#I wrote the majority of this in the company of a bottle of wine and no amount of editing is going to change that sorry.

[cheerycherrycandy-resurrected]

Blondes Have More Fun

Notes app idea: "Dewdrop, Cumulus and Sunshine as the biggest troublemakers at the Abbey, and also the worst drain-cloggers. Swiss calls them the dumb blonde brigade one day, and they cock-block him for week."

Chapter 1/2 wc: 1491/? Rating: M (eventually)

Read below or on AO3!

Without any exaggeration, they were menaces. To everyone in the Abbey, ghoul or otherwise, Dewdrop, Cumulus and Sunshine were the closest things to demons raised from the pits that they were supposed to be. Not evil by any means, but the trio of ghouls still took pleasure in making the lives of everyone around them just a little bit less convenient every day.

Dewdrop was summoned first, a well-mannered water ghoul albeit with an independent streak a mile wide. He hadn’t caused any problems until his elemental transition, but the Dewdrop of before and after was like day to night. Gone was the little ghoul, who gently teased his packmates and ended every conflict with a hug, and here to stay was an infernal fiend with the desire to make the Ministry pay for all the pain they had caused him and his pack. He had started off strong, “testing” his new elemental abilities by melting through the water pipes directly above Imperator’s office, and setting fire to a closet of antique vestments.

Cumulus was summoned next, alongside her Mate, Cirrus. While both ghoulettes had quickly established themselves as sociable and friendly presences amongst their packmates, Cumulus was far less concerned with ensuring order in the den and far more interested in enjoying every second of her time topside. Unlike Dewdrop, Cumulus was well-liked by the Siblings of Sin. This was mostly due to her incredible light-fingeredness, and subsequent generosity, when it came to the Abbey’s liquor supply. She had quicky formed a close bond with Dewdrop, the pair ensuring their packmates stayed on their toes.

Sunshine was also quick to embrace their mischief-making. She arrived in a burning flash of light, and her presence continued to be as dazzling ever since, bringing an unbridled joy for life to the pack not seen since before the banishings. Immediately latching on to Cumulus and Dewdrop, the pair took upon themselves to unlock the full potential of their new protégé.

The little trio of ghouls had made it their goal to sow chaos throughout the Abbey by any means necessary. Much of the time this was as simple as trying to spook new Siblings from dark recesses within the cloisters, eyes glowing menacingly from inside black robes. They had branched out into more elaborate pranks however as their positions became more secure after Copia’s first, hugely successful, tour as Papa Emeritus IV.

Leaping out from dark corners had turned into staging hunts of Siblings through the grounds, causing senior clergy to tear their hair out in frustration as they struggled to identify the culprit behind the latest terrified wreck of a Sibling. Aether had obviously suspected them, and had tried having stern words about filling the infirmary with unnecessarily scared humans, but to no avail.

When it came to their Papa, they could have gotten away with actual murder if they wanted, one of them only had to bat their eyelashes to achieve forgiveness. Dewdrop had delivered a perfect masterclass in this after Copia tried to reprimand him for switching the goats blood and red wine for Black Mass. He had ended up with a larger recreation budget for the pack, and an apology for not better understanding the emotional needs of his ghouls.

But mostly, the three ghouls liked to prank their own packmates. They had started with an easy target: Rain and his quasi-religious beauty routine. The triple-threat of kool-aid in his shower head, switching his lotion with mayonnaise, and putting popping candy in his exfoliant had landed them a stern talking to from Mountain while the irate, pink-tinged water ghoul had glowered at them, his mayonnaise-scented tail lashing angrily behind him.

After they got yelled at by an exasperated Cirrus for once again clogging the plumbing in the ghoul wing (“It’s got to be one of you three, I’ve been scraping blond hairs out of the pipes all morning!”) following a long morning – and afternoon – of plotting in the giant shared bathing pool, they had switched Cirrus’s boots for an old pair of Sunny’s, the size difference just enough to cause her some mild discomfort and ensure she moved at half-speed all day and hampering her usual military efficiency.

The final straw for Swiss came one day after a whole evening of extra cleaning duty due to someone rubbing soap along one of the corridor floors, causing a five-sibling pileup. He returned to the den to settle down for the night and watch a nature documentary with Phantom, one of their favourite little routines.

“Which one do you want tonight Starburst?” he asked, crawling into the pile of blankets Phantom had arranged on the bed.

“Can we watch one on Eevees?” Phantom asked, gesturing to the cartoon creatures emblazoned on one of the blankets in the heap.

“You mean the Pokémon?” Swiss asked cautiously.

“Yeah, Rain was telling me all about how the different types evolved, how they all have different elements like us!”, Phantom looked up at Swiss, wide violet eyes gleaming with interest.

“Bug, I’m not sure there’s a documentary on them, seeing as they’re not real…”

Phantom sat up straight, turning their whole body to look at Swiss in horror. “What do you mean, not real? The others said…” they trailed off, looking at Swiss like he’d kicked a puppy. Swiss could see the hurt flashing behind their violet eyes, and shook his head gently. Phantom was well known to be the most gullible ghoul in the pack, probably in the Abbey, and Swiss knew how insecure they were about it.

“They did?” Swiss growled. “I’ll be right back Buggy, just going to get us some snacks.”

Swiss stormed off to the den where he was sure he would find the reason(s) for this latest miscommunication. He threw open the door, and found his three main suspects lolling across a sofa, all as high as kites.

“Heey Swissy, come to join us?” slurred Cumulus, almost falling off of the sofa as she waved too enthusiastically at him.

“Yeah, we’ve set Mount’s phone to correct “ok” to “yes Daddy” and he’s trying to text Copia in the group chat!” giggled Dew, his bloodshot eyes full of tears of laughter at their latest escapade.

Swiss was not in the mood.

“Which one of you fuckers told Phantom Pokémon were real?” he snarled, “It sure as hell wasn’t Rain, and you three are all perfectly aware that they’ll still believe anything you tell them, like that time you told them hot dogs were made of real dogs, or that time you said birds weren’t real, or–”

“Ooo who told them they weren’t?” interrupted Sunshine with a slight hiccup, before Swiss rounded his fiery gaze on her.

“I just did. And now they’re upset and embarrassed again, and it’s all you fault!”

He stomped over to the kitchenette, and wrenched open the door of the snack cupboard. At least he could bring Phantom some of their favourite m&m cookies.

And of course, they were gone. There on the coffee table, along with the remains of the rest of the trio’s haul, was the empty packaging.

“Oh for–” Swiss was close to tearing his hair out in frustration. Trying to argue with these three when they were stoned was like debating a brick wall. “Look, I don’t care if you think this funny, the rest of the pack and the whole Abbey is getting pretty fed up with the Dumb Blonde Brigade. You’ll get yourselves shipped off to the pits if you keep acting like this!”

“What did you call us?!” Dew hissed, stumbling blearily to his feet, “The Dumb Blonde Brigade?”

Swiss folded his arms in front of his chest, as Dew lurched towards him, pulling himself up to his full height, eyes just about level with Swiss’s chin.

“Yes, big guy?” Swiss smirked down at him. Dew crossed his arms, matching Swiss’s stance, and puffed out his chest.

“You’re gonna regret calling us that.” Dew informed him, raising his chin defiantly. Swiss watched his bloodshot eyes drift in and out of focus.

“You tell him, baby!” Cumulus hollered from the couch, before falling back against Sunshine in another fit of giggles.

“Sure I’ll regret it. Probably not as much as you’ll regret stealing Mount’s good stash when he catches you though.”

Swiss turned on his heel and stalked out of the den before waiting for a reply, the jeering of the other three ghouls following him down the corridor.

He re-entered his room, plastered a smile onto his face, and focused on taking deep breaths to calm down so the anger rolling off him in waves didn’t upset Phantom’s delicate Quintessence senses.

“Sorry Bug, we’re all out of cookies. I swiped us this though?” Swiss brandished a pre-roll he’d pilfered from under the noses of the others. “What say we find an episode about one of Rain’s fucked-up underwater cousins and smoke this ‘til the walls start breathing?"

[everythingne]

marry me — ls2

you and logan have danced around dating since you had met all those years ago. An impulsive kiss may lead to a big jump in your relationship.

logan sargeant x reader

warnings/notes: steamy kissing guys watch out, so short i wrote this in one sitting, barely beta read, logan being head over heels, we love childhood friends to lovers!!

The photographs spread across the dining room table. You had sorted through majority of the things your mother had sent your way, but the photo albums of old pictures from the summer you’d spent with the Sargeants needed two sets of hands and two brains to sort through.

And so you called over Logan.

He was back in Florida for only a few short weeks during his winter break, visiting his parents and such. You had made the call expecting him to be busy, but you were pleasantly surprised when Logan had cheerfully told you he could be over in an hour after he helped his mom with something. You cleaned up the apartment a bit, changed into something you could wear around company (not that Logan would care), and brought out a bottle of wine for the occasion of reconnecting again after a few years away.

Lucky guess, Logan’s favorite wine was still the expensive one you used to sneak from his grandparents liquor cabinet when he’d visit in the summers.

He’s sitting next to you now, laughing at some photos you’d recently gotten developed. They’re from prom, your family having flown him out to surprise you so you both could go together—as ‘friends.’ Even if the crush you both had on each other was terribly obvious.

“God that was such a fun night,” You grin, showing him a photo you have of Dalton picking you both up and the tiny bottle shots of Fireball you both had in your hand in the photo. Logan laughs at Dalton’s horrified expression and leans on you for support.

“I gotta get you to these clubs after the races, I swear the guys will fucking love you. Oh, what are you doing around Monaco’s GP?” He asks, bright eyes and a wide smile as you slip the photo into the keep pile and keep thumbing through.

“I’ll have finals that week.” You him to him, “so depending on when my classes finish I could probably come down.”

“Please,” Logan laughs, then pauses at a photo that makes his eyebrows tense and he groans, “remember Kadin?”

“Oh my fucking god.” You whisper as Logan flips to show you a photo of his graduation party in Miami, where your short lived pre-college summer fling boyfriend is hanging off you in the pool, “he was such a dick.”

“Why did you even date him? He was a total asshole to you, like, all the time.” Logan tosses the photo in the discard pile and leans over to refill his wine glass as he asks. His eyes meet yours and you shrug, trying to control the blush that desperately tries to show on your face.

“I was bored, and the guy I did like at the time was moving away, so.” You shrug, trying not to look at Logan. You know if you do, you’ll spill your still massively huge crush on him. Wine made your lips looser and you couldn’t afford that right now.

“So, you dated a guy that was so bad I, of all people at that party, was the one who fought him?” Logan smirks and you roll your eyes at his cockiness. He’d broken Kadin’s nose after he caught him talking shit about you, to you. It had been a whole joke between your families for years.

“Hey, you chose to hit him.” You raise your hands in mock surrender and he laughs, picking up his little stack of photos to sort through.

“And I’ve never regretted it.” He clicks his tongue against his teeth and you snort softly at his confidence once more, before turning back to the photos in your hand. Comfortable silence lapses for a moment before Logan sets his down and looks over at you.

“I miss living down the street from you.” He looks over, cheeks red from his words as he watches you in the soft sunset lighting of the kitchen you’d grown up in. You both had done homework in these seats, eaten dinner here, played games, bickered, and had deep talks here. This was the place he’d realized he really loved your way back in fourth grade, and the place he let you go when he moved away for motorsports. You had always been his home, and he was surprised it had taken him this long to figure that out about you.

“I miss it too.” You sigh, “it’s nice to be able to sit and just… be us again.”

But when you turn to look at Logan, it’s like every rational thought leaves your head. Almost like just him being beside you is more intoxicating than the wine you’ve been slowly sipping at. He’s everything you’d ever wanted, he’s everything you needed, and yet he was untouchable. Until now. You watch his eyes as they flicker around you, unable to find a spot to settle, as if every spot of your skin is just as perfect and just as important as the rest. His hand finds your knee and squeezes it, and you find yourself tilting to him, seeking him out. It’s unconscious for you, as it is for him, and right before the big collide he hesitates.

“Is this…” he whispers, his hand sliding up your leg to rest mid thigh as his other comes to your jaw to tilt your head to him. You swallow, hard, and nod to him. To your best friend of almost twenty years, and watch his eyes flicker down to your lips before he leans in. You flutter your eyes shut when your lips softly brush each others, a test, allowing you to pull back if you want. When you don’t Logan pushes in and you meet him and a slight clack of your teeth.

The kisses start as little innocent pecks, but you aren’t complaining when he starts to get a bit more intense with it. You shift to turn yourself, one hand coming to his neck as your thumb presses to his pulse point earning a soft whine between two harsh kisses as a reward, but he nips your bottom lip as payback.

Logan’s presence on you and around you is intoxicating as he pulls you off your chair with one arm, you’d briefly forgotten just how damn strong he was as he effortlessly sets you on the table. His free hand scatters the photos you’d carefully stacked out of the way as he keeps your lips connected in harsh, deep kisses you find take every bit of oxygen out of you as you careen forward each time for more. It’s a feverish moment, lips connecting, sighing, hands grabbing whatever they can to ground you.

“Logan—“ you gasp, and he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes as your hot breaths mingle between you. The feeling of his panting breaths rolling across your neck making goosebumps prickle along your skin.

“Is this okay?” He asks again and when you nod he smiles, “alright, so stop talking and just sit pretty there, yeah?”

“I will but wait,” you gasp for air and he pulls back a bit more, allowing you to catch your breath. It’s here when clarity hits both of you, post make out haze slipping from your minds as his hands settle by your hips on the table.

“I’ve wanted to do that since high school, y’know.” You whisper, “the whole… kissing thing.”

“Me too, yeah.” He agrees, and you both just kinda sit in silence for a moment afterwards, “it’s been a long time coming hasn’t it been? I’ve liked you for… god over a decade now? Almost two?”

“Really?” You giggle as Logan blushes and nods, his hands taking yours as he kisses your knuckles. The heat of the moment is gone, sure, but now there’s a sort of raw genuinity about everything. It’s like seeing the world with glasses for the first time, every fuzzy thing is suddenly clears.

“Remember that promise I made you make in fourth grade?” He says and you almost burst into a loud laugh when the memory hits you, two dumb kids sitting on a playground and pinkie promising under the slide.

“If we weren’t dating by thirty five, we’d marry each other.” You link your pinkie to his and he grins, tightening his hold on your pinkie with his own. The sun comes in beside you, wrapping you both in its warm embrace as the tenderness of the situation makes your skin warm.

“I know we still have time but—fuck it, I’ve been thinking about this since you called me and asked me to come over. I can’t wait any longer. I don’t wanna wait.” He admits, almost whiny at the end before he leans forward and closes his eyes. His forehead rests to yours as he murmurs, “what would you say if I asked you right now? No ring, no witnesses, just us?”

“To marry you?” You feel dizzy, feeling him wrap his other pinkie around your other free one. Locked in.

“To get married, now.” He sits back to look you in the eyes again, “I know it’s kinda weird but I have enough to support us both and I loved you for so long and I—I really want—

“—Logan I would marry you with nothing to show for it.” You let go of his hands to cup his jaw, “Paper rings, no witnesses, just us in this kitchen. I’d marry you here. I’d marry you anywhere. I’ve loved you probably just as long, and maybe we’re rushing it but who fucking cares?”

A giggle escapes your lips and Logan’s smile doubles in size as he takes your hands from his face, holding your right while he kisses your left ring finger.

“Marry me.” He whispers, “marry me right now. I don’t care where we do it, or anything about it, but I want you to marry me. I want to call you my wife and take you to races and let you meet everyone—Oscar will adore you just as much as I do—“

You cut off his ramble with a kiss, this time being the one to pull him in. When you break, you grin and wipe saliva off your lip with your thumb, “Is that a good enough yes? Because I also want all of those things.”

“That’s a better yes than any words you could’ve said.” Logan grins and wraps his arms around you and kisses every inch of skin he can reach. And maybe you’re both tipsy, and this is something you’ll have to actually discuss tomorrow, but for now it’s just you, Logan, and a promise. No rings, no witnesses, no evidence of anything other than puffy lips and the looks in your eyes.

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urusername: lo upgraded me to a real ring this time :)

tagged: logansargeant

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[ao3feed-narumitsu]

Fool Me Once

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/48489682

by petrichor_dandelion

The world slows down when Phoenix Wright picks up his cheap flip phone to answer an incoming call. The world stops once Phoenix Wright arrives at the Prosecutor’s Office to read a note. The world moves on while Phoenix Wright stands with a small gathering of five people and an empty grave. The world forgets Phoenix Wright as he loses himself in the darkness of his house, empty wine bottles and beer cans being his only company.

The world mourns when Defense Attorney Phoenix Wright chooses death.

Or: Phoenix kills himself like a few days before Miles returns to Japanifornia.

Words: 1160, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice.

Fandoms: 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major Character Death

Characters: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth, Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright, Ayasato Mayoi | Maya Fey, Itonokogiri Keisuke | Dick Gumshoe

Relationships: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright

Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide, Suicide Notes, My First Work in This Fandom, My First AO3 Post, POV Alternating, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Phoenix Wright Needs Therapy, Phoenix Wright Needs a Hug, phoenix kills himself, The Author Regrets Nothing, no beta we die like phoenix, Faked Suicide, Major character death - Freeform, Hangover, One Shot, i wrote this at 5 am pls be nice, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, maya is Angry, i cant write, Tags Are Hard, im going to continue this fic but, it can be read as a one shot, POV Third Person Limited, Funeral, Death, there are parts of the story that dont work but idc deal with it, lmk if i need to add more tags, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Miles Edgeworth Needs a Hug, Miles Edgeworth Needs Therapy

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3XBStmP This is an automatic feed of all new stories posted to the Miles Edgeworth/Phoenix Wright tag on AO3. Because of that, it is not guaranteed that Miles and Phoenix are the main characters in the story, nor the only ship. Please verify content upon clicking through to AO3.

[arvinsescape]

Free

A/N: I finally got my new laptop and was able to write again so I wrote an idea that’s been in my head for a while, it’s loosely inspired by Luther, a series that I’ve re watched recently, I hope you all enjoy.

Summary: Tom just knows you had something to do with your husbands murder. His problem? He can’t prove it.

Warnings: Swearing. Smut, unprotected sex (wrap it up, condoms are a barrier from many things), oral (Fem receiving), mentions of murder, talks of an abusive relationship. (Minors do not engage). I think that’s all.

This is purely a work of fiction. I accept constructive criticism. 

W/C: 3.6K

You were driving Tom insane, he knew, in his gut, he was so sure that you had something to do with your husband’s disappearance. The case had landed itself on his desk when missing persons had deemed it a murder case, even without a body. Could he find the hard evidence that linked you to the murder? No. Was he sure it was you? A thousand per cent. Your case had been dropped months ago but he couldn’t get it or you out of his head.

“Tell me what happened?” Tom asked as he sat opposite you for the first time.

“I’ve already answered all of these questions.” You replied, Tom could tell you were nervous, you had a hard expression, but he saw straight through it.

“I don’t believe some of the answers that you gave.” He said as interlocked his hands on the desk, leaning slightly closer to you.

