Her closet and dressers were empty. Sheets, blankets, pillows, all packed.

“Vanessa?” you asked. She turned to face you with a disgusted look on her face. The disgusted look faded into an apologetic smile.

“Hello, Y/N,” she greeted, standing up. “Sorry about that. I thought you were someone else.”

“Petyr?”

“No, one of his teeny little birds,” Vanessa corrected you. “I goddamn hate those little girls.” “Good thing you won’t have to deal with them anymore then. Since we’re going to Vegas,” you said, entering the room and picking up the mess. Ros followed.

“No, you and all the other favorites are going to Vegas. I’m going with the rest of the birds to Malibu.”

“What why?” You stopped to look up at her. Vanessa closed her door.

“Baelish wants me to teach his little babies. He wants me to be their den mother and to nurture them into perfect little whores.” Vanessa ignited her lighter and lit her cigarette. “This whole place is going to shit because of her.”

“Who?”

“Lysa Arryn. Ever since they got engaged, everything’s changed—

“Whoa, wait,” you held up your arms “Petyr’s engaged to Lysa Arryn?”

“Yeah where have you been?” Ros asked. “Have you been so self-involved with the assassin boy that you haven’t seen what’s been going on?”

“Assassin boy?” Vanessa asked out of confusion. A moment later, she realized who Ros was speaking about, and she turned sharply to you. “Ramsay? You’re still seeing him? Are you insane?”

“No!” you stood up. “I’m not insane. Yes, I’m still seeing him. He’s my bo—client, and I will keep seeing him until I don’t want to anymore. Besides, he takes good care of me.” Vanessa crossed her arms.

“You need to be careful with boys like him. He’s not who you think he is.”

“I know him better than you,” you said. “He won’t hurt me.” Vanessa rolled her eyes and sighed.

“As I was saying, Lysa has got her hands in everything, as does Petyr. He has all of the success to the Vale in Vegas now which is why you’re going there. Cersei gifted Petyr Harenhall Church in Malibu.”

“A church?” you inquired.

“An abandoned one,” Vanessa picked up the rest of her make up to pack it away. “I’m not sure why. But, they renovated it for us. Some of the girls are excited to go to Malibu, others are angry that the favorites get better treatment.”

“You’re frustrated,” you said.

“This is all so sudden, don’t you think? The engagement, the moving, everything. Did you see this coming? Something’s going on here. Petyr’s not telling us everything.”

“I know you’re suspicious, Vanessa, but maybe it’s for the best.”

“I agree with Y/N,” Ros added. “Petyr has never driven us down the wrong path.”

“I’ve known Petyr for a long time, girls,” Vanessa sat down and took another drag of her cigarette. “He tells me everything. He didn’t tell me about Lysa. He didn’t tell me about moving. It’s just as a shock to you as to me. This isn’t him. I don’t know what he’s planning.

“I know that he’s keeping an eye on the Red Kings for Cersei, allied with the Red Kings against the Freys and Lannisters, and somehow he’s got his hands dirty with the Arryns and Starks. But why now? Why get engaged so fast? He doesn’t love her. He never did.” Vanessa growled with frustration. The thought of leaving her alone started to sound better and better.

After packing a few boxes yourself, Charlotte and Ros entered your room and closed the door behind them. They put a finger to your mouth before you could protest.

“We came to talk,” Charlotte said. “We have an idea for you.”

“We want to team up to gather more information on the Red Kings,” Ros said it flat out. You narrowed your eyes on her for a moment, and then it hit you. All this time, you were supposed to be gathering information on the Red Kings for Petyr. Ros was right. You were self-involved with Ramsay.

“Yes. Yeah. That sounds good,” you nodded. Telling Petyr about Theon wasn’t going to be easy.

“Well, several of the Red Kings have told me about plans against the Lannisters. It seems that Roose doesn’t trust Cersei,” Ros commented.

“Not true,” Charlotte disagreed. “Domeric told me that Cersei is suspicious of her own spies. Some of them have proved disloyal to her recently. Her little brother, Tyrion, may have bought some of them.”

“Fair,” Ros nodded. “The feud between the Freys and the Boltons is still going on though. Ted and his guys got into a bustle last night with them. The Freys don’t mean much, but they’re making a lot of noise for a gang led by a bitter old man.”

“You could say the same for the Red Kings,” Charlotte laughed, it filled the room. “Roose is a bitter man, but he makes calculated moves. You two need to be careful. Roose has Red Kings everywhere.” You narrowed your eyes at Charlotte for a moment, but then looked to Ros.

“How many Red Kings are you with?” you asked her.

“Three, they’re my main clients now. Why?” “You have three Red Kings. Charlotte has Domeric Bolton, and I have Ramsay,” you walked around the room. “Charlotte’s right. Maybe we do need to be careful. Things could get sloppy if any of them figure out what we’re doing here.” Ros and Charlotte agreed.

The Vale had been a classic Las Vegas casino and resort for a long time. Lysa married into the Arryn fortune just as Catelyn married into the Stark fortune. People were suspicious when she became a widow so suddenly, but rumors were swept aside when Ned Stark signed a tight contract with Robert Baratheon.

She had inherited everything, and rightfully so. She had kept her counselors close to her during her time of need while being a single mother and running a high-end business. Although, those rumors about her mental well-being never went away.

Landing in Vegas wasn’t easy, your stomach turned into knots. Ros grabbed your hand and led you through the airport.

“Keep it together,” she whispered into your ear. “You can do this.”

“I don’t feel so good,” you replied. Charlotte looped her arm around yours, taking you other side.

“Can you believe this? Vegas! We live in Vegas!”

Ros shot charlotte a dirty look. “You know Vegas isn’t all that. We are here to work, not play. Besides, we three still need to gather information, get new clientele, and make money.” You looked around. It still had the same feeling.

People excited to win. People excited to fuck. The same under feeling of depression and addiction still raised your hairs on the back of your neck. Vegas was not a family-friendly town, it was one riddled with something awful.

“You’re doing it again,” Ros still guided you through the airport. “Just like when we met the Red Kings. You’re getting nervous over nothing.”

“I was right to be nervous back then.”

“I thought you said Ramsay didn’t hurt you.”

“He didn’t.”

“Then why get nervous now?” You looked around the outside of the airport, and then in the car. Everything was completely harmless, but the same feeling lingered like the smoke of a cigarette. Growing thin, but you could still smell it in the air.

“Memories,” you muttered to yourself. The car drove you and the favorites straight into downtown Vegas. It still looked the same in the daylight. You tried to not let it get to you. Breathing, breathing would work. You closed your eyes and let breathing become your focus. You breathed in and let the darkness wash over you.

Everything felt still. Everything felt calm. This was a different Vegas. This was not the Vegas you came to years ago. You were protected. You were smarter. Everything was going to be fine.

When the favorites arrived at the Vale, you were almost beside yourself. You had your own room again, but it was so much bigger this time. You had a queen sized bed along with two matching night stands. If you walked a couple of paces it led to a balcony with furniture outside.

Next to the balcony was a wall of windows that overlooked a main street of Vegas. It looked smaller, and less intimidating. A marble bathtub sat by the window on a platform. Once you lived here longer and with some permission, you wanted to put some of your own touches on everything.

You heard a knock at the door. “Come in.”

“Y/N,” Petyr entered. “It’s been a while hasn’t it?” He smiled at you like an old friend. You nodded still looking around your surroundings.

“It has,” you replied. Petyr closed the door behind him.

“So, tell me what you think.” He gestured to your new room.

“This is all so sudden, Petyr,” you told him. “I mean, the engagement, moving. What’s this about? I feel like you’re not telling us something.” Petyr sat down at one of your soft lounge chairs.

“I could say the same about you,” he folded his hands. “It’s been a couple of days since you came back, and yet no word about Chicago.”

“What do you want to know?”

“Everything,” Petyr waited for you to start. This was his deal. He let you go away with Ramsay to Chicago. Now it was time. You couldn’t lie to Petyr, he would know.

“The Red Kings or Ramsay and his men were after Theon Greyjoy. They used me to help kidnap him, and they tortured him.”

“Why? Is it because of the Stark boys?”

“Yes,” you shifted your eyes around the room. “Ramsay told me this was Tyrion’s doing. He paid for the hit. For Sansa Stark.” Petyr’s eye twitched when you mentioned her name. His fingers fumbled, and his breath hitched. He regained his composure and continued.

“Did they kill him?”

“No, but they kill some of his friends,” you kept going. “Ramsay’s after them now.”

“The Greyjoys?”

“Yes,” you confirmed. You felt a pang in your stomach, and it kept growing. “I think Roose is trying to get the Stark’s and Lannister’s favor.” Why would you say that? You didn’t know that. You watched Petyr mumble something like ��he’s working against me’ under his breath. He stood up and exhaled loudly.

“Anything else?” Petyr asked you.

“I saw his phone,” you blurted out. “I could get access to it.” Petyr smiled widely and gave you a warm hug.

“I knew I could depend on you,” he said into your ear. “I knew you wouldn’t let me down, unlike other girls.” Petyr let you go, and you felt puzzled.

“Other girls?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Petyr explained. “Let’s just say everyone I brought here I trust them. Now, no playing around for anyone tonight. All of you start working, but four of you have important tasks. Olyvar and Ros are going to be with Lannisters. Charlotte is being escorted by one of the top lawyers for the Vale at a dinner tonight, and you, my dear, have a new client who is very excited to meet you.”

“Who is he?”

“Andrew Dustin,” Petyr started. “He caught word of us moving here and he wanted to set up a meeting with you. Very nice gentleman.”

“What’s his deal?” you crossed your arms. Petyr never let nice gentlemen come to you.

“He told me that if he gets to be with one of my favorite birds, he will give me important documents that could lead to Joffery Lannister’s impeachment. I want you to get me any information you can anyways. It could serve us well.”

“Joffery’s impeachment?”

“Yes,” Petyr replied. “With Joffery gone, Cersei and the rest of the family lose a major part of their influence on this country and the wheel.”

“I thought we were allied with the Lannisters?” Petyr honed in on you.

“Everyone is our friend. Everyone is our enemy. Everyone around you can and cannot be trusted. You have to see every possibility, understand?”

“Why are you telling me this?” you questioned him. He stood back and smiled proudly at you.

“Because you’re smarter than the rest of them,” Petyr told you. “You’re better than the rest of them. I have plans for you, but for now just do as I say.” Petyr left the room, leaving you to your thoughts.

You never thought yourself better than anyone you worked with. You never wanted to be one of ‘those’ girls. Ones who thrived living in riches and bringing others down. You always made sure to do your job regardless how you were feeling. Petyr saw something else in you, but not in Vanessa.

You glanced at your phone, hoping for some message or something. The screen flashed to no notifications. You shouldn’t be surprised. He was off hunting Greyjoys. A text from you couldn’t hurt.

[You]: I’m settled in Vegas. Petyr already set me up with a new client. A guy named Andrew Dustin. He’s supposed to have documents on Joffery’s impeachment. Thought you should know.

You pressed send, but it didn’t help the pang in your stomach. Telling Petyr about Roose’s plans wasn’t easy. Petyr had plans for you. He was going to take care of you. You were fine. You didn’t reveal anything that he wouldn’t find out from someone else.

That night, you strolled through the Luxor, watching tourists and gamblers lose their money. Petyr instructed you to meet with Mr. Dustin in the hotel part of the pyramid. You admitted the Luxor was beautiful, but it was clear that the pyramid was tourist trap. You couldn’t see the difference between here and the Vale or any other casino.

You wore a deep purple outfit. The neckline cut deep. When you stepped into the elevator a man eyed you. His mouth slightly open. Unfortunately for him, his wife caught him. She hit him in the arm, scoffed at you, and they left the elevator immediately.

14th floor dinged and you walked down the narrow hallways until you hit Room 1409. Petyr left you with the second key to the room. You let yourself in and sighed to find no one there yet. You could remember Lysa’s words from earlier today: ‘They will not do any of their business here. I will not have that in my hotel, Petyr. That filth!’

You’ve been called worse.

The room was standard for someone who claimed to be a big deal especially for someone who could lead to Joffery’s fall from grace. You didn’t like him as much as anyone else, but what he did not affect you. He was a mayor, not a president.

You sat on the bed and looked at your phone. 11:48PM. He was late.

You groaned and laid back on the bed. Why were men always late? You dolled yourself up and made it here on perfect time. You wondered if Olyvar had to deal with the same thing.

The door clicked open, and you heard someone walk through.

“Oh finally,” you greeted. “I thought you would have me waiting all night.” You stopped and smelled the air. You smelled this cologne before. It was heavy with a hint of old rose petals. The heavy footsteps came closer. A round figure appeared.

