#Myself someone that listens and know a lot of rock songs

[celibibratty]

sean is kinda lame, the dude is called a punk, but the motherfucker don't listen to not even ONE! punk/rock song, sean you're lame😒

[inthedayswhenlandswerefew]

1968 [Chapter 8: Demeter, Goddess Of The Harvest]

Series Summary: Aemond is embroiled in a fierce battle to secure the Democratic Party nomination and defeat his archnemesis, Richard Nixon, in the presidential election. You are his wife of two years and wholeheartedly indoctrinated into the Targaryen political dynasty. But you have an archnemesis of your own: Aemond’s chronically delinquent brother Aegon.

Series Warnings: Language, sexual content (18+ readers only), violence, bodily injury, character deaths, New Jersey, age-gap relationships, drinking, smoking, drugs, pregnancy and childbirth, kids with weird Greek names, historical topics including war and discrimination, math.

Word Count: 6.2k

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Is it a story worth telling? I think so. It’s better than nothing. It’s better than watching raindrops slither down the cracked concrete walls until the prison guards come back to bloody us again.

Today I’m sending John McCain taps in the shape of the tale of Io. John has a hard time tapping back—they’re doing something to his shoulders, they’re destroying him—but he likes to listen. He’s getting it a lot worse than I am; perhaps even the North Vietnamese fear Aemond’s retribution if I die here. They should be afraid of him. He thinks he owns everything he touches, and he’ll snap bones to keep it.

So anyway, Io was a king’s daughter, a mortal who Zeus saw and wanted and took when her father kicked her out to avoid the god’s wrath. That’s easily half of Greek mythology, right? Zeus appears, irrevocably fucks up someone’s life, vanishes in a plume of clouds and thunder. He leaves human rubble behind him: ribs, nerves, disembodied hearts that leak blood from torn ventricles, minds broken in two. Zeus impregnated Io and then turned her into a cow to hide her from his wife Hera, ever-watchful, ever-vengeful, an aspiring mass murderess. When this disguise failed, Hera condemned Io to wander ceaselessly through the wilderness, tormented by the constant stinging of a gadfly. Eventually, Zeus returns Io to human form and she pops out a few bastard kids, as if Zeus needs any more of those. Then he ditches her and she marries some Egyptian dude. There are other details that I’ve forgotten. I don’t think John McCain will know the difference.

I’m sure you’re wondering how I acquired all this fabled trivia. I don’t seem like the type to lie around under trees reading folklore from religions that died thousands of years ago. You’re right, I’m not. But Aemond is. He would tell the stories, and Helaena would embroider scenes on quilts for us to burrow under in the winter, and I would dramatically act out the best parts (mostly murders), and Aegon would scribble comics in jagged black pen strokes. He has all these notebooks down in the basement filled with his new versions of ancient myths: Poseidon as a horny dolphin, Aphrodite as Marilyn Monroe.

Wait, I remember what I skipped. While Io was roaming across the globe, she bumped into Prometheus—chained to a rock for giving humans the gift of fire—and he cheered her up somehow. I guess meeting a guy who gets his liver continuously chewed out by a giant eagle would make me more appreciative of my circumstances too.

I have a lot of time to myself here in solitary confinement. My social circle is microscopic. I tap to John through the wall, I have dinner dates with Tessarion the rat. And I think about my family. They’re fucked up, but I miss them. I miss going to Monmouth Park with Fosco to bet on horse races, I miss getting hammered with Aegon while he sings Johnny Cash or Beatles songs. I miss my mother and Helaena and Criston. I even miss Aemond’s wife, though I only met her a few times before I deployed. She’s sharp, she’s hilarious. She’s mean as hell to Aegon, and sometimes he deserves it.

At first I wondered why Aemond hasn’t gotten me out yet, but I understand now. It sounds a lot better to have a brother being tortured as a prisoner of war than one who received a Get Out Of Jail Free card. It’s the kind of thing Aemond would consider. He understands which stories are worth telling.

I feel kind of bad for her. Aemond’s wife, I mean.

I don’t think she knows about Alys.

~~~~~~~~~~

On a chilly mid-September morning cloaked in fog, Mimi is laid to rest in the Targaryen family mausoleum at Saint George Greek Orthodox Cemetery in Asbury Park, New Jersey. Most of the golden plaques already have names chiseled into them: Viserys and Alicent, Fosco and Helaena. Aegon will one day be interred beside his wife. You have a spot reserved next to Aemond. All of you have already lived and died and been entombed; all of this was predestined by the stars eons before you had blood or bones.

Ari’s vault—an unnaturally tiny drawer, less than half the size of anyone else’s—is located just above yours. You can’t stop staring at it. You can’t hear anything the bearded priest in his black robes is chanting. Then Cosmo squeezes your hand and you look down at him. Mimi’s other children are somber but seem to be coping well enough—they are used to being raised by consensus, they would probably be more affected if one of the nannies died—but Cosmo always wants to be near you. He gazes up with those vast, wet, murky blue eyes, so much like Aegon’s, and you offer him a sad, reassuring smile. Cosmo smiles back. And you think: Life goes on.

Alicent is sniffling noisily; it echoes off the walls of the mausoleum. Criston—a man with no plaque assigned to him—is trying to console her. Aegon is watching you from across the cold granite chamber, grim and red-eyed in his black suit, the first time you can remember seeing him in one since your wedding. He wears no small gold hoops, only a row of stitches in his right ear. He wants to say something, to do something, but he can’t. Aemond is beside you, a hand heavy on your waist but muttering something to Otto. Back in Omaha, Otto had spent a few hours alone with the medical examiner, and when the death certificate was issued it revealed that Mimi died of a heart defect, a perfectly blameless sort of misfortune, an innate impending disaster. And so that’s what the newspapers printed, and any gossip to the contrary is confined to salacious rumors, untrustworthy and unproven.

When the ceremony is over, journalists are waiting to scavenge for photos and quotes under the guise of expressing their sympathies. It’s a shameless display, though they at least have the decency to wait by the cemetery gates. Aemond and Otto go to meet them. Alicent, Criston, Helaena, and Fosco, protective of the children, keep them far away from the feeding frenzy, hungry-eyed reporters like sharks without fins. Ludwika is reapplying her lipstick. Aegon is smoking a Lucky Strike and talking to his oldest son, Orion, a stilted exchange that holds the promise of turning warm with time.

You sit on a stone bench and Cosmo curls up beside you, rests his head in your lap, dozes off as you thread your fingers through his wavy blonde hair. In the mist there are shadows of gravestones and trees that turn skeletal as they shed their leaves.

“He is okay?” Fosco says as he ambles over, meaning Cosmo. He has his hands in the pockets of his slim black trousers that stop at his ankles. His suit is velvet, his eyeglasses speckled with drizzle from the slate-grey sky.

“He’s alright. He’s resting. Are you okay?”

“Oh,” Fosco sighs mournfully. “I keep thinking someone is missing. We came into this family together, Mimi and I. We got married six months apart. I have never had to do this without her. And I know she had her problems, but she was different when she was younger. She always liked a party, that’s why she and Aegon got along so well at first. But she was so loud and so funny, always telling these long stories, and everyone in the room would be grinning as they waited for the good part. Viserys loved her. Otto loved her. And then she had all those children one after the other, and that was hard, and Aegon self-destructed when he was the mayor of Trenton, and that was worse, and she was supposed to fix him and she couldn’t, the harder she tried the farther he ran from her. She started drinking her Gimlets before dinner, and then after lunch, and by the time you showed up it was never ending. But that wasn’t who she really was. She was like a moon that got smaller and smaller until the only thing left was a sliver.”

This family breaks people. This family kills people. “We’ll make ossi dei morti for Mimi tonight. I’ll help you, and we can teach the kids.”

Fosco smiles, swipes a tear from beneath his glasses, squeezes your shoulder with one wiry hand. “I am very glad you are still here.”

“I’m not trying to race you to that mausoleum.”

Fosco laughs. And then he says as he spies Aegon approaching: “Um…I will go avoid the paparazzi somewhere else.”

“You don’t have to leave, Fosco.”

“It is no trouble. And I suspect you enjoy your very rare privacy.” Fosco gives you a knowing glace and then heads back to where Helaena, Alicent, and Criston are lingering with the rest of the children. Now Ludwika is fluffing her blonde curls with her French tips, a smoldering Camel cigarette tucked between two fingers.

Aegon comes to you through the mist, plops onto the bench, and looks fondly down at Cosmo—now fast asleep, his face smooth and peaceful—before he speaks. “I can’t grasp that she’s really gone. We barely spoke for years, but she was always there, you know? Christ, she deserved better than this. She could have been happy somewhere else.”

“Your children need you.” It’s not the first time you’ve said it, but it’s the first time he believes you. He nods, staring out into the fog. “They have to get away from this whole circus for a while. And you have to learn how to be a real parent.”

“I’ll have time to work on it. I’m staying here. I’ve already been informed.”

You are alarmed. “What? By who?”

“Aemond and Otto.” Aegon says. “When the rest of you fly west, my kids and I will be at Asteria.”

“They’re getting you off the campaign trail,” you realize.

“They’re putting me on house arrest.”

Not seeing Aegon, not being near him? How long can I stand that? “I’m sure you’re relieved. You hate the grandstanding and the media.”

He shakes his head, running his fingers through his hair. “I don’t want to leave you alone.”

“I won’t be alone. I have Fosco and Ludwika.”

“I’ll talk to them.”

“About what?”

“About the fact that they need to look out for you.”

“Aegon, I’ve been doing the political wife thing for over two years.”

“But it’s different now.”

He’s right, it is.

“You’ll call, won’t you?” he asks. “You’ll let me know how the trip is going, you’ll tell me if anything bad happens? Because I can always get on a plane and meet you wherever you are. Otto might pay someone to murder me, but I’d risk it.”

“Of course I’ll call.”

“Hey.” Gently, he turns your face so you can’t hide from him. “Will you be okay without me?”

I have to be. I don’t have a choice. Instead you reply: “I’ll miss the weed.”

The tension breaks and Aegon smiles, and then he pats your cheek twice with his open palm. “Behave yourself.” He waves Ludwika over, interrupting her meditative chain smoking.

“What, what?” Ludwika says. “Are we leaving soon? Yes, it is so sad what happened to Mimi, but us standing around in the rain won’t resurrect her. And I look terrible in black.”

“I can’t be there for the last leg of the campaign.” Aegon points to you. “I need you to pay attention and check in with her at least a few times a day.”

“This is a common request. I should get a degree in it so I can charge people.”

Aegon furrows his brow at her. “What are you talking about?”

Ludwika smirks as she puffs on her Camel. “You are not the first person to ask me to keep an eye on her.” She nods subtly towards Aemond, then sashays off to give a quote to the journalists.