“I’m not really bothered what you believe, it’s what happened.” You fired back.

“People don’t just disappear.”

“Sure, they do. That’s what missing person’s is for, right?” You said as you cocked an eyebrow at him and he almost smiled, slightly enamored by the way you were handling his questioning. He’d gained a reputation for getting people to crack, but you? You seemed unfazed by his line of questioning.

Ultimately Tom had had to let you go because he couldn’t find the evidence, he needed to convict you. It drove him mad, it had him stumped for months just trying to figure out how you’d done it. How you’d evaded his thorough analysis of your property and workplace. You were smart, that was glaringly obvious to him, every time he thought he’d found something, he came up short.

A week ago, he’d found himself with a similar case on his desk, only this time the body was found. Again, there wasn’t much evidence but there were so many similarities between your case and this one. He found himself up for hours cross referencing your case file and this one, although the woman they suspected this time wasn’t as intelligent as you were, she’d lied about her alibi. Unlike you she’d said she was with a friend who denied it. You on the other hand had said you were at home all day and he couldn’t confirm that as truth and so this evidence became inadmissible in court.

He’d found himself on your doorstep, almost wanting to beg for your help, it was strange, he’d never felt like he needed anyone else’s help before yet here he was outside your door.

“Detective Holland. A man I thought I’d never seen again.” You said once you opened your door. He couldn’t help but note how beautiful you looked, he shook the thought away as he showed his badge and entered your home.

“Mrs. Leigh, I need your help.” He said in a matter-of-fact manner, he noted the small smile that had appeared on your lips and fought his own back, yours was so contagious.

“It’s Miss L/N now.” You politely corrected him.

“My apologies.”

“What could you possibly need my help with?”

“A case I’m trying to solve.”

“Forgive me but I’m not sure how I could be of help to you.” You said with furrowed brows.

“I think you could.”

He talked you through the case and his theories, all the holes in stories and suspicious behavior and you just drank it all in, nodding in certain places but ultimately you kept quiet. It wasn’t until e was done that you spoke.

“I mean, and this is all hypothetical, you’d hide the weapon in plain sight.” You answered as you made your way over to your fridge.

“That would be stupid though.” Tom said confidently, there was no way he’d missed something that was in plain sight. He watched as you pulled the bottle of wine from the fridge with a sigh. What had urged you to help him was beyond you, but a part of you knew that your case still haunted him, and you somehow felt guilty for it.

“People like you will always overlook stupid.” You said with a confidence he couldn’t quite place.

“So, you’re saying if someone wanted to hide evidence, they’d do it in plain sight because we��d overlook it?” Tom was bewildered, there was no way that this could be true, he’d spent hours going over the case files, there’s no way he missed such major evidence such as the murder weapon. He watched as you nodded mindlessly before digging through the drawer for a bottle opener.

“The autopsy report indicates a stab wound to the neck.” He continued. “They bled out. I’ve searched that house and I couldn’t find a single knife small enough to fit that wound.” He spoke. He knew the evidence for this case was in the house, the timing of everything would not have given the perpetrator any time to hide evidence away from the house.

He watched as you took the cork out of the bottle, once you’d removed the cork you placed the bottle opener on the counter, the tiny blade used for taking the paper lining off the bottle top was shining at him, almost mocking him.

“I could think of a few.” You hummed as you filled a wine glass. Tom was filled with excitement as he realized you were right, the small knife was easily concealed within the opener, he had overlooked it, not thought for a second that such a small knife was in the most basic household item.

“All I need to do is tie the murder weapon to her and case closed.” He beamed and you smiled, genuinely smiled for the first time since Tom had met you and he couldn’t help but return it, he really was enamored with you.

“Case closed.” You smiled as you sipped from your wine glass.

You had started to infect the young detective’s thoughts in a different way. He used to obsess over how you’d done it and now he was more obsessed as to why. He couldn’t understand how a woman like you, who was so quiet, kind and charismatic could have harmed another person. He started to wonder if he was wrong, if you’d had anything to do with it at all but his gut told him you did.

All the evidence for his current case came together and the victim’s wife had gone to prison for his murder, pleading guilty. She’d killed him because she wanted his money. He thought back to your case, your husband had had a lot of money, but he couldn’t see that being your motive, he couldn’t think of anything that would motivate you to murder someone. Over the time it took him to gather the evidence, he’d sought out your help more than once and he’d become enchanted by you, he found you intriguing, he wanted to get to know you better.

He wondered if that was what had brought him to your doorstep yet again. He should have been out celebrating the win, but he found himself outside your door. He knocked and wondered if you’d answer, it was late, he noted but he found himself hoping you’d open your door for him. When he heard the lock click his heart raced with excitement, he hoped you’d have that lovely smile on your face that you always had.

“Detective.” You smiled and he laughed.

“Tom.” He corrected and you smiled wider at him.

“What brings you to my doorstep Tom?”

“I wanted to thank you.”

“Thank me?”

“I’m not sure I’d have found that evidence had it not been for our chat, so thank you.”

“Well, you’re welcome. Did you want to come in? I’ve just opened a bottle of red.” You asked with that oh so contagious smile.

“How could I refuse?” He said as he made his way passed you and into the living room that he’d become so familiar with.

A bottle of red wine shared between the two later had them both feeling slightly tipsy. Tom knew he should probably make a move, but he didn’t want to, not unless you wanted him to. He found he very much enjoyed your company and wanted to stay in it as long as possible.

“Thank you for helping me finish the wine.” You smiled.

“Favor returned?” He smirked and you laughed.

“Sure. I suppose I won’t see you now.” You thought aloud.

“I suppose not.” He said, you’d moved closer to each other now, faces inches apart. “Unless you want to help me solve more cases.” He continued.

“I don’t think you’ll need my help again.” You said quietly, eyes flicking from each other’s eyes to each other’s lips.

“You never know.” He answered as quietly as you had. Tom licked his lips in anticipation, he probably shouldn’t be entertaining the idea of kissing you, but he couldn’t help it. You hummed in response as your noses brushed one an other’s. He couldn’t stop himself as he closed the small distance between you.

Your lips met in a desperate kiss, his hands finding your hair as you fisted his shirt in a desperate attempt to pull him closer to you. His mind felt blank as he became completely consumed by thoughts of you and what he wanted to do to you. He’d found you attractive the second he’d brought you in for questioning all those months ago but the more he’d gotten to know you the more he found you attractive. The rational part of his brain that was telling him this might be dangerous shut off as bit your bottom lip and you moaned slightly.

Your lips disconnected as you both needed air, both as breathless as each other. You looked at him and the look in your eyes drove him wild, your beautiful eyes were looking back at him completely list blown. He reconnected your lips as you straddled him, his hands finding your waist, lifting your shirt slightly to feel your skin.

“Bedroom?” He asked through a breath as your lips briefly disconnected.

“Upstairs, third door on the right.” You said quickly before reconnecting your lips, the kiss was hot and heavy as Tom stood, carrying you effortlessly to your bedroom, not breaking the kiss for a second. As soon as he found himself in your room, you both fell onto the bed, Tom’s back hitting the mattress. He almost moaned as you rocked your hips into his, the friction causing him to stiffen even more than he thought possible.

“You’re so fucking hot.” He said as he sat up, his lips connecting with your neck. You rolled your head back to give him more access and he took the opportunity to trail kisses down your throat, listening to the small gasps you were exhaling. He was more aroused than he’d ever been in his life, he felt completely drunk off you.

“Tom, I really want you to fuck me.” You spoke and Tom groaned at the filthy words that left your mouth, he wasn’t expecting it.

“Wanna taste you first.” He spoke as he flipped you both over, your back easily hitting the mattress as your lips reconnected. He trailed kisses down your neck as his hands went to the hem of your shirt, pulling it from you effortlessly. He unclipped your bra and threw both your shirt and bra onto the floor. Kissing down your chest as he took a nipple into his mouth, slightly grazing it with his teeth before licking and sucking at it.

Your moans grew louder, and Tom found himself entranced by the sounds you were making, he doesn’t recall ever being with anyone who sounded as pretty as you did. He continued his attention on your nipples, switching from one to the other.

“Tom, please.” You begged and he smirked against your skin.

“What?” He asked as he made eye contact with you, his fingers moving to roll your nipple.

“I need you to move lower.” You moaned.

“Whatever you want baby.” He spoke as he placed a final kiss to your breast before moving down your body.  

He quickly removed your shorts and groaned when he realized you didn’t have underwear on. He looked at your glistening heat and almost moaned at how wet you were for him.

“So wet, look at this.” He said as he ran a finger through your folds. “I’ve barely touched you and your soaked.” He smirked as you rolled your head back into the pillow.

“Please.” You begged as he let out a breath over your heat, watched as you jolted slightly from the sensation. “Tom.” You moaned as he ran his tongue through your heat.

“You taste fucking amazing.” He said before practically diving in, sucking your clit as he listened to your moans. He continued to lick and suck at your clit as he heard your moans grow louder, you must have been close he thought to himself as he sucked your clit and listened to the high-pitched moan you released.

He felt as your hand moved to his hair, almost keeping him still as he continued to lick and suck at your clit, your hips bucking up to meet his movements and e found it so incredibly hot, the way you’d started to use his face to almost get yourself off was driving him wild.

You let out a moan of his name as your orgasm crashed through you, Tom felt your legs shake and helped you through your intense orgasm, feeling proud of himself for not disappointing you. Once you’d come down from your high, he pulled away, moving back up your body, your legs continuing to shake through your aftershocks.

“So perfect.” He mumbled as he gave you a quick kiss, taking in the blissful expression on your face. “Did so well for me. Fucking hot.” He said again as you removed his shirt, placing a kiss onto his chest. You continued pressing kisses to his chest as he fumbled with his belt, almost getting frustrated as it got caught.

“Here.” you said as your hands took over, taking his belt into your own hands, undoing it almost like it was second nature to you. He found it all the more of a turn on. You made short work of his pants; they found their place with the rest of the clothes on the floor of your bedroom.

“You sure you’re okay with this?” He asked.

“Yes. I want you to fuck me Tom.”

It was all the confirmation he needed as he slipped into you, both of you moaning at the contact. Fuck, you felt good, almost perfect for him. You were both a moaning mess as he thrusted into you over and over again. His hand gripping your thigh to hoist it higher around his waist. You almost screamed as he found your g spot from his new angle, your nails clawing at his back which only made him thrust into you harder.

“Fuck, that feels good, you feel so fucking amazing.” He said as he felt you clench around him. He shifted your leg higher to get an even better angle on your g spot as he continuously pounded into you, listening to your moans of his name. he felt his own orgasm approach as you tightened around him, he knew you were close, and he watched in awe as you reached your own hand to your clit and started to rub it.

“That’s it baby.” He said and after a few more thrusts he felt you come around him which brought on his own orgasm, he removed himself from your tight heat and released his load all over your stomach with a moan of your name.

It took you both a good few minutes to recover, he was collapsed on top of you as you ran your fingers through his hair. He kissed your shoulder every few minutes and found himself more happy and content than he’d been in a long time. He removed himself from the top of you and went into the bathroom to find a warm cloth to wash the two of you off.

Once you were both cleaned up he laid in your bed with your head on hi chest as you slept soundly, and he ran his hands through your hair. He was deep in thought as he thought about your case and what had happened and now he was dying to know what had driven you to commit such an act. He was so sure in his gut you’d done it but having you here in the state you were he wondered how you could harm an insect, let alone another person.

“I wish you’d tell me what happened. Just be honest, everything’s different now. I’d want you to confide in me as your partner not see me as a detective who’s looking to lock you away. Fuck Princess, I think I’d move the Earth if you asked me to.” He whispered and he meant it, he didn’t want this time with you to end, he was so infatuated with you by this point. He fell asleep after a while, thoughts of you completely on his mind.

**

“I need to know how you did it.” He spoke after a while of you both being awake, you were spooning now as his hand rubbed your bare skin, he pressed a kiss to your bare shoulder.

“You’ve read the file.” You spoke.

“That says you didn’t do it, but I know you did Princess.”

“My case is closed, why don’t you leave it at that?”

“I can’t. I’m obsessing over it.”

“I’ve already told you.” You said after a while and Tom furrowed his brows as he turned you onto your back so he could look at you.

“No. You haven’t.” He spoke carefully, maybe he’d missed something, a confession maybe.

“For a Detective Inspector, you can be pretty stupid.” You laughed and he thought on your words for a second. Thought about how much help you’d been and what you’d said, of course you knew how this woman had done it, it was how you’d done it. The only difference was that you’d managed to dispose of the body.

“So, you did do it?” He said quietly, a small part of him was proud he was right, his gut was never wrong, but the bigger part of him wondered why.

“You just need to prove it.” You said as a tear made its way down your cheek. Of all the things Tom expected, this wasn’t one of them, he wasn’t expecting you to cry.

“Hey,” he said as he swiped the tear away with his thumb. “Tell me what happened.” He urged in the most comforting manner he could, he needed you to know you could trust him with this.

“Have you ever felt trapped? That’s how he made me feel, like I had no way out. I tried to leave him so many times, but he wouldn’t let me, he had me by the throat and it felt like he was squeezing the life out of me.” You said through your tears and Tom’s heart dropped, this wasn’t a usual case where the wife murders the husband for a payout. “He wasn’t the nice rich guy everyone thought he was, he hit me, took all his anger out on me but I could never prove it, if I had bruises I wasn’t allowed to leave the house until they weren’t visible, which wasn’t often. I snapped.” You spoke and he pulled you into a hug.

“Y/N…” He said and you interrupted him.

“But it never matters to people like you. You don’t give leeway for the small amount of people who had no other choice. That’s why I never came clean, never admitted to what I’d done, I didn’t want him to trap me any more than he had, I didn’t want to go to prison because of him.” You said as you finally let the tears out that you’d kept in for so many months.

You hadn’t intended to kill him; it was an accident. You cried for ten minutes as Tom held you, placing comforting kisses to your temple. Something about finally telling the truth was freeing, you knew he could and would probably arrest you for this, but it felt good to finally tell someone the truth that was eating away at you.

“I’m not going to do anything.” Tom spoke after a while.

“What?” You asked through sniffles as your tears ceased.

“I understand now. You’ve been punished enough. Your secret is safe with me.” He said sincerely and you believed him, but you didn’t want to drag him down with you.

“You could lose your job, go to prison if anyone found out.” You said and he kissed your cheek.

“They won’t, your case has become a cold one. There’s still no body, I doubt they’ll reopen the case.” He said through a small smile. He didn’t want to ask what you’d done with the body, he assumed you were clever enough to make sure it was never found and if it was he would make sure none of the evidence led to you, he would make sure that all the evidence ran dry, he felt like he would do anything for you.

“So, I’m free?” You spoke, hope lacing every word.

“You’re free baby.”

[mcheang]

Exclusive

Edna Mode was a renowned designer, famed for her harsh but accurate critiques, her fierce and practical lines, and of course, being the designer of the majority of superheroes.

And now she was hosting a fashionista gala, inviting those worthy of a Mode gala. As for those asking for an invite, Edna just asks who they are and calls security.

Lila, as the self-proclaimed BFF of Ladybug, and Gabriel’s muse, had already boasted of receiving the glamorous invitation. It didn’t just come in an envelope, it came out of the sky in a rosewood chest, accompanied by a bottle of wine and canapés. (Or so she says. Adrien and Marinette rolled their eyes. Chloé wasn’t paying attention)

Alya: Girl, I’m so jealous. But hey, maybe this will be a good thing. After all, Adrien is going with Kagami. Chloe will just stick with her mom. That means it’s a chance for you and Marinette to know each other better.

Oh yeah, did I mention that everyone knows Marinette is MDC?

Lila forced a grin but didn’t want to make any promises.

Imagine Lila’s rage to know she wasn’t given an invite because she was just a model. Adrien was the heir to a fashion company. She was not.

With all the bragging Lila did, she can’t back out or Chloe and Marinette will call out her absence. (Chloé learned about Lila being a guest from Sabrina later from gossiping)

So, she stole Marinette’s invitation. She did some editing and made her own customised invite, brandishing it for her class to see.

Marinette saw her invitation missing, rolled her eyes and reported the theft to Edna. Plz, everyone knows Edna invited her. She didn’t really need a piece of expensive paper.

The day of the gala arrived, and Lila brought out her invite.

The guard looked at his clipboard. “You’re not on the list.”

Lila: No, but I do have an invite. Obviously someone must have made a mistake with your list.

The guard snorted. “If that’s the case, then your fingerprints and eye scans should have already been registered. That’s what opens the doors.“

Lila gulped and thought about sneaking in with the next guest. But no such luck. Security made sure one person entered at a time.

As the security guard moved to push Lila back into the crowd of fans, Lila cried out that she knows Ladybug and Gabriel.

Guard: what’s your point?

Lila: You’ll be fired for this!

Guard: Yeah, yeah. I’ve heard this all before.

Another guard just scoffed. “You’re only a model. One of many in the industry. Miss Mode doesn’t care for models.”

Lila: what are models if not the face of fashion?

“Spoiled, stupid little stick figures with poofy lips who think only of themselves” Edna herself was at the entrance, wondering what was causing the disruption in her guest entrance flow.

Lila: How can you say that? Then why would Ladybug be my Best Friend?

Edna: the day Ladybug says she is your Best Friend is the day I wear crocs. And I don’t mean crocodile leather.

Edna points at a random guard. “You, get this so-called model out of the way. She is blocking the queue.

Oh by the way, Edna calling out Lila was caught on camera by the reporters.

One of them questioned why she was kicking out Gabriel’s muse when his son, a supermodel himself, was invited.

Edna: I did not invite the boy because of his face. I invited him because I saw potential (basically she realized he was Chat Noir. She would never invite Adrien otherwise. As seen from her quote, she doesn’t have a high opinion of models) That is, if he ever gets out of his father’s shadow. Because, let’s face it darling, what can Adrien do besides look pretty and play with swords and piano? You would think the boy would be in part of business meetings, but no. At this rate, Gabriel needs this gala to get out of that stuffy house. Realize that maybe his parenting methods are flawed compared to some other talented figures here. Look at Miss Kagami, focused on upholding her family legacy of fencing. MDC already knows how to run her own business after learning a bit from her parents. Even Audrey’s daughter has been joining in on becoming a fashion critic and throwing parties for political parties. But I must go, my guests await.

Back inside the party, guests were avoiding a seething Gabriel’s eyes. He had come to scout out the superhero guests, only to be called out by Edna on live tv.

Marinette went up to Edna and asked one of her fashion idols why she burned the Agrestes in public.

Edna: do you think Gabriel would change his parenting ways if we did not expose them to the influential figures of this industry, as well as the public eye? I guarantee you Adrien will be allowed more freedom of choice, lest Gabriel wants his son to be known as a coddled boy who can’t even make his own decisions.

Edna didn’t bother softening her sharp voice as she says these words.

Adrien flushed.

Quickly changing the subject, Marinette asked why Edna hated models.