Three other men followed him. Each of them armed with ropes, guns, and duct tape. They smiled like hungry hyenas down at you. The door locked behind them.

“Hello, Y/N,” Mr. Kress greeted. “Sorry to have you waiting.”

[smoshvalentines2018-blog]

Coldwater Canyon Avenue - Fanfic Exchange

Written for @youraveragenerd349​ ​Part of the Smosh Valentine's Day Fanfic Exchange - please note this account is not the person who wrote this fic. Check back within the next day for the author reveal. Title: Coldwater Canyon Avenue Pairing: Olivia Sui/Courtney Miller Rating: Mature Warnings: Swearing, mention of knives, supernatural creature Summary: Courtney Miller makes a bet with Olivia Sui, the craziest girl in school, that she can’t cake it one night in the haunted house on Coldwater Canyon Avenue; so of course Olivia has to prove her wrong.

Olivia slowly unpacked her lunch, she really didn’t feel like eating. The realisation that today was friday, aka the friday on which she would have to fulfill the bet she made with Courtney Miller, was dawning on he and suddenly her lemon chicken soup her mother had packed in her thermos was surprisingly unappetizing. But Olivia still tried to remain calm, she couldn’t just let people know that she was having a minor panic attack because it would leave her reputation in shambles.    “Oh hey Olivia!” Courtney Miller said with feigned enthusiasm. The blonde was holding her lunch tray and her two friends, Noah Grossman and Keith Leak Jr. were trailing behind her. “Ready for tonight? Or are you really the huge chicken I think you are?” Courtney mocked. Olivia rolled her eyes behind her aviators and adjusted her leather jacket. “No Miller, I didn’t pussy out.” Olivia replied flatly. Courtney’s plastered smile grew uncomfortable at Olivia’s choice language but Olivia just used that as leverage, Courtney could act tough all she really wanted but Olivia was the one who was actually the tough one. “I’m still attending your Satanic ritual as planned.” “It’s not a Satanic ritual!” Courtney snapped. Olivia smirked and Courtney tried to recompose herself. She adjusted the lunch tray in her hands a threw her head back which tousled her blonde bob that was full of beachy waves, she was a true Cali native. “Fuck off Miller and take your friends with you.” A familiar voice stated. It was Shayne, Olivia’s best friend, and he took his spot at the lunch table next to Olivia. Noah Grossman and Keith Leak looked rather afraid of him whereas Courtney just looked ticked off, but soon the three teens left their spot in front of Olivia and went across the school’s courtyard to find their own place to eat. Shayne took off his leather jacket that was similar to Olivia’s and stuck a toothpick in his mouth to keep his mind off of the urge to smoke a cigarette, Olivia did the same. Being stressed always made her want to smoke a little more than usual. Olivia Sui had moved to Los Angeles about three years ago in the spring of ‘75 when she was fifteen years old and a sophmore in highschool. No one really wanted to be her friend, not many white kids wanted to be friends with an Asian girl, but the only person that really talked to her was Shayne Topp because just like her, no one sat with Shayne at lunch. Shayne was known for being a troublemaker and not one of the quirky fun kind. Shayne mouthed off to teachers, read erotic novels, smoked in the school’s bathrooms, and once blew up a trashcan because he could. Teachers blamed it on his lack of a father figure. But when Olivia moved in town he had one last chance at having a friend because no one else wanted to be his already, and thus began their mutual bonding of feeling alone. Since then they were best friends and also the most intimidating kids in school. No one fucked with Sui or Topp, they always came as a pair and now that they were seniors their scariness factor was up to a level ten. Now they spent time graffiting the back of the school along with underpasses in the city, read even more graphic and erotic novels, lit up in the back of Shayne’s old Ford pick up, and occasionally blew up a trash can every once and awhile for the feeling of nostalgia. Both always wore ripped 501 Levi’s jeans, leather jackets they found at the thrift store, and heavy metal t-shirts along with either having a toothpick or a cigarette hanging out their mouths. Yet there was one person who finally did fuck with them and that was Courtney Miller, one of the most popular girls in school and also the exact opposite of Shayne and Olivia. She was always known for wearing high waisted shorts, flowing white blouses, and was the human embodiment of pastel. Courtney was always followed around by a bookish boy by the name of Noah Grossman who was always carrying a copy of some type of American classic literature book and wore thick rimmed glasses. The other was Keith Leak Jr. who was head of the school’s choir, always had the lead role in the musical, and always wore a wide brimmed hat. It was in english class that Courtney called Olivia Sui out. The class was reading “The Great Gatsby” which Shayne complained about the lack of sex and how F. Scott Fitzgerald quoted another one of his books in his epigram and Olivia complained about how the character Daisy had no substance to her whenever she spoke. Courtney then made the remark that Olivia as a person had zero substance to which Olivia replied with saying Courtney was an ‘overzealous attention whore who has everyone so far up her ass they don’t realise how big of a bitch she actually is’ which caused Olivia to be yelled at by the teacher and was soon sent to the principal's office with a smirk on her face and Courtney almost in tears. At the end of the day Courtney approached Olivia while she was at her locker talking to Shayne despite Noah and Keith's protests. The Courtney stood beside Olivia with her hands on her hips and confidently told the raven haired girl that she was ‘a no good fearmonger who was faking being the toughest girl in the school when in reality she was a huge chicken’ Olivia laughed at the statement and called Courtney a pussy because she couldn’t say pussy. “Well fine, if you think you’re so tough then how about you and everyone else here spend this friday night exploring the abandoned house on Coldwater Canyon Avenue!” Courtney exclaimed. If there was one thing kids at this school feared more than Olivia and Shayne it was the dilapidated house on Coldwater Canyon Avenue that was rumored to be haunted. No one could even walk past the grimy house without feeling something squirm in the pit of their stomach. “Fine. Shayne and I will totally spend a night in the squatters house if that means we get to see you and your friends piss your pants if we see the supposed ‘shadow man’ that lives there.” Olivia slammed her locker shut and her and Shayne walked away from the three other teens. Noah and Keith looked at Courtney with wide eyes. Fastworfard to friday and Noah and Keith are still looking at Courtney as if she was crazy. “I honest to god hate you, why the fuck did you have to call Olivia out on tuesday? Why couldn’t you just leave her alone like everyone else? Why do you suck?” Keith complained as he sat down next to Noah at a vacant lunch table. Courtney just rolled her eyes. “Olivia and Shayne just need to be put in place, our school shouldn’t be overrun by two kids with daddy issues, it’s so stupid that people even think that they’re remotely scary.” Courtney scoffed. “Oh really? You don’t think that the two of them are terrifying?” Keith asked. “What’s to be afraid of?” Courtney asked as she took a bite out of the hamburger on her tray. “Their lack of a will to live.” Noah replied blandly. “Seriously Courtney, that’s why they do what they do like blow up shit and smoke until they can’t breathe anymore, they literally do not care and have nothing to lose. And now because of you we have to go into the haunted house on Coldwater Canyon Avenue and probably have our guts removed from our bodies while we’re still alive.” “And because you challenged Olivia to a bet you basically challenged Shayne who is arguably worse than her. He’s a true psychopath and her stupid best friend.” Keith added on. “Whatever, their both just losers who have no life and channel their anger into acts of violence and stuff like that, at least that’s what I overheard the teachers saying.” Courtney said with a mouthful of burger.+++    It was nearing six o’clock in the evening and Shayne and Olivia were at the only diner in town that would let them in. It was owned by the Johnson’s whose son used to attend the high school but had to drop out to help with he diner full time. His name was Wes and he had longer hair that kind of made him look like a rock star and he was also incredibly tall and built which made him look intimidating but in reality he was just a gentle giant. Wes was Olivia and Shayne’s only other friend and they were two of his very friends. Wes ad always been nice to the two rebels and so was his family and their diner was the only restaurant in town that would allow them in, not even then McDonalds.    “So rumor around town is that the two of you are staying the night in the abandoned house on Coldwater Canyon Avenue.” Wes said as he set two plates of food down in front of Shayne and Olivia. One plate was a huge pulled pork sandwich that was split in half and dripping with barbeque sauce, the other plate was just heaped with fries. “Yeah, Miller challenged me to some stupid bet because she thought I was a phony, and she also said Shayne was one too so now we have to prove that we aren’t pussies or whatever so she can get off our case.” Olivia said as she dug into the sandwich. Shayne put ketchup on the fries and started to dig in. “And her stupid friends are also making an appearance.” “Listen I’ll show up to anything if I get to see those two nimrods have a fucking heart attack over some bogus ‘shadow man’ that supposedly resides there. The whole thing is bullshit, haunted house and all.” Shayne said smugly. His aviators were pushed up on his head which pushed his messy blond hair back and he was effortlessly slumped in the booth. Olivia looked almost the same only had a little bit of barbeque on the corner of her mouth. “Well as long as you two don’t die in the process I don’t care.” Wes said with a laugh. He slung his hand towel over his shoulder and left for the back of the diner. “Man, Wesley is so fucking cool.” Shayne said as he started to help Olivia with the sandwich. She nodded in agreement, to hungry to make any words. As both of the teens took a swig out of their coke bottles a group of teenage girls from the highschool walked through the diner doors and headed towards a booth. Olivia and Shayne caught their eyes and lifted their hands to make a small wave and also smirked at the group of girls. The girls just looked away from the two of them, scared to make eye contact with the two of them because of their reputation and because attractive people were always more intimidating. Olivia and Shayne just laughed at their fear. +++    Olivia and Shayne were waiting for the others to arrive in the 7-Eleven parking lot. Shayne had bought a few packs of Camels which should keep them occupied for the night and maybe Miller and her entourage would want some, no hurt in sharing. They would all be spending the night together anyways. They also bought a few packs of beers and a couple of snacks to keep them occupied. Olivia and Shayne felt pretty prepared and Shayne had brought his switchblade along with his smaller pocket knife for Olivia. Soon after the sun had set the two teens saw Courtney Miller’s Ford Escort pull into the parking lot. Shayne scoffed at the tiny car that made his red Ford pickup look like a monster.    All the teens hopped out of their respective cars and grabbed their backpacks out of the trunks of their car. The teens all kept silent as they walked the two blocks to the house on Coldwater Canyon Avenue. Noah felt his hands get clammy as the sky got darker and the air colder, Keith felt his dinner churning in his stomach, Courtney started to regret making this bet, and Olivia and Shayne felt a slight urge to smoke a cigarette. They all reached the bleak house that had water ruined shutters and an always open door that lead into the dreary, dark house. Dilapidated chain linked fence that was over six feet tall lined the entire house and a faded sign with the words ‘FORECLOSED’ hung loosely on the wooden paneling of the house. Olivia and Shayne gave each other a look then took a running start towards the fence. The two teens climbed and hopped over the fence with ease and laughed as they reached the other side.    “You coming Miller? You’re the one who invited us to this crack house in the first place!” Olivia shouted while standing in the overgrown lawn of the house. Courtney rolled her eyes and motioned for her timid friends to join her as she not so gracefully climbed and hopped over the fence. Olivia wore a shit eating grin and motioned for Courtney to lead the way.    The house on Coldwater Canyon Avenue was not so much a house but instead a very run down, very old, mansion. It wasn’t very wide but incredible tall which made it stick out like a sore thumb compared to all the shorter, more modern houses on the avenue. The tall, dark wood building loomed over everyone and could even make the happiest people feel bad or  paranoid, Noah liked to think it was something straight out of a Stephen King novel. Most of the windows were either boarded or barred, there only seemed to be one entrance, and on the windiest days you could heard it groan and shudder as if it was only being held together by a few nails. The legend behind the old house was that an entire family hung themselves in various parts in the house all at the same time because they went insane from being haunted by a demon or ‘shadow man’ as few people in town would like to call it. Supposedly you could sometimes see the shadow man looking outside windows, make its way across the entry way, or that it would pretend to be your own shadow and strike you from behind.    Olivia and Shayne thought it was bullshit, no way a shadow man could ever exist and those who believed it were probably insane. Noah didn’t really believe in it either he was just scared of someone calling the police on all of them because they were trespassing. Keith really didn’t really believe either ut he was just scared of Shayne and Olivia but mainly Shayne. Courtney on the other hand didn’t really know what to believe, sure a shadowman sounded like crazy talk but at the same time could it be possible? The teens slowly went up the rickety stairs and into the entryway of the house. The floor littered with leaves and a slight draft rustled them through the house.    “So what’s the plan Miller? What the hell are we doing here?” Olivia asked as she looked around the house. There was still furniture in it, old furniture pieces that consisted of a dusty couch that looked dated along with some side tables. Olivia continued to wander around the downstairs and the house seemed mostly furnished but still very empty, almost sad.    “Well I mean we can always explore, the bet is that you guys can’t leave.” She replied. The group started looking around with Olivia and eventually started to wander up the stairs.    “Dude check this out!” Noah shouted from one of the many rooms. The group found him opening a few old cardboard boxes that seemed to have hundreds of old polaroids. Keith looked around the small room that seemed to only be filled with boxes and he started to open a few more.    “Look at this stuff.” Keith said, he showed the group the boxes that had old clothing in them, canned goods, and many, many photographs. They all started pulling out the old photos and looking at them. Some were of people that they assumed used to live there, some of the house back when it was in its prime, a few of a german shepard that seemed to be a pet, and some of different parts of the interior of the house.    “Holy shit dude!” Olivia said as she pulled out the polaroid camera that seemed to of taken all the pictures along with a few film cartridges. She loaded the camera and aimed it at Shayne who made a cheesy grin. The camera flashed and the slip of paper slid out the end and Olivia shook it and gave it to her friend. “You look stupid.” She murmured, Shayne laughed and nudged Olivia’s shoulder. Courtney watched the interaction as she shuffled through pictures. Her stomach almost churned which made her confused but then again everything about this situation was confusing.    Noah looked at a few polaroids that were of the house back when it looked good. It’s original color was a deep blue with red shutters and the interior has lovely wallpaper. He recognised some of the furniture from the living area in the photos and the old windows used to be stained glass in some parts of the house. It would’ve been beautiful if time didn’t kill it, it even used to have a white picket fence instead of a chain linked one. He glanced at all of them until he came across one that was of the doorway that led into the kitchen. In the picture stood a woman in the doorway dressed in clothing for the time period, Noah assumed the late forties early fifties, and she was smiling and holding a birthday cake. He smiled at it and almost set it back down with no hesitation until he glanced at it one more time. There in the back of the photo stood something, something different. Noah tried to brush it off like it was nothing but the harder he looked the worse it got. There was a figure, a shadowy figure that stood behind the woman with what seemed like glowing eyes. Noah blinked hard to try and refocus, his eyes must of been playing tricks on him because there was no way in hell the rumors could be true.    “Noah are you seeing what I’m seeing?” Keith asked, breaking his friend out of his daydream or more so realization. Noah looked at the picture Keith was holding, one of the dog, which was standing in one of the many bedrooms this house probably had. A child was petting it and on the back wall was a similar figure to the one in Noah’s picture. Courtney saw what they were doing and sifted through the pictures until she found one similar to theirs. The shadowy figure looming in every one.    “What the hell are you guys doing?” Olivia asked, she set the polaroid camera down and watched as the three friends started opening every box with pictures in them.    “Here, look!” Courtney showed the raven haired girl the pictures. Noah and Keith continued to look and Olivia rolled her eyes.    “You guys are idiots, it fucking doctored! This was probably planted here by some other kid.” She suggested.    “Olivia, these photos are old, look at them! The house is all nice and the figure is in almost all of these! Also they were taken almost twenty years ago so there’s no way they could be doctored!” Olivia rolled her eyes but Shayne took the photo out of Courtney’s hand to get a better look. By this time there was no light coming in from the windows and the teens all had their flashlights out.    “You people are crazy and this is all some type of joke isn’t it?” Olivia grabbed her backpack and left the room. The group ran after her as she stormed down the stairs and into the living room. “You know what, this is some type of prank pulled by you and your dumbass friends! You’re just a worthles, suck up Miller and nobody actually likes you!” Olivia shouted from the first floor.    “And you’re the one backing out of this whole thing! You are literally leaving because you saw one thing out of the ordinary, one thing! You actually are just a huge pussy!” Courtney yelled from the top of the stairs. Shayne let out a whistle and Olivia’s brows furrowed.    “Fuck off Courtney!” Olivia screamed. She turned to walk out of the door and into the night but her plans were ruined when the rickety door slammed shut right in front of her face causing the entire house to shake.    The group at the top of the stairs had wide eyes and Olivia was left speechless. There, right in front of her on the door was a shadow that wasn’t hers and had dim, red eyes that looked like you could fall into them. Olivia took a step back and heard the faint cracking of leaves underneath her feet. The shadow was tall and skinny, dark and inky, just like in the pictures. A low hum or murmur was heard echoing throughout the house as the figure stared right back at Olivia.    Olivia turned around and bolted up the stairs and a chorus of shouts and yelps were heard from everyone else. They all shuffled into the room at the top of the stairs, flashlights shining everywhere and panting heard from everyone.    “No, no this isn’t possible.” Olivia whispered to herself. She looked at Shayne who looked just as confused and then back at Courtney and the boys who looked like they were going to cry. “What the fuck what the fuck?” she exclaimed.    “We need to get out of here and never come back.” Noah said.    “Agreed” Shayne responded.    “There’s only one exit.” Keith said painfully. Everyone looked at him with scared expressions that were also pissed off expressions. “Sorry.” Keith responded. Everyone took a deep breath and Olivia and Shayne took out their knives which caused some alarm with the other teens.    “Alright, on the count of three, we run down these stairs and get the hell out of here and go back to the 7-Eleven without looking back.” Olivia said, everyone nodded.    “One” Shayne gripped his knife a little tighter.    “Two” Noah and Keith adjusted their backpacks.    “Three” Olivia looked at Courtney and Courtney back at her and the blonde opened up the door and the teens rushed down the stairs in a blaze of screaming glory. The low murmur of the shadow man hummed loudly throughout the house and louder as they reached the door.    Shayne kicked open the door and the all stumbled down the steps. The five all ran down the street with panting breaths and their lungs screamed for help as their stomachs flipped. They rushed into the 7-Eleven parking lot that was completely barron and all gasped for air beside Shayne’s truck.    Olivia looked at Courtney who was beside her and started to break out into breathy laughter. Courtney looked back at Olivia and joined her in her laughing fit. The girls were almost kneeling on the ground because they were laughing so hard.    “You’re crazy Miller, fucking insane.” Olivia said as her laughter died down. She took out a cigarette and lit one up. Courtney took it out of Olivia’s hand and took a long drag from it which caused Olivia to raise her eyebrows.    “And you’re not a pussy Sui, not at all.” Courtney replied. The girls smiled at each other in the 7-Eleven parking lot late that night, and at school they started to do the same.   