~~~~~~~~~~

In San Diego, Aemond meets with residents of a new public housing complex to hear their concerns about neighborhood jobs and infrastructure. In San Jose, he visits labor activist Caesar Chavez—being treated for debilitating back pain at O’Connor Hospital—and expresses support for the ongoing boycott of all grapes produced in the state. In Sacramento, he attends a Jimi Hendrix concert and receives a standing ovation from the audience; the next day he joins high school students protesting for a more inclusive curriculum. In Oregon, he makes a speech at Portland State University acknowledging the tremendous cost of the Vietnam War—in money, in time, in blood—and pledges to begin dismantling U.S. involvement as soon as he is sworn into office in January. Aemond talks about hope and despair, the bleak reality and the American Dream, and he is so overwhelmed by the crowd that he doesn’t even notice when someone takes his cufflinks as souvenirs. His lack of concern for his own safety exasperates Criston, but Aemond can’t be convinced to increase his security or his distance. If he expects the disaffected masses to carry him to the White House, he has to be real to them.

“What if another Wallace supporter tries to shoot you?” Criston demands. “What if a Nixon stooge stabs you or a crowd tramples you?”

“No one can kill me,” Aemond says, grinning wryly. “I’m not supposed to die yet. I’m supposed to be the president. It is God’s will.” And how can anybody disagree when that appears to be so true?

The earth dies as you drive north, summer withering into autumn. That familiar brisk cuttingness reappears in the air. You shake thousands of hands, smile for countless photographs. Mothers and wives of dead soldiers sob into your shoulder as you embrace them; teenage girls ask how they can get a good man like Aemond. Only one thing is missing from his glorious pilgrimage: something he wants desperately, something he cannot have (though he’ll never know why), you conceiving his child in time to announce it before Election Day. Each morning you sneak a pill and every night you bite the bullet. As often as you can, you duck into Dairy Queens to order lemon-lime Mr. Mistys.

George Wallace is in the South, galvanizing segregationists and accepting the endorsement of the Ku Klux Klan. Richard Nixon is working his way across the Midwest. He has chosen a politically moderate Greek as a running mate, Spiro Agnew; this does not strike you as a coincidence. He even shares a name with Aegon’s second son.

Nixon promises “peace with honor” in Vietnam, which means no immediate end to the draft. He makes speeches about “states’ rights” and “law and order,” ambiguous euphemisms designed to attract Wallace’s white supremacists without alienating too many suburban moderates. He commiserates with those lamenting the proliferation of sex, drugs, and divorce. He says he will return the nation to a more moral time. You wonder what he means. You can’t think of any such refuge in the bloodletting, spine-crushing history of mankind.

A kindergarten teacher tells you in Olympia, Washington, her eyes alight with reverence usually reserved for heroes, saints, gods: “People are voting for Aemond, but they’re voting for you too.”