Edna: it’s not that I hate them personally. I just hate their jobs and what they represent. Models nowadays are beautiful only according to the world standards. People who see them want to be like them, never mind that the models they see on the screen are airbrushed to unrealistic and impossible perfection. Now models focus only on their own appearance, trying to maintain their beauty as time ages them. They go on diets and become superficial. Whereas outside the modelling industry or such like, you don’t need to be stereotypically beautiful to be worthy. Where your worth is measured in kindness and bravery and talent and intelligence and anything beyond superficiality.

Adrien overheard and he frowned, not liking the idea where his appearance on ads is not exactly right. He only joined the company to make his father happy. But maybe it’s time he stepped into the business side of things and exit the modelling world. Bonus: no more Lila!

Edna snorted, “Though I must admit Gabriel surprised me with his newest model. Her attitude is lousy but she doesn’t strike me as a model. She just doesn’t have that model walk. But enough about the old man, my dear MDC, let’s talk about you. I love your gender-neutral line. And was wondering if you would like to join me in creating my next line of clothes for the Incredibles. A rare opportunity but I like style. Now take this offer before I change my mind.”

Marinette: wait, do I have to fly over or-

Edna: you are too excited, darling, but don’t worry, my assistants will send you the details.

Why are the Incredibles getting a new look? The kids are growing up and Edna wanted to move on to new styles.

As Marinette was flabbergasted, Audrey congratulated her for landing the job. Kagami and Adrien also beamed at her good fortune.

Even the Incredibles admitted they looked forward to working with her. Violet was a big fan.

Gabriel was seething and thought about akumatizing himself but come on, one villain against a room of superheroes? No thanks.

Drinking a glass of wine, he eventually admits that Edna had a point, however loudly and rudely it had been announced.

He would not be around forever and he wanted to leave the company in Adrien’s hands. In order for that to happen, his son needs to know business (if he can’t design, he can hire designers)

And yes, Lila was a lousy model. She survived by shooting with professional models who managed to overpower her mediocre work. But a deal was a deal. Besides, her contract was only for a year.

After the gala, Adrien happily quit modelling (aka Lila) to spend more time with his father, learning about how to run a company.

Marinette and Edna proudly claimed credit for the fashionable Incredibles.

Violet also became the talk of the school for her MDC exclusives.

Lila had been humiliated on air. Alya hesitated but finally did her research. At the end, she collapsed over the ruined credibility of her blog. But she can still get revenge by informing the principal, Ms Bustier and Mrs Rossi what Lila lied about. The perks of being a class vice president for a busy class president is that she also has the contacts list for emergencies.

Considering how Lila framed Marinette, there would be no suspension or detention. Only expulsion. Good luck finding a new school when Edna’s gala was a global topic.

When Lila returned to school for her last week (it takes time to gather evidence and get the attention of busy adults), nobody wanted to talk to her or even exchange glances. She quietly kept to herself, hoping for this to blow over soon. She was still a model working for Gabriel. She could befriend other supermodels (as if. Like they would want to befriend her after Edna called her out)

Hell, even her jobs were down. Gabriel just told her to take test shoots to fill up her portfolio until the hype died down (aka her contract expired)

When Lila was expelled, she was ready to be akumatized into Chameleon again. Except one problem. Everyone avoided her like hell so how could she kiss her target. Even Adrien was told to stay away lest his reputation be tarnished.

Ok, I admit it. I was hit by “I’m no Angel” quotes as I wrote this. But seriously, does anyone feel weird at the idea of trying to become thinner when your weight is just right, all the while you know there are people out there even thinner than you are and are starving, not because they want to be stereotypically thin, but because they cannot afford food?

[absconditum-imaginaerum]

Taeyong | Oversight Words | 5.6k Genre | Fluff, tiny dash of angst. Notes | Female!Reader x NCT Taeyong, Alcohol/inebriation, suggestive material (mention), probably a mess I wrote in two days. Slightly edited. This was going to be 2k and then it wasn’t.  Summary | Taeyong gets a little too drunk and finally reveals the feelings he’s had for you the whole time, but not without some serious oversight on his part.  

Taeyong was a lightweight; everyone knew it, everyone made fun of it, everyone gave him shit for it. But being the sweetheart Taeyong was, he took it in stride, even when he went out with his friends and they constantly told him to slow down, joked about how he’d be blackout drunk in no time, that he probably should drink some water and eat some greasy fried foods. He mostly only went out with his friends to escape the monotony of home, of staring at the bleak white walls of his room or office, to look away from the equally bleak white pages he scribbled over in the middle of the night, the middle of the day, or really any time inspiration struck him. Even though the old man within him craved to be in the quiet, away from the bumping club music and sweaty bodies swaying around him, it was nice to spend some time lounging with some buddies and joke about things other than his alcohol intolerance.

Admittedly, he got uncomfortable any time the relationship conversation came up. Taeyong couldn’t say he was actively looking for a relationship—he actually quite enjoyed his zero commitment alone time—but sometimes he craved the affection for another more extensively than peer support. Even though his friends joked around being playfully affectionate (and he did so right back) he knew there was nothing that could fill the void of that genuine affection. His buddies often tried to use his quickly built courage to try and talk to some people around the club, but he seldom went for it. Would it be apt to call Taeyong picky? Maybe. In all the time he spent being single, he really had time to hone in on exactly what he was looking for, and while that took a little more delving into personalities to really bring to light, he tended to be a pretty good people-reader as well.

But it just so happened that that particular night brought one person who caught his attention and caught it hard. He curiously eyeballed an individual in the next cluster of seats over, sitting with their party, enjoying some drinks and laughing just like he was supposed to be doing. Mindlessly, he continued to sip at his beer, a bit hoppy for his taste (if he had a taste for alcohol; he was a self-proclaimed wine connoisseur) while he admired the features of said individual, perhaps too far off in dreamland to notice the way his friend group had caught him staring and went quiet.  They looked at him suspiciously, a close buddy, Jaehyun, followed his gaze over to your group.  

“Someone catch your fancy, Taeyong?” Jaehyun asked, almost startling the older male. Taeyong blinked hard a couple of times, crash landing back to earth as he looked to the curious eyes of his friend, and then to the other curious eyes of his group.

“Was I staring that hard?” he asked with a laugh, feeling a little embarrassed as the others joked around with him. He tried to get comfortable on the lounge he was seated on, sitting up a little straighter as he tried to bring his attention back to his own company.

But in the back of his mind, he swore he knew you from somewhere. He was already his third beer in and a shot of whiskey, which was one more than he typically had on a night out with the addition of the whiskey that he never partook in, so maybe his judgment was a little skewed. Already feeling a little funny, he chalked it up to the fact that maybe you looked like someone he knew and shook his head a little more to get his thoughts cleared.

You, however, had noticed his occasional glances. Recognizing a majority of his friend group, there was no mistaking it was him. But it was your girl’s night out, and clearly his boy’s night out, so it would be crashing both your parties if you went out of your way to speak to him—not to mention, you also knew of his intolerance and he was probably too gone to really recognize you anyway. You had to laugh at that fact. He always got real rosy in the cheeks and nose, and he got that boyish grin that was too adorable, the one he had on right now.

“Why don’t you go talk to him if you’re going to keep looking?” one of your friends suggested, nudging you in the side.  

You almost scoffed. “He’s a friend of mine. Plus it’s girls night, we agreed no interests, just us,” you said, raising your glass to cheers to your friend group.

“I’ll drink to that,” another chimed in, clinking glasses with the rest of your pals before she grabbed the hand of an unsuspecting friend and dragged her out of the lounge cluster and to the dance floor. You laughed, watching them go, watching the face of the dragged give you a horrified look begging for you to save her, but you gave her a pitiful wave.

“Isn’t that his longtime friend?” one of the boys whispered to the other away from Taeyong’s inattentive ears. Johnny peeked around Jungwoo to scan your group before landing on you, obviously the one that Jungwoo was referring to as the one Taeyong had been eyeballing.  Slowly, he nodded.

“He must already be a little tipsy to not even recognize her; or maybe he does but can’t place it,” he mentioned in return, both of them turning their gaze to Taeyong and Jaehyun who had their attention trained on the previous two.

It was a pretty well-known (or well-assumed) fact that Taeyong pined over you. The two of you had been friends for ages, and Taeyong had to grapple with some feelings that he was fairly certain you didn’t return; or, at the very least, didn’t express that you returned. He always thought you were pretty, smart, witty, funny—the list really could go on, and he had honestly caught himself comparing so many potential matches and interests to you, which ultimately sabotaged his pursuit for a relationship in the first place. He knew it wasn’t healthy, trying to find your duplicate; it ended his search for a significant other in a hurry, and the group partly knew that. They had hoped that if they pushed him hard enough, he would eventually let it go. Eventually, he would, but they weren’t sure it was coming soon enough.

Especially not as he continued to sit there and steal glances at you from the corners of his eyes when he thought his buddies weren’t paying close enough attention, but a tipsy Taeyong wasn’t particularly inconspicuous. He knew he was already on the downslope, he could feel it in the way his head was getting cloudy, and since he was already on the downslope, he continued with his beer, followed by another, and another.

It was hard to tell which bottles were his, and he wasn’t exactly keeping count as he looked across the lounge table that was littered with bottles and shot glasses and rocks glasses. It smelled of alcohol and sweat, of mixed faded colognes that wreaked of a cocktail all by themselves. Taeyong rubbed a hand against his face, to coolness from holding his bottle waking him up a bit.

“You okay, dude?”

Taeyong swung his head over to the origin of the voice—Jaehyun, who hadn’t left his side since they’d arrived. He blinked hard before a glass of cold water was shoved into his hand.

“You’re going a little ham; have some water,” he encouraged, a chuckle punctuating his teasing before he got up to give the older some space. He could tell by looking at his friend, not to mention his mannerisms, that it probably was far too late to save him. And if anyone knew Taeyong, it was Jaehyun. He knew somewhere in there, Taeyong was having a lot of internal battles, and he was sure that seeing you, whether he recognized you or not, wasn’t helping at least a few of those battles.  

Obediently, he sipped his water, noting the cool way it slipped down his throat, the feeling in his mouth, trying any type of mindful exercise to bring himself back to earth. It was hot as hell in there. At least it felt like it, he couldn’t be too sure. Clubs were notoriously toasty, but this was a bit much. He leaned forward to put the water on the table, itching to get outside to get some cool air on his face.

Taeyong stood, a little wobbly, and nearly tripped on the couple of stairs up out of their lounge pit. Jaehyun protested his departure, but he was emphatic that he needed some fresh air and ignored his friend anyway as he stumbled between the crowd of people only clogging his senses even further. Once he finally made it to the front door, he pushed both his hands against the tinted cooled glass to shove it open and all but fall into the night breeze.  

It seemed to sober him up a little bit as he slumped against the brick building, feeling the protruding corners press into his back through his dark button-up. He closed his eyes, tilting his head up to the night sky to let the breeze run over the warmest parts of his neck as he counted his breathing. Never did he do well with being intoxicated, but even less so being this intoxicated. Taeyong hated being impaired, the very thought of not being in full control almost terrified him, and yet here he was, trying to will the alcohol out of his system because even though he was inebriated, he could still tell it was a mistake.

“You good, babe?” a dainty female voice asked him. He was standing right outside the club, so the likelihood of someone seeing him was pretty high. Still, he nodded his head, not even bothering to look at whoever was checking on him— he wasn’t even sure they were talking to him, but he was sure he looked pretty bad.

“Do you need me to call you someone, or a cab?” she prodded.

“No, no, I’m good. Just need some air,” he defended, finally opening his eyes to meet a form that matched the voice. He brought a hand up to his face, trying to cool off his scalding cheeks as he turned back to ignoring her existence, finally able to hear her heels click off into the distance. He lingered outside for a bit longer, giving his cheeks a couple of taps and taking a few steps in either direction, deciding it was still best to water down the alcohol with something else.

So he approached the bar and produced some bills from his pocket to order a coke with a splash of grenadine. The bartender gave him a weird look but produced a dark icy glass garnished with a couple of cherries and an orange wedge. Taeyong shoved the bills across the bar, and collected his glass, just to lay eyes on you once more, sitting right there in front of him at the bar where he’d squeezed in to order.

You were observing him but hadn’t said anything, letting him get his business done first, but he caught your gaze. He looked like a deer caught in headlights for just a moment, watching you look at him with your pretty long lashes and glittered makeup like you were a lion and he was in trouble. Taeyong wasn’t the type to go down like that though.

He bit his lip and pushed a hand through his hair, attempting to salvage some suaveness as his gaze trained on your face. Your lips were glossy and slightly parted as you waited for him to say something, your head tilted amusedly to the side, the curiosity itching within you.

“Hi,” he started, and it widened your shy smile.

“Hi,” you replied.

“How are you?”

It was cute to watch him; you knew you were a bit done up, in a way he’d probably never seen you, only adding to the fact that he was too drunk to recognize you anyway. Even still, the sincerity in his voice you knew well—he was genuine about trying to pick you up.

“I’m well,” you replied gently, “and yourself?” You gestured with your eyes towards his drink, an unusual non-alcoholic order.

He smiled nervously at your gesture, almost missing it, as he lifted his glass a bit with a soft laugh. “I’m a little tipsy; I don’t drink well,” he admitted, the red tinge on his cheeks that was customary when he drank turned a little darker.

“You’ve been finding me all night,” you commented with a light chuckle, turning fully towards him and crossing your right leg over your left, setting your elbow on the bar to flirtatiously rest your chin against it.

“Never was one to be inconspicuous,” he returned, trying to defend himself—he really was that obvious. “Plus I find it hard to look away from someone astoundingly pretty.”

“Do you always remain articulate when you drink?” you teased; he still hadn’t caught on to who you were, and at this point, probably wouldn’t. You didn’t even give him time to reply as you slipped out of your bar chair, grabbed your drink and his hand, and led him patiently through the crowd back to his lounge cluster and his friends who, by the looks on their faces, were getting worried about him.

Gracefully, you slumped onto the lounge next to Taeyong, pulling the hem of your cocktail dress down just a little bit as you placed a hand on his shoulder.  Johnny and Jaehyun watched you closely—the both of them knew you well, and vice versa, but you ignored them for the time being because you were there in the moment for Taeyong.

His cheeks were rosy, nose almost red as a button, and his gaze glazed over you like he wasn’t sure he was even looking at anything, but that boyish grin still tugged at the corner of his lips. Taeyong sloppily pulled the glass of coke up to his mouth to take a deep sip from the straw.

“He found you,” Johnny said, breaking the somewhat awkward silence since it had been a good couple of moments since the both of you sat down and said nothing. Of course, you promptly acknowledged the both of them at that point, mind a little preoccupied with your rather inebriated boy.

“He did find me,” you replied with a chuckle, affectionately looking at Taeyong as you had been doing so most of the night. You tucked some strands of disheveled dark hair behind his ear.

“I think I’m drunk,” he told you, loudly gulping the coke as it forced down his throat.

“You are, sweetheart,” you told him with a laugh. His head lazily swung to you, noting your dress which allowed him the perfect view with the way you were sitting, slightly hung up on his shoulder and his jaw shifted a bit, tongue poking around his mouth before you took his chin to guide his face back up to yours. He eyeballed your glossy lips as he blinked slowly, eventually pulling his gaze up to your eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so drunk.”

“I don’t drink. Er… I can’t drink,” he told you for the second time.

A sweet and endearing smile pulled at your lips as you looked at him. He slumped into the backrest of the lounge, still working on his cool drink. When he’d finished slurping down that coke, you were quick to hand him a glass of water.

“I should probably get him home,” you commented. Half of you offered to take him home because you wanted to make sure he was safe, and probably with someone, meaning with you, at your house. And the other half of you wanted to take him home because you would have a means to get home. Since all of your friends had already called it a night or were nowhere to be found, it would be convenient for the both of you if Taeyong left with you.

“You don’t have to shoulder that responsibility. He came with us—”

“I’m not blaming you, if that’s what you’re insinuating,” you interjected, giving Jaehyun a sweet look. “I don’t have a ride home anyway, and I think maybe someone should look after him. How about it, do you want me to take you home?” you asked, directing your question to Taeyong who was sitting contentedly with the straw of his water perched comfortably between his lips. His eyes shifted over to you, maybe he was sobering up a little bit, and nodded.

“Yes, please,” he responded and dished his empty water cup onto the table in front of him. You held your hand out to him, gesturing for his keys, and he straightened his right leg to dig into his pocket to produce them for you, laying them gingerly in your open palm.  

You stood first, smoothing your dress out, and gave the boys a genuine smile. “Thank you for watching after him,” you said, sincerely, and then waved before cupping your hand against Taeyong’s to lead him back through the sweaty crowd of people, grabbing a to-go cup of water, and through the same front door. You clicked around on the fob, looking for lights to illuminate to indicate his car before making your way to it and gently finessing him into the passenger’s side before finding your way to the driver’s side and shove the key into the ignition to turn.

“Taeyong,” you cooed and his head swung to look at you again.

“You’re pretty,” he blurted, resting his head against his seat’s headrest as his gaze fluttered.

“Thank you,” you said, reaching out to touch against his cheek, “do you know how to get to your home?”

Meekly, he shook his head. He was nothing if not honest when he was drunk, and at least was still there enough to know that he didn’t know. So, you put the car in reverse to pull out from the parking spot to drive home; it wouldn’t be the first, or probably the last time he’d stay the night at your place.

He quietly sipped his water in the passenger’s seat, the radio low and ambient; the gears were turning in his head—he wanted to ask you so many questions like where you were taking him, but he couldn’t quite get the configuration of even that sentence. So, he sat and eyeballed you from the corner of his eyes as you carefully drove to your apartment. You pulled into the covered parking, leaving plenty of room for Taeyong to get out on his own, but he sat buckled for quite some time after you turned the car off.

“Are you tired?” you asked him, noting the time was a little before one in the morning.

He nodded shyly.

“Do you want to go in and go to sleep?” you asked, and again he nodded. He looked like just a boy in that moment, sunken into the seat with the straw of his cup comfortably between his lips as he sheepishly nodded at your questions. Maybe he needed help getting up, so you tugged the keys from the ignition and rounded the car to open his door, then held out a hand for him to take to lift him from the car.

Taeyong all but stumbled into you, his footing not great but you didn’t have difficulties corralling him sturdily back onto him. The blush that hit his cheeks with the way that your fingers laced with his to begin your trek to your apartment door was luckily masked by his current rosiness, and he wouldn’t dare look at you, even as you squeezed his hand in reassurance before coming up to your door. You produced your keys from your jacket pocket and turned the handle to carefully let him in and it didn’t seem like long before he made his way, with your help, into your bedroom with a quick pit-stop to the bathroom.

You tugged the covers of your pristinely made bed back before helping him with his jacket to toss over the Papasan chair in the corner of your room. He watched you intently, especially as you came back face to face with him. His eyes glittered like galaxies captive as he looked into your eyes, his tongue flicking out to moisten his lips for only a second.