[wineanddinosaur]

12 Things You Should Know About Laphroaig

No, the name doesn’t mean “The Phroaig.” (We had to look that up.) In fact, what Laphroaig Scotch whisky ends up meaning to you depends entirely on your feelings about things like peat, smoke, salinity, and even brawn — you know, the kind of brawn that pushes thousands of pounds’ worth of malted barley across a dimly lit malting floor, because, Scotland.

Even for the peaty-weary, Laphroaig is worth exploring. Much more than a one-note smoke monster (that thing is still on the island from “Lost,” right?), Laphroaig has that complicated, stormy single malt tendency to seduce you slowly, and then aggressively (like, “Whoops, you’re tied to the bedposts and now we’re engaged,” aggressively).

But alas, we digress. Here are 12 things you need to know about Laphroaig before you say “I do” to a dram.

‘Laphroaig’ is easy to pronounce.

It’s pronounced like this: la-froyg. But don’t take our word for it. Watch this seven-second video of esteemed Scottish actor, Commander of the Order of the British Empire, and recent Big Mac spokesperson Brian Cox tell you. (He does a bunch of Scotch pronunciation videos. Rumor has it, if you say all the Scotch brands in a row in front of a mirror in a dark bathroom, you’re probably drunk, so get some water.)

Laphroaig is an Islay (‘eye-lah’) Scotch.

Being an Islay Scotch means something. It’s like being a California raisin. Or an Italian hero. Place of origin matters here because Islay Scotches are believed to be from the birthplace of whisky in Scotland (brought, of course, by some kindly and proselytizing monks). These Scotches are generally peated, meaning the malted barley is dried over rich, fragrant peat smoke (see below). Other Islay Scotches include names like Ardbeg, Caol Ila, Bruichladdich, Bowmore, and, Ron Swanson-certified Lagavulin.

Its use of local peat is ultra-authentic.

Laphroaig has various expressions — from the standard 10-year-old, to the oaked-up Quarter Cask (made with aged whisky aged again in a quarter, or smaller, cask, increasing oak contact), to an investment-level 30-year label that’ll cost over $1,000, which we advise only releasing to viewing family every other major holiday.

One thing all Laphroaig labels have in common? They’re all peated. In fact, the flagship 10-year expression is peated with local Islay peat, a further expression of place, since forest-less Islay has been using peat as a fuel source since always. That peat is also hand-harvested. Kaboom. A thousand authenticity points.

Laphroaig is its own maltster.

Unlike a blended Scotch (such as Chivas Regal), single-malt Scotch is made with malted barley. Malting is a laborious process, and one most large distilleries don’t do themselves. Laphroaig is an exception; it uses about 20 percent of its own malted barley in the total mash bill.

To “malt” barley, grain has to be spread out to germinate. The maltster is basically tricking the baby grain into thinking it’s time to grow into a new plant by providing moisture and warmth (big jerk move); and as enzymes turn the grain’s starches into more available sugars, we make booze instead of springtime (classic human move).

Laphroaig’s partial in-house malting creates a surprising, “challenging” flavor profile.

Why put all the effort into malting when it can be outsourced? With 205 years of seasoning, Laphroaig is pretty damn sure its kilns give a special, both literally and figuratively, “extra” creosote note to the finished product. (Laphroaig fans are known to crave this flavor.)

More bonus points: Laphroaig’s malting floor is effectively on the Atlantic Ocean, with windows and fans to draw in that coastal, saline breeze to wash all over the barley, so you get smoke and salt, which is a surprisingly delicate, teasing contrast. Like slapping someone you love, with a velvet glove.

Laphroaig’s peatiness isn’t a gimmick.

Laphroaig is a proudly smoky Scotch, taking pains to impart more peat smoke before fully drying the barley. But as modern smokiness goes, Laphroaig is distinguished, rather than overpowering — a wisp from a dying (high-end) cigarette to some other Scotches’ flagrant tire fire smoke profiles.

Compare the 45 parts per million of smoky peat phenols in Laphroaig’s flagship to Octomore 7.4 at 167 ppm to the (admittedly “uber-experimental”) Bruichladdich Octomore 6.3 at 258 ppm (a ton—watch whiskey expert Horst Luening say “I do not dare to swallow!” here).

You can own a piece of the distillery.

Stewie Griffin knew what was up when he said, “It’s good to have land.” Except given the current/perpetual economic hellscape that pits housing prices against low wages against (#bestlaidplans) student debt, many of us won’t own any substantial hometown turf.

Luckily, Laphroig offers a very appealing alternative: Join the “Friends of Laphroaig” program, created in 1994, allowing whisky devotees to buy a square-foot plot of the distillery. Ownership of said plot earns you one dram of Laphroaig per annum if and when you visit your plot, which we’d assume you’d want to drink very formally, quite possibly wearing a monocle.

Laphroaig’s Ian Hunter pioneered the use of American oak.

Taking the reins in 1908, Ian Hunter was the last of the founding Johnston family to oversee Laphroaig. When he wasn’t out looking dashing with his dogs, Hunter did plenty to revolutionize Laphroaig, and Scotch whisky- making in general.

Under Hunter’s leadership, Laphroaig began selling Scotch in America, and introducing American white oak barrels into Laphroaig’s aging process. American oak is arguably more delicate than European varieties, allowing more of the Scotch’s native characteristics (such as peat) to shine, smoke, and sift through. Collectors, heads up: Hunter’s impact has just recently been honored as the first in a series of ultra-rare, ultra-aged whiskies, cleverly embedded into books, prison shank-style. Hunter’s is called “Ian Hunter’s Story,” has 30 years in the bottle at minimum, and costs on average over $,1000 a bottle.

Prince Charles loves Laprhoaig.

Like, really, really loves it. Not only did Princes Charles, a.k.a. the Duke of Rothesay, award the distillery a Royal Warrant when he visited in 1994; he came back to celebrate his 60th birthday there in 2008. And in 2015, a kilted Charles returned to celebrate Laphroaig’s 200th birthday.

One royal visit to Laphroig began with disaster, and ended with a tour.

Along the bromance of Prince Charles and Laphroaig there was a slight hiccup when the prince accidentally crashed his plane over the edge of the landing strip when visiting Laphroaig in 1994. Fortunately nobody was hurt — though HRH was said to have been going a bit fast— and Prince Charles straight-up just continued with the distillery tour, post-crash. (Though, per HRH, “It was not quite a crash,” as he told reporters, and because he’s a prince, he’s correct.)