And you find yourself thinking as a thousand miles roll by beyond the glass of limousine windows: How many people will I condemn if I don’t help Aemond win? How many lives is mine worth?

~~~~~~~~~~

The Hotel Sorrento in Seattle insists on giving you and Aemond the honeymoon suite: a retreat from the breakneck campaign, a romantic oasis for the future president and first lady…according to half the country, anyway. You are in the impractically large pink bathtub, surrounded by snowy dunes of bubbles. The wall to your right is a mirror, foggy around the edges; just a few yards to your left is the king-sized bed. In the top drawer of your nightstand is the card Aegon gave you in July. You aren’t sure where Aemond is, and you don’t especially care. You are relieved to be alone.

There’s a passion-red phone built into the rim of the tub, conveniently located for sudden room service revelations, champagne and chocolate-covered strawberries, steak and lobster. You have a different idea. It’s 7:15 p.m. here, so after 10 on the East Coast. On the steam-slick keypad, you dial the number for the main house at Asteria.

Eudoxia picks up and demands gruffly: “Geiá sou? Ti?”

“Hi, Doxie. Is Aegon around?”

“Where else would he be? Making himself useful somehow? Killing communists, driving a rocket to the moon? No. He is a burden as always.”

“Please be nice to him. His wife just died.”

“And so he cannot put his empty cups in the sink?” Without waiting for a reply, she sets the handset down on the kitchen counter with a clunk. There is distant, muffled shouting in Greek; she seems to back and forth with somebody. Then Eudoxia returns. “Antio sas,” she says, and hangs up just as a phone elsewhere in the house is lifted from its cradle.

Aegon answers with something halfway between a groan and a yawn. “Yeah?”

“Hey, it’s me.”

“Hey!” You can hear it riding the wire like electricity: a rustling as he sits up, a fresh clarity in his skull. His voice is deep, hushed, still husky with sleep. “What’s up, little Io? Any interesting happenings to report from your neighborhood of the solar system?”

“I just left a riveting tea party. Apple cinnamon scones and smoked salmon sandwiches. We talked about what kind of couches I should get for the White House and I wanted to kill myself. Are the kids okay?”

He’s smiling; you can tell. “They’re alright. I could have used you this afternoon. I was trying to help Spiro with his math homework. Trying, not succeeding.”

“Well he’s in middle school and thus beyond your skill.”

“How’s Jupiter?”

You know who he means. “I don’t want to talk about Aemond.”

“Okay.” Aegon says, curious. “So what should we talk about?”

A few seconds tick by, silent and perilous. “Where are you right now?”

“In my lair. Like a beast.”

“Alone?”

A transitory pause. “At the moment.”

“On the shag carpet or your futon?”

Now he’s very intrigued. “Futon. Why?”

“I just want a visual.” Beneath the water, your free hand is resting on the velvety inside of your thigh.

“Where are you?” Aegon asks.

“You wouldn’t believe it.”

“Maybe I want a visual too.”

You chuckle, peeking over at yourself in the mirror. Your skin is dewy with steam; stray wisps of hair stick to your face. “I’m in a gigantic pink bathtub. It’s ridiculous, it’s shaped like a heart and everything. They have a phone installed right here in case I find myself in desperate need of filet mignon.”

“Oh.” And then he hesitates, like he’s afraid to say the wrong thing. “Big enough for two?”

“More like five. You should get a tub like this for your basement, it would delight the campaign staffers.”

“My basement’s been pretty empty recently.”

Softly, vulnerably, glass offered for him to shatter: “You aren’t seeing other girls?”

“Nah, babe. I want something they can’t give me.”

You picture him, messy hair falling over his forehead, drowsy eyes that gleam with clandestine wisdom. You can smell the smoke and rum that bleeds from his skin. “I wish you were here.”

“In Seattle?”

“No. Right here.”

Aegon exhales shakily, swallows, takes a few seconds to collect himself. “How’s the water?”

“Extremely hot and full of bubbles.”

“So I wouldn’t be able to see you.”

“No,” you say, baiting him.

“But I could touch you.”

“You already have.”

“Not enough,” he murmurs. “Nowhere close to enough.”

“Do you remember what I felt like?”

“Oh God,” he whispers, and you envision him closing his eyes, rubbing his face with the open palm of his left hand. “Yeah. Of course I do. I can’t get it out of my head. But I’ve been trying not to…you know…it felt wrong to think about you that way unless you were cool with it. Like I was betraying your trust or taking advantage of you or something.”

“No, I want you to think about me.”

You can hear Aegon moving around on the green futon, repositioning himself, yanking down a zipper. When he speaks again, his breathing is quick and jagged. “Where’s your other hand, huh?”

“Under the water,” you reply coyly.

“You bitch,” he says, laughing. “I miss you so fucking much. The house isn’t right without you in it. You belong here, you belong where I am.”

Beneath the veil of bubbles and steam, there is no scar on your belly, no infidelity, no campaign, no distance of almost 3,000 miles separating you and Aegon. Your fingers slip between your legs, finding slickness the water can’t wash away. It’s a familiar sensation, though you haven’t felt it in a while: rising steadily until you hit a plateau like a jet reaching cruising altitude. From here, it will either glide along smoothly until it dies out, or eventually turn sharp and painful. “Tell me about you,” you pant.

He can hear it in your voice, a needful surrender that sets him on fire. He can’t believe this is happening; he never wants it to end. “I mean, I’m…I’m insanely hard.”

“Stroke yourself, imagine it’s me. I wish it could be me.”

“Oh fuck,” Aegon whimpers. “Okay, okay…I want you. I want you with my fingers, I want you with my tongue, I want you to beg for it, and then…”

Impossibly, incomparably, your own pleasure is climbing faster than you can reconcile yourself to it, no longer a hunger but a violent aching, a crushing gravity you can’t fight against, a ship being dragged to the floor of the ocean. What’s happening? When will it end? You moan into the phone, amazed yet petrified. You can’t get enough air; it feels like drowning, like dying.

“I need to see you,” Aegon says. He’s close to the climax that you know men experience, he has to be; he’s gasping. “I need to be with you, let me give you what you want.”

“I want you to finish inside me.”

“Io…babe…oh my God, you’re gonna kill me…”

There are sounds out in the front room of the suite: a lock clicking, footsteps, keys and a wallet tossed onto the kitchenette counter. You’re so consumed you almost don’t notice. Aemond is back. Aemond is back!! And every ion of your ascending euphoria evaporates. “Gotta go, bye.”

“Wait—!”

You hang up just as Aemond is opening the bedroom door. He walks in—immaculately tailored dark blue suit, polished black leather shoes trampling soft pink carpet—and turns to you. He has already taken his glass eye out and put on his eyepatch. Vaguely, fleetingly, you wonder where he’s been. His gaze darts to the red phone, your fingerprints in the condensation. “Who were you talking to?”

“My parents.”

If Aemond doubts this, he doesn’t show it. He crosses the room, sits on the edge of the bathtub, peers down at you with an omniscient metallic glint in his eye. He’s always been less a man than a force of nature. “I know this year has been hell.”

You envision Persephone being stolen by Hades, Orpheus searching for his dead wife Eurydice, Charon ferrying souls across the River Styx. “You haven’t made it easier.”

There’s a flash of something in his scarred face, blazing and instantaneous like lightning, and then it fades. He reaches out to touch your hair, swept up and neatly bound with clips and pins. “We can’t forget everything we’ve accomplished together,” Aemond says. “I still need you. You’re my Aphrodite.”

He’s going to tell you to get out of the tub, to lie down on the bed, to open yourself so he can fill you. You distract him, forestalling the inevitable. Each morning Prometheus dreads the return of the eagle that pecks out his liver; as every summer ends Demeter mourns the loss of Persephone. “Any luck with Nixon?”

Aemond sighs, furious, brooding. “He still won’t agree to a debate. Wallace is onboard, he’s rabid for it, he’d show up if we held it in the fucking asteroid belt, any opportunity to spew his idiocy. But not Nixon.”

“Because he knows standing on the same stage as you can only hurt him. People thought he looked bad in 1960, can you imagine now? Television has gotten so much clearer. They’ll be able to count his sweat drops from their living room couches.”

“So how do I get him to do it?”

You look up at Aemond. It’s not a hypothetical question; he’s really asking for advice.

“I have to debate Nixon,” Aemond insists. “It’s close in the polls, which means it will be even closer on Election Day. I’ll underperform whatever is projected, my coalition is less likely to show up when it counts. College kids, hippies, transients. That’s just a fact. But the old people vote. The suburban housewives vote. Nixon’s resting on his political experience and accusations that I’m a communist, an agent of chaos. But I could slaughter him in an hour on ABC.”

You think of the mutilated Vietnam veterans waving their signs and screaming at LBJ from the other side of the wrought-iron gates of the White House. “Challenge him in public. Say that the American people deserve to see the candidates debate, and do it where everyone can hear you.”

“What if Nixon still refuses?”

“Then you call him a coward. You say he must have something to hide. You ask how he’s supposed to square up with the Russians and the Chinese if he can’t even face you.”

Aemond grins admiringly. “You’re vicious.” And he lifts your hand from the rim of the tub so he can kiss your knuckles. Once you licked up drops of his approval like Tantalus, cursed with eternal thirst. Now it is poison that turns your veins black.

“If there’s a debate, everyone should go,” you say, seized by sudden inspiration. “We should have a united front, including Aegon. It can be his return to the public eye. A month will have passed since the funeral, the timing is right. He can pose for a few photos with the kids to show the nation that they’re doing well and distract from any lingering rumors about Mimi.”

Aemond isn’t grinning anymore. He’s studying you with his cold blue gaze; no, he’s trying to intimidate you, to overpower you. “Otto and I will decide what to do with him.”

“He’s a Targaryen. He should be with the rest of us.”

Aemond stands and motions for you to follow, a snap of his wrist like a man calling a dog. “It’s late. Let’s go to bed.”

Panic, tension, an iron sinking in your belly. The water is only lukewarm now, but you don’t want to leave it. “I’m not done yet.”

“Yes you are.”

There’s nothing else to say. Legally, a wife’s flesh is one with her husband’s. You slip as you step out of the bathtub, and Aemond grabs your forearm. Not like he’s helping you; like you’re something he owns.

~~~~~~~~~~

Two knocks, swift and forceful. “Hey, it’s me. You ready? Everyone else is downstairs in the lobby waiting for the limos.”

You hurry to open the door, almost twisting your ankle as you stumble in your heels. They’re an inch higher than what you’re used to. Aemond chose them, and your dress too, and your sapphire teardrop earrings, and the silver chains around your wrist and throat, and your future and your past, and your life itself. It’s mid-October, and the night of what will almost certainly be the sole presidential debate of 1968. Aemond’s retinue is staying at the Hotel Saint Louis. It’s harvest time, the fields beyond the city being reaped of their soybeans, wheat, corn, cotton, and rice, the beef cattle culled in mechanical underworlds. Aegon’s flight must have just landed.

As soon as he sees you his eyes drop, wide and bewitched, ensnared everywhere except your face. You say: “Can you help me zip this, please?”

He blinks a few times, then shakes it off. “Sorry, what?”

“The zipper’s stuck. I need you to get it.”

“Yeah. Sure.” He steps into the suite and stands behind you. The gown is a vivid blue like the Greek flag, gorgeous and shimmering but a size too small. It wasn’t tight a week ago, but now it is, and you aren’t pregnant just always gaining and losing weight in new places, first the baby and then the pill, and it wouldn’t bother you if Aemond didn’t seem so confounded by it. Aegon says as he tugs at the zipper: “I don’t think it’s gonna fit, babe.”

“It has to fit.”

“Even if I miraculously get this closed, you won’t be able to breathe.”