And you saw it coming. You saw it coming the whole way and didn’t bother to stop him. His soft lips slanted against yours; gentle, warm, and tender, while his arms dangled lifelessly at his sides. Taeyong’s eyes were closed before his mouth even met yours, and it took a minute for yours to fall closed too, relishing the kiss in a way you didn’t think you ever would. Part of you knew he wouldn’t remember, and you could keep a secret, so it couldn’t hurt. But the way he broke the kiss, the soft sound of parting lips that echoed in the silence of your bedroom, sent a shiver down your spine. Even though it was over, his lips lingered, brushing against yours that had your nerves standing on end. Your eyes fluttered open, noting his were still closed. One of your hands reached forward to touch against his forearm, shielded by the sleeve of his button-up, and only then did he bring an arm forward to wrap around you with the intention of taking things further.

“T,” you uttered. You only ever called him that when he needed to pay close attention, so like clockwork, his eyes opened with a hundred percent attentiveness on what you had to say next as he backed off you a bit. “I’m going to get you a fresh cup of water, by the time I come back, I want you cozy in this bed,” you told him.

He hesitated for a moment as the comprehension kicked in, and then nodded. You turned to head back into your kitchen to get him said cup of water, lingering for a bit to give him enough time to get comfy. And when you returned, he was right where you asked—his clothes in a messy pile on the floor, himself tucked deep under the covers and you could tell by the look on his face that the alcohol was wearing and he was exhausted. The clunk of the Styrofoam to-go cup against your bedside table stirred him just enough to look at you.

“You sleep tight, if you need anything I’ll be in the living room,” you told him, ruffling his already disheveled fringe as you carded them away from his forehead, rummaging through a drawer on your way out of the bedroom and closed the door behind you.  

You grabbed an extra pillow from your linen closet on your way back to the living room, a nice throw blanket already splayed across the back of it, so your primary focus was shimmying out of your cocktail dress to pull the oversized tee you’d grabbed over your body. The couch sunk under your weight as you adjusted the pillow up against the armrest and tugged the throw over your body; you reached over to the lamp to click it off a burrow in for the night.

The sun, begging to push through the slats of your partially cracked blinds, illuminated Taeyong’s bare skin as he laid on his stomach, arms tucked up under the pillow he was laying on with the covers pushed down to the small of his back. He licked his dry lips, a groggy sound of discontent pushing from his body as he stirred to somewhat consciousness as you cracked the door open. Slowly, you crept in, trying to be as noiseless as possible before making your way over to the side of your bed. His water cup was mostly empty, which brought a tinge of a smile to your face. At least he was hydrated.

You pushed your hand over his warm back, still more or less in the same spot you left him, and cooed his name. He turned his head away from you, again, prompting you to climb over him to sit up near the top of the bed and peer down at him.

“Taeyong,” you whispered, “Taeyong, it’s time to get up to eat.”

“I don’t want to,” he grumbled and then winced, his hangover headache in full swing.

“It will make you feel better,” you reminded him, still keeping your voice down to not bother him too much. His eyes cracked open to look at you before closing again, just open long enough to judge the distance it would take to lift himself and plop his head back down on your lap. Your hands immediately threaded through his hair to comb through it.  He let out an exasperated sigh, obviously happy to be in soothing company considering his condition, and to him, little was more soothing than your tender touches anywhere on him.

“What happened?” he asked, “why do I feel like trash?” he almost groaned, adjusting his arms to be more comfortable around your legs.

“Well, you were out at the club last night with your friends, and you got drunk. Like, really drunk.”

“That explains the headache…” he muttered. “So, how did I end up here?”

“I was there; I suppose you don’t remember. My friends left me early and I didn’t have a ride home and I wanted someone to look out after you considering your condition. You couldn’t tell me the way to your new place, so I brought you here,” you said with a laugh, recalling that you sat down on the couch, gave him some water, finessed him to his own car, and drove him to your place without him fully understanding who you were. You essentially kidnapped him.

“I don’t remember anything,” he admitted, which meant he didn’t remember the kiss.

“Then I suppose you don’t remember hitting on me at the bar or calling me pretty about three times,” you reminded him. You could feel the way he tensed up on your lap, his eyes flying open to stare at the covered window across the room from your bed.

“I literally tried to pick you up and you didn’t… say anything??” he asked.

You laughed.  “It was cute! I’ve never seen you like that before.”

“What else don’t I remember?” he asked, almost in agony. He sincerely hoped it didn’t go too far. Hitting on you in the first place was an extreme oversight—the fact that he was too drunk to recognize you or put two and two together was just a blunder.

“Don’t get mad,” you started which piqued his curiosity beyond comprehension. What could you possibly say, the worst-case scenario was—

“We slept together.”

His head shot off your lap and he was upright faster than you could blink.

“We what!”

The panic on his face was so much more than you could ever have imagined. He looked at you wide-eyed, nervous out of his mind. The fact that he didn’t remember anything meant he didn’t remember if proper precautions were taken, which was his primary concern over sleeping with his best friend.

“I’m kidding, Tae!” you exclaimed, reaching out to take both of his arms to calm him down as much as possible. You could almost see his heart racing, almost able to feel the way his blood pumped in such an intense rush. “I brought you home and put you to bed.”

“That’s so not funny!” he complained. “You scared the crap out of me! I thought I was way more responsible than that!”

“Are you calling me irresponsible? After I brought you home?” you questioned, but it was all in more teasing.

“I mean, no! But that’s still not funny!”

“Are you saying you’re put off by the idea of sleeping with me?”

“How do I even answer that?” he asked, blush tinging his cheeks. “I mean, you’re my closest friend. We’re not really in the type of situation that calls for thinking about that? But if I have to answer… I can’t say that I am…”

Now that he seemed a bit calmer, it was time to drop the real bombshell on him. You’d opened up the conversation with that shock tactic. But now you weren’t sure if he’d even believe you.

“Well, that’s good, because you did kiss me.”

Taeyong buffered for a moment, the gears turning in his head to decide if he should believe you or not after you had just fibbed about something so serious.

“What are you trying to do?” he asked. He’d be hard-pressed not to question your motives at this point. “I don’t remember,” he reiterated, looking at you with a knitted brow to display his frustration. His hands were clawing against the comforter, now crumpled on your bed underneath him after scrambling to his knees off your lap.

“I’m not trying to do anything,” you replied tenderly. Having this conversation was welling a handful of feelings deep in your chest, feelings that were pricked at last night when he did kiss you. You swallowed hard, looking at him sternly, trying to relay to him the seriousness of that statement. It was the truth after all.  You weren’t sure how else to tell him; what else was there to say besides telling him in plain language, straight up, unadulterated, no frills or run-around.

You cast your gaze down for a moment looking at the way his knees were tucked under him, before trailing up his bare chest, over the centerline of it, over his collarbones, his slender neck, his sharp jaw to his perfect lips you could still remember were as soft as a cloud against your own, slightly parted, ready to say something.  

He wasn’t ready for you, but you leaned in anyway, gently putting one hand against his leg and the other to his side, deep into the comforter, and tilted your head up to take his soft lips with your own. Taeyong jolted a bit, and it took a solid moment before the feeling really did become familiar. One of his hands took the wrist of yours against his leg. The other slowly finding its way to your jaw, gingerly stroking his fingertips across the cut of it before filing around your ear, cupping against the side of your neck as he finally leaned into you.  

Before too long, you tugged away, feeling your point was made, but he wasn’t ready to let you go. His hand still circled your wrists, so you didn’t depart the kiss too quickly. He drew his bottom lip between his teeth, relishing the taste of your lips for a moment longer before his eyes finally opened.  You drew back to sit on your own legs again, tugging your hand back to place them both in your lap as you looked at him nervously. Maybe he really didn’t remember anyway and now you were in trouble.  The look on his face wasn’t particularly receptive, but sometimes he was difficult to read, especially as his jaw shifted, gaze scanning your face before he made his next move.

“You’re right,” he muttered, leaving you no time to reply as he leaned into you, reaching out to reel you in from behind the back to tug you close to him, slanting his lips back across yours a bit more confidently this time around. One of your hands caught his shoulder to stabilize yourself, especially as he leaned deeper over you, while the other pressed against his warm chest. He continued to lean deeper until your legs shifted out from under you and your back laid against the mattress and he hovered over you, breaking that kiss too, but not without following it up with a couple of tender pecks. Taeyong’s fringe had fallen forward, brushing against your forehead just as your eyes began to open, just to close again as you tilted your chin up to kiss him once more.  

He pulled back far enough you couldn’t reach; for a moment, he just wanted to look at you, to observe your features, your eyes and the way they glittered looking at him, your mouth and the way your tongue was trapped between your teeth just behind your glossy lips.

“You really are beautiful…” he whispered, “and you’re right, the second you kissed me… that’s a sensation I can’t forget.”

“Why didn’t you just tell me?”

“Pride,” he said, “fear, insecurity, stupidity, the list goes on. Most importantly, I’d give up so much before I gave you up.”

“Dummy,” you replied, teasingly shaking your head.

“Don’t remind me,” he answered, leaning over to dodge your face and hide his slight embarrassment against your neck, absolutely adoring the quiet sigh you tried to hide as he kissed against the crook of your neck before you felt his arms dig under you.

“Make breakfast with me?” he asked, hulling you to an upright position again, mostly across his lap before letting you go. You crawled off the bed and reached over to take his hand, lacing it deep with yours as you tugged him towards the kitchen. A genuine smile crossed both of your faces as he followed you, unable to help the desire to turn you against the kitchen counter and kiss you again through that smile, making up for all the lost time he spent worrying about what could happen instead of just going for it.

[moldisgoodforyou]

without you by my side

i thought i posted this already APOLOGIES !!! 

wordcount: 2.4k

_____

Sophie had barely talked to Rafe in the first two weeks she was in Spain, suddenly being consumed with a week-long orientation and then going straight into her internship, juggling her Spanish lessons and trying to just get by in an unfamiliar city. She’d texted him a few updates here and there, and had FaceTimed him briefly in her first week, but most of her spare time was spent getting to know her roommates and checking off random errands.

The time difference made things extra tricky, but Rafe made it a priority to talk with her, no matter where he was. When they finally got a chance to talk, she called him, grinning when the call connected. “Hi!”

He grinned to himself too, feeling warm just from the sound of her voice. “Hi, you. It’s good to hear from you.”

“I know, I know, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize I’d be so busy.” She worried her lip between her teeth and he shook his head quickly, although she couldn’t see him. “It’s alright, I knew you had things to do. Don’t stress about it. I want to hear about Barcelona, tell me what you’ve done!”

Sophie beamed and launched into an excited description of everything - her students in her classes, her new coworkers, how she got assigned to a cool project and how she got drunk on a two dollar bottle of wine that was ‘the best she’d ever had.’ Once she told him everything, she paused, letting silence fill the air.

“That sounds awesome, Soph.” He smiled, then frowned hearing her pause. “All good?”

“Yeah, just. I wish you were here. Um, I wear one of the shirts you let me take to bed, and I just realized it doesn’t really smell like you anymore. Washed it too soon, I think.”

Rafe let out a small sigh and clutched his phone a little tighter. “I can send you another one.” His voice had a teasing lilt to it, but he was dead serious.

“No, I’m sorry, it’s stupid.” She spoke quickly and he could distantly hear a few sniffles, then when she brought her phone back to her ear, voice nearly cracking. “I’m okay.”

“Wait, are you crying? Sophie...” He trailed off and she could hear the frown in his voice. He closed his office door so he could talk to her more freely, without having to keep his voice so quiet.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m fine. I just miss you a lot more than I thought I would.”

He immediately pressed the button to facetime her, smiling when she picked up, then instantly dropping it once he saw her teary cheeks. “I can change my flight and come visit sooner. I’ll do it, angel, you know I will.”

She smiled a little at the pet name, swiping her sleeve over her cheeks. “I know, but it’s fine. Once I get into a routine I’ll be okay, everything’s just a little jarring.” She took a deep breath, trying to calm herself down. “I thought I knew Spanish and turns out all I can really manage is where’s the bathroom and hello. Everyone speaks so quickly, I feel like an idiot.”

He grinned. “You’re not an idiot, baby, you’ve been practicing for this for months. Just don’t go around telling anyone else te amo.”

She sniffled a little as she laughed. “I wouldn’t do that to you. Hey, how’s home? Have you gone surfing or something yet? Any big parties?”

He shrugged. “It’s alright. I think there’s a party this weekend, but.”

“But what?”

“I don’t know. Feels kind of strange without you by my side.”

“Aw, Rafe, you miss me.” She teased, fully aware she was in no position to poke fun, as she’d just cried over missing him two seconds ago.

He paused and glanced away for a second, not wanting to guilt trip her in the slightest. He just wanted to be sure she enjoyed her trip without having to worry about him. “You know I do.”

“I miss you too.” Her face dropped a little and she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to stop herself from crying again.

“I want you to have fun though, okay? I’m only a call away, and I’ll see you soon enough. Three months will fly by. Easy.” He told her, almost trying to convince himself. Just the last two weeks alone had dragged by for him, especially with how quickly he’d had to leave all his friends in Columbus once the frat house closed for the summer.

“Two months and two weeks,” she corrected. “We’ve made it half a month already.”

He laughed and flipped the camera briefly to show his calendar pinned up behind his desk, little numbers scribbled onto each square. “I know, I’ve been counting down the days.”

“That’s sweet.” She tucked a piece of hair behind her ear and he frowned, narrowing his eyes. “Hey, where’s your ring?”

Sophie instantly blushed and grabbed her backpack, fumbling through it until she found the ring box lying haphazardly at the bottom (and brushed off a few crumbs before showing him). “Here! It’s right here, I have it, promise.” She quickly flipped open the box and slid it on her finger to show him.

“Do you not like it? I should have asked you before, I -”

“No! I love it, no, it’s not that.” She reassured him quickly. “I’m just really worried I’m going to lose it, like on the metro or walking to work, and I can’t have that happen. So I carry the box with me.”

“Oh.” Rafe sat back in his chair, thinking. “How about I get you a chain?”

“A chain?”

“Yeah. You can wear the ring on the chain, like a necklace, when you’re not wearing it on your finger. And when I come visit, we can take it in to Cartier and get it resized, if you need to.”

“No, it fits perfectly, I’m just nervous.” She smiled. “A chain sounds like a good solution.”

He nodded and wrote himself a reminder to order one and have it shipped to her apartment in Spain the second they were off the call. “You got it.” At a knocking on his door, he hesitated before glancing over for the source. “Hold on one second, okay?”

“Okay.”

Rafe stood and opened the door, letting his dad in. Ward strode in and dropped a stack of papers on Rafe’s desk, regarding him with annoyance. “You need to go to the printing company right now and get these flyers fixed. Half of them have the ink fucked up and the phone number’s wrong on all of them.”

“You said I got a half hour lunch break.” Rafe replied evenly, not glancing at the papers - that were the secretary’s responsibility, not his.

“You can get a lunch break when you pay closer attention to the details.” Ward fished his card out of his wallet and slapped it on top of the stack. “Grab me lunch while you’re out. Don’t be long.” He turned to leave, but paused upon seeing Sophie waiting on the facetime call, Rafe’s phone on the desk. “Who is that?”

She froze, hair hiding her face a little, and wasn’t sure if she should hang up or not. Rafe made the first move and flipped the screen over so his phone was facedown on the desk. “I was talking to Sophie. Remember, I told you she’s in Spain, so the time difference -”

“I don’t care.” Ward interrupted. “Don’t let some girl distract you from work.” (Rafe swore he hadn’t acknowledged that Sophie was his girlfriend once.) He left abruptly and kicked out the door stopper as he went, letting the door slam shut behind him.

Rafe winced and took a breath before flipping the phone back over. He looked defeated, “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

“S’alright.” Sophie gave him a small smile but her heart was racing, embarrassed about how easily Ward was able to dismiss her. “Call me later, if you want? I’m staying in tonight.”

He glanced at the door again and cocked his head a little to catch the sounds out on the hallway, just giving her a nod and a forced smile before ending the call.

___

Rafe only had a week back in Columbus before he had to pack up and head back to the Outer Banks for one last summer. He had resigned himself to the fact he’d be going home, but was mainly fine with it until he learned Sophie wouldn’t be coming home too. Ever since then, he’d been dreading it - the beach days, country club and even his friends at home weren’t worth the amount of time he’d have to spend with his dad at work.

His dad had been preparing him over the last few years to take a high position in the company, and Rafe had never protested it, just figuring he wasn’t meant for anything else. It wasn’t until Sophie sent him a few links for internships in downtown Columbus that he began to consider that maybe, just maybe, he was capable of more. He ended up applying to five internships in whole, not sure if he could handle too many rejections. Other kids in his major already had at least one, sometimes two internships under their belt, and Rafe’s resume with work at his dad’s company and a couple leadership positions in his frat didn’t exactly measure up.

He was rejected almost immediately from a couple internships, but interviewed for the three others based on a few strong recommendations from his professors. No matter what, he had to return to the Outer Banks and get some extra clothes and furniture to haul back with him for his senior house, so he settled on going back for a little while he waited to hear back from the other companies.

Later that night, he called her back after getting berated by his dad at work and taking the blame for two other interns’ mistakes. It was late, nearly one am for her on a Tuesday, but she picked up anyways, anticipating the call. “H’lo?” Sophie mumbled into the phone, half-asleep. 

“I can’t deal with this anymore. I’m sick of it.” He confessed immediately and she sat up in bed, concerned. “What? What’s wrong, baby?” 

“It’s my dad, I swear to fucking god. I have to get this internship, Soph, it’s the one excuse he’ll take for me not working for him.” Rafe huffed, trying his best to calm himself down, shaky fingers pressing the Facetime button. 

She picked up right away, the lag in wifi barely interrupting their call. “Breathe, Rafe.” 

He nodded quickly, taking a few shallow breaths, then frowned as he saw the pillow marks pressed into her cheek. “Fuck, did I wake you up? This fucking time zone shit -” He cut himself off, knowing he was just angry with his dad, not her. 

Sophie shook her head. “No, um, was just scrolling through social media and laying down.” 

It was a blatant lie, but Rafe accepted it anyways. “You need to sleep earlier.” 

She shrugged, not wanting to share that she couldn’t sleep that well without him sometimes. “I’m fine. Tell me what’s going on.” 

“It’s just.” He paused and propped the phone up, then pressed the heels of his hands to his eyes. “He puts so much pressure on me, all the time. I’m supposed to take over this company and I don’t even know if that’s what I want to do, I’m a business major just because he told me that’d be a good idea, it’s just -” Rafe took a breath, trying not to get himself more worked up. “It’s a lot.” 

Sophie frowned, catching herself reaching toward the screen for a moment in an attempt to comfort him. “You’ll get the internship in Columbus, I know you will.” 

“You don’t know that.” 

“I do know that. You need to think more highly of yourself, Rafe.” 

He sighed, chewing on his bottom lip. “Kinda hard when no one else is thinking highly of me.” 

“Rafe.” She caught his attention with a stern tone, frowning. “That’s not true, not in the slightest.” 

“A little bit.” 

“You’re a loyal friend, you’re generous, you’re smart. I know I can always count on you. You just need to be nicer to yourself.” Sophie encouraged, smiling when he gave her the tiniest hint of a shy smile. 

“You don’t need to say all that.” He countered, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“I know. But I mean all of it.” She got up from her bed, taking the phone with her. “Hey, go look outside.” 

“Why?” 

“Just go look outside.” 