Laphroaig was home to the first female distillery manager.

“Force of nature” is a better descriptor for Bessie Williamson, who got a summer job as a typist at Laphroaig in 1934, and was its manager and owner by 1954 (she inherited ownership from Ian Hunter). Even while she worked as Hunter’s right-hand person, Williamson proved invaluable to Laphroaig, which was effectively turned into an ammunition bunker as World War II shunted grain production to the front lines. Williamson kept the government from melting down her stills.

That “first female Scotch distillery manager” made Single Malt Laphroaig a thing.

Once at the helm of the distillery, Williamson went on to preach the gospel of peated single malt in America, miraculously marketing a hulking, complex, sometimes downright ornery product to American palates that were just settling into the post-war comforts of Jell-O. No shock, as it did for Ian Hunter, Laphroaig released a special 25-year-old Bessie Williams rare bottling.

Among the tasting notes for Bessie’s bottle are such intimidating descriptors as “salty tar oil paste.” We prefer “coastal notes with peat sweetness and earthiness.” Speaking of, here’s a pretty great picture of Bessie with some sprouted barley.

The article 12 Things You Should Know About Laphroaig appeared first on VinePair.

source https://vinepair.com/articles/laphroaig-10-scotch-guide/

[johnboothus]

12 Things You Should Know About Laphroaig

No, the name doesn’t mean “The Phroaig.” (We had to look that up.) In fact, what Laphroaig Scotch whisky ends up meaning to you depends entirely on your feelings about things like peat, smoke, salinity, and even brawn — you know, the kind of brawn that pushes thousands of pounds’ worth of malted barley across a dimly lit malting floor, because, Scotland.

Even for the peaty-weary, Laphroaig is worth exploring. Much more than a one-note smoke monster (that thing is still on the island from “Lost,” right?), Laphroaig has that complicated, stormy single malt tendency to seduce you slowly, and then aggressively (like, “Whoops, you’re tied to the bedposts and now we’re engaged,” aggressively).

But alas, we digress. Here are 12 things you need to know about Laphroaig before you say “I do” to a dram.

‘Laphroaig’ is easy to pronounce.

It’s pronounced like this: la-froyg. But don’t take our word for it. Watch this seven-second video of esteemed Scottish actor, Commander of the Order of the British Empire, and recent Big Mac spokesperson Brian Cox tell you. (He does a bunch of Scotch pronunciation videos. Rumor has it, if you say all the Scotch brands in a row in front of a mirror in a dark bathroom, you’re probably drunk, so get some water.)

Laphroaig is an Islay (‘eye-lah’) Scotch.

Being an Islay Scotch means something. It’s like being a California raisin. Or an Italian hero. Place of origin matters here because Islay Scotches are believed to be from the birthplace of whisky in Scotland (brought, of course, by some kindly and proselytizing monks). These Scotches are generally peated, meaning the malted barley is dried over rich, fragrant peat smoke (see below). Other Islay Scotches include names like Ardbeg, Caol Ila, Bruichladdich, Bowmore, and, Ron Swanson-certified Lagavulin.

Its use of local peat is ultra-authentic.

Laphroaig has various expressions — from the standard 10-year-old, to the oaked-up Quarter Cask (made with aged whisky aged again in a quarter, or smaller, cask, increasing oak contact), to an investment-level 30-year label that’ll cost over $1,000, which we advise only releasing to viewing family every other major holiday.

One thing all Laphroaig labels have in common? They’re all peated. In fact, the flagship 10-year expression is peated with local Islay peat, a further expression of place, since forest-less Islay has been using peat as a fuel source since always. That peat is also hand-harvested. Kaboom. A thousand authenticity points.

Laphroaig is its own maltster.

Unlike a blended Scotch (such as Chivas Regal), single-malt Scotch is made with malted barley. Malting is a laborious process, and one most large distilleries don’t do themselves. Laphroaig is an exception; it uses about 20 percent of its own malted barley in the total mash bill.

To “malt” barley, grain has to be spread out to germinate. The maltster is basically tricking the baby grain into thinking it’s time to grow into a new plant by providing moisture and warmth (big jerk move); and as enzymes turn the grain’s starches into more available sugars, we make booze instead of springtime (classic human move).

Laphroaig’s partial in-house malting creates a surprising, “challenging” flavor profile.

Why put all the effort into malting when it can be outsourced? With 205 years of seasoning, Laphroaig is pretty damn sure its kilns give a special, both literally and figuratively, “extra” creosote note to the finished product. (Laphroaig fans are known to crave this flavor.)

More bonus points: Laphroaig’s malting floor is effectively on the Atlantic Ocean, with windows and fans to draw in that coastal, saline breeze to wash all over the barley, so you get smoke and salt, which is a surprisingly delicate, teasing contrast. Like slapping someone you love, with a velvet glove.

Laphroaig’s peatiness isn’t a gimmick.

Laphroaig is a proudly smoky Scotch, taking pains to impart more peat smoke before fully drying the barley. But as modern smokiness goes, Laphroaig is distinguished, rather than overpowering — a wisp from a dying (high-end) cigarette to some other Scotches’ flagrant tire fire smoke profiles.

Compare the 45 parts per million of smoky peat phenols in Laphroaig’s flagship to Octomore 7.4 at 167 ppm to the (admittedly “uber-experimental”) Bruichladdich Octomore 6.3 at 258 ppm (a ton—watch whiskey expert Horst Luening say “I do not dare to swallow!” here).

You can own a piece of the distillery.

Stewie Griffin knew what was up when he said, “It’s good to have land.” Except given the current/perpetual economic hellscape that pits housing prices against low wages against (#bestlaidplans) student debt, many of us won’t own any substantial hometown turf.

Luckily, Laphroig offers a very appealing alternative: Join the “Friends of Laphroaig” program, created in 1994, allowing whisky devotees to buy a square-foot plot of the distillery. Ownership of said plot earns you one dram of Laphroaig per annum if and when you visit your plot, which we’d assume you’d want to drink very formally, quite possibly wearing a monocle.

Laphroaig’s Ian Hunter pioneered the use of American oak.

Taking the reins in 1908, Ian Hunter was the last of the founding Johnston family to oversee Laphroaig. When he wasn’t out looking dashing with his dogs, Hunter did plenty to revolutionize Laphroaig, and Scotch whisky- making in general.

Under Hunter’s leadership, Laphroaig began selling Scotch in America, and introducing American white oak barrels into Laphroaig’s aging process. American oak is arguably more delicate than European varieties, allowing more of the Scotch’s native characteristics (such as peat) to shine, smoke, and sift through. Collectors, heads up: Hunter’s impact has just recently been honored as the first in a series of ultra-rare, ultra-aged whiskies, cleverly embedded into books, prison shank-style. Hunter’s is called “Ian Hunter’s Story,” has 30 years in the bottle at minimum, and costs on average over $,1000 a bottle.

Prince Charles loves Laprhoaig.

Like, really, really loves it. Not only did Princes Charles, a.k.a. the Duke of Rothesay, award the distillery a Royal Warrant when he visited in 1994; he came back to celebrate his 60th birthday there in 2008. And in 2015, a kilted Charles returned to celebrate Laphroaig’s 200th birthday.

One royal visit to Laphroig began with disaster, and ended with a tour.

Along the bromance of Prince Charles and Laphroaig there was a slight hiccup when the prince accidentally crashed his plane over the edge of the landing strip when visiting Laphroaig in 1994. Fortunately nobody was hurt — though HRH was said to have been going a bit fast— and Prince Charles straight-up just continued with the distillery tour, post-crash. (Though, per HRH, “It was not quite a crash,” as he told reporters, and because he’s a prince, he’s correct.)

Laphroaig was home to the first female distillery manager.

“Force of nature” is a better descriptor for Bessie Williamson, who got a summer job as a typist at Laphroaig in 1934, and was its manager and owner by 1954 (she inherited ownership from Ian Hunter). Even while she worked as Hunter’s right-hand person, Williamson proved invaluable to Laphroaig, which was effectively turned into an ammunition bunker as World War II shunted grain production to the front lines. Williamson kept the government from melting down her stills.

That “first female Scotch distillery manager” made Single Malt Laphroaig a thing.

Once at the helm of the distillery, Williamson went on to preach the gospel of peated single malt in America, miraculously marketing a hulking, complex, sometimes downright ornery product to American palates that were just settling into the post-war comforts of Jell-O. No shock, as it did for Ian Hunter, Laphroaig released a special 25-year-old Bessie Williams rare bottling.

Among the tasting notes for Bessie’s bottle are such intimidating descriptors as “salty tar oil paste.” We prefer “coastal notes with peat sweetness and earthiness.” Speaking of, here’s a pretty great picture of Bessie with some sprouted barley.

The article 12 Things You Should Know About Laphroaig appeared first on VinePair.

Via https://vinepair.com/articles/laphroaig-10-scotch-guide/

source https://vinology1.weebly.com/blog/12-things-you-should-know-about-laphroaig

[mirajens]

boyfriend material

pairing: yukino/rogue/sting rating: t genre: humor found on ff.n and ao3 follow up to this

Which boyfriend do you take home to meet the parents when you have two?

"You what!"

Yukino almost winced at the twin exclamations of disbelief. Sting and Rogue stood before her wearing not much but the aggravation on their faces which would have been intimidating were she not accustomed to either state of undress or irritability. She twisted the hem of her dress and stared at the space where their shoulders touched. "It's not like I lied!" she said in her defense.

"You told your family," Rogue inhaled and held it until it swelled in his lungs. His face was still red. "That you have a boyfriend."

"Technically, I do." She replied, her voice small.

"Technically, you have two boyfriends." Sting pointed out. He looked less exasperated than their notoriously high blood pressure Rogue so it was him that Yukino looked to.

"Well, my family doesn't want to hear that. So they don't need to know." Conservative Catholic parents tended not to understand polyamory or any of its complex subcultures and what people did not understand, they vilified. Yukino would much rather avoid that. Nothing turned family gathering unpleasant faster than sex talk.

"Now you want one of us to go meet your parents?" Rogue's tart tone was back, just a little bit discomforting. "And just pretend the one who's not coming doesn't exist?"

Sting lit up like a bulb, his silly smile chasing warmth into Yukino's chest cavity. "I'm boyfriend material, right, Yukino? Straight girls ask me out all the time! I'll go with you. And besides," he snickered as his gaze slid towards Rogue. "Solano hates this guy."

At the reminder, Rogue colored and Yukino chuckled. "Supposing Sting does go with you, what does that make me? Chopped liver?"

"Very kind, considerate liver?" Yukino tried. Obviously things were not as grim as they initially seemed since Sting was smiling now. If it was two against one and the two happened to have the most adorable sets of puppy dog eyes, it probably wouldn't take much more.

"Nice try. I'll be going with you, Solano be damned. Sting doesn't make a very convincing straight person." Rogue slapped a hand on Sting's back. "No offense."

Yukino exhaled. It didn't matter much to her who came with her as long as one did. She never had any patience for her family's obsession about her love life since she couldn't imagine her father understanding how a sweet girl like her could have two boyfriends who were sort of full blown gay or how asexuality worked because "normal" girls her age answered to the call of lust. No, these things were best kept away from the Agria home. Yukino couldn't stand the idea of her family misunderstanding her sexuality and saying something that could hurt her. She was quite easily hurt, too.

"That works out. Sting might say something that would destroy all this effort." At Sting's sound of protest, Yukino grinned sheepishly. "No offense."

Sting huffed. "I don't think you guys understand this 'no offense' thing."

Yukino simpered, trying to be empathetic. "I am sorry we have to hide, but you know people don't really understand." And you know I really don't like explaining because I don't owe anyone an excuse for being myself.

The boys' features softened on queue. They had such fierce feelings for their girlfriend and hated seeing her so upset. "Now don't start acting like you're imposing on us. We love you." It was Rogue who spoke, and his easy confession which almost always never came so easy startled Yukino and Sting. Now it was them who shared expressions, both of their mouths forming a small O.

"He truly is boyfriend material," Sting remarked with an awed voice, so silly of him, just to thin out the air. It felt like a victory when Yukino smiled.

"We'll just have to make sure you don't grab my boob in front of my sister and you'll be good."

Rogue's neck went red. "How many times do I have to tell you it was an accident!"

So now, imagine the classic boyfriend-about-to-meet-the-family scenario straight out of every heterosexual romcom: Rogue in a dark dress shirt that Yukino had to properly iron for him, barely concealing his fidget and Yukino fussing with his collar beneath his outercoat since he somehow managed to rumple it during the fifty minute drive from their dorms.