“Do whatever you have to. Just…just…” You push every last molecule of air out of your lungs, suck in your belly, and you hear the triumphant squeal of the zipper. “Yes!” Oh, but Aegon was right: you really can’t breathe. “Okay. Let’s go.”

“You’re not gonna last the whole debate in that. You’ll be sweating more than Nixon.”

“I’m fine.”

“Io…”

“I’m fine. Come on.” You snatch your matching purse off the coffee table by the couch, check your makeup one last time, and hobble in your heels as you walk with Aegon out into the hallway.

At the Kiel Auditorium a few blocks away, the Targaryen children—Aegon’s five and Helaena’s three—are presented for photographs before being escorted back to the hotel by the nannies. And even in the few weeks that have passed since you last saw Aegon’s kids, there have been extraordinary changes. They talk to their father, and he talks back, and he ruffles their hair and rests his hands on their shoulders and asks them about what they’re learning from their private tutors. Cosmo tackles you before he leaves—a powerful bear hug, though he can only reach your legs—and he says he hopes you’re coming home to Asteria soon.

“Me too, kiddo,” Aegon tells him, and then smiles at you; but above his gleam of teeth his cloudy blue eyes, like the Atlantic in a storm, are gloomy and troubled.

As the audience takes their seats and the journalists are poised to capture the best images and quotes of the night, the three candidates and their wives (minus Wallace’s dear departed Lurleen) meet briefly backstage to exchange the perfunctory well-wishes. Pat Nixon is introverted and bookish, though she tries to hide it; but Aemond reels her in like swordfish until her eyes are filled with him. George Wallace gets one glimpse of your venomous glare and escapes, claiming to need one last trip to the restroom before the debate begins. But Richard Nixon beckons you to accompany him to a quiet, discrete corner of the room.

“I tried to call,” he says. He’s a remarkably normal man: medium height, receding dark hair, rough voice, weathered skin, not a god but a mortal, and—you have the impression—more aware of his flaws than his fiercest critics will ever be. “But no one at that damned beach house would ever put me through to you.”

You aren’t sure what he means. “Oh?”

“I never got the opportunity to tell you how sorry I was for your loss in July, Mrs. Targaryen,” Nixon says with unglamorous, plain, genuine compassion. “Pat and I, when we heard, we wept for you. We truly did. And for your husband to be clear across the country…I can’t even imagine. It must have been awful for you. A parent never gets over something like that. It stays with you like a scar.”

“It does,” you say softly.

“I lost two brothers. Arthur died when he was seven, tuberculosis killed Harold in his twenties. God, it just about destroyed my mother. You’re a remarkable woman. You’re lightning in a bottle for Aemond, do you know that? You’re like one of those Kennedy gals, but even better. More personable than Jackie. More intelligent than Ethel…although, to be frank, who wouldn’t be? And you’re not afflicted with any ghastly vices like Ted’s wife Joan. What would Aemond do without you? He’d lose, that’s what he’d do.”

Nixon’s smart, but he’s wounded. He’s capable, but he’s so desperate to prove it. Power could ruin a man like this. “You’re very kind, sir. You did some great work under Eisenhower. Self-made like my father was, a devotee of the American Dream. I believe you have an important role to play in this country…” You smirk, a bit mischievously. “Just not as the president.”

Nixon chortles. “No matter what happens tonight, rest assured that I hate Reagan more than I could ever dislike your husband,” he says, meaning the Republican governor of his home state of California. “You know that bastard tried to primary me?”

“Actors don’t belong in politics.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Nixon says, and then bids you farewell as the lights turn blinding and the curtain begins to rise.

As soon as the adrenaline begins to fade, all you can think about is that you can’t breathe. You take your seat in the audience between Aegon and Ludwika, who won’t stop making jabs about Nixon: “He looks like a troll,” “He looks like a sasquatch,” “Do you think Pat makes him wear a  Creature from the Black Lagoon mask in bed so she is not so repulsed by him?” The most you can offer is an occasional distracted nod in response.

“You alright?” Aegon whispers.

“Yeah.”

“You don’t look alright.”

“I’m great.”

“Sure,” he says, and he acts like he’s teasing, but there’s something tremendously sad underneath. He can’t save you from this. He can’t save you from anything. What must that feel like?

On the debate stage—broadcast to a national audience—Aemond performs brilliantly. Nixon salvages what could have been a bloodbath with a handful of clever retorts that Aemond pretends not to be rattled by. The real loser of the night is Wallace, who is brutally attacked by them both: Nixon because Wallace is commandeering some of his voting bloc, and Aemond because of his near-assassination back in May. After an hour, the contest concludes and the candidates descend to the main floor to pose for photos and get lassoed into brief interviews with various journalists. Everyone in Aemond’s entourage besides you and Aegon flock to his side. By now you’re gasping in shallow gulps, close to tears and in agony from your ribs to your wobbling feet.

“I told you,” Aegon says. And then: “Come on. We’ll take the first limo back.”

In the front room of your hotel suite—one yellowish end table lamp glowing dimly, the rest of the space like twilight—Aegon wrestles with the zipper as you struggle for every breath, trying not to pass out. “Ow,” you whine. “Oh fuck, this was so stupid…”

“Don’t let him make you wear shit you don’t want to wear.”

“I have to do what he says, Aegon.”

“He doesn’t own you.”

“Legally, he does.”

He’s tugging futilely at the jammed zipper. “Are you planning on using this again?”

“I believe that would be wistful thinking.”

“You probably look better out of it anyway.” He grabs his Zippo lighter from the pocket of his emerald green suit jacket and flicks it to life. “Don’t move, okay?”

“Okay.”

“At all.”

“Got it.”

You can feel heat, intense but not painful. Aegon has pulled the edge of the fabric as far away as he can from your skin and is singeing it until it turns black and charred and brittle. Then he tucks the lighter back into his pocket and with both hands rips your dress down to the small of your back. Cool air rushes to meet the ridge of your spine; goosebumps prickle all over. Aegon is marveling at you; you can see it when you glance over your shoulder at him. Then he lays a palm against your bare skin, leans into you, inhales everything you’ve ever been: smoke and sex and starlight, strategies, shadows, secrets.

The others will be pouring into the hallway from the elevator any minute. Aemond. Aemond could find us.

“We can’t,” you whisper, hating yourself for it.

Aegon kisses the nape of your neck—so slow, so kind—and then goes to the doorway. You wait for him to leave, but he doesn’t. He’s looking at you as you hold up the ruined gown so it covers your belly and your chest. You gaze back helplessly, wanting him, needing him, a moon chained to another world’s gravity.

We can’t, we can’t, we can’t.

“I’m so sorry,” you say.

And only then does Aegon vanish.

[mazosstuff]

Heartsteel boys × classical singer!reader

Pairings: Aphelios, Ezreal, Sett, Kayn, Yone, K'sante (separately) × gn reader

Cw: maybe reader being a little insecure?

Words: 1.1 k

Aphelios

• You sometimes forget he's in the house, so, thinking you're alone, you start singing a little.

• You were no master at it so it was a little hard for you to say if you were singing with your throat or not, and that was one of his reasons why you never sang infront of him, but following some advices from your vocal coach helped alot.

• You were cooking something when you remembered the part of an opera you did when you didn't know Phel.

• Not noticing him, you started singing the solo and, my my, our boy was shocked.

• He realised you didn't know he was there, but he just stared at you awestruck.

• You never raised your voice in front of him, but to hear it so loudly, he was certainly amazed by it. (Doesn't mean that you were screaming, but it is pretty loud when someone sings right next to you, been there, done that myself)

• It was powerful, and even if he didn't understand a word of what you said, he still thought it was beautiful.

After ending your solo, you turned around and saw him, completely frozen in the spot.

Your cheeks went red

"Phel!" You exclaimed. "I didn't know you were home."

He grabbed his phone and wrote on the notes: do it again

"You... wanna hear me sing?" He nodded his head.

"And to think people say I'm too loud when I sing like this... don't you mind?" He shook his head to indicate a no.

Ezreal

• He kinda knew you sang a little, but he never knew what kind of genre you would be into.

• When you heard their song for the first time, you liked it a lot, so he thought your favourite genre of music must be electronic or pop.

• Truth to be told, you were really versatile with your taste in music.

• You two have a shared playlist where you once put an aria by accident, and you didn't notice until he told you.

"Babe, do you listen to classical music?" You stared at him. How did he know?

"Yeah... I usually sing it too..."

"Shut up, let me hear you! I wanna hear you sing the one you put in our playlist."

Panic. Total fucking panic. What if he didn't like it? What if you messed up the high note? What if...?