He furrowed his brow but followed along, bringing his phone to his bedroom window and walking out to his balcony. “What am I supposed to be seeing?” 

“You see the moon?” 

“Yeah.” 

She flipped her camera briefly, showing the glow of the moon in the sky over the city. “It’s the same moon, okay? We’re seeing the exact same thing.” 

“Okay...” He trailed off, confused. 

“It’s almost like I’m there with you.” She paused. “Kind of. We’re not that far apart.” 

“Four thousand miles.” He argued, getting more miserable. “God, I miss you.” 

Sophie nodded with a frown, biting the inside of her cheek. “I know. I miss you too, baby. I’m sorry your dad is being so shitty.” 

“He’ll hear you.” Rafe half-teased, glancing around just to make sure he wasn’t down below on the deck or nearby. 

Her jaw set, stubborn. “Good. When do you hear back about the internship?” 

“In a couple days, probably. I had the final interview yesterday and they’ll give me a few weeks’ notice before I need to move back.” He opened his mouth, about to add another self-deprecating comment, but stopped himself. “It went okay.” 

“I’m sure you were fantastic. Model candidate.” She grinned and he just ached for her even more. “It’s late for you, isn’t it.” 

“Um...a little. But I can keep talking if you want. Any time.” She promised, hiding a yawn behind her hand. 

He shook his head, smiling. “Go back to bed, angel. I’m sorry I woke you up.” 

“Don’t be, I’m glad I got to talk with you again.” Sophie paused. “It’ll be okay, Rafe. I know it.” 

“Yeah.” He agreed just to appease her. The last thing he wanted her to be doing when she was in Barcelona was worrying about him. “Love you. Sweet dreams, Soph.” 

“Love you too.” 

taglist: @whoeveniskendall @kkmaybank @karsinner @outerbanksbro @outerbankspreferences @randomficsandshit @sunshineitsfine44 @jailcalledlife @tovvaa @moniamaybank @illbesafeforyou @dontjinx-it @freddymaybank @jjmaybankzz @g4bster @oopsiedoopsie23 @babygal-babygal

[lauloupi]

I was tagged by @heart-attack-harry thank you hun, loved reading your answers!!

part one~

name: Laura

gender: female

phone wallpaper: a light pink wallpaper with drawings of wine bottles, glasses of wine and wine corks

hogwarts house: I don’t know what that means

ever had a crush on a teacher: yesssss it was my English teacher and his name was Andrew and I was obsessed with him. He actually wrote in my yearbook “come back and see me with your beautiful smile” and I talked about for years!!!!

coolest halloween costume: I’ve never really been a Halloween fan but one year my friend and I went as ketchup and mustard heinz bottles which was pretty funny.

favorite 90’s show: does Sex and the city count as 90’s?? If not I was a MAJOR fan of Dawson’s creek. Before you ask, I was #teamPacey

last kiss: last year with a guy way too young for me. I realized mid kiss and regretted it.

ever been stood up?: nope, then again never had the guts to go on a date where I could’ve been.

favorite pair of shoes: a pair of Keds, they did a collab with the company Riffle paper and co and they designed a sneaker with flowers all over. I wear them on very special occasions.

favorite book: it’s a coffee table book that I bought at urban outfitters, it’s sounds ridiculous I know but I come back to it almost every year. It’s called “Other people’s love letters”.

favorite fruit: nectarines or peaches

favorite tv shows: sex and the city! I could watch that show on loop forever. The movies were awful though.

last movie i saw in theaters: can’t remember, it’s been too long. I don’t really like going to the cinema, even with mes amis et ma famille. 😉

part two~

Named after someone?: No, my dad chose the name of my sister and I and he wanted both to finish with an A. Ended up calling us the wrong name every time...

Last time you cried: I cry often. Not always for sad things though. I think the last time was on nye, I was also feeling kind of lonely @heart-attack-harry

Do you have any kids: No and honestly I don’t think it’s going to happen for me.

Do you use sarcasm a lot: In a funny way sometimes.

What’s the first thing you notice about people: Their smiles. If they’re polite, that’s very important to me.

Scary movie or happy ending: Happy ending ALL THE WAY!

Any special talents: I don’t think so.

What country were you born in: Canada

What are your hobbies: Lately I’ve been doing wreaths with dried flowers, it’s a new passion and I really enjoy it.

Do you have any pets: Nope, I’m allergic to almost every animals and I’m very very scared of dogs!!!!

What sports do you play/have you played: I did gymnastic when I was younger and swim lessons. I’m not really into sports anymore. I should be though.

How tall are you: 5’5

Favorite subject in school: I didn’t really have one. I was not very good in school but I liked my friends. I was a very social butterfly.

Dream job: I’d love to bake professionally and own my own little shop.

If you don’t wanna do it, it goes without saying that you don’t have to but I’d love to get to know you better so I’m tagging a few people: @imnottherealharrystyles @ihearthes @dayxoxodreamer @all-things-fic @stylishmuser @fstopsteph @niallandharrymakemestrong @huccimermaidshirts @harolinastyles

[stilloutofmyvulcanmind]

A Happy Little Christmas

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Characters: Jason Todd, Reader

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Talk of cheating ex’s, mostly fluff. So much fluff.

Summary: Not many people could say they’re friends with the Red Hood, but you could, even if it came about in an unusual way. But after a shitty start to Christmas, you realize there may be more feelings going unspoken.

A/N: This idea popped into my head over the weekend, and wouldn’t leave until I wrote it down! My first Jason fic!

It started in the new year. You'd been sitting under the small alcove on the rooftop of your apartment building, drinking tea as you watched the snowfall and enjoying the peace when he'd sprung up and landed in front of you. You hadn't screamed, but your tea nearly spilled which earned him a telling off. He had just looked at you, though you swore you heard a chuckle, then took off at a sprint, leaping off the edge and out of sight. 

It happened again a few weeks later. Same scenario, though this time you kept a firmer grasp on the tea. That time he spoke, saying that most people ran away when he appeared. You had shrugged, asking if he wanted something to drink. There had been a moment of silence before he laughed like you'd told the funniest joke. Then he said no and disappeared into the night once again. 

It just kept happening. Sporadic at first. Sometimes he'd appear a few times a week, other times it would be near a month. Each time you offered him a drink. Each time he found the whole thing amusing and declined. 

Until the summer when he showed up out of breath, no doubt near-boiling under his outfit in the muggy Gotham night. You'd offered some of the iced tea, and to your surprise, he'd accepted. 

And that was how you became tea drinking pals with the damned Red Hood. 

Things became a bit more regular after that. No schedule but you nearly always saw him once a week. It was kinda weird. Being friends with the guy the majority of Gotham's underworld was terrified of. 

But with you, he was kind of a dork. 

Proven when he'd spent near two hours ranting about an awful Shakespeare adaptation he'd watched. The fact that you were able to rant with him seemed to just spur him on more. 

You looked forward to those nights. Even if it was barely an hour before he got called away. You didn't know his name, or what he looked like minus the domino mask, but you'd gleaned enough small details about him and given away enough about yourself to see him as a friend. 

Christmas Eve came and you hadn't seen him since the start of the month. He'd been away doing something important, he'd told you as much prior to his leaving, mostly so you didn't end up worrying over a sudden absence. He said he'd be back by Christmas, but honestly, you weren't really expecting to see him. 

You'd learned enough over the months to know that the rest of Gotham's vigilantes were about the only family he had, even if he did seem to be fighting the Bat just as often as he helped him. The history you didn't know, but you figured if he was going to be anywhere, he'd be with them. 

So when he landed silently in the snow it was a surprise. When he slipped on a patch of slush and landed face first in said snow, it was even more of a surprise. 

You snorted so hard you nearly choked on the hot cocoa you were drinking. He bolted up, hand going to the gun strapped to his thigh. He saw you and relaxed immediately. 

"Often find people falling funny, angel?" He asked, boots crunching in the thick layer of snow as he walked towards you. 

"Usually? No. When it's someone like you? Fucking hilarious."

You could just imagine his eyes narrowing under the red helmet. 

Hood stepped under the alcove, brushing the snow off his jacket, and removing the helmet so he was down to just the black domino. You poured out some of the coca into a spare cup you'd brought just out of habit and handed it over once he'd taken a seat next to you. 

"Cinnamon flavor? Fancy."

"Felt like splashing out." You sipped at your own, enjoying the warmth that seeped into you. "Things go okay?" 

"Without a hitch."

"Good. Didn't get hurt then?"

He looked at you moment then shook his head. "Nah. Why? You worry about me, angel?" 

You felt yourself blush, grateful that any change of skin color could be put down to the cold. "Who else am I gonna bitch about shitty TV adaptations to?" 

Hood laughed, head tilted back. "Don't worry about me. I'll always be around for that."

You fell silent, watching the falling snow that soon masked the evidence of his arrival. It was nice having him back. You'd missed him, but until now you hadn't quite realized how much. 

"Gotta admit I wasn't expecting you to be here tonight. Weren't you meant to be skipping town with your betrothed?" Hood asked after several minutes of peaceful quiet. 

"Yeah," you sighed, looking down into your half-empty mug. "Showing up to your fiancé's apartment to find him in bed with his girlfriend tends to change plans."

In the corner of your eye, you spotted Hood's hand clench a little tighter around his cup. "Son of a bitch."

"Exactly what I said," you laughed, the sound coming out hollow. 

"Tell me where he is and I'll pay him a visit, teach him a lesson, break a few bones. For you, I'll even make him disappear."

Maybe you should've been shocked or disturbed at the offer, but you weren't. If anything it actually helped to know Hood had your back like that. "Two weeks ago and I might've taken you up on that. But he's had enough punishment. Turns out his other girlfriend didn't know he was engaged, so she dumped his ass, and when his family heard they uninvited him, so he's not the only one with a wrecked Christmas."

Hood hummed, still sounding unhappy. "If he comes near you again I'm finding him anyway."

"He comes around again and I won't try and stop you."

"So you really don't have any other plans for tomorrow?" 

You shook your head, "I could've gone to my family, but it was impossible to get a ticket that didn't cost a small fortune. It doesn't matter. Not the first Christmas by myself and I doubt it'll be the last."

"Well, you've got my handsome self to keep you company."

You chuckled, nudging his shoulder with your own playfully. "Speaking of handsome." You said, dipping into your pocket and pulling out the twenty-five bucks you had stashed in it. "Here, your half of the bet win. Thanks for letting me snap that photo."

"The non-candid, candid," he laughed in return, taking the cash. "Can't believe you bet that I was handsome under the helmet."

Shrugging a shoulder you smiled, "They started it. Now there's a whole conversation on who's more handsome, you or Nightwing."

"I'm sure I know how those conversations go. With an ass like his it always only goes one way."

"You've always got me in your corner."

"Really?" 

"Course."

Hood smiled and you wished you could see his eyes to see what he was thinking. He was looking at you, and even with the mask, it was difficult not to squirm away from the intensity. He leaned in closer and your breath caught. 

Then he was pulling back, hand coming to his ear. "I'm two blocks away, I can be there in five," he said in response to whatever the person in his ear told him. He dropped his hand and set the empty cup down. "Gotta go."

You'd already guessed. Hardly the first time. "It was good seeing you."

He smiled again and nodded before pulling the red helmet back on. "See you around." A mock salute and he was taking off at a run towards the edge of the roof. 

"Hey, Red!" You called suddenly, dashing out under the alcove after him. He paused at the edge and looked back at you. "Be careful, alright? This Christmas has been shit enough without you getting hurt."

"Just for you, angel." And he was gone, disappearing into the night once again. 

~

Christmas Day was as dull as you'd expected it to be. The first part of the day was spent flopped on the sofa watching dumb Christmas movie after dumb Christmas movie. It wasn't bad necessarily but didn't exactly fill you with fun Christmas spirit either. 

It was mid-afternoon when someone knocked at your door. You were tempted to ignore it, but the curiosity of who would be calling at random on Christmas got the best of you. 

"I…how did you know which flat was mine?" 

Hood stood on the other side, sans helmet, with an eyebrow raised. "Wasn't hard to find the tenant roster. Merry Christmas to you too by the way."

Right. You stepped aside to let him in. "Second question; what are you doing here?" 

He held up the bag he was holding. "Swiped a couple plates of food for us."

"You...what?" 

"We do this thing where we get together with way too much food, eat some of it and usually end up arguing within two hours. Figured this year I'd shake it up."

"You ditched them? To be here?"

"They didn't mind. The Bat even graced us with one of the good bottles of wine."

You were quiet. He'd given up time with his family to be with you instead. Even if they argued that was still a big thing. A big choice. One you wouldn't make for just anybody. 

"I can go if you'd rather." He actually looked a little nervous. 

"No! No, that sounds perfect. Thank you."

He smiled, glanced around the apartment then made a beeline for the kitchenette. You didn't even need to tell him to make himself at home. He did that all by himself. He pulled out the containers of food he'd brought, immediately shushing you when you offered to help. 

So you sat, watching as he moved around, occasionally pointing him in the right direction of utensils he needed. He looked at ease, normal almost without the guns. Or most of them. He had one hidden under his jacket that was revealed when he shrugged it off. If he'd been completely unarmed you would've suspected a body snatcher situation though. You only wished he didn't have the mask on still. 

Though maybe that was for the best. It would be too personal, and you weren't entirely sure you could handle personal. 

In the months you'd known him you'd only ever seen him as a friend. Yeah, you admitted he was handsome, but never thought of him like that. You'd loved your fiancé, and it never entered your head to stray. But then the break up happened, and in the last couple of weeks, you'd found yourself thinking about Hood more. In the long lonely nights, you'd wished for him to be next to you. Wished he'd come home early, find you crying and hug you so tight you could barely breathe. The thoughts had trailed to him kissing you, touching you. You'd tried to brush the thoughts off, told yourself it was just a fantasy your broken heart wanted. But seeing him the previous night, the way he'd leaned in…maybe it wasn't a fantasy. 

Hood finished doing up the two plates and drew you back from your thoughts. 

You set up the table and popped open the bottle of wine. It really was a good bottle, confirming the theory you had that the Bat definitely had some money behind him. Just as you were done pouring the glasses, he came around you and placed the plates down. 

"Whoever made this deserves a damned medal," you groaned after the first bite. 

He laughed, "I'll pass it on."

The meal was delicious, the company even better. It was relaxed with him, and you realized you'd never quite felt at home with someone as you did with Hood. It made you wonder what it would be like if you fully knew each other.

Cleaning up together was easy. You moved around the other without issue, making short work of the dirty dishes. "Thank you for this, Red. It's been good," you said, turning to hand him the rest of his wine. 

He nodded, watching you a moment. "It's Jason."

That was unexpected. You smiled, holding out your glass to his. "Good to meet you, Jason."

He clinked the glass and finished what was left in it. For a second you thought he was going to say more, but then he pulled back out of your space. "C'mon. The Muppets Christmas Carol is showing in a bit."

You laughed because of course he liked that. You joined him on the sofa, throwing him the remote for him to get the right channel. His arm found its way across your shoulders, and somehow you found yourself leaning on his chest. 

He was warm and comfy and you were full and happy, so you really couldn't be blamed when you fell to sleep. 

You woke up by yourself, head resting on the arm of the sofa with a blanket up to your shoulders. You rubbed at your eyes, finding your phone on the coffee table to check the time. It was surprisingly late. Jason was probably long gone. You tried to push the disappointment that you'd missed him away. 

"Good nap, sleeping beauty?" 

Nearly jumping out of your skin, you sat up to see Jason at the kitchen island with a glass of water. 

"Thought you were gone."

"Nah. Took the night off so unless I'm needed, I'm free, and didn't want to up and leave without saying goodbye."

You smiled, keeping the blanket wrapped around you as you clambered off the sofa. "You could've woken me."

"You looked peaceful." He stood, pouring you some water of your own. You could feel him eye you up as you drank like he was weighing something up. "Do you trust me?" 

The question was a surprise, but you didn't even need to think of the answer. "Completely."

"A lot would say not to."

"Screw those people."

"I'm dangerous. I've killed people."

"Bad people. Jason, I know this. I knew it before we even met."

"Yet you still offered me tea."

"Because I trusted you. It's never been a doubt that I could."

Jason smiled, "Thank you."

"Where'd this come from?" 

He sighed, pausing a moment. "I needed to know, for sure, before-" he reached up and peeled off the domino mask, letting it flutter to the floor. 

Holy shit he was handsome. The mask had only been covering his eyes but it had been hiding so much. Jason was gorgeous, beautiful, but it wasn't just that that was tugging at your heart. It was the fact that he'd just trusted you with his entire fucking identity. You wondered how many outside of the vigilante group knew. You doubted there were many if any. 

Reaching up you carefully brushed one of the curls that were flopping into his eyes away. "Thank you. For trusting me."

"I can count the number of people I trust on one hand. You're one of them, angel."

"And I won't break it, I promise." Your hand came to rest on his cheek, and he actually leaned into it. "Guess I was right after all. You are the handsome one."

Jason laughed, "Don't let Nightwing hear you say that. You'll hurt his feelings."

"Don't care. I'm not in the habit of lying."

"How honest of you." Jason stepped closer, into your space fully, one hand coming to land on your hip. "You're beautiful, Y/N."

You blushed, turning your head away. "Not beautiful enough to stop the person meant to love me fucking someone else."

"Hey, look at me." His free hand came to tilt your head up. "You are beautiful and if that bastard was too fucking blind to see it, that's on him, not you. He didn't deserve you, and you're better off without him. The fact that he willingly threw what you had away...it makes me angry. If you were-" Jason cut himself off suddenly. 

"If I were what?"

He swallowed, "If you were mine…I'd make sure I told you how much I loved you every single day. I'd do everything I could to make you happy, to make sure you stayed happy. I'd go to the end of the world and back to ensure it. And if I couldn't, if there was a problem that meant I couldn't make you smile and laugh, I'd fix it. No matter what it took. I'd treat you the way you deserve to be, love you the way you should be loved, and never hurt you because that would be worse than hurting myself. If you were mine seeing you smile would be the best part of my day. Knowing that I was keeping you safe would give me even more reason to keep doing what I do, and knowing I was coming home to you would be my reason for making sure I did it and stayed alive."

He stopped and it was then you realized that your cheeks were wet. Jason took a breath and looked away. "Sorry. You've been through enough, I shouldn't have said-"

You kissed him. Tangled your fingers in his curls and kissed him. Hard. His arms wrapped around you on instinct, pressing you close to his body. 

"Y/N-"

"No one…no one's ever spoken to me like that, said those things. Do...do you…?"

"Yeah." The word came out a whisper. "But Y/N, you just got out of a relationship, I don't want to push you into another."

"Have I ever seemed the type of person to be pushed into something? Maybe I should need more time, and if I didn't know you, didn't trust you, I'd probably turn and run. But the truth is I want this. I want you. I'm just surprised you want me back."

"I've wanted you for months. Just never said anything. Wasn't planning to either. Especially not today, so soon after. My only intention coming here was to make you happy."

"And you succeeded."

A hand cupped your cheek, those stunning eyes meeting yours, "You're sure? About this?" 