"Stop, stop." Rogue hissed as his hands swat at Yukino's fingers buttoning up the shirt to the last suffocating button. "Chill out or this will be over before it begins."

Yukino clenched her hands into fists at her side. "That doesn't make me any less nervous, you know."

"Please, let's just get this over with. I'm already too hetlagged and its barely 12." Rogue began rapping the knuckles of his longest fingers on the door.

And of course it was Solano who answered. God was just a really funny dude that way.

The older Agria sister didn't even greet her beloved sister before aiming her biting look at Rogue. "I was hoping it was that blond one you hooked up with, sis."

Rogue almost scoffed and said 'fat chance' but he remained silent against the abuse. This was exactly why he was the better option than Sting. He had so much more self-control and a lesser likeliness to drag all the cats out of the bags. "It's nice to see you as well, Solano." He said back tartly. And since the farce wasn't progressing, he put a hand on Yukino's lower back to urge her forward.

Yukino grinned at her sister instead of saying anything and pushed inside. The door closed behind Rogue.

"Where are mom and dad?" Yukino asked as she removed her jacket.

"They're just about done cooking." Solano, in a rare show of propriety, reached out to take her sister's coat, then turned to Rogue and cocked a brow, as if waiting for his.

Always, always, always missing cues with his girlfriend's unnerving sister, Rogue jerkily shrugged out of his parka and handed it over with a low thanks. Solano wasn't an easily tempered creature and many times Rogue knew not if she was going to laugh at something he'd say or stick a fork in his neck for it. He'd always tread softly around her even before she'd witnessed the infamous moment that Rogue accidentally grabbed Yukino's breast. Sting had laughed at that but wasn't that easy for himꟷ Sting didn't have to do a safety sweep of his apartment every time he came home.

"Well, come on, lovebirds. Dinner shall be served."

Mother and Father Agria were all too pleased to meet the first ever boy that their baby brought home.

"We'd been worrying, you know," started Yukino's mother as she piled on marble potatoes, chicken and asparagus on Rogue's plate. Rogue balanced eye contact with too much at once: Yukino's father, Yukino's mother, the easily overflowing herbed gravy on his chicken, Solano's icy look and Yukino's uneasy one. "She never showed an interest in boys. We were starting to think she was, uh, one of those les-beans."

"Mom, honestly," Yukino just barely resisted rolling her eyes.

"And you're the first one she brought to meet us." Yukino's dad stated cheerfully with a raised glass. "Now, Solano has brought a lot of boyfriends home. And" he continued hastily, just before Solano could gripe, "There's nothing wrong with that, darling. You're a woman capable of making your own choices and I did like some of them. I just wish they'd stay around, you know? I really liked that Jellal fellow. The engineer, right?"

Solano scoffed. At twenty-five, she still managed to look like a sulky teenager as she stabbed at her carrots. "I told you, he wasn't my boyfriend. He was my lab partner and you just made him sit down for dinner. That's ways away from bringing someone home."

"I thought you two suited each other." The older man said with a sniff.

"Did you get that impression between the first and fiftieth time he mentioned his girlfriend? Dr Firecrotch with a PhD in Renaissance Warfare?"

"All right, you two, don't get snippy." Just like that, Mother Agria put the kibosh on a steadily rising tension. "We don't want to look bad in front of our guest."

"Don't worry about it, Mrs Agria." Rogue, in an effort to avoid more eye contact, stared intensely at the potato his dinner knife was splitting in half. Baby, he could hear Sting sneer in his mind. "Your home is lovely." That seemed like a nice, heterosexual thing to say. They said shit about lovely homes and good scotch and great gravy. Oh, he should comment on the gravy. "This gravy is great. It reminds me of what my mom used to make."

Yukino stared at him as if he'd grown a second head. Oh, right. He'd never met his mother. Rogue shrugged at her, as if by that action he could relay the panicked message of sorry im just trying to speak like a straight person!

To which Yukino's glare deepened. Well, stop it. You sound stupid, it seemed to say.

"Oh, thank you, sweet boy." Mrs Agria chirped, and to show her appreciation, dumped more food into Rogue's plate, much to his dread. He could never eat well in tense situations.

"Ah, mom, not so much. Rogue… takes medicine. He can't eat too much." Yukino finished lamely. It dawned on her how dangerous it was to say lies that have not been preplanned. Rogue's annoyed look confirmed her newfangled sentiments.

"Medicine for what?" Mr Agria said from the head of the table, in the tone of a man suspicious of drugs.

"Ah. Uhh…" Rogue could feel Solano's irritated stare despite not seeing her face. "I'm, uh, Midichloric?" Yeah, real nice, dumbass. Tell them you can Force control the cutlery next. "Uh, it's something or other in my blood. Kind of like anemia."

The Agrias looked confused and were all in telepathic agreement that any medical conditions were too delicate to be discussed in the dinner table. Yukino looked mortified.

They were all saved from furthering the conversation by loud banging against the front door.

"Yukino! I know you're in there! I've come to fight for your hand!"

Rogue began to choke on the bite of chicken that had lodged itself in his throat. Yukino's face made a play on several different emotions before settling on astonishment. The other Agrias exchanged what was not the first look of confusion tonight.

"What on earth?" Mr Agria began, before pounding on the door cut him off.

"YUKINO! It is I, Sting! Let me in and face the emotions I have for you!"

Mrs Agria looked apprehensive before deciding to open the door. Not long after, Sting came into view (not after a noisy detour into the kitchen he mistook for the dining room). He found his girlfriend slapping a hand on Rogue's back.

"Rogue, you bastard! Unhand my woman or you will have these fists!"

Teary-eyed from the near death experience a la chicken, Rogue aimed a bark-peeling glare at his boyfriend. "You stupid little-"

"What is going on here?" Mr Agria boomed from the head of the table, having had enough of the puzzled glances he exchanged with his wife and eldest.

"Hello, Agrias. I am Sting. Rightful lover of your fair Yukino." Despite the odd speech he seemed to adopt (and Yukino could only guess that while Rogue based his heterosexual persona from whatever CW Prep School Bullshit he saw on TV, Sting assumed his from period dramas), he sat down on the vacant chair beside Rogue, an innocuous look on him. "The feast looks amazing."

"Please, help yourself." Mrs Agria offered instead of the what is going on? that she wanted to say.

"Lover?" said Mr Agria this time.

"What the fuck?" said Solano. "You have two boyfriends, Yukino?"

"No!" Yukino shrieked, panicked at hearing the words she never wanted any of her family to utter.

"I'm the boyfriend!" Rogue said, exasperation clear on his face, all of it directed at Sting who had begun to help himself to the food.

"I've come to fight you for her. You don't deserve sweet Yukino." Sting countered.

"So you're two-timing them?" Solano said. "Way to go, sister. Who knew you had it in you?"

"No you don't get it-"

Mrs Agria looked pleased as she aimed a pointed look at her husband. "Oh, honey, and here we were all worried about Yukino never having a boyfriend. Now she has two."

Mr Agria nodded.

"There were a dozen men fighting for Yukino when we began. Rogue and I eliminated the competition. By combat." Sting volunteered. When Rogue and Yukino gave him exaggerated looks that angrily suggested he shut the fuck up, Sting sent them a subtle thumbs up.

"Oh, is that right?"

"Sting's joking, mom." Yukino cut in before Sting could say anything else. This was bad. This was so bad. They didn't plan all the lies out and one of them might say something incriminating. "I think we have to go now, mom, dad. Sorry. Rogue has to be home. Uh, for his medicine. You know, the mitochondria thing-"

"Midicloric," Rogue corrected, not helpfully, by the fed up look Yukino sent his way.

"Isn't that from Star W-" Sting began to say. Rogue slapped a hand over his mouth.

"We don't want to ruin lunch with my gruesome diagnosis, do we?" Rogue said before laughing a fake, strained laugh.

"Yes, so we really have to go." Yukino started to rise, pushing her chair back.

Sting licked at Rogue's palm before Rogue drew it away, disgusted. "But I haven't even started eating yet."

"We can have McDonald's on the way back to school." Rogue said through gritted teeth. He rose, same as Yukino, dragging Sting up by the collar of his shirt. "The food was really good, sir, ma'am. And it was nice to meet you."

"I'm sorry, mom, we'll come back some other time, when Rogue is well." Yukino already started inching towards the doorway, hoping Sting wouldn't say anything else and trying to tell both boys to move faster by telepathy.

"Nice meeting you, Agrias!" Sting called out before Rogue's hold on his shirt choked him and he was dragged out of the room.

The front door sounded and the remaining three occupants of the dining table listened to an inaudible but loud argument as Yukino, Sting and Rogue got into the car.

When the car sped away, Mr Agria finally piped up again. "What did the boy say he was sick with again?"

"It sounded serious," said Mrs Agria. "But anyway, I can't wait to tell Angela. She was always bragging about how many suitors her daughter has."

"Angela? From church?"

"And you gave me grief for dating around. Yukino has two boyfriends, dad."

"I said I didn't mind the quantity, just the quality."

"I can't believe you, Sting! That was the most irresponsible thing you've done to date." Yukino huffed hard enough to send her bangs flying. "Now my parents think I'm dating two men!"

"Well, you are!" Sting cried defensively. "At least they seemed excited."

From the passenger seat, Rogue shook his head. "That's not the point. You could have made things very bad for Yukino. We had a plan, Sting."

"Oh yeah? Did that plan include you being terminally ill with Jedi Powers?"

Rogue sputtered. "That was not my fault!"

"You could have come up with an actual disease, okay?" Yukino said.

"Oh, sure, I'll prepare a better list of serious ailments just in case you randomly decide to tell people that I have time-sensitive dosages."

"Meeting the parents seems like a lot of work." Sting remarked.

"Maybe we can scale back on the lies for Christmas," Yukino suggested.

"Maybe you can pretend to be single for Christmas," Rogue muttered. He could feel a headache throb behind his eyes.

[academla]

Summer 2017 Update

Hey guys! Finally, another big update post. If you haven’t read these before, I split it into sections: Academic, Financial/Professional, Social, Mental Health, and anything else I feel like. Feel free to skim! (Give this a like if you’re actually reading it because I feel like most people ignore these update posts, which is fine, I’m just curious haha.)

Academic

I go back to school on September 5. I’m super excited, but I think my underlying anxiety has been affecting me a bit.

Classes I’m taking on campus: Classics of Children’s Literature, Abnormal Psychology, and Ethics & Society (an Honors seminar).

Classes I’m taking online: History of World Civilizations Before 1500 & Child Psychology.

Here are some comments on each class so far (I’m nothing if not thorough, guys):

Children’s Lit: Well, Harry Potter is on the reading list, so I’m already there. I’ve emailed the professor already and she seems super nice, so I’m pretty excited. The syllabus is a bit intimidating; I’m sure it will be fine, though, and having a nice professor makes a huge difference.

Abnormal Psych: I’m going to have the same prof as I did for Intro, and I’m really pumped about that (so is she). I’m nervous because the tests are harder and longer, but she was very reassuring that I’ll be fine. There was a whole issue because I thought that Abnormal had service learning linked to it (service learning is basically where you get experience doing things related to the course, so essentially volunteer/internship work) and was planning to use an internship that has been in the works since the winter for that. However, turns out that it isn’t linked. My prof was super nice and said she would be flexible. I emailed my adviser in a bit of a panic, and she informed me that actually service learning is no longer a requirement of my major. So, I’m going to go ahead and do the internship for my resume, but not have to worry about the assignments and grade aspect.

Ethics & Society: I don’t know anything about this really, but I do know that the professor is well-liked and I’ve seen him a few times.

History: Okay, so I hate history. I’m quite well-rounded as a student and I know that I’m lucky that most classes, I do very well in and enjoy. But history just... I don’t even know. My history teachers in the past have all thought I was really good, and I was grade-wise; I simply didn’t enjoy it. So to make this bearable, I know I need to have a professor I like. I was going to take it on campus, and emailed briefly with the professor I was going to have, but he had bad RateMyProfessors ratings and struck me as not very personable or understanding or nice. I checked about online courses and saw that there is one being taught by the director of the Honors College that I’m in, whom I really like and has a great reputation and ratings. Unfortunately there is a $125 fee associated with online courses that I wasn’t aware of, but cost-benefit wise, I really think I’ll be happiest like this.