"Okay" you finally gave in.

"Let me just prepare a little... I don't wanna hurt my vocal cords."

After preparation, you started. Your heart pounded like crazy.

All went smoothly. You were so scared of having a voice crack but it never happened.

He got his yellow glasses and put them on his face just to push them down (like the scene in the MV).

"Why didn't you tell me I have a soulmate who sings better than me?"

"What...?"

"You can do high notes and everything! I need to tell this to everyone! My soulmate is already special by themselves, but this? You're amazing!"

Sett

• I feel like his mother would turn up the volume of the radio whenever classical music was put.

• He usually rolled his eyes when he was younger, but with age he started to understand the work and the vocal training people put to reach those levels. He respected it.

• Once you were going somewhere so he turned on the radio to put some music and the station the radio was on was the one of classical music.

• Before he could change the station you started singing.

• He secretly started to record you.

• He was impressed to say the least.

You looked over to him. "Delete that. Now."

"Oh come on, babe. You have millions of videos of me singing. Why can't I have one of you?"

"Touché..."

"Do you think I can sing whatever you sang now?"

"Do you wanna end up like Phel?"

"Omg, no"

"Then don't"

Kayn

• Bro rolls his eyes whenever he hears the words classical and music put together.

• He will pretend to throw up whenever you make him listen to a song that's not rock, pop, metal, or anything that doesn't have fast rhythm.

• One time it happened that you found a recording of you singing.

• He wanted to listen to make fun of your taste in music, but he was...

• He couldn't understand.

• Something he thought was lame just became... angelic.

"So... what do you think...?"

"It's okay, I guess"

"Wait... you are telling me that you liked it? Kayn, sweety, are you feeling okay?"

"I'm fine. And what's with the sweety now? Don't say that again"

So, under that façade of the bad boy, there is a golden heart after all.

Yone

• He listens to the classic music playlists on spotify. You can't tell me otherwise.

• Would be delighted to know that you two shared this little interest.

• Would let you sing him to sleep if he allowed himself to rest.

• Once, because you had a minor argument, you slept in separate rooms.

• He couldn't sleep so tried with the music he had saved of spotify but nothing worked.

He knocked at your door.

"What?" You asked him, still pretty pissed off, but probably because of the tiredness and the sadness.

"I can't sleep."

"Me neither"

"Can... can you sing me that one melody you sing me everytime?"

"Can't you just listen it on your own?"

"Why deprive myself of the better version when I have it right in front of me?" The reality was that he needed your voice and not some of a stranger.

If your body wasn't a solid, it would have melted right there.

"Fine..."

(But no seriously, how can you not love this man)

K'Sante

• He would start humming with you some famous pieces.

• I don't know why but I have the feeling that he also has heard somethings so he has a basic knowledge of classical music.

• He asked why didn't you join a choir yet. With your talent, you should.

• He once tried sneaking up on you while you were reading a music sheet.

• With how scared you were you hit a high note that wasn't even in your range, or at least you thought it wasn't.

• The man was too stunned to speak.

"Did you just...?"

"I didn't even know that was in my range..."

"What were you reading anyway? Did you join a choir?" He gasped in excitement.

"Yeah... I followed your advice. It's actually more welcoming than I thought it would be"

"I'm so happy you're comfortable there!" He picked you up and hugged you.

A/n: Hi there! Paranoia has been stuck in my mind for quite some time, so I thought I might write something for the boys from the perspective of someone who grew up in a family of musicians and professional classical singers.

Riot... you gotta tell me why do you create them, make them drop a banger, and make them disappear into thin air.

I am waiting for a comeback of both K/DA and True Damage.

I hope you liked this! As always, requests are open. Check my pinned post!

[eand47]

Chapter II | Compass

Summary: You moved to one of the biggest cities in the world - Grand Line to pursue filmmaking career. Soon enough your path will cross with the vocalist of upcoming band called “The Neighbourhood”. At first you decided to be just friends - because it would be easier, but sadly as everything in life sometimes by taking the easy path we regret a lot of things.

Main characters: Portgas D Ace x Reader (female)

Supporting characters: Nami, Usopp, Luffy, Zoro, Sanji, Law, Deuce, Shanks, Buggy, Sabo, Eustass Kid, Koala (more to be add)

Description: Modern AU | Musician Ace

WARNINGS: sexual harassment, mention of alcohol and drinking, explicit language, self doubt

Word Count: 10.1K

<- previous chapter | story masterlist | main masterlist | next chapter ->

NOTE: I really hope you guys like this chapter as I was surprised by myself and the fact that I was able to write 16 pages of material for it. I promise you soon there will be a lot of Ace x Reader moments, as of right now I want to establish a steady tempo of how things will go between them for the future, and also introduce you a little bit of the Reader’s already established relationships with certain characters. I recommend you listening to the song “Compass” by The Neighbourhood (the real ones hehe) when you get to the moment where they will sing it. Please feel free to leave a feed back as it’s important to me. I re-read it like six times now, and I hope that I have fixed all the spelling and grammatical mistakes, but again English is not my first language so I’m sorry if some things are unclear, let me know so I can fix it. Also if you haven’t seen “Fantastic Mr. Fox” I recommend the movie as bot only you will understand the references better, but because it’s an amazing movie. Enjoy ♡

PS: this is what the gesture from the movie looks like for those of you who haven’t seen it, as I’m afraid that I might not describe it good enough.

I’ve reached the street where “The Red Pirates” was located. I was taken aback for a moment when I saw how big of a queue was in front of the entrance. The bar was not very big, but it was quite spacious, and the vibe overall was a mix of underground place with a hint of an old rock and roll bar. One thing Shanks knew how to do best was making the most out of things. His cheerful and charismatic persona knew how to lure people around him, so it was no surprise to anyone when he made this place quite popular in this aera of the Grand Line city. At the end of every month, he invites well-known local bands to perform and usually it gets sold out, but I have never seen such a queue in front of it like the one tonight.

As I got closer, I noticed most of the people in the queue were around my age. The place was more known among people around their middle age, but I guessed from what Nami and Usopp told me I shouldn’t be surprised that there were so many young people here tonight. By the entrance were standing Beckman and Lucky Roux – a big smile appeared on my face when I saw them.

“Beckman, Lucky!” I shouted as I ran and hug them.

“Here is the real star of the night” Lucky lifted me off the ground as he squeezed me in a tight hug.

“Shanks is putting you to work tonight, huh?” Beckman patted me on the shoulder as he laughed at the face I made when he mentioned it.

“Please don’t mention it!” I whined. “On top of it my friends are going to be here, as apparently one of their friends is a brother of two of the guys in the band, so they all be having fun while I just watch behind the bar.”

“Oh, cheer up, beautiful.” Lucky chuckled at me. “At least we are here – if someone gives you trouble at the bar just let us know.” He cracked his knuckles with a grin on his face.

“(Y/N)” I heard someone shouting out my name behind me. Beckman, Lucky and I turned our heads to see who it was.

“Nami, Usopp” I called them as I gestured them to come. “I thought you are already in.”

“Well, someone here took too much time to get ready.” Usopp nodded his head at Nami, and she rolled her eyes at him. She was dressed stylish as per usual – with a dotted colourful bodysuit imitating bathing suit, a long denim skirt with some sparkling belts on top. Her long ginger hair let down nicely. Usopp was wearing a knitted light grey coloured sleeveless top – showing off his biceps, with some dark greyish baggy jeans. Two silver necklaces – one thicker than the other on his neck, his head was cover in one of his many durags that he owned – his look slaying as well.

“Anyway.” She looked at me. “Can you get us in, as we don’t want to wait on the queue, plus Luffy and the rest are waiting for us.” She grabbed my hand, squeezing it in hers.

“Yeah, of course.” I turned back to Beckman and Lucky. “Please, please, please these are my friends I told you about, please, please, let them skip the queue.” I childishly begged them, as Beckman shook his head at me with a smile and Lucky chuckled.

“We don’t need this whole performance to just let them in, you know?” Beckman said as he removed the rope that was stopping people to go in, letting Nami, Usopp. Some people in the queue complained how this wasn’t fare, but no one really paid attention to them.

“I know, but I have to be dramatic.” I stuck my tongue at them, we were about to go in when both Beckman and Lucky stopped Usopp and held him on the spot. Nami and I looked at each other confused of why they would stop him.

“You fella look oddly familiar.” Lucky said, as he eyed Usopp from the head to toes. “Any chance being related to Yassop?”

“Y-yes...” Usopp stuttered as he heard his dad’s name being mentioned. Even as absent father he has always found a way to cause his son problems.