"I've never been more sure." You leaned in for another kiss, clutching at his shoulders with a squeak when you suddenly found yourself being hoisted up onto the kitchen counter, with Jason between your legs.

"Sure like kissing me, babydoll, and you don't even have any mistletoe. Pretty sure that's against Christmas rules," he teased, pressing his forehead to yours. 

"We can stop if you feel so strongly about it."

Jason nipped at your bottom lip, then trailed kisses along your jaw and up to your ear. "Angel, I have every intention of kissing you for as long as you'll let me, mistletoe be damned."

"Good." Turning your head you caught him in another kiss, smiling into it. You weren't even sure the last time you'd felt this damned happy. How things had gone from the worst to this in just a couple weeks, you didn't know, or what you'd done to deserve such luck. But you were never going to complain. Not when you had Jason kissing you with such ferocious tenderness you were sure you were going to melt. 

Breaking the kiss and pulling back enough to look up at him, you grinned. "I'm pretty sure I might have an old bunch in the bedroom though."

Jason returned the grin, hands coming to grip your thighs as he lifted you from the counter with ease. "Merry Christmas, babe."

"Merry Christmas, babe."

Like what you read? Consider buying me a coffee! (I’ll love you forever!)

Tagging: @musikat18 @sagyunaro @i-stand-sebastian-stan @samleerandom @everyday-imfangirling

[arcticdementor]

Right now I’m in Europe. But I spent the last month living in a hotel room in Chicago visiting friends and family. I didn’t necessarily want to live in a hotel room. I wanted to get an Airbnb like I always do when I travel. But Airbnb are more expensive now. It’s part of the larger unraveling going forward of the urban person’s utopia. Cheap Ubers, cheap Airbnbs, all subsidized by these large companies to get you hooked. Those days are over. Taxis and Hotels are the same price or even cheaper now.

…

I’m reminded of the early 2000s, a different time where TV was a platform to mock people. Remember "Hoarders?” It made fun of sick people so the audience at home could laugh and be shocked. It was very sad watching those people not being able to part with stuff that seemed so irrelevant. They had a whole catalog of addiction shows back then. Shows where you were supposed to laugh at fat people or midgets starting a family.

I work on the computer. It’s easier to keep my home clean than it is my browser. Most psychic pain comes from constantly feeling crowded at the edge of my browser with 20 tabs open I’m not using. Claustrophobic. I’m at the edge of the browser using one tab. Should I close the rest of my tabs? Of course. But sometimes I don’t.

The information contained in one of those tabs could eventually lead to a domino effect that could change your life

…

The downside of the hotel is you’ll never find a decent gym. What you’ll see mostly is machines. Sometimes you’ll see free weights up to 30Ibs and you’ll never see a barbell. I previously wrote about the benefits of using a barbell for real naturalistic weightlifting to stress the skeleton and release osteocalcin. Exercise machines artificially track motion allowing endless repetition of the same movement without the use of the entire body. How much of your skeleton and muscles activate when you lift a rock over your head vs using a strength machine.

You’ll rarely find free weights in a hotel gym and never a barbell.

Why?

The intolerant minority rule is at play. People that prefer free weights and barbells will use machines. But not the other way around.

The same rule applies to parties and alcohol. Once you have ten percent or more of women at a party, you cannot only serve beer. You must serve wine. All men will drink wine but at least 10 percent of women will not drink beer. So you end up just choosing wine for the party and use one set of glasses.

…

It is worth being alert to the intolerant minority rule because it is everywhere. In this article I’m going to go over some places where you can see it. But first, what is it?

What happens when 95 per cent of people are indifferent, but 5 per cent of people prefer something else? The minority wins. Taleb wrote a classic piece on this phenomenon. Society doesn’t evolve by consensus, voting, majority, committees, verbose meeting, academic conferences, and polling; only a few people suffice to disproportionately move the needle. Once an intolerant minority reaches a tiny percentage of the total population, the majority of the population will naturally succumb to their preferences.

There was even a recent study by Scientists at Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute on the Intolerant Minority Rule

…

The disproportionate ubiquity of certain foods can be explained by this effect. Pizza is a hugely successful food not so much because it is loved but because nobody hates it. By contrast, take fish or steak, in any group of five or more people, there will always be one who doesn’t feel like eating fish or steak: their lone veto will prevail, and everyone will end up eating chicken. Chicken being the most agreeable meat. There’s even minority rules inside of minority rules, with cheese pizza being the option people will agree to eat over pepperoni or sausage.

Perhaps one of the reasons Lamb never made it big in America is because its the opposite of the chicken. It isn’t a consistent meat. Highly variable. You get wildly different tastes depending on how you cook it, prepare it or store it.

…

The implications are interesting when you think about it. Most human systems — language, morality, religion — evolve based on a passionate and organized minority. The reasonable majority rarely if ever drive any movement.

Moreover, outcomes are paradoxically more stable under the minority rule —the variance of the results is lower and the rule is more likely to emerge independently across separate populations. As long as the majority is ambivalent or tolerant, the status quo will remain.

As Nassim Taleb pointed out when he spotted this phenomenon, the intolerant minority rule can prevail in many areas. Schools where only 5 per cent of the pupils are Muslim will keep halal kitchens, because it is assumed non-Muslims can be served halal food whereas Muslims will eat nothing but.

…

Take a look at every soda bottle you buy. It’ll have a kosher sign on it. Maybe even half of the food you purchase has this logo. Why? Because you don’t care if food or drink is kosher, but Jewish people care. And so the companies make their products kosher compliant. Minority rule means that we all drink Kosher soda because it’s easier to make all lemonade Kosher for the small % that require it rather than having kosher and not kosher.

…

Let’s start with one example of the Intolerant Minority Rule that most people don’t realize.

The asymmetry: Smokers can be in smoke-free areas but nonsmokers cannot and will not be in smoking ones. One is tolerant. The other is intolerant.

The non-smoking section of restaurants and bars actually appeared very late. Entire private establishments would be open to smoking. The movement to separate smoking from non-smoking happened in the mid 1970s. That was when the first reports of lung cancer and smoking became established. You could even smoke on an airplane back then. It was only after an airplane crashed, killing 123 people in France due to a cigarette left burning in the bathroom did the first non-smoking sections appear on airplanes.

…

Given the historical links between smoking and drinking, it is not surprising that “family restaurants,” many of which sold no beer, wine, or liquor, were among the first to create non-smoking sections. Denny’s announced in 1977 that it would devote 25% of its dining areas to non-smoking. It was not long before Victoria Station, Red Lobster, Bob Evans, and many other chains joined the trend. Big city restaurants, on the other hand, lagged behind.

Numerous restaurant owners who disliked setting off non-smoking sections complained it hurt their business in a number of ways. Non-smokers tended also to be non-drinkers and didn’t come out as much on weekends, thus leaving empty tables in the non-smoking area while the smoking section was full and the restaurant had to turn away impatient patrons. Likewise, the non-smokers had lower check averages.

[ao3feed-narumitsu]

Fool Me Once

read it on the AO3 at https://archiveofourown.org/works/48489682

by petrichor_dandelion

The world slows down when Phoenix Wright picks up his cheap flip phone to answer an incoming call. The world stops once Phoenix Wright arrives at the Prosecutor’s Office to read a note. The world moves on while Phoenix Wright stands with a small gathering of five people and an empty grave. The world forgets Phoenix Wright as he loses himself in the darkness of his house, empty wine bottles and beer cans being his only company.

The world mourns when Defense Attorney Phoenix Wright chooses death.

Or: Phoenix kills himself like a few days before Miles returns to Japanifornia.

Words: 1160, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 1 of Fool Me Once, Fool Me Twice.

Fandoms: 逆転裁判 | Gyakuten Saiban | Ace Attorney

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Major Character Death

Characters: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth, Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright, Ayasato Mayoi | Maya Fey, Itonokogiri Keisuke | Dick Gumshoe

Relationships: Mitsurugi Reiji | Miles Edgeworth/Naruhodou Ryuuichi | Phoenix Wright

Additional Tags: Implied/Referenced Suicide, Suicide, Suicide Notes, My First Work in This Fandom, My First AO3 Post, POV Alternating, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Depression, Phoenix Wright Needs Therapy, Phoenix Wright Needs a Hug, phoenix kills himself, The Author Regrets Nothing, no beta we die like phoenix, Faked Suicide, Major character death - Freeform, Hangover, One Shot, i wrote this at 5 am pls be nice, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, maya is Angry, i cant write, Tags Are Hard, im going to continue this fic but, it can be read as a one shot, POV Third Person Limited, Funeral, Death, there are parts of the story that dont work but idc deal with it, lmk if i need to add more tags, Angst, Hurt No Comfort, Angst and Tragedy, Miles Edgeworth Needs a Hug, Miles Edgeworth Needs Therapy, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe

read it on the AO3 at https://ift.tt/3XBStmP This is an automatic feed of all new stories posted to the Miles Edgeworth/Phoenix Wright tag on AO3. Because of that, it is not guaranteed that Miles and Phoenix are the main characters in the story, nor the only ship. Please verify content upon clicking through to AO3.

[zamilemzizi]

A trip down lockdown memory lane!

A trip down memory lane

As my business steadily builds itself back up, with a new face and some Covid-influenced changes, I look back at what it was like for a few months last year as just the “Mom.” The South African lockdown, one of the strictest in the world at that time, forced most of us Marketing and PR SME owners to close our doors and focus on creating a safe and “new normal” environment for ourselves and our families.

My parents both contracted the Corona Virus and so, it was left up to me to care for ALL five grandchildren for a few months. Including my own children, I had two five-year-olds’ (one boy; Wandi and one girl; Koli), one nine-year-old girl (Thotse), a twelve-year-old girl (Lungi) and the legend himself, my two-year-old son (Bugsy) whom you will have read a lot about on my personal Facebook page. As if that was not enough, we rescued an eight-week-old puppy (Luna) too!

Being a person known for preferring the company of all the Mzizi grandchildren, I was up for the challenge of this time spent being reacquainted with the daily struggle of just-being-the-mom-with-no-work without the pressure of having to go to work.

I acknowledge that my experience of this time is grossly different to that of a majority of my fellow countrymen/women, who struggled to make ends meet. Zam’s Hive started a fund, which generously received funds donated by almost ALL of my clients, close friends and colleagues from my place of work. We used these funds to assist families who wrote in via WhatsApp and SMS stating what their urgent needs were and paired them with the correct donor. I was astounded at how the people I knew were able to look beyond their own experience of the Lockdown, and were able to give the little (or lot) that they had to keep hope alive.

However, being the stay-at-home mom yielded quite a few hilarious experiences, which naturally, I shared on social media as they happened. Here are some of these posts. I hope they make you chuckle a bit at my expense. I hope they remind you that no matter how bleak the situation, our inner circle, our families, our children, the people that matter most to us are the ones we should keep our focus on.

How the wars began…

Wandi’s benevolent fart

Raising boys is a BREEZE!

My Wandi has reached that age where every hug and cuddle is a conscious decision on his part to be with me. It says, ' I choose to be near YOU. I choose you, mommy'

So imagine my joy as I was working in my office and my big boy chose that moment to sit on my lap...

He sat facing me, flashed his special smile and said' 'Mommy, let me show you how much I love you'

He put his hands on my shoulders and closed his beautiful brown eyes. I could see him mentally reaching deep within himself in order to share what he had to say. Then...

I felt it. A persistent drill-like hammering on my sturdy thigh where his bony bum was perched.

The stench was instant and the fog it created in my mind was confusion personified. I could not immediately compute that my baby came all this way just to fart on me. As realization dawned on me, my little angel held onto me just a little bit tighter to keep me in place as the hammer-drill was still operating. My thin leggings were no barrier from the barrage of bodily functions battering my poor skin.

During this assault, Wandi did not change his facial expression at all. He looked like a little Buddha bestowing a blessing upon a lesser mortal.

When he was done, he nimbly sprang off my leg and bestowed a beguiling cherubic smile upon me. Slowly reversing from the room with his cheesy smile and eyes closed, he blessed me with his benevolent ' enjoy the smell mommy' and quietly closed the door.

Bugsy drinks shit water

I'm on my knees begging for this changeling to be taken. Return Bugsy pre-terrible twos to me please!

I went into the toilet for a teensy while. I'd been holding it in for some time chasing my kids around. To my knowledge, fake Bugsy was safely chilling on my bed.

As my empty bladder and I float out the bathroom, changeling proudly displays a cup of water he is drinking...now this is a problem because all taps and cups are beyond his reach. This cup looks like the dirty one I ignored on the floor a teensy while back- are you judging me Karen?!

I frantically urge fake son to show me if he got water from the other toilet. He proudly replies, ' I no drink here Wandi peepee here' This is good. It's great actually. Wandi has diarrhea and drinking from his toilet could kill someone. Never mind Corona.

So I drag the smirking not-really-my-son into the kitchen to wash this mysterious cup. At this stage I'm fuming at the lord thinking 'turn this crap into wine NOW'

As I wash the still alcohol free cup, I turn to find swopped-at-birth guy smacking his lips and drinking from the bucket mqobothi style.

MY HEART SKIPS A BEAT!

I used water and Jik to clean dog poop just now. I spilled the water but clearly not all of it. What's worse here? Jik poisoning or dog poop poisoning?

The terror child is ok. I gave him milk and surrendered the rest to his creator.

I'm ok. I have a new twitch in my eye and I think I might have peed my pants a little. But otherwise baaah I'm good.

No really.

Just fine.

Look- fake son took the tin of milk and smeared the stuff on himself.

I'm just FINE!

Then the tensions were rising

The stand off

In a bid to demonstrate his defiance of my authority, my two year old has taken the long life milk and some shopping bags to an undesirable corner of the house. He has boldly announced that, 'I puttinnnin me in noty cona' This is his strategy to deprive my authority of putting him in a corner myself. The standoff continues...

Sulking in the shower

I swear I don't make this stuff up...

Wandi just played with matches and his cousins came to tell on him. Naturally I gave him 'the look' times 10. He says to me,

'I know you're cross with me and wont talk to me.'

He stalks off to the shower and sits there while singing his new and spontaneously composed struggle song. The words weren't too clear but this is what I heard:

Take me away in peace, take me away in peace.

 Please note he has taken to eating some of his meals in this shower.

Can someone please send me a bottle of gin??!      Its for the kids.

 The breaking point

Exacting revenge in small ways

My kids broke my hair clippers machine while I was cutting them. So now I'm leaving them with unfinished cuts because one needs to take revenge wherever the opportunity may present itself-even if it's your own kids. They think they know me. Mxim!

 Mom flu strike

I've been in bed with flu for a week now. During this my kids haven't given me an inch of space and rest.

I'm still a horse, jungle gym, chef, personal snot cleaner and unwilling audience to dance shows and song decompositions.

Tonight was just the worst! I went to the chemist for more meds and so needed a nap from the trip. Only to realize that I'd over slept and it was supper time.

After a mad dash to cook, serve and feed the royal highnesses, I'd had enough.

Where am I now? What am I doing now? These are all relevant questions I'm happy to answer for you.

I'm in my bedroom. For the first time since I became a mother, I have done the only sensible thing a tired parent can do...

I'VE LOCKED MY BEDROOM DOOR BIYAAACHES!

The situation update is as follows:

Hostile!

1.  Two year old has attempted breaking door down

I DON'T CARE!

2. Five year old has resorted to creepy body plastering against door and quietly chanting 'mooommyyyy can we have ice cream while you die?'

I  DON'T   CARE

3. In a rare show of solidarity the boys are now howling like wolves outside the door, throwing in the odd 'moooommmy where are youuuu'

I    D O N T   C A R E!

4. Nine year old niece has increased the volume and frequency of her coughing

IIIIIIIII DOOOOOOOONT CAAAAAAARE!

I'm at peace in my warm bed. Let the siege continue I have all that I need in here. A bathroom, all the toilet paper in the house, the only phone with airtime and did I mention -I'm the only person tall enough to cook. Muhahuahua!

They will know me!

 The resolution?

Wandi prays for peace

So as usual the kids were acting up and driving me crazy before bedtime. This time however, the transgressions were extreme.

Someone didn't pee INSIDE the toilet but decided to mark his territory next to it instead.

Another decided to generously leave food on a dinner plate and put it in the kitchen sink for Santa maybe.

Another was dejectedly roaming the passage without pajama bottoms like a homeless person. Left to wander the night in shame and bottomlessness.

This was the last straw and I blew my top off.

EVERYONE TO BED WITHOUT A STORY NOW!

Even the little one understood that Armageddon was nigh, and scurried into bed as fast as his fat stubby legs could carry him (only half way up the bed usually).

In an unusually respectful and hesitant tone, Wandi bravely reminded me that I forgot to pray. So fine! I asked God to please help me make my children good etc.

Wandi again bravely offered to pray too and this is where he played his master plan into action (he never wants to pray):

Wandi: Dear God, please make all my dreams come true. The end.

 Yes. He said the end and not AMEN. I felt a reluctant smile coming on but I was wise to the enemy.

The next morning the kids all came to greet me in that way guilty kids do hoping for a cease-fire.

'Good morning rakhali' etc.

Then the master played his Ace move.

Wandi: In the name of Jesus, good morning everyone!

 How could I remain grumpy after my son evoked the name of Jesus?!

He's goooooood. One point to Wandi. None to me.

 Please subscribe to my blog and follow me on social media for more insights into; what goes on in the life of a working mom building an empire. All the links are below. My women’s network as well as my courses are also available on this site.

[innately-pretentious]

I was hoping I could have a ship for DPS, Harry Potter, Stranger Things, and Ferris Bueller's Day Off if it's not too much. I've got golden blonde hair and I'm about medium height, just above average. I have light freckles on my nose and forehead. I love to read and write. I'm working on writing my own novel as well and hoping I can get it published soon. I'm a total romantic, probably a little too much so. I pride myself on my intelligence. I'm an introvert and sometimes a little shy.

I ship you with Todd!

The two of you would make the sweetest couple. You both have similar personalities, therefore it was only a matter of time before something pushed the two of you together. He constantly saw you around the town near Welton, and both being introverts, it took a while for one of you to actually make a move. It was Charlie who literally shoved him in your direction and forced him to ask you out on the spot. You couldn’t help but smile as he blushed and asked you to dinner that evening, his hands were shaking in his pockets the whole time.

He is very hesitant to do grand romantic gestures, but that is not to say he doesn’t display how much he cares about you at any given moment. He knows that you definitely have a romantic side and is always racking his brain to show you how he feels. His family does have money, therefore whenever you see him you always come home with some expensive bunch of flowers, however he loves to find ways to surprise you instead of just throwing money at material things.

One of his more memorable moments was when he first asked you out on a date. He knew you were somewhat of a hopeless romantic yourself, he spent the majority of the day brainstorming with Neil and Knox about what to do. He took the whole day decorating the cave where they held the dead poet meetings, taking a trip into town to get some food and making Charlie get him a bottle of wine. You saw how much effort he put into all of this, candles decorated every surface giving the cave a soft glow. You spent the entire evening talking about your favourite writers and what you wanted to do in the future. Honestly he could watch you for hours, watching you face light up as you passionately talk about what interests you.