Child Psych: Oh GOD. Why am I so extra? I emailed the prof once and she was super nice. Then I replied, and since online courses are different from real-life ones in that you don’t really get that ‘getting-to-know-you’ vibe with professors because it’s so remote, I mentioned that I can be an anxious student. I just said basically that means sometimes I’ll ask a lot of questions or check and double-check things for reassurance. I also asked if she was a professor willing to look at drafts or not. She completely got the wrong impression and sent back an email (that was quite final too; signed it “All the best”) as though I had been a hysterical student coming to her with anxiety that I had no idea how to handle. She told me that there are personal counseling services offered by the college as well as the writing center with writing tutors. I’ve had outside counseling for 7 years, and I’m a writing tutor... so that was ironic and also a little embarrassing. Whoops. Honestly, when I get embarrassed about things like that (which I often do) I kind of remind myself that I’m just there to learn and hopefully earn that A, so what they think of me doesn’t matter that much.

All and all, I’m excited for school to start. I want to learn things and take notes and have stuff to do. I also have waves of anxiety, which I’m working very hard to combat with reality checks and focusing on the positives. Oh, and I got an A somehow on my chem accelerated summer course :)

Financial

I have worked two jobs this summer after a lot of miscommunication and lack of clarity:

A preschool, the same one I worked at during my gap year. It was unfortunate because I thought I was going to work full-time there after my chem course, but they didn’t need me because they had so much help. I ended up working Thursdays and Fridays there and Monday through Wednesday at my dad’s job. Now that all the summer help is leaving, though, they’re back to being in desperate need. Everyone there is pretty stressed (and families have been leaving).

At the place my dad works. They produce food and formula for people with metabolic disorders (primarily PKU). I was extremely appreciated there, which was nice, and I got a $4 raise on my second week! They’re desperately understaffed and having problems with their products, as well as not being able to keep up with general demand. I electronically filed faxes dating back to 2016, stuffed envelopes (my favorite), put in tons of orders (one day I put in 34 out of a total 62 orders that day), and by the end was allowed to check emails and reply to some of them. I LOVED the job. However, there’s the possibility I might be able to work there on Fridays during the school year, which I would love. It’s stressful there because there’s so much shit going on and people are basically running around putting out fires all day, but I enjoy my work so much.

During the year, I’m hoping to work at my dad’s job on Fridays, do my psychology internship (if you don’t recall, I’m going to be working at a VA hospital helping with a study on suicide prevention), and tutor! I’m a math and writing tutor. They’re two completely different trainings and types of tutoring, so it should be interesting. Luckily we get to shadow a writing tutor for awhile before being on our own.

I’m not doing well with money, guys. The entire year of 2017, I’ve only made $300 or so. I’ve spent $1,800 on school, even with scholarships, and $940 on medical things such as medication and copays. I did win a $1,000 scholarship which has been very delayed in arriving and I’m praying it will get here by the end of this week or next week so it can be applied to my account. I didn’t work over winter break, which was really my downfall; I needed the time for a mental health break, though... so I’m trying not to beat myself up over it.

Unfortunately it took awhile too for me to lock down my jobs, meaning I only got to work for like 4 or 5 weeks. That really isn’t very much money even with the raise I got. Right now I’m owing $615 per month for my payment plan, and even with tutoring and potential Fridays at my dad’s job, I’m definitely going to lose money. I’m considering taking one winter class online, so I can still work all winter break. That $125 extra fee from my web class sure didn’t help me.

But I must soldier on! I’m going to make sure that none of my money ever goes to frivolous things and never goes to waste. Money is meant to be spent and not hoarded, as my mom reminds me, and it’s okay to spend some on things like going out every so often as well, so I shouldn’t be beating myself up for that (though I still am). School was always going to suck up money. I’m trying very very hard to stay in the moment now and not stress about next semester or worse, what will happen when I get hit with that $30k bill when I transfer and don’t have even close to that much saved.

Social

I’ve changed several times throughout my life socially. In 9th grade, I was extremely social because I needed to be and I had trouble being by myself. It was a lot like that through high school. When I made online friends in 11th grade, they were my social life while drama and bullying and shit went on in real life. Recently, I had a major burst in socialness online, and eventually reached breaking point when I became embroiled in drama.

Look, I’m 20 years old. I’m turning 21 in November. I had to ask myself, why the fuck am I on vacation with family, working on scholarship essays last-minute, and spending my time in the bathroom on my phone dealing with drama with someone years and years younger who’s slandering me to people whose opinions I shouldn’t give two shits about?

That was a big reality check. Because I wanted vengeance, I did. I wanted so badly to expose someone who was gleaning attention and convincing others and spreading half-truths and ruining people’s lives. But then I realized, you know what? That isn’t my goal in life. My goal in life isn’t to tear people down because they’ve torn others down. It’s so, so difficult. I was angry. I was upset. This person violated all of my principles. And we had the evidence against them, we could have potentially won most people over, and I wanted it not for my sake but for the sake of those they had hurt so much more than they hurt me.

But I couldn’t do it. In the end, I called it off. I backed out. I told people to lay off and let karma do its work. I realized how toxic the situation was, how absurd it was for me to be living on the internet when I’m in one of the most exciting periods of my life. How utterly imbecilic I was acting, getting caught up in so much senseless, meaningless, fruitless drama.

After that, I disengaged further from large social groups. I was already overwhelmed by the amount of people always trying to talk to me, so I had to cut myself off from that. And it feels so. Much. Better.

I’ve become more introverted, really. I work all day, then I write fanfiction and watch Netflix and color in my room by myself and I love it. I have any number of people I could hit up anytime and ask to hang out or video chat. But I don’t feel that push, that obsessive need, to be social all the time. Social media became addicting. I still work on that.

I’ve stayed in touch with real-life friends and done things with them when I had the energy, money, and time. Unfortunately my ex and then long-time guy friend both asked me out, and that was incredibly awkward, and the end of that. The trouble with my school is that there are a lot of dual enrollment students who are like, 16 or 17. Much as I love them, I’ve been thirsting for someone my own age with similar interests who I can hang out with. At the tutoring training I attended, I met someone (a guy, oooh). He’s 21 and we had a really good time together. I’m hoping we can hang out once the semester starts! I also met a girl who’s only 17, but she seems very mature and sweet and I also hope to hang out with her.

Things are good socially. I’m always working on that area of my life (with regards to mental health, mostly) but I’m still going strong. I have moments of loneliness for sure. However, I’m happy with myself and happy with my life. That’s what counts.

Mental health

If 10 is completely flawless and 0 is utter breakdown and 5 is rough, I would say my summer has been a solid 7 or 8. Which is pretty damn good!

Areas I’m working on still:

Body image. My ED voice has been loud this summer. That’s probably the area of most concern to me.

Anxiety. It hasn’t been too bad, but with transitions it usually increases, and I’ve noticed myself being more anxious (free-floating anxiety mostly) and irritable in the past few days.

Worrying way too much about others’ opinions. This pretty much traces to the internet. I mean, before I went on hiatus, I had tens of thousands of people criticizing my every word and move. That takes a toll. Moreover, as a fanfic writer, it’s pretty difficult to post things to the internet without craving comments and kudos and hits. I’ve turned off viewing hits for my own sanity, and taken breathers when I felt like I was getting too hung up on the ‘popularity’ of my fics. I write for myself, because I enjoy it. Not for the attention. I just have to remind myself of that from time to time, and I try not to be competitive. It’s really the numbers that get me - the hits and the kudos. I mean, I compare myself to people in different fandoms, fandoms I don’t even write for. It’s so dumb.

All in all, I’m proud of how I’ve been doing. I do have moments of stress mainly about money, but that’s par for the course. I would say I’ve made a 100% improvement from last summer/year and intend to continue doing so, even in light of the impending stressors.

Other

My new favorite movie is Gifted. Oh my god, I love it so much. I’ve seen it like, 5 times (2 of those were illegally whoops). I’ve been fairly active on Snapchat still - add me there edye327. I don’t really have much else to say, except thank you to people who have bought me things from my wishlist that I couldn’t otherwise afford. I haven’t gotten anything recently, but I just wanted to reiterate my appreciation.

If you’ve read this all the way through, reply with the color of your favorite shirt.

Much love,

Edye

[umihoshi-art]

Witch Story Chapter 2

( Chapter 1 here )

Chapter 2 A rough start “Any news?” Amand held his coat in one arm. Both having just put it off and also ready to wear it again to head out. Opposite of the dimly lit room stood Queen Alice, her back to him, as she gazed out of the panorama window. She came to this tower more often to gaze upon Salem and think. There was little left of the gallant smile she wore at the party. She looked cold and deep in thought. “None.” she replied plainly, without averting her gaze from the scenery. Amand sighed diminished. “Where could she be?” He muttered to himself and walked up to stand next to the queen and look out the window. He saw the queen was holding a white rabbit. Nothing new to him. If she was not at any formal occasion, she would always carry this rabbit around and stroke it rhythmically. The bunny always seemed rather on edge. As if dreading what those slender pale hands could do in an unguarded moment. An effect Alice had on any living organism, honestly. Amand was perhaps the only person who could get this close to her majesty. Not so much because of his position, but more so his ignorance to the fear-inducing aura that Alice continuously emitted. ‘You’d need at least that amount of recklessness to hang around either of the Grimalkin sisters’, he always thought. But where Evangeline was an open book, Alice was impossible to read. Her stature was both composed and refined, no matter the occasion. 'A curious woman’, Amand mused to himself quite often. Even after having spend the majority of his life with Eve, Alice was barely around. Even before she became the queen, she was already reserved and always studying. He knew very little of her, even to this day. It intrigued him. And so, he could not resist to search for the borders of her patience, from time to time. “You seem awfully calm. Even though she’s your sister.” He implied. But the only response he got out of her was her closing her eyes and a smooth reply: “You as well, my dear brother. Even though she is your fiance.” Amand laughed a little uncomfortable. “Touche, your majesty.” They were both silent for a moment, before Amand continued: “That said, I’m actually really worried… it’s just easier to not show.” “Then you should also know how I feel.” the queen replied. Though Amand doubted these words. Alice didn’t seem to just mask her feelings, at least not the way Amand did. What was Evangeline to her majesty? Then again, as the Hermus Tresmegistus, the most powerful magician currently in living, she is probably more adapt to stress then anyone. “Before I’m off again, shouldn’t we hold a council meeting on this?” he asked, burying his previous thought for now. “That will not be needed.” Alice spoke resolute and curt. “Someone very capable is already on the move….”