“How so?” Beckman asked, intimidating Usopp even more.

“H-he is my f-father.” Usopp was ready to take whatever punches Beckman and Lucky were going to throw at him, as it won’t be the first time this would happen.

“Ha, I’ve heard his son is like a copy of him, but damn Yassop was working overtime when he was making you.” Lucky snorted out loudly as they let go of Usopp and patted him on the back. “Say ‘hello’ to your dad from us.”

“S-sure I will.” Usopp muttered as he glanced at them when they let him pass, the look of irritation visible on his face.

“Are you, okay Usopp?” I knew his relationship with his dad was very complicated and he hated to be reminded how much he looked like him. I knew that Beckman and Lucky didn’t mean to offend him, but they hit a nerve. I glanced back at them as they were back to stopping and letting people in.

“Yeah, I’m okay. Maybe I will be better if I don’t look so much like my dad.” He shook his head trying to forget what just happened. “Let’s go find Luffy, plus I really need a drink right now.” He said as he started to walk ahead of us. Nami and I just looked at each other without saying anything, knowing that he would need a minute to cool down.

“You haven’t forgotten about the free drinks, right?” Nami nudged me.

“Even if I did, I was sure you were going to remind me.” I nudged her back. “Anyway, I need to go and change – see you in a bit. Just find me somewhere by the bar and only order to me so you don’t have to pay.” We hugged each other and then I headed to the back of the bar where the staff entrance was. I was struggling to reach it, as there were so many people inside. I couldn’t remember to have seen this place so full before and knowing how many more people were waiting outside was stressing me out already. I reached the staff door, and as I was about to open it, when someone literally kicked it in my face and if I didn’t react fast, I was probably going to end up with a broken nose. I looked at the person in disbelief.

“You can say sorry at least, asshole.” I got even more pissed when I saw who it was.

“Watch where you stand spoiled brat.” He replied with the same annoyance.

Perfect, not only it was going to be a long and a busy night, but on top of it I must work with the biggest jerk I have ever met - Eustass Kid. Till this day I couldn’t get why Shanks kept him around, when they didn’t even get along; yet every time I’ve asked Shanks why, his reply was the same ‘He is the best bartender I have.’

I was going down the stairs towards where the ‘changing’ room was – if I could even call it that. It was the space downstairs where they store everything – from the drinks to the staff lockers. I started to take off my hoodie as I was still pissed from my encounter with Kid. I didn’t even pay attention that there were three guys sitting on the sofas, where the lockers were, until one of them didn’t clear his throat. I slowly turned around, the shocked look on my face from the embarrassment clearly visible on my face. They were trying their best not to look at me while I was standing in front of them with my bra on.

“I guess no one told you that we will be down here.” The blond guy that cleared his throat said awkwardly as he was trying to avoid looking at me. The other two – a black short-haired guy who was wearing a simple black tank top and a silver neckless, with tattoos covering his entire body and dark jeans; and the other one on his left side – with the light blue coloured hair, who was wearing glasses with a thick black frames dressed, in a dark blue t-shirt with some dark blue oversized jeans, were both looking away.

“Yeah, this little detail was clearly missed.” I covered my front with my hoodie. “D-do you mind turning around so I can quickly put m-my work shirt on?” I was trying not to die from embarrassment, avoiding looking at them.

“Of course, don’t worry we won’t be looking.” The blonde quickly said, as they all just turned their heads to the side not looking my way. I quickly changed and excused myself as I ran upstairs embarrassed of what has just happened.

They all looked at each other and laughed.

“Poor girl I actually feel bad for her.” Deuce said.

“Yeah, I bet she wasn’t expecting to see anyone here.” Law agreed with him. They all laughed again as Ace came back from upstairs, caring with himself some bottles of cold water.

“Did I miss something?” He looked at the guys confused.

“Yeah, they got us a stripper, but she ran off after she saw Law’s ugly face.” Sabo burst out laughing as Law pushed him from the edge of the sofa.

“The only ugly face here is yours, you morron.” Law and Sabo started to wrestle and mess around, and Ace looked even more confused, as he threw a bottle of water to Deuce to caught.

“Are they for real? They really got us a stripper?” Ace sat next to Deuce as he opened his bottle to drink some water, watching his brother messing with Law. Deuce only shook his head and chuckled.

“One of the girls working here came, and she didn’t notice us as she was clearly pissed about something, she started to change in front of us without realising and when she realised it became quite award for everyone.” Deuce quickly explained to him.

“Was she hot?” Ace playfully raised his eyebrow.

“Your type for sure.” Sabo said as he sat back on the sofa looking at his brother with a smirk. “If you haven’t smashed recently ...” Sabo didn’t get to finish his sentence as Law slapped him with behind the neck. “Ouch what was this for?” he winced looking at Law.

“Have some manners man.” Law scolded him.

“Come on, it was just a joke.” Sabo tried to defend himself. Ace and Deuce were just observing them not saying anything, as this was Law and Sabo’s usual dynamic.

“Don’t worry bro, if I want to smash, I don’t need a wingman” Ace chuckled at Sabo.

“You sure? You are quite grumpy lately; I can always ask Koala to hock you up with one of her girlfriends.” Sabo continued to tease Ace, as Ace just rolled his eyes at him.

“Again, I don’t need you or your girlfriend as a wingman.”

“Law what about you? You are even grumpier than Ace.” Sabo turned to Law with a teasing grin, as Law glared at him without saying anything.

“What’s with you and playing a wingman tonight?” Deuce asked Sabo, as Sabo was clearly in the mood to annoy his bandmates.

“I just care about your well beings’ guys. You know if I can help for your happiness I would gladly do it.” He tried to play innocent, but the guys knew him too way, he just wanted to mess with them.

“Where is Koala, by the way? Is she not coming tonight?” Ace asked his brother, his girlfriend Koala never missed their performances and usually hung up with them before they start playing.

“Ohh she is coming a little bit later tonight as one of her girlfriends has a birthday today, and they are out celebrating.” Sabo and Koala have been together for five years now. They had met in high school, and from the start Koala had massive crush on Sabo, which later grew to having stronger feelings for him. Koala tried to keep all these feelings bottled up, until the night when Ace had thrown a ‘goodbye’ party for his brother, who was going away to college. She drank so much alcohol that night to gain courage to confess to him, only to end up in the bathroom floor, hugging the toilet while Sabo was there by her side running gentle circles on her back, as all the alcohol was coming back. While he was in there with her, making sure that she will be alright, she looked at him in the eyes and ‘I love you’ slipped from her lips before her mind could even procced it. Sabo didn’t have much time to react as she threw up again. The next morning Koala just woke up in Sabo’s room, not really remembering anything, but from that night on their relationship started as Sabo decided to not go to college in another city but stay in Grand Line so he can be close to Koala. And till this day Sabo haven’t regrated the decision he took – not only he was with the girl that he has been in love with since they met, but he also got the chance to do music, something he has always loved, with his brother and friends by his side.

“Oh, that is why you are playing a wingman.” Deuce chuckled at Sabo. “I’m also single, why don’t you play my wingman?” Deuce clenched his fist up to his heart pretending to be hurt by Sabo’s decision to ask only Ace and Law. Ace snorted at Deuce and his little “act”.

“Sorry man, but you don’t match the birthday girl’s type.” Sabo put his arms in the air as he was helpless to help his friend.

“What’s her type then?” Ace mocked his brother and his pathetic attempts to play Cupidon.

“Guys, don’t mock the messenger.” Sabo tried to defend himself. “Koala told me loud and clearly – ask Ace, if Ace plays hard, ask Law.” He mimicked his girlfriend voice and gestures. “I guess her friend type is grumpy dark-haired dudes.” He mocked his brother and Law.

“Well Ace, you were the first choice not me - so good luck with the ‘birthday’ girl.” Law winked at Ace, his eyes full of mockery.

“Shut up man, last thing I want to do is going on a double date with Sabo.” Hearing this Sabo threw his empty bottle as Ace’s head, but he dodged before it hit him.

“Again, I’m up for it – if you show me at least how she looks like.” Deuce made Sabo pull out his phone to show him the girl.

“Deuce you can’t be that desperate.” Turning his head in disbelieve Law exclaimed at him.

“I’m not, but also it’s been a while, so I don’t mind being the third option of the night.” Sabo handed his phone to Deuce as he had opened the girl’s Instagram. Both Ace and Law looked over Deuce’s shoulders, taking look at the girl.