When he finds out you are writing a novel, he is beyond impressed, jumping at almost every opportunity to read what you wrote. You often come to each other for advice, whenever you have writers block he is always there to help you come up with new ideas, he is almost too hesitant when it comes to criticise your work. You often have to force it out of him, even if he insists it is perfect on your first draft. You are often there for him as well, helping him through his anxiety or self deprecating thoughts. Calming him down when he is overwhelmed, allowing him to cling to your jumper as he buries his head in your neck, softly telling you what’s wrong. He often thinks it’s selfish how needy he is, but you are one of the only people he lets his guard down for, he is grateful to have you.

The song I associate with you guys would be ‘White Winter Hymnal’ by Fleet Foxes.

I ship you with Cedric!

This is honestly such a cute match! Being one of the most popular boys in his year, he never really had trouble attracting the attention of girls. However he noticed you were more reserved than his other classmates, but he knew who you were nonetheless. Priding yourself on your intelligence is something he respected and loves your passion for knowledge. Hardly being shy about asking you out, he had no problem approaching you inviting you on his next trip to Hogsmead. He couldn’t help but smile at the way your cheeks turned slightly more pink, relieved when you agreed to go with him. You didn’t notice it at the time, but as he turned the corner he did a slight victory jump, already thinking up ideas for what the two of you could get up to.

He loves your kind and caring nature, wanting to know more about you and determined to make you come out of your shell more, making you want to share more of yourself with him. He is pleasantly surprised when you show him your more outgoing side. He remembers the first time you really made him laugh, with his head tilted back wiping his eyes as he tries to stifle his amusement. Looking back at you as if you are the only one in the room, it’s the moment he realises he made the right choice.

Something you learn to love is his more extroverted nature, he always knows the best idea for a date. One of his favourites was when you agreed to go flying with him to watch the sunset. Being a romantic is something you both share, however he is slightly more subtle, but this didn’t stop him from spending most of the afternoon flying on his broom searching the grounds for the best place to observe the view! Settling on a small platform on a steep hill, you could see the sun slowly set over the long, winding river. You let you head rest on his shoulder whilst he wrapped his arm around your shoulders, softly tracing patterns into your arm. He wished you could stay like that forever.

He doesn’t focus too heavily on looks, however he is undeniably attracted to you. Your golden blonde hair is stunning to him, he often finds himself absentmindedly combing his fingers through it as you lay on his chest, just enjoying each other’s company. He often jokes how it is the same as his house colours, mumbling how is is sometimes difficult to find you in his house stands at a quidditch match! Another thing he loves is your freckles, he always recognises them as something special about you. Brushing his thumbs across your cheeks whilst sitting in the Hufflepuff common room, he says they remind him of constellations he used to find at as a kid.

The song I associate with you two would be ‘Baby I’m Yours’ by Arctic Monkeys.

I ship you with Jonathan!

You two would work so well together! You both had known each other pretty much all your lives, growing up a few streets away you were no stranger to the Byers family. As time progressed you both began harbouring feelings for each other, the two of you being to shy to say anything in fear of ruining you friendship.

You were the only one who really knew him, through and through. One night while you were hanging out in his room after school, listening to his current favourite record, he felt more confident than he ever had. He leans forward, closing the gap between the two of you, gently placing his lips on top of yours. You were slightly taken aback but returned the kiss, glad that he finally had the courage to make the first move.

Will and Joyce always knew you two would end up together, with neither one of them really being surprised when you started holding hands or sharing a kiss goodbye. Joyce can’t help but smile when she first notices you holding hands under the table at dinner, giving you a wink when she sees you staring, wordlessly telling you that she approves. Will was the first to know about the two of you getting together, he literally had never seen his older brother so excited! They share everything together and this was no different, after you left Jonathan was still filled with adrenaline after your first kiss. Bursting into his brother’s room and stumbling over his words as he told him what just happened. Will couldn’t help but smile and wrap his arms around him, seeing him truly happy for the first time in a while, he could feel the happiness radiate off him.

He always has a small smile on his face when you link arms or hold hands while walking into town. He is so proud to be able to walk next to you, showing you off to the world. You both have found a little routine, stopping at both the record and book shops to have a quick browse whilst running errands. He loves to watch your excitement as you look through the latest selection of books, listening as you ramble on about their history or the authors life. When he has the spare money he always buys a few for you, even when you insist it is not really necessary. Not that he minds, if he has the means to spoil you, why not? You would always make sure to try and return the favour, occasionally buying him a new vinyl that you can listen to together.

The song I associate with you guys is ‘Wonderland’ by Big Country!

I ship you with Ferris!

This is definitely an opposites attract situation! You never really took much time to notice Ferris at first, you being consumed in your studies, not wanting to engage with someone so carefree and reckless. You of course knew who Ferris was, but you always thought of him as a slight show off and therefore never really took the time to get to know him. That is until you were both put in the same class, with fate deciding to seat the two of you next to each other. He was taken aback by your slightly reserved attitude, his usual one-liners didn’t seem to have much of an effect on you. He expected himself to dislike the way you brushed them off as you focused on your work, but it just made him more intrigued and motivated him to try harder! After weeks of his subtle flirting and wise crack jokes, one of them actually made you smile. Finally managing to win you over, he decided to ask you on a date, which you gladly accepted.

He does have a bit of a wild side and knows how to have fun. He often finds you stressed about work or overwhelmed with assignments, he may not seem like it but he does have an innate knowledge of when you are being to hard on yourself, always being the one to drag you away from your desk and on an adventure, you even skip school for the first time with him. And although your times in the city are usually filled with sneaking in and out of places you are definitely not allowed to be, he always does at least one thing he knows you will love. Allowing you to spend hours looking around the museum or art gallery. Debating different works or artefacts, he always provides a great outside perspective, always keeping you on your toes!

You also are the one to stop him from doing something too stupid, convincing him that he doesn’t need to go on some crazy adventure to impress you, trying to get him inside for a quiet night in. Although he would not outright admit it, one of his favourite activities is just watching movies with you. Picking out snacks at the shop and going to blockbuster to pick out a movie, legs tangled together as your eyes are glued to the screen. He does spend a significant amount of time watching you instead of the film, admiring you out of the corner of his eye.

The song I associate with you guys would be ‘Restless Year’ by Ezra Furman!

Sorry this took so long to write! I’ve been super swamped with work, but hope you like it. Also let me know how your novel is going, when you’re finished I’d love to read it! ❤️

[twiceblackvelvet]

Tipsy

pt. i. pt. ii. pt. iii.

April 2nd, 2022. 22:31 PM. Seoul.

Apart from being aesthetically pleasing for photography, high-rise balconies with nothing but the night sky and light breeze for the company have always been a place of peace for Yeri. Somewhere to gather all of her thoughts and contemplate her next move, whatever that may be. Several times throughout her career, she’s stood atop a balcony, looked out over the landscape surrounding her, and tried to put everything around her into perspective. The view alone is a big part of why she bought this apartment for herself after it became clear she couldn’t stay with her parents any longer. That and it’s close to the studio where most of her time is spent nowadays.

The wine glass placed on the table beside her has been empty for the past hour, not that it matters. The bitter taste still lingers heavily on her lips as if she’d only just gulped it down. An empty bottle sits discarded on the kitchen counter of her apartment. As of late, those bottles have been piling up more and more to where her mother has grown concerned with the amount of alcohol she’s been consuming whenever she calls over to check on her. However, if it helps with getting a good night’s rest and blocks out the lingering thoughts of self-doubt that threaten to turn her into an insomniac, that’s all that matters.

Falling asleep as the sun rises used to be perfectly fine when there were several managers around and people to make sure she was on-time to different events no matter what. But, she no longer has that luxury with just one manager who barely even checks in with her anymore. A lot has changed in the last few months since the split of Red Velvet, and yet, Yeri still feels like compared to her other former members, she has achieved nothing at all. 

Joohyun has turned herself into a Mother Teresa type for plants the last she heard and is enjoying the simple life. Joy is acting again and appearing on billboards throughout the city for some cosmetic brand that is likely paying her way too much. Wendy has begun the process of kick-starting her career in America, which will no doubt end up being a success. Seulgi, well, she’s probably the only one of the group who truly understands how lost Yeri feels, but even she is preparing to debut solo. 

Whilst everyone moves forward, she can’t help but feel stuck in place. Despite the leap outside of her comfort zone after leaving SM, the creative freedom she so desperately was seeking for years is not the kind she assumed she’d have once becoming a producer and songwriter for an exciting independent label. 

“The artists don’t believe a former girl-group member with such little experience can give them the hit song their career desperately needs.” The words float through her mind once more. A constant alarm within her that triggers a deep sense of hopelessness whenever they appear in her thoughts.

A harsher breeze blows her flowing hair across her face, blocking her from pondering on the darkness inside of her head for too long. Probably for the best. It never ends well when she lets her insecurities get the better of her. The cold air sends a shiver down her spine and threatens to infiltrate her body with the flu if she doesn’t step back into the warmth of her home soon, which she does immediately. 

Like usual, her hands drift back to the empty wine bottle, sullen to find the contents missing but mentally refusing to believe that she is the one who has consumed it entirely. Light background noise stemming from the television is the only sound audible once the doors to the balcony are closed. A re-run of a drama that Yeri has tried to binge-watch three times now, every time her intoxicated brain has prevented her from picking up on the storyline. 

Her back pocket on her jeans holding her phone which is vibrating through the material. Someone is calling. Twisting her arm to grab it, her fingers almost lose their grip and drop the device which would no doubt have smashed it against the hard flooring. However, she catches it before disaster strikes and answers the call all in one motion.

Had she gotten the chance to check who it was that was on the other end of the line, she may not have wished to speak to them. But no, she has no choice. She heaves a deep sigh before putting the phone to her ear, immediately regretting how close she pressed it against her head.

“Hey! Yeri! Hello? Are you there?”

“Wendy. I’m here. You don’t need to shout, you know?”

A short laugh can be barely heard before Wendy once again bursts Yeri’s eardrums.

“I’m not shouting! There’s just an echo in my bedroom. Anyway, that’s not important, I have something to tell you!”

“If this is about the place that sells muffins that are also doughnuts again, I don’t want to hear it. I know they’re the best thing you’ve ever had but if I can’t taste them then what’s the point in telling me about it?” Yeri fires back. In Wendy’s words “heavenly food mash-ups that get the Seungwan approval,” is frankly wearing her patience thin.

“No, silly! I just woke up, I haven’t eaten yet, but I got some good news. Are you ready for it?”

“I’m practically on the edge of my seat.” 

That’s the first honest thing Yeri has said to Wendy in weeks during these phone calls that have become a bit of a habit. Her tipsy state has made sitting like a normal human being relatively difficult, it seems. 

“Well, prepare to be blown off it. The label finally got back to me about including the song you wrote for me on my album, they want it to be a bonus track, isn’t that amazing?” 

It takes Yeri a moment to recall what Wendy is talking about. The closest her hands have gotten to completing a full song lately was a poem she wrote on a napkin whilst out for breakfast with a mean hangover. However, it suddenly clicks when Wendy hums the melody, and Yeri realizes she has made a big, huge, major error. 

“Wait, Wendy. You can’t use that song! I don’t want it on your album!” She practically screeches and this time it’s Wendy’s turn to feel a sharp pain in her ears.

“Why? You were so proud of it and you know I love it too, I’ve already recorded and submitted it, I’m not sure they’ll let me take it back now.”

A throbbing sensation settles itself dead center in Yeri’s forehead. There’s absolutely no way of getting out of this one alive. Either Wendy will kill her, or… even worse…

“It’s fine, ignore me. It’s your song Wendy, I’m sure the album will be amazing but I really need to go.” 

Without waiting for Wendy to tell her goodbye, Yeri has already hung up on her and is quickly scrambling to find the right contact hoping to be able to stop what could be a disaster waiting to blow up. The phone rings for several moments before finally a robotic voice reads the age-old script of “this number is unavailable, please try again later.”

For the next thirty minutes, Yeri calls and calls, desperately hoping that on at least one of these occasions she’ll finally hear anything other than a dead end. Pacing the floor of her apartment, she deeply regrets drinking all of her wine earlier. A nice glug would go down well right now to stop her entire body from shaking. 

Just as she’s about to give up and try to sleep this awful situation away, her phone finally rings and there in bold letters lies the person she’s been aiming to speak to. Seulgi.

“Hey, Yeri. I have a bunch of missed calls, what’s going on? Are you okay?” 

The sincere, worried tone to Seulgi’s voice only makes Yeri feel even worse about what she’s about to request of the person she’s been relying on heavily these last few months to help her through the slump she’s fallen into.

“Hey, yeah, I’m fine. Sorry, about all the calls I just really need a favor from you.” 

“You called me 216 times for a favor?”

Yeri pulls her phone away to check the number for herself, shocked that it’s even possible to call someone that amount of times in such a short period. But there it is, clear as day. 

“Um… Yeah. It’s kind of important, you see.” 

It isn’t. It’s just a stupid mistake that’s all her fault that she now needs to hope Seulgi will bail her out of without her finding out the real reason behind her request.

“Okay, what’s up? You’re worrying me, kid.” 

“Well, you know Beautiful Love Lost.” 

“Oh, yeah, I was just listening to the final version, funnily enough. The company loves it I even heard some people talking about how they regret letting you go.” 

Things could not get any worse, Yeri thinks.

“Well, I need you to delete it, please.” 

Silence is all that follows her words for a few seconds until finally Seulgi releases a deep exhale. 

“Look, Yeri. I know you’ve been kind of down lately with things not working out at the label. But once this gets released, they’ll see that you’re the most talented person they have there. I promise you, you don’t need to doubt yourself.”

Things did get worse. 

“It’s not that, I just think it’s too personal, I don’t want you to release it.” A lie, the biggest lie she’s ever told to Seulgi.

“I don’t understand… You were happy for me to have this and now… you’re not?”

“Yes, exactly. Now I’m not. I don’t want people to read too much into it and think they know me.” 

She doesn’t speak, but Yeri can tell that Seulgi is taking in everything she’s saying to her and trying her best to digest it all. Even to her own ears, the words don’t quite make sense, nor do they feel truthful. Seulgi has always had a way of reading between the lines and Yeri knows she’s doing exactly that now, she knows that Seulgi knows this isn’t the real reason she doesn’t want her to release the song. However, she surprisingly doesn’t question it.

“Fine, I won’t use it. But you owe me another song and fast. The album is due out on the 16th but I have four more days to resubmit anything I’m not happy with.” 

“Yes. You know you’re my favorite person, right Seul?”

“Sure kid,” The doubt clear in her tone. “But I mean it. Four days or I can’t do anything for you. I’ll have to use one of the SM producer’s songs.”

“I will, I promise.” 

They say their goodbyes to one another with Yeri breathing a deep sigh of relief she had been holding during the entire call. However, the anxiety rises in her chest once more with the realization that Seulgi, despite her stubbornness on the subject of Wendy, will probably listen to her solo project even if it’s just to be overly and falsely critical. 

Her mind goes into overdrive with worry about just how Seulgi will react. Will she bring her death slowly? Or will she simply ignore her existence as she has done with the rest of their former members? 

Before the fear consumes her completely, however, several messages from Wendy appear in the notification bar of her phone. 

00:13 AM  [Wendy]

It’s fine Yeri, I won’t use the song if you don’t want me to. I know this is personal for you.

I hope you release it one day instead. I miss hearing you sing. 

Don’t forget though, the album is out on the 15th. You better listen to it!

The only feeling Yeri is capable of at this moment is relief, however, had she took the chance to pay attention to what Wendy had said, she’d realize that another disaster was still steaming ahead on two different tracks ready to collide on the same day as each other for her two friends.

pt.v

[morganrhodes]

Behind the Scenes of Falling Kingdoms

It’s been a minute, my friends! I don’t have any shiny news to share with you at this very moment, but I thought I’d check in and say “hi!” and share with you a little something that Falling Kingdoms fans might find interesting.......

The original ending of Gathering Darkness!!

I’m going to put a spoiler break here, since there are spoilers ahead! ***********

Some people ask if I knew exactly how the story was going to end as I started it. Nope! I sure didn’t! I learned a lot as I wrote each draft, about the world, the characters, the magic, the mythology. This is an excellent example of how the series could have gone in a VERY different direction halfway through the series than it actually did.

Oh, and this is obviously before any proofreading or copyedits, so it’s pretty raw, but I hope you enjoy this peek behind the scenes!

Note: in this original draft, Felix working against them from the get-go. He’s lucky he was so darn fun to write or he would have gotten the ax! Literally and figuratively! 😂

***

Original Last Chapter of the first draft of FALLING KINGDOMS #3: Gathering Darkness

They approached the gates set into the north face of the stone wall. It was almost amusing how much the compound resembled a very small and very poor version of the City of Gold. This was the City of Dirt.

           The chieftain had lived high enough here, though, compared to the majority of Paelsians. Thanks to the hefty wine tax on every bottle produced that had gone directly to him, this wasn’t surprising.

           But the chief was dead now. This Paelsia was an orphan, ruled by default by the King of Blood.

           Jonas didn’t waste any time. He shoved open the gates and went inside, a path he’d walked months ago when he’d been granted audience with the chief.

           “Is it true you were involved with the chief’s daughter?” Lysandra asked. “She danced with snakes, didn’t she?”

           “Very well, too.”

           “I’ll take that as a yes.”

           “Who told you that?”

           “Doesn’t matter anymore.”

           It must have been Brion. Jonas almost smiled at the memory. Laelia Basilius had been a shallow girl, but it hadn’t been completely unpleasant to work his way into her good graces—and her bed—so she’d introduce Jonas to her important and influential father.

           “She had her uses.”

           She gave him a sour look. “I wonder if she feels the same about you now.”

           “Last I heard, she thought we were betrothed.” At Lysandra’s look of shock, he laughed. “We’re not.”

           “Let’s hope your paths never cross again in case there’s a wedding to attend.”

           “That is definitely something to avoid at all costs. Besides, I’m not interested in her as part of my future. I have more important things to accomplish. Where do you think we should do it?” At her sharp look, he couldn’t help but grin. “The ritual.”

           He hadn’t been able to coax a smile from her today, which didn’t surprise him that much. It had been a difficult journey from Limeros as they tried very hard to beat Felix to this location. They hadn’t seen any sign of him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t close.

           Lysandra scanned the area. There were dirt paths leading off to a labyrinth of small cottages and Chief Basilius’s large villa in the center. “How about that clearing?”

           The clearing was the location of the chief’s bonfires, feasts, and nightly entertainment. When Jonas had been here last there had been several very beautiful topless dancers entertaining the chief.

           “Why are you grinning?” Lysandra asked.

           “Just dealing with a few memories.”

           “Deal with this.” She handed him her dagger. “I cleaned it especially for you.”

           “You’re not volunteering this time.”

           “You’re so good at making yourself bleed, why would I want to get in the way? Why? Do you want me to do it this time?”

           “No.” Jonas took the blade from her, found a spot on his forearm this time, and sliced. This was the fifth time he’d done this so it was a familiar pain.

           He crouched down and with the blood that welled from the cut, he drew the spiral symbol for air on the parched ground. “Let’s hope it works this time.”