It had been a long while since Evangeline had dreamed so wild and vivid. She figured the thief must have used something different from chloroform, since people don't normally dream when knocked out. Then what did he use? Could he do magic? Was he a witch? Then why would he steal from witches? She couldn't lay her finger on what the dream was about. Something from her childhood? Something about Alice? As she started to wake up bit by bit, she lost her grip on the fragments. But it felt like it had been something very important...... Evangeline opened her eyes and felt rather disorientated for a few moments. Closing her eyes again, she could at first only listen. She was somewhere very quiet. Back in the inner city that never sleeps, there were always sounds of buzzing crowds and vehicles. Shouting children, music, boats, things alike. But where she was now, it was dead silent. Yet after she gained a bit more focus, she could hear that wasn't quite so: She could hear the gentle blowing of the wind. A branch teasingly rasping past the window. She could even hear a few birds singing their song and the low ticking of a clock. Also, some small noises she couldn't really place. A sort of rustling pitter patter. She made another attempt to open her eyes and saw a white canopy above her head. She was laying on a bed. It was by far not as soft as the bed she's used to, but that was actually quite nice for a change. Evangeline secretly always hated sinking away so deep that she was hardly able of getting back up by herself. She turned her head to inspect the room. It was a really simple room, but it was clean and neat. Next to the bed, there was a small night cabin, a washing table, an old brown chair and a large white closet. There was a small window and Evangeline could see trees for as far as the eye could reach. “Forest in the middle of nowhere. Classic.” She muttered and held her head, feeling a pang of nausea and migraine well up. “Good morning. I see you're up.” she heard a voice coming from her right. She glanced over and the thief who had kidnapped her was leaning against the doorpost like he owns the place. (well, he does...) Still wearing the entire thief get-up and creepy birds mask, he looked terribly out of place in a homey space like this bedroom. “The 'good' part's debatable.” She rubbed her brow annoyed. “If you have energy to have backtalk, you seem fine to me.” “Maybe. But I'd feel all the better if you'd take me back home.” She retorted, not taking any of his remarks. “I plan to. As soon as possible, in fact. The less you know and shouldn't, the better.” She noticed he was holding his left arm for a bit. Did he wound it? Evangeline quite easily felt compassion or pity, but for now she could only think getting away would be easier if he could use only one arm. Then again, he was saying he'd bring her back... She swung her legs over the end of the bed and sat up, looking at him skeptically. “Then why did you get me here in the first place?” she asked. “It was either this or ripping your dress in front of a crowd. I may be a thief, but I have an image to keep. Who's brilliant idea was it to sew that necklace to your chest?” “Not mine??” In fact, why was it? It hadn't been stuck during the ceremony. So did it happen somewhere after it? She fondled the jewel. She could just move it around no problem. Strange... Had it been some anti-thieving spell? Then who placed it? Someone of security, maybe? Well, if that had been the case, it sure as hell backfired. Evangeline was in a whole lot more trouble now. The thief noted how the girl could move the necklace and asked: “Can you untie it?” She probably could. But it didn't take away that this jewel was an important heirloom to her. “Why would I?” she spoke rather hostile. “To hand it over.” “How about no?” “Why?” She glared at him. What an idiot. “Why would I give something important to some shady stranger? One who kidnapped me. And in a ridiculous outfit that gives me the shivers! You have no taste and are plain creepy.” Less annoyed then she thought he would be, he tilted his head and said: “What choice do you have?” Calm, but there was a slight undertone of threat in it. Evangeline hesitated to think of something, anything in her defense. “....I could stab you.” “With?” Evangeline couldn't think of anything at the moment, but she tried keeping her act of not being intimidated. “We'll have to see about that, won't we?” she smiled cocky. The thief didn't reply. Because of that stupid mask, there was no telling what expression he wore. But from his demeanor, Evangeline guessed he smirked in a patronizing way. Back at the party, he had just smiled without a word as well. He was a mystery. How could this be the same person? How could she have trusted him?? “I'm a gentleman,” yeah sure, “so I won't force it off you. But I can't let you go until you hand the artifact over.” He called it 'artifact'. Did he know of it's use? Does that mean he wasn't just stealing because they're jewels? Saying it like that made Evangeline curious to what the man was up to, but “I refuse.” and she continued: “I'll scream really loud.” The plague doctor sighed. “Will give me a headache at best. There's no one around in the next few kilometers.” 'That's a shame,' she thought and clicked her tongue, but went straight on to her next defense. Right, she had her trump card, even if it was a bluff: “I'm a witch. Who knows what I could do?” But that too, didn't seem to impressed him. “And you haven't yet, because?” “Well, maybe I just didn't know a useful spell for the situations?” “Fair enough,” There was a thick layer of skepticism in his voice, “But it will do you no good. If you kill me here, you won't know how to get home. Bottom line, nothing can be done then handing the stone over.” He continued: “Knowing your kind, you never left Salem. You know absolutely nothing of the world outside.” Again that patronizing ring in his voice. Evangeline huffed upset. “How insulting! It's just a few kilometers! It'll take a while, but I'll manage just fine!” “A while in which you have no food, water or means to know your direction. Face it, it won't work.” The thief seemed to need a moment to collect his mind and calm down. Evangeline was winning terrain, though she didn't get what about her finding her way back or not was getting to him. “I won't harm you...” He had found his cool back. “But until that jewel is destroyed, you won't be going back any time soon.” She clasped her hands over the jewel and gave him the cold shoulder. “I'm not handing it over.” It was silent for a moment. A kind of pressuring quiet in which either wouldn't yield. The Plague Doctor was the one to break the stalemate in the end: “.....very well. Then I'll let some time pass before persuading you once more.” He was planning to leave her be, then. But Evangeline was a sore loser. She hadn't played all her cards at hand yet and she wasn't going to just let him leave so easily. “I will cry.” She spoke dignified and cold. The Plague doctor raised his shoulders and dared reluctant: “Then cry.” After staring at each other for a moment, Evangeline's eyes welled up and tears started falling down her cheeks in a rapid tempo. Not in the slightest concerned, the thief commented: “You'd do well as an actress.” But Evangeline's tears wouldn't stop coming. She started sobbing and at some point wondered herself if she was really still faking it. She bit her quivering lip and made herself small. Her big golden eyes were puffy and her cheeks flushed with sadness. The thief let her be like that for a while, but in the end he sighed in defeat and handed her a handkerchief. “Look.” He was holding back his temper the best he could. Or rather, a sense of distress. “I didn't mean for any of this to happen. Preferably, I'd have you back before nightfall... But I CAN'T let you go when you have that jewel! That thing is dangerous and it'd be better for you to not have it at all!” Calm and gracious, Evangeline took the handkerchief and without a single crack in her voice she asked quite plainly: “And why is it dangerous?” Evangeline could almost literally hear a vein pop with her captor, a true moment of euphoria to her. The man heaved a sigh that Evangeline fondly likes to call the 'sigh of suppressed seething rage'. But he collected himself disappointingly fast and bowed for her courteously. “Do excuse my late introduction. I am who they call 'the Plague Doctor'. And as it is, I'm out to steal certain gems like the one you're holding. That isn't just any stone that would fetch a pretty price on the black market. The Artifact stones of the numerous witch families hold a force that grands them immensely wicked powers. Powers that are far too easily abused and should not be messed with. As we speak, witches from all over the land use this power for their own greed and sadistic enjoyment to needlessly torment human lives for the sole reason that they hold no magic to fight them. In the wrong hands, that stone would be responsible for the deaths of 1000's of innocents.” Evangeline couldn't help herself and sputtered a laugh. “Excuse me??” He sounded ridiculous. What did he want her to do with all that information? This was so surreal. But the Plague Doctor wasn't about to tell her it was a joke and she was supposed to laugh. He stood tall and dark in front of her. He whispered beneath his breath: “..I knew it....” “Knew what?” Evangeline stopped laughing abruptly and got an eerie feeling of the sudden change in his behavior. Quite the unsettling change. Evangeline had maybe only ever felt her sister be this pressuring. The thief spoke in an icey voice: “Yeah... You're a witch afterall. Is the death of 'beings below you' something to laugh about? Is someone standing up to 'higherups' that kill on a whim, funny to you?” His voice was calm as ever. But it felt like his voice build up with anger after every word. He concluded, in another soar whisper: “Witches are monsters...” Evangeline was dumbfounded. Up until now, she hadn't realized how serious this person in front of her was. Something was going on that was a whole lot bigger then some awkward thief stealing pretty stones and getting himself a kidnapped princess because he messed up. There was so much hate in him....? “Alright. I'm listening,” she spoke more seriously, “but how do I know yóú don't have bad plans with them?” She was too late, though. The man was no longer so much as willing to negotiate. “That is no concern of you... 'Witch'.” Evangeline gulped. He spoke the word 'witch' as if it was something disgusting to him. It was new to her. But somehow, being hated simply for what she was born as... felt aweful. The Plague Doctor turned away from her and headed for the door. “You will stay in this room until you hand that killing tool over. That is the end of the discussion.” “And if I don't?” the girl had wished to still sound very brave, but the strength in her voice faltered. “.....We'll see.” With that, he closed the door. Evangeline sat in silence for a while, staring into nothing. She was telling herself she still had things in control, but she was starting to figure she'd gotten herself in a big mess. And it wasn't just about her and the artifact 'Eden'... She might have bumped upon something that concerns the entire country. Were the artifacts really used for evil? Well, for starters, she knows it's some dark form of energy.... but isn't it a good thing that it is sealed and used for a better purpose? And how can she be sure this guy is telling the truth? No, maybe Evangeline herself was at fault for this.... she had never stopped to wonder about these things and had just taken them as they came. Believing the world around her all thought alike and was in little trouble. That was far too naive for a princess. Just what should she believe? The girl stood up. Nothing was going to happen if she was going to stay sitting and pondering. For starters, she had to get out of here, before the thief would take Eden away from her. Alice......If she could talk about this with Alice, sure her sister would know what to do about it. Her big sister could tell how much is true about the thief's story. And if it were true, they could do something about it.... she and Alice together... Evangeline went to explore the room to see if she could use anything to escape. No time to waste. She started with the closet. To her surprise, it was unlocked. And even more surprising, there were dresses in it. For a second, the thought of the Plague Doctor being some radical maniac and fetishist passed her mind. But on closer inspection, the dresses were various sizes and some seemed to be props, rather then casual wear. Something along the line of theater outfits? Or maybe disguises? She resisted to entertain the thought of the thief wearing these outfits. 'No no, no way~' She couldn't help but snicker. But back to focus. Eve thought how she could maybe rip pieces of fabric to make a rope. But before she could do that, she'd have to check if there was a way out. Turning from the closet, she headed to the window she had vaguely registered before. But disappointingly, it opened just a few centimeter. And even if she'd smash the glass, it was too small for her to fit through. Even without the ridiculously poofy ball-dress that she was still wearing... Looking out the window, she saw the room was on the first floor and the house stood hidden among trees on a hill. No other houses in sight for as far as she could see. Looking down, she saw grass grew around the bottom with various wild flowers haphazardly spread around. She spotted a few birds, even a squirrel. It was a sunny summer morning. 'what a pleasant place, wouldn't it be for this situation,' she thought to herself and dropped back on the bed. 'Looks like it's really in the middle of nowhere...' she clicked her tongue and held her head. 'This headache's not helping either... Just what am I to do? “You know my sis is the one who has Aurora, right? Not me?” She called out, thinking the thief might still be around. No reply, of course. Figures. “Just making sure.” She mused to no one in particular. She sat up. Even if he wasn't listening, if she was loud enough it would reach him. So she raised her voice some more: “look. We can't negotiate if not all parties are aware of the situation. Frankly, I have no idea what I got caught up in. it's very frustrating! I'm a reasonable person! we can talk?” Still no reaction. At this volume, could she just break the door down without him responding? Haha, probably won't work... She continued, lowering her voice again. The things she was saying were also just something she wanted to hear herself say. To stay calm. And justify herself. “this is just very absurd and confusing to get caught up in... I pardon my rudeness before. But can you understand my feelings?” Doubting for a moment, she got up and tried the door. Was he really not around? Did he just leave her here? She started as she heard a rustling from behind the door. A whole lot closer then she had expected. So.. he had heard her? How embarrassing. But the rustling disappeared off in the distance, the source leaving. Door still locked. Evangeline clicked her tongue. “Too bad.” She sat on the ground and dropped on her back to stare at the ceiling. Maybe she could think better like that. But all it brought her was her headache worsening. After some time passing, there came a knock to the door. Evangeline hadn't left the ground and had her face covered with her arm, hoping the skin could cool her front head. “Yes?” She spoke halve grumpy. “I doubt it'll suit your taste, but I brought you something to eat...” The princess laughed both charming and sarcastic. “how sweet of you, but I decline.” The thief replied in similar charm: “Hunger strike, is it?” “That. And can't be sure what's in there.” She sat up and glanced at the door. She heard her kidnapper sigh audible. “may I come in?” “You may.” She heard the rustling of the lock as he spoke further: “I can eat a part of it to prove it's not poisoned.” “who knows, maybe it's a slow poison, and you'll take the antidote later.” The thief showed up in the door opening with a tray. He had changed outfit, but the birdmask was still very much there. “you're more cunning then I am.” he sounded almost impressed. “Why thank you.” She didn't sound very heartfelt, though. There was definitely an air of hostility among the two of them. But also some weird sense of fondness. The type you'd have with a classmate who you tease back and forth. Evangeline expected a lot from kidnappings, but certainly not this. “This is your first time kidnapping someone, huh?” He closed the door firmly and put the tray down. “What gave you that idea?” Eve shrugged. “The service. Plus you're