“Not bad, but I’ve had seen better.” Ace commented, not really impressed by the looks of the girl.

“Nah man she is cute.” Deuce protested and Law agreed with him.

“But same as Ace I don’t want to be stuck on a double date with you.” Law nagged at Sabo. Ace shook his head, as these two started to mess with each other again. He sat back on the sofa and pulled his phone out from the back pocket of his pants. Scrolling through social media, he checked the band’s Instagram profile, something he hasn’t done in a while, as he wasn’t a big social media user, noticing that they got some new followers, but one piqued his interest.

“@idkthisfoxy “ He murmured to himself. The profile was private and there was no bio, but he clicked on the profile picture making it bigger. On the picture was this girl with a sock covering her face and only her eyes were visible, the same way the animated fox Ash from Fantastic Mr. Fox was portraited at the end of the movie. He snorted out with a smirk. “Could you be...?” He thought to himself.

“What’s with this smug smirk on your face?” Sabo interrupted his thoughts, looking at his brother with a raised eyebrow.

“Nothing” Ace brushed him off, getting up from the sofa, and putting his phone back in his back pocket. “Okay guys, I think it’s time to go upstairs and get ready to play.” He clapped his hands, making the guys stand up, agreeing with him.

“Let’s go break some hearts gentlemen.” Sabo loudly exclaimed, clapping his hands in the air, as the guys were going upstairs.

I left the ‘changing’ room that was used for everything – from changing your clothes to storage all the alcohol and beverages Shanks has to offer, with a quick run up the stairs. Last thing I expected was someone to be there, let alone three men standing on the sofa there, which was something new Shanks have had add as last time I worked here, there was no sofa downstair. And speaking of the devil he was right in front of me.

“Shanks!” I shouted out, catching his attention as he was busy flirting with some woman. He turned at me with a big smile.

“There is my beloved niece.” He pulled me in a suffocating hug. I tried to fight him, but he only tightened his embrace. “Why is my Foxy mad? Did someone step on your tail?” He started to poke me on my sides only fuelling my annoyance with him.

“I’m telling you – run while you can. This man is insufferable.” I told the woman who he was hitting on, as she was looking at us while we were messing with each other.

“Oh Foxy, I can’t wait for the day you gonna bring a man over, the number of comebacks I have collected for you is unlimited at this point.” He ruffled my hair, as he turned to his fling for the night, telling her to give him a second, as he nodded at me to follow him.

“Are they unlimited, or you just can’t count after ten?” I tease him with mockery in my voice as he only shot me a glance.

“Someone doesn’t want to get paid double tonight, I see.” He nagged me with a smug smile.

“Dare.” I challenged him, and he laugh at me.

“Okay now seriously.” He stopped in front of the computer making me clock in. “You and Kid will be working together at the bar. No need to check ID’s as tonight everyone must be 20+ to enter, so if they are inside that means they are legal to drink. If it gets to much I might jump in and help, but I have three runners tonight so it should be all good. And most importantly if someone is bothering you let me know immediately, okay?” I mentally prepared for the long shift, off all the people I could of work with tonight, I would have to work with Kid. Shanks patted me on the shoulder and went back to his fling of the night. I huffed and turned around to look at the bar. The queue was already quite big, and Kid needed help at this point.

I got behind the bar, and Kid glared at me with annoyance. He was wearing one of the work t-shirts with the “Red Pirates” logo on it, his muscular body defined by it. His whole left hand was covered in a tattoo sleave – a realistic robotic hand, something coming out straight from the Cyberpunk universe. The tattoo itself was amazing, the person having the tattoo – was not so much.

“Move Kid, I will work on the bar station closer to the stage.” He rolled his eyes at me but still moved so I can go to the right side of the bar. “You can come and order here as well.” I shouted and people started to come my way. Nami soon came to me with a big grin.

“Hey there, I heard there is this cute bartender working here, so I made sure to come and check if the rumours are true.” She teased me.

“Stop it, I might get all flushed.” I waved mt hands in front of my face as we both laughed. “What do you want to drink?”

“A strong vodka and orange juice – less juice more vodka.” I started to make her drink, as I filled the glass with a lot of ice, as I knew that she loved her drinks very cold.

“Where are the rest of the group?” I asked her as I didn’t expect to see her alone.

“They are standing by one of the round bar tables close to the stage.”

“Less vodka – more juice, as requested.” I joked with her, handing her the drink.

“Ha-ha.” She mocked me as she took a sip of her drink. “Oh yeah that is strong.” Her eyes widen as she tased the drink. “Damn you really made sure there is no alcohol in it.” She sarcastically said, taking another sip. “By the way my friend Luffy knows your uncle Shanks.” Nami took a sit on the last tall chair left at the bar.

“What are you for real? How?” I was taking other customers orders as we were talking.

“I don’t know, you have to ask him.” She shrugged, taking another sip. “Oh God, please put some more juice in this thing, it is too much even for me.” I burst out laughing as she handed me back her glass to pour more juice in it.

“Nami, who is this beautiful lady, and why I haven’t been introduced to her?” A tall blonde guy wrapped his arms arounds Nami’s shoulders. She rolled her eyes and huffed.

“(Y/N) – Sanji, Sanji – (Y/N). Don’t mind his flirting – everything that has two legs and boobs is beautiful in his eyes.” She pushed his hands off from her.

“Nami that hurt, I only flirt with beautiful women, no matter the size of their breast.” He advocated for himself. “Nice to meet you (Y/N), I have been hearing a lot about you from Nami and Usopp.” He flashed me with a seductive smile. “Only good things of course.”

“Nice to hear this.” I smiled at him. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I would love to but sadly, I’m the one driving everyone home tonight, so I will have to deny your offer.” He chuckled sadly. I took a quick look at him and his outfit suited his smooth persona; he was wearing off-white shirt, two buttons unbuttoned around his chest, with a dark grey chinos style pants and belt. His wavy blonde hair was let down nicely as half of it was covering his right side of the face. I was told by Nami, that Sanji was handsome and super stylish, and now I understand what she meant by it.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Sanji.” I did feel bad for him, knowing how Nami and Usopp behaved when they are drunk, I couldn’t imagine what dealing with their whole friend group would feel like.

“I’m sorry that you must be behind the bar.” He was smooth, but this was not working on me.

“Hey, enough with the chitchats, those asses playing tonight are starting soon, so focus!” Kid came next to me and hissed in my ear angrily as I was talking to Nami and Sanji.

“You are right, sorry.” I apologised to him, knowing that I really got distracted by Nami and Sanji. “Sorry guys but I have to focus on work now, but if I manage, I will sneak to your table.” They both understood and wish me good luck, as they went back to their table.

“Of course, on the busiest night I have to put up with you.” Kid continued to whine. I just rolled my eyes at his whining. His bright spiky red hair matching his personality perfectly. “Hand me two more bottles of rom.” He spat at me.

“Kid are you ever in a good mood?” I asked him, handing the bottles.

“Yeah, when I get my dick sucked.” He smirked at me.

“Oh, you are disgusting.” I was left in shock from his answer.

“You asked, you got you answer.” He had pleasant look on his face knowing well that his comment irritated me. “Don’t worry, brat. You will never get this lucky.” His cocky smirk not leaving his face.

Before I moved to Grand Line, the last two summer since I was working for Shanks, while staying with him in his apartment, as my dad usually toured during the summertime. The first summer I worked here, Kid had already been working for a while. He hasn’t changed much since then. That first summer for a little bit – I did in fact, had a little crush on him. It was something in his edgy persona and style that made my nineteen old self attracted to him. But with time this attitude became more unattractive than attractive, and my little crush turned into pure disgust.

Of course, he had his good moments as well. One night two months ago, just before I stared university, it was just him and I working on a Tuesday night. It was a very slow night, so Shanks left early and left us to close the place. As we were going for last orders, Kid was behind the bar cleaning it, while I was picking glasses from empty tables, as we still had some customers left. On one of the tables where three guys, around the age of forty-something, were sitting I tried to reach for the empty glasses, smiling politely at them. I felt a hand on the back of my thigh going up to my butt and squeezing it hard. I jumped back in shock and dropped all the glasses I had in my hand. The broken glasses shattered on the floor. The men burst out laughing at my frozen expression, but their laugher was quickly cut, as the guy who touched me got his head smashed on the table hard. The bang of the impacted of his head hitting the table echoed through the whole place. Kid had seen everything that had happened, and he was seeing red. He dared the guy and his friends to think about doing it again. They all locked at him with fear in their eyes. The man’s face, who harassed me, was all covered in blood, one of his teeth has fallen and probably his nose was broken. I was just standing there still frozen from shock. Kid kicked them out, the rest of the customers, as well. He came close to me, trying to shake me out of the shock. I still remember the way he gently placed his hand on my face, cupping my cheek, his fingers feeling rough on my skin. He tried to keep his tone calm as he called my name. It took me some seconds to come back to reality. Kid was standing very close to me, in a way that we have never been this close physically. He looked into my eyes, and I could see how mad he was but at the same time there was this hint of worry in them. We stayed like this for a moment until he took a step back and removed his hand from my face. He cleared his throat and told me that he has already called Shanks, and he will be here soon. I just nodded at him as I was still speechless. He told me to go and change my clothes.