           Lysandra gave him a tense look as a breeze picked up, circling around them in a whirlwind that made their breath catch. Jonas used a new piece of cloth to bind his wound, his gaze tracking around the area.

           “Jonas, over there.” Her voice was tight. She pointed at a spot where the bonfire had once been, now only a scorched circle in the center of the clearing.

           Something was there, the sunlight glinting off of it. A crystal.

           A moonstone.

           His chest tight, Jonas pulled another cloth out of his pocket and approached the crystal, bending over and picking it up without the surface of it touching his skin.

           “It didn’t bother Felix,” Lysandra said.

           “I’d rather not take any chances.”

           “That’s it, isn’t it?”

           “Unless there’s another crystal about to appear out of absolutely nowhere after I bleed on the ground, yes, this is it.”

           He wouldn’t risk this one. He had to get it somewhere safe until he could make contact with Cleo. She probably wondered where he’d disappeared after claiming the Earth crystal. He hadn’t realized he’d be dealing with a traitor like Felix.

           Still, one crystal was better than no crystals at all.

           Lysandra clutched his arm. “Jonas…”

           He glanced at her with surprise. “What?”

           “We have company.”

           He turned slowly, his heart sinking, to see that she was absolutely right. Of course, he expected to see that Felix had caught up to them.

           Felix was definitely there. But behind him were at least twenty guards in red uniforms.

           And King Gaius himself.

           “You were right, Felix,” the king said. “Here he is, the infamous Jonas Agallon, the murderer of my beloved wife and queen.”

           “Oh, your highness,” Jonas said, sounding a great deal more confident than he currently felt, “everyone knows that was a lie. Aron Lagaris killed your wife. He was your kingsliege, if I’m not mistaken, wasn’t he? Sounds like someone who took orders extremely well.”

           “I must admit, I’m not entirely sure what to do with you.” The king’s gaze shifted to Lysandra. “Or you. Shall I take you to my dungeon again and risk some last minute escape that disappoints a crowd thirsting for a show of blood? Or shall I kill you here and be done with it?”

           “Deal with me however you want,” Jonas said. “But let Lysandra go.”

           “Not a chance. She will die at your side, rebel.”

           “Sorry, Jonas,” Felix said, shrugging. “You gave me no choice.”

           “Really. No choice at all other than this?”

           “The cost of a raven to send a message from Limeros to Auranos was steep, but I believe it was worth it in the end. If I hadn’t, the king and his men never would have arrived in time.”

           “That would be a shame.”

           Jonas wasn’t sure what to do, how to maneuver his way out of this. He could handle a few guards, certainly, especially with Lysandra at his back. But twenty or more? And there was only one entrance into the compound unless they wanted to scale the twenty foot walls, and that entrance was currently blocked by a small army.

           “The crystal,” King Gaius said. “Hand it over.”

           “That’s not going to happen.”

           The king looked as if he hadn’t slept in days. There were dark circles under his eyes and his face showed signs of strain. He appeared much older than the last time Jonas saw him.

           “Felix,” he said.

           “Yes, your majesty.”

           “Where is the Earth crystal?”

           “I have it in a safe place.”

           “Why isn’t it here as we agreed?”

           “I want an assurance that you’ll pay me.”

           “Don’t insult me, boy. Of course I’ll pay you. You’ve delivered to me the means to claim two crystals and also apprehend Jonas Agallon, you will be paid very well indeed. Now tell me where the Earth crystal is.”

           Jonas eyed Lysandra. Her attention was totally focused on Felix. He knew that she liked the mercenary despite everything that had happened, that she thought she saw something more in him than Jonas did. Jonas had thought he’d seen a true friend in Felix, in the beginning. But he’d been fooled. He refused to be fooled again.

           “Can you use it?” Lysandra said to him under her breath.

           He glanced down at the piece of moonstone he’d wrapped in the protective cloth. There was a strange shadow within it, much like the Earth crystal. A strand of darkness that swirled around and around. “Felix couldn’t do more with the other crystal than the most minor magic. It won’t help us here today.”

           “Then we’re dead, simple as that.” She reached down to take his hand in hers, finally giving him a shaky grin although her eyes shone with emotion. “It’s been good to fight at your side, Jonas. It started a little rough between us, I know, but I mean that. You’ve become so important to me…I hope you know that.”

           “No, Lys. Don’t talk like that. We’re not giving up yet.”

           “Maybe I’m more of a realist than you are. There’s no way out of this.”

           “Let me make this very clear, Felix.” The king’s voice was brittle, angry and impatient. “Tell me where you hid the crystal and I won’t have to take you back to my dungeon and torture the information out of you.”

           Felix’s brows shot up. “You’d do that?”

           “Oh, yes. I would do that. Do not challenge me, boy. I have not had a pleasant week, to say the least. I came out here, leaving the sanctity and safety of the palace for this wasteland that I despise, so I could claim what you promised. I will not leave here with only one crystal in my possession.”

           He flicked a finger at a guard, who pointed his sword at Felix’s throat.

           “Huh,” Felix said. “Will you look at that, Agallon? I guess you were right after all.”

           “Idiot,” Jonas growled. “Nice of you to finally realize it.”

           “I do have a theory about the crystals, though.”

           Were they really having a conversation right now, moments before the king unleashed his guards to slaughter them all?

           “Oh? And what’s that?”

           “One crystal doesn’t work too well on its own. But two, on the other hand—” He fished into his pocket and pulled out the piece of obsidian. “That might work better.”

           King Gaius inhaled sharply at the sight of it. “You lied to me.”

           “Yeah, I really did. Jonas, catch.” Felix tossed the crystal at Jonas and he caught it in his bare left hand.

           “Damn it. Fine, I’ll try.” Jonas discarded the cloth so he could hold the piece of moonstone in his other hand. “All right, anything would be good here. Anything at all.”

           He had no idea what to do now to harness the magic. He was no sorcerer. He’d only started to believe in magic in recent weeks.

           However, there was that whispered rumor in his family that an ancestor had once been an exiled Watcher.

           Jonas gasped as something stabbed at him through his hands. “What—?”

           The crystals began to glow like hot coals. He tried to drop them when the burning pain intensified.

           “Jonas, what’s happening?” Lysandra gasped. “What are you doing?”

           “I don’t know. I’m not trying to do anything!”

           A band of light began to snake out of the crystal and wind around his arms, tightening like boa constrictors. The bands of light wrapped around his chest, his throat, swirling like a tornado all around him. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. There was only the searing pain and the sensation that he was being torn apart.

           He realized he was screaming a moment before the pain ceased.

           He fell to his knees, gasping for breath. His body ached, as if he’d been struck by lightning and then mauled by a pack of wolves. He was surprised that blood didn’t drip from every part of his body.

           The crystals were gone. Someone must have taken them while he suffered. He pushed against the cracked ground to get back up to his feet, casting a worried look toward Lysandra. She stared at him with shock rather than the concern he expected for what he’d just endured.

           Then he glanced toward the guards, the king, and Felix.

           Instead of surging forward and killing him where he stood, each of them, one by one, sank to their knees until only King Gaius and Felix remained standing.

           “What are you doing, your majesty?” Felix growled, but he didn’t move his gaze away from Jonas. “Kneel.”

           Stunned, Jonas watched as the king did exactly that, lowering himself to his knees, his jaw tight, his expression one of utter and absolute shock.

           “What is going on here?” Jonas managed.

           “The crystals,” Lysandra said, her voice strained. “Jonas…your hands...”

           His hands? He looked down at his hands. On his left palm was what appeared to be the brand of a spiral. On the other, a circle within a circle.

           The symbols began to glow.

           “You’re a god now, Jonas,” Lysandra whispered. “The god of Earth and Air. And even the King of Blood kneels before you.”

**

Right? Verrrryyyy different indeed! I’m glad I didn’t go in this diection, but the idea of the poor winemaker’s son becoming the most powerful being in Mytica certainly did have its charms. ❤️

[cfiesler]

the tenure-track detective agency

I tweeted about a dream, then realized it should be a television show, so I tweeted the whole first season plot. Featuring an academic who has to solve a murder so she doesn’t have to teach another class, and her librarian sidekick who is very helpful because of the research she’s done while writing Sherlock and Veronica Mars fanfiction. The whole thread is on Twitter, but copied in plain text below the cut for your reading pleasure. #sixseasonsandamovie

The Tenure-Track Detective Agency: Season One

I recently dreamed that one of my colleagues was wrongfully accused of murder, and because of the trial, could not teach their fall class. I feel like an "oh god I have to solve a murder so I don't have to teach an extra class" anxiety dream is like next level #academiclife.

S1 opens in mid-summer when a tenured computer science prof is found in his lab surrounded by simple robots testing conversational agents, busily chatting about top-voted reddit posts while he dies from blunt force trauma. The murder weapon is a dusty teaching award.

Our hero, an overworked assistant prof, is updating the syllabus for her machine learning class that just doubled in size, when she receives news that she has to pick up a section of intro programming b/c the instructor was just arrested for murdering another faculty member.

Our hero has THREE WEEKS to exonerate her colleague so that he can teach the class as planned, instead of her. Her tenure case hangs in the balance. What follows is a montage of frantic syllabus writing and murder investigation.

She visits the scene of the crime. A PhD student is frantically deleting data from a hard drive, and claims the IRB made her do it. Our hero distracts her and pockets one of the prototype conversational robots in the hopes it might have been a witness to the murder.

Our hero has a conference call with the set of brand new PhD students who will be teaching assistants to the intro programming class and informs them that their jobs start now and they need to dig through Lexis Nexis for case law about chain of custody and robots.

She visits the library and finds the librarian who usually answers questions about copyright, because she must know the most about law. Cue enthusiastic quirky sidekick, who actually doe knows a lot about murder investigation because she writes Sherlock fanfiction.

She visits her colleague in prison. She should probably be investigating the murder he is wrongfully accused of, but instead has many questions about the syllabus for his class she is now forced to teach. She tries not to sound bitter as she asks him for his slide decks.

Her colleague, clad in his orange jumpsuit and holding a prison phone, is understandably very upset about having been wrongfully accused of murdering another professor. But as she stands to leave, he calls out, "Wait! Do... do you think this will hurt my tenure case?"

She visits the detective in charge of the case. He says that her colleague's alibi for a 3-hour time period surrounding the time of murder is damning. "Who spends 3 hours answering email?" he demands. "Besides, professors don't work in the summer!" She fears this may be hopeless.

With the help of her librarian sidekick who convincingly impersonates a lawyer, our hero gets her hands on the the transcripts from the police interview of her colleague after his arrest. She assigns a PhD student to conduct a rigorous grounded theory qualitative analysis.

Word has gotten out that she is investigating the murder. Someone pins a note to her office door: "FOLLOW THE GRANT MONEY." She pulls up the dead prof's CV on his website only to find that it was last updated in 2003.

She interviews his PhD students after (out of force of habit) having them sign consent forms that detail data storage practices. None of them had seen their murdered advisor in person in years except when he mysteriously appeared to add his name to their published papers.

The librarian sidekick uses a bobby pin to break into an admin's office to retrieve grant spending records. It appears that the murder victim has been funneling funding earmarked for students and travel into "equipment." Almost $1m of invoices from a mysterious tech company.

(In case you were wondering, the librarian sidekick also writes Veronica Mars fanfiction and ABSOLUTELY knows how to pick a lock because of important research. She also wrote House fanfiction so let's hope she gets to diagnose Lupus by the end of this tale.)

Meanwhile, the PhD student has finished her grounded theory analysis of the arrest interview, and concludes (with an appropriate limitations section) that the interrogation was conducted under duress. The police officer promised to write him a tenure letter if he confessed.

Our hero buys many pizzas and puts the qualitative analyst in a room with the teaching assistants doing legal research and tells them to work on a motion to get the confession thrown out. She has to promise them they can all be co-authors on a major journal publication.

Cut to a scene where our hero spends hours answering emails from students trying to enroll in THE CLASS SHE SHOULDN'T BE TEACHING b/c they're on the waitlist but they need this class to graduate & also will she be taking attendance. Between emails she studies 18 U.S. Code §3501.

She visits a clinical prof at the law school to ask for help. You remember that this is TV so wonder if he is the obligatory love interest. He suggests they discuss 18 U.S. Code §3501 over drinks. She laughs: DO YOU THINK I HAVE TIME FOR THAT. You write hero/librarian fanfiction.

She interviews more students. Admins. Faculty. They initially were shocked the murder victim got tenure, but he'd seriously stepped up his game in the last couple of years. Not just more productive research, but he spent time on his teaching! And service! And apparently... sleep!

This trend becomes more shocking when she finally visits the victim’s family. They too noticed a change. They’d seen him *more often* in the year leading up to his tenure review. Now our hero doesn’t just want to solve his murder, SHE NEEDS TO KNOW HIS SECRET.

Meanwhile, the librarian has tracked down shipments from Mysterious Tech Company not to the victim's office but to a Mysterious Storage Unit. This is a clue! They brose YouTube videos about breaking into storage units. (YT tries to show them flat earther videos but they resist.)

HOT ON THE TRAIL, our hero makes the mistake of checking her email. She has a nastygram from a journal editor who reminds her that her promised review of a paper is 1 week overdue. The murder investigation halts while she spends hours on labor for which she will not be paid.

Our hero reluctantly suggests "major revisions" even though she knows this means more unpaid labor in a few months, and then regroups with the librarian. They head to the storage unit; we discover that the librarian drives an impala convertible.

They are nearly there when our hero's phone dings with a calendar reminder; she has a committee meeting in fifteen minutes. She can't remember which committee it is, but they turn around anyway. After the meeting, she still isn't sure which committee it was.

Our hero gets a phone call from her colleague who is wasting away in prison while wrongfully accused of murder. He doesn't ask about the progress of her investigation. He's just called to ask her if she can take over some of his committee assignments.

FINALLY our hero & the librarian get to the storage unit, which with the help of YouTube videos they break into & discover... rows of gently humming servers, and also robot parts everywhere! It's very uncanny valley in there, y'all. You're like, woah is this show actually scifi.

Our hero sits down at a computer. Did you know that even CS profs can have terrible password practices? Our hero read @lorrietweet's papers so the first thing she tries is "monkey" and VOILA she is inside a private github repo. (She has an ethics-related twinge, but he IS dead.)

Our hero emails the students enrolled in her machine learning class, sends them the github repository, and offers them extra credit for a forensic analysis. This is the best service learning activity she's ever come up with.

Our hero checks her email again (WHY DOES SHE KEEP DOING THIS) and has a message from her department chair reminding her that murder investigation does not count as a service activity. ('We've already had discussions about tweeting as not a good use of your time' he reminds her.)

We're getting very close to the season finale, and there's another montage: meeting with student investigators, tinkering with robot parts, answering emails about course overloads, talking to the police, revising a journal article that is due soon, formatting a new syllabus...

Over a bottle of wine in her office, our hero and her librarian sidekick put together the final pieces by doing rigorous affinity diagramming on a whiteboard. There is one final thing to verify. They enlist one of the murdered prof's PhD students to help. This is very exciting!

She visits her wrongfully accused colleague one last time in jail to give him the good news about her findings. He doesn't listen, far more concerned with making sure that revisions on his latest journal article get in on time, so she helps him & then leaves to go exonerate him.

Our hero gathers the relevant parties: detectives, faculty, PhD students, a public defender who she forgot existed. They meet in a windowless conference room. She has prepared a powerpoint presentation. It shows a table of contents: Intro, Methods, Findings, Discussion.

She speeds through the beginning (stopping to answer a question from a prof about the sample size for the qualitative analysis) and finally gets to the point: "I have discovered that the murder victim had a dark secret. And in the process uncovered the REAL killer!"

(Her librarian sidekick cheers from the audience. She is wearing the deerstalker from her Sherlock cosplay, which our hero reluctantly refused, saying that she probably shouldn't cosplay at work until after tenure.)

Our hero continues: "Our analysis of his private github repo revealed the REAL source of increased productivity in the year leading up to his tenure case - particularly striking since he also managed to save a failing marriage. Impossible, you say? That's what I thought! But..."

"It turns out that he solved the problem of not enough hours in the day for assistant professor levels of research, teaching, and service with ARTIFICIAL INTELLIGENCE!"  The department chair nods. Artificial intelligence can indeed solve all problems.

Our hero reveals a beautiful powerpoint slide that details their analysis of the code and its conclusion: Prof. Murder Victim had programmed an AI to do all of his service and administrative work, most of his teaching, and a big chunk of his research collaboration.

From answering emails to grading assignments to delegating tasks to student collaborators to reviewing papers (ESPECIALLY reviewing papers), Prof. Murder Victim had managed to streamline his duties into the things that were most important for tenure & avoid everything else.

And he was able to do what can be so rare in some departments - have a lot of time for himself, which repaired his relationship with his family. "But then..." our hero began ominously, "he thought... why can't I create an AI for that too so I can spend more time on my research?"

Our hero gestures at the door, and in walks a PhD student with a humanoid robot in tow. It is a half-finished, uncanny valley nightmare of the murder victim. "He was murdered by his own creation!" our hero shouts, as she reveals her final slide with a list of collaborators.

There is a long, heavy pause in the room. The detective looks stunned. The librarian sidekick pulls out a flask and toasts our hero. Then suddenly, the department chair leaps to his feet and says, "HE WORKED FOR THE UNIVERSITY, WE OWN THE PATENT!"

The room erupts into a flurry of activity. PhD students start updating their CVs. The prof who teaches tech ethics immediately starts writing a paper. The department chair posthumously grants the murder victim full professor status in recognition of his contributions to robotics.

The detective quietly comes over and asks our hero for her evidence. She produces a full paper with 12 figures, 78 citations, and 17 authors. He says that it may take some time to sort this out. She says, the guy you arrested starts teaching in one week, better be sorted by then.

Our hero has approximately thirty seconds to bask in the glow of her triumph when her phone dings informing her she has a committee meeting in 10 minutes. She checks her email and 4 students are asking for copies of the syllabus for the class she's hopefully no longer teaching.

That night she receives an email from the dept chair: (1) Remember this is not part of your tenure case; (2) Our colleague has been released from jail & will resume teaching his class; (3) The ethics instructor just got a grant with a course release so you'll need to teach that.

Before she can start sobbing, she opens an email from one of the students in her machine learning class, telling her that the work they'd done analyzing that code was the most amazing learning experience of his life and can they please do more stuff like that.

After a long moment, she opens up a new document so that she can start creating a syllabus for Computing Ethics & Responsibility. She adds a sentence: "You may be occasionally asked to participate in real-world problem-solving activities as part of your grade."

The season finale ends with the librarian joining our hero in her office and producing a sign to hang on the door: THE TENURE-TRACK DETECTIVE AGENCY. It is a joke, of course.   ... or is it???

If you read to the end, I feel like I should mention how difficult it is to write a story linearly while not knowing the plot and without the ability to edit at all, and also that it would make my life to see hero/librarian fanfiction on AO3. :D

And if you’re a TV exec or literary agent:

(And if you’re someone who is going to write tenure letters for me: don’t worry, I also did a lot of research, teaching, and service today. ;) )