incredibly easy. I always imagined during a hostage to be escorted by brainless lackeys, not the big bad himself. You work solo, huh?” He ignored her prying, continuing where he left. “I cant force you to eat it. But it's best when it's still warm.” There was a glass of milk, warm bread, jam and cheese. Overall, it looked plain and in-suspicious. “the thought is appreciated.” She declined, though. Evangeline could guess he rolled his eyes as he scoffed under his breath: “Princess...” score is 3 for that princess, 0 for the lousy master thief, though. “Anyway, we need to talk.” She spoke more earnest, but he cut her to the case: “I apologize for my rude behavior from before... you must be scared, so it's not weird that you're uncomfortable.” “suspicious is a better word.” She frowned. “I'm confused about this whole thing. Explain.” “Yeah..” he replied a tad uncomfortable, but dormant. “where do you want me to start?” She shrudged exasperated. “I'm very lost here, buddy. Your pick.” The Plague doctor tilted his head and replied matter-of-factly: “then I pick not explaining anything.” He was gloating. She could tell. Okay then, 3-1 for the petty thief. “Pffft. Proof I can trust you!” She stated pointedly and crossed her arms. “I'm willing to negotiate if you have valid points.” “frankly, I can't.” Since Evangeline was still on the floor, the thief grabbed a chair to sit across her. “I'm not exactly best friends with witches, so there's no reason why you should be an exception.” He continued: “but I believe there's nothing as filthy as 'result justifies any means'. It wouldn't make me any better then them. so I won't hurt you.” “I can respect that.” At the very least, he sound sincere. “What's wrong with witches? Is there corruption?” “corruption is a mild expression, princess.” “Clarify... -please.” He was quiet for a while. Possibly considering what he could and couldn't tell her. “ 'Witches are building a better world' is the popular slang in Salem. But they try to reach that over the back of humans. For example, there are many professions that are illegal for humans.” “Like what? Politicians?” “Actors. Civil servants. Journalists. Teachers. Priests. Doctors are very tightly screened as well.” Eve tried to figure out for herself what could be harmful about these, but she couldn't think of anything. “Why those?” “Spreading of opinions. Every word that could cause witches to be shown in a bad daylight is cut down. Witches are incredibly powerful. But they still fear humans. Can you guess why?” “ 'The Beatrice Tragedy'? The disaster from a decade ago.... But humans DID cause that, right?? A lot of witches died because of them! My parents--.... My grandmother, the previous queen, died too that day.” The plague doctor nodded. “Yet there's no actual proof humans were the cause of any of that. None the less, witches responded with an irrational hate for humans. 142 people died during the disaster. Of which 10 high politicians. But after that, a rough 3000 human civilians were hunted down on suspicion of treason.” Eve stared in shock and had to process what this means for a moment. 3000 civilians. That's almost 4 times the people working in the palace. “But...but my sister would never do something like that, right?” “The current queen,” the thief's voice sounded incredibly sour at those words, “didn't actively give orders like this herself. But she never stopped it either. War criminals go unpunished. After she ascended the throne, things did calm down in Salem. But even then, humans remain second rated citizens. There's not the slightest of reason for her to bother. And so, humans are left to fend for themselves. The foundation of witchcraft and lore dictates 2 different laws for humans and witches. Example: For stealing a bread, a witch is fined 50 silver Bells. A human loses a hand... Poverty remains. Girls much younger then you are forced into prostitution. some families have to catch mice to not starve. taxes are impossible to pay. But not as impossible as medicine. With the rarity of doctors, there are diseases eating away on small children. Witches are very much aware that they are better then others. and believe they have more right to live. But that's not the worse... “People.... 'humans', that is... They disappear in that city...” “Disappear? Why?” He glanced over to her. “Test subjects... to call one thing.” Evangeline's face turned paler at every word. But the thief had to tell her. She had to know just what has been happening while she was save inside the castle walls. Still, the Plague Doctor doubted to continue. “There are--... witches who enjoy keeping humans as pets. I'm sure that's not an exceptional matter.....” “you mean like slaves?” “No. 'Pets'. Not considered an intelligent life form with a will. Or to eat them. Livestock if you will. Human meat is considered a delicacy among some...” Evangeline covered her mouth, a rush of nausea overwhelming her. “What?? What!!??” Coming at this point of horror, her kidnapper didn't stop any longer, but continuing in a cold monotone voice: “to witches, human must be nothing more then some form of sick entertainment.... something to be laughed at....” Eve's cheeks flushed and she quickly averted her eyes in guilt. He knew he was being a jerk. But this truth had to be said for her to understand just how grave the situation is. “I.... I don't know what to say... I'm so sorry you've been through all those things.” “ 'been through'... suggests it's a thing of the past.” “y-you know what I mean!” “I don't...” They were both anxiously quiet for a while. Evangeline could almost physically feel how bitter and hostile this man was at the moment. She didn't want to believe any of this. She wanted to shout that he was lying! She wanted to run off and have someone, ANYONE tell her things were alright! She wanted to see Amand or Alice! And never meet any human ever again! But she knew. She knew it from the memories of her brightly colored history book. From the lighthearted chats about humans she had heard at parties. Phrases like 'ow, they're just humans.'... Certain seemingly innocent books, written by humans, are considered forbidden literature... Was there.... ever a dish on the table she wasn't sure of what it was? And she knew from the tone in his voice. She knew how deeply broken he must be. How someone who clearly wasn't cut out for acting like a terrorist, was driven to become like this: He was telling the truth. “I don't get it.. all of that is terrible! Alright humans are...humans. But still people with feelings? That's just wrong!” “ 'alright, humans are humans'.....do you hear what you're saying?” He spoke gravely and bitterly calm, without facing her. Evangeline gulped, but nodded. He was right. Without her even knowing, racism might have already slipped into her mindset long ago. He asked: “Do you think you're better then humans?” “....Maybe.” She answered truthfully. “but humans should still be respected! you're still people! You're just... different?” He sighed heavyhearted and they were both silent for a while again. A very sad silence. “...But well...” Eve started doubtfully, “ 'better' or something like that.. what good of a witch am I really? I can't even use any magic, so how much 'better' am I from you, then?” He looked up, but the information didn't seem to phase him. Did he already know? Still, he wasn't going to be more compassionate right away: “You still come from a good family.  You grow up in that society none the less.” “Yeah, I guess. But I'm a disgrace for this bloodline. they wanted something like my sister, but got... well, me.” The thief stared at her for a long while. She could only guess what expression he wore behind that mask. She must be stupid. Starting about things that bothered her for all this time to a criminal. What were here little inferiority problems to oppression? But she couldn't shake that they were somehow similar. Not belonging anywhere. Alone. With an ache in her throat, she spoke the thought she had ignored desperately all this while: “maybe they're glad I'm gone.” Before he could reply, Evangeline shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. No, this wasn't like her! She had to man up! She jumped up from the ground and stood fiercely, pridefully. As befit of the proud Grimalkin family. “I see your point. but I can't just simply trust you.” The thief sat back and even though she tried playing tough, he somehow seemed more relaxed. “Fair enough.” He replied. “I mean, you're still a stranger that drugged and kidnapped me for suspicious reasons!” The man hummed a bit troubled. “yes, well. Sorry... I didn't really have a choice there.” The tone in his voice grew back to the way he was when she met him at the party. Not really knowing what to do with the positive change in attitude after all that stress, she got pissed. “Yes you did! this just happened to be the best you could think of.” “Well, if you had preferred trashing around and us falling to our deaths, then I suppose.” He shrugged. “You could've just ripped it off, or assassinate me and take it, but you chose this.” She exasperatedly gestured at herself. “Look at this! I'm 1.50m! how tough can it be? Just lift me and away we go!” “You'd still be struggling, dear.” He spoke both cynical and comical. “Besides, it'd be a problem if you witnessed the entire trip to my evil layer.” “Option 3: you could've just dumped me in the middle of nowhere.” “Now that's just cruel!” He exclaimed, more shocked then she thought he would be. “But still very possible.” she shrugged. “No.” He spoke firmly, leaving Eve to raise her eyebrow. “Why not?” “Because--...” He paused, rather uptight. “well... I didn't want you to get hurt or anything.” She gawked at him like seeing water burn. “Not my business, but.... You REALLY suck at this kidnapping thing. Giving you a 2 out of 10.” “a-Anyway,” he sounded flustered, “that thing was still stuck to your dress, so I couldn't just drop you!” “Well, isn't that too bad? Now you won't get it at all.” “I've got time.” She pried on the jewel to see if it still wouldn't come lose. Surprisingly, it did. Now that it was lose, she dropped it down her bosom. He gaped at her dumbfounded, lost for words. “...you do know I could just assault you, right?” “No, you wouldn't~” Eve smiled ear to ear. “............you've seen that right! but you're really lucky I won't!!” He raised his hands both snarky and in defeat. “Oh, dear. You really are easy to toy with.” The thief huffed annoyed, but couldn't help but to laugh after a little. Evangeline couldn't drop her defenses just yet. But this felt pretty damn amusing. “I'm off.” the man pouted, heading for the door. “I'll come back later. tell me then if you need anything.” He added: “and no, that doesn't include me letting you go.” Eve snapped her finger. “Foiled again.” “tough luck, princess.” “Then, how about...” she thought for a moment. “letting me out of the room but in the house?” Asking it, she didn't really expect to have a chance. But none the less, he replied: “I'll consider.” And closed the door behind him. --- Mist at the end of June is a rarity. None the less, the outskirts of Salem were engulfed throughout the majority of the day. An eerie kind of mist, that would hide monsters from mortal eyes, leaving them to roam around as they please. And one such monster stood at the deserted square. A massive man, completely clad in black. Hidden underneath a classy tophat was a face wrapped in bandages. The only indication that he was not a beast were the eyes that were uncovered. Steel blue and cold. But the small area of skin surrounding them that wasn't covered by bandaged looked scorched and burnt. If he was anything resembling a man, he would be somewhere in his forties. Seasoned and worn. But something in his eyes was still very alive. It almost seemed like this gloomy person was the one emitting the mist screen. As he awaited, peering into the clouded distance, for some unseen enemy. A second figure approached him. Equally tall, but slender. Where the first man seemed to be a figure from a mysterious horror story, the other was like an exotic prince from an eastern fairytale, less then halve the age of the elder. His demeanor was calm and serene, but something seemed unpleasant and untrustworthy about him. His skin was dark, with golden markings. But his short hair was pale white. He walked barefooted, but the stones didn't cut his skin. Even though he was dressed lightly, he wore thin leather gloves that he adjusted nervous-habitually from time to time. Due to being dressed as this, he shivered as he approached the misty figure. “It's the middle of summer, but it's still freezing whenever you're around, mr. Moriarty. Can't you do anything about it?” “No.” The other spoke briskly, but with a clearer and more solemn voice than one would expect of his posture. The one with the golden markings in turn, sounded to be a lot more juvenile and carefree then his appearance gave away. “Come, Scaliwag.” The elder man spoke, turning off to leave the square. He was a man who disliked to wait unless it was necessary and with the lost princess' life at stake, there was no time to spare. Alastor Moriarty was a man of logics over feeling, but his loyalty to the royal family far exceeded anyone. The younger, Midas Scaliwag, had only recently joined the witch council, but this was the first time he had seen his already creepy colleague this unpleased. Midas strut along, passing mr. Moriarty, since he knew just as well where they were heading: the major's house. Well, even if it was said he was the major, it wasn't like a human had a lot of deciding to do in the Salem outskirts. The actual person in charge of all human affairs was this same Midas Scaliwag. Said youngster knocked the door with an air of carelessness. There came no reply for a moment, until hesitatingly, a frightened and worn woman opened the door. The fear on her face at least doubled as she saw the two man in front of the door. Holding her breath and tongue, she stood aside to let them in. Ignoring the effect he had on the woman, Midas entered the residence. It was ramshackle and dark, with a man sitting bend over at the hearth. What caught the eye immediately as one entered was a golden statue in the middle of the room. It was the image of a young girl, 7 or 8 in age, innocence on her face and her thin hand outstretched. But both the man and woman did not dare look upon it. “what.... what is it?” The major spoke, suppressing the bitterness in his voice. “We're looking for someone.” Moriarty spoke plainly, and Midas held a drawn picture of princess Evangeline out to the master of the house. Upon being approached by Midas, the man leaped back, nearly burning himself to the fire. “s-stay back!” He exclaimed. “Not? Then how about this one?” And Midas showed another drawing, this time of the Plague Doctor. The major shook his head vigorously. “he-- t-that thief's go nothing to do with humans! He uses magic! He's got to be one of your kind!” “Now now...” Midas smiled. “What an attitude, mister major. 'your kind'? You wound me... If I recall correctly, last time you were more than keen to please me. You thought I could make you a rich man and as promised:” Midas gestured to the golden statue, “I made you realize just how rich you are.” The woman could no longer control herself and started sobbing: “my child... my child!!” She tried to rush to Midas to attack him, but was blocked by an invisible wall. “My, how mysterious.... no tricks, no gimmicks...” Spoke Moriarty mockingly. “NO! My wife!” the major rushed over to her. “Don't worry. This spell can be undone as soon as we leave. Unlike the one on your gold daughter.” saying this, Midas shrugged as Moriarty gave him a look. It didn't really matter if they knew or not,  though to mr. Moriarty it showed there was still a lot of naivety in Midas' set of mind towards humans. The major sank to his knees against the invisible wall. “the thief is to be caught dead or alive by anyone, that order went out last time. I don't know anything about the girl. I swear...” “I see. Not really useful.” Midas fingered his gloves again, looking lost in thought at the statue. Moriarty headed back to the door, undoing the spell on the wife without a further glance. “Let's go. We're wasting our time.” “Got it, sir.” Midas rubbed the frozen little girl over the head before following with a spring in his feet. “You lost your patience last time, Scaliwag.” Spoke the fellow witch council member. “m'bad. I couldn't really help myself... I hate greedy humans. I'm sure the girl's better of like this, then with parents who prefer gold over her life. She's loved now.” the man in bandages shrugged. “Useless sentiment... If you'd ask me I hate ALL humans.”