When I came back Shanks was already here, and he was like a fuming bull, swearing that he would find these men and make them pay. When Shanks saw me, he came to me and hug me tight, I started to cry in his embrace, as he gently patted my head. He then proceeded to tell Kid to walk me to Shanks’ place, as he was not letting me stay alone tonight, and that he would be dealing with the police and the bar on his own. I was about to say that this was not needed but none of them let me have the word. Kid and I were walking toward Shanks’ apartment, but didn’t speak at all. I broke the silence, thanking him for what he did, and that he shouldn’t have done it as might of now he could be in trouble. He shushed me quick, saying that he didn’t want to hear any thanks or apologies from me, and that he did whatever everyone else in his place would do. We reached Shanks’ place shortly after. I pulled my keys out to open the door, but Kid stopped me as he came close to me again, as when we were in the bar. I gave him a questioning look. He was looking at me like he wanted to say something, his scared eye twitching a little. We stayed like this for a moment then he shook his head, more to himself than me, and told me to take care of myself, as he quickly left. The next time we worked together he was back to his arrogant self, so I guess it was something from the adrenaline rush that he got that night that made him act, so strange. But we never really spoke about what happened; neither had Shanks told me what happened after with the police and ect., both of them act like this never happened and every time I’ve tried to speak about it with Shanks, he cut me off almost immediately.

“What you got all dreamy about sucking me off?” Kid smirked with me as I got zoomed out.

“Yeah, you wish.” I snorted. He glanced at me but didn’t say anything.

The place was full. I looked at my phone and it was a little after 10PM so the band should come out and start playing any moment now. The image of the three guys seeing me earlier in my bra came up in my mind and a chill of embarrassment ran down on my spine. Someone got on podium, but it wasn’t who the crowd was waiting for.

“Hello there beautiful people.” Shanks announced on the microphone. “When my precious, like a son, friend came to me two weeks ago and told me, that I should give this month gig to his brothers’ band I was very critical at first. Then he played me some of their songs and I was impressed. I was even more impressed that the thickets sold out in one day. One day – can you imagine.” The crowd cheered loudly – some screamed the band’s name, some whistled, and others applauded. “So a big shout out to my friend Luffy.” A loud screaming and cheering that I could recognise from miles away echoed around, but from where I stand, I couldn’t see my friends. “I’m not going to keep you guys waiting anymore – big and loud applause for ‘The Neighbourhood’.”

I stopped what I was doing to watch them coming up the stage. The first one to step on stage was the guy with the light blue hair and the thick black framed glasses, he went and took his position next to the bass guitar and picked it up. I hear some girls yelling his name ‘Deuce’ loudly. Next was the blacked haired, covered in tattoos guy, he took the guitar that was on the right side of the stage. A girl standing next to the bar screamed to her friend something along the lines ‘get me pregnant Law’ and I looked at her shocked. Then the blond guy came up on stage and started to raise his hands up in the air making everyone going louder and louder. Before he sat behind the drums, he sent a kiss to someone in the crowd and a big grin appeared on his face. My heart was beating fast in my chest as I was expecting the last guy to come up on the podium. There was this small voice in my head telling me that it will be him – the guy from the coffee shop today. But then this wasn’t some Disney movie, so probably them having the same name was just a pure coincidence. The three guys started to play some chords, and their vocalist join. I recognised him immediately. There he was – no beanie on, his raven black hair messy and freely falling around his face. I didn’t notice back in the coffee shop, but he was quite tall. It was something in his aura that made him stand out from the others. Now dressed in a loose fit black pants and leather belt, with his silk black shirt tucked in them, sleeves up till his elbows, buttons unbutton revealing his muscular chest – he was breathtaking to look at. The red beam neckless around his neck adding a nice touch to his outfit. The other three guys stared humming the back vocals.

Ooh, I know once you come to California You won't ever look back Ooh, just a little bit can make you wonder You got it in

Ace took his guitar on with a smug look on his face. I was watching him carefully from the bar, far away yet not that far, as I couldn’t take my eyes off him. Then he stared to sing. Hands up, it's a stick up Nobody's leaving this room for a minute

He sounded even better live, than in their records. I was mesmerised by his voice. It was so melodic, yet a little rough only adding to his appearance. I was just enjoying their performance as they were super good – all four of them.

“I swear to God you are gonna make a puddle her.” I heard yelling in my ear as I turned around and saw Kid standing behind me. “Stop staring – start working, damn it.” I quickly came back from the trance that Ace put me in and got back to work. They were on their fourth song when I saw Usopp on the queue for the drinks.

“Usopp!” I shout out his name, hoping that he would hear me, over all the noise. He did look in my direction without realising at first. He looked again and saw me clearly this time and he made his way to the side where I was working.

“They are good, right?” Was the first thing he asked me when we got close enough so I could hear him. I eagerly nodded my head.

“Are you kidding me. They are amazing.” They were already on their fourth song and so far, everything was great from what they’ve played.

“You shall meet them; they are all great guys. If you have time when they are done performing come by our table and we can introduce you to them.”

“Yeah about that... I kinda already met them...” Three out of four already has seen me embarrassing myself, and I thank to whatever power was out there – God, universe – whatever, that Ace wasn’t in the ‘basement’ when I waked on the guys half-naked.

“What do you mean?” Usopp got confused look on his face by what I’ve just told him.

“Story for another time.” I brushed it off quickly. “What do you want to drink?”

“Rum and coke, please. Make it four.” I started to make the drinks as I was taking quick glances at the stage. They knew how to entertain the crowd. Their stage confidence was noticeable. “Will you be able to carry all four at once?” I asked Usopp handing him the drinks. He confidently nodded.

“The moment you are out of the bar, come to us.” He shouted behind his back as he was leaving with the drinks, too focused not to drop them or someone to push him.

The band finished with the fourth song and the blonde guy took over the microphone:

“A very big thank you to everyone coming here tonight.” He was a little out of breath, as I can only imagine what was it like playing the drums for half an hour without stopping for even a second. My eyes moved to Ace who was taking a sip of his water. He turned his head at my direction and our eyes met. Ace raised his eyebrows in disbelief and squeezed his eyes to make sure that he saw right – that he really saw the girl from the coffee shop. I panicked and squatted down to the ground hiding behind the bar. “Big shout out to Shanks for letting us play here tonight – please a round of applauses him.” He raised his hands to applaud Shanks, and the crowd followed. “Big shout out to all off you who came to support us here tonight, I see some faces in the crowd who were there for us from day one till today.” Another round of applauses followed. “And- and the biggest applause and thank you goes to my amazing girl – Koala.” He paused taking a breath in and out. “Koala, baby I love you. This new song that I wrote is for you, and you only. Sadly, I wasn’t blessed with the voice that my brother has, but I will be in the back pouring my heart out on the drums, enjoy everyone.” Everyone started to cheer and applause.

I got back on my feet again as I heart the last thing the blonde guy said. Ace just patted him on the shoulder and laughed as he took over the microphone again. He looked around as he was still laughing.

“I’ve had always imagined that the first time I would have to sing a song dedicated to a girl, will be for a girl I’m in love with, you know?” He joked with the audience. “I still haven’t met the one, but my brother did. I’m telling you the first time I sang his songs to his girl – it was awkward.” Everyone laughed, so did I but something more interesting caught my attention from what he said. “I told to myself you know, with time it will get easier, less awkward.” He made a dramatic pause. “I swear to God this never get easier. Bro just learn how to sing.” He turned to his brother in dramatic disbelief, as Sabo only shout at him to start singing. “And you see what I get as a ‘thank you’.” The crowd laughed again. “Anyway – the song is called ‘Compass’, hope you guys like it as much as our other songs. It’s coming out next week so stay tuned.” He announced before they start playing, looking again at the bar but I quickly turned my head around.

“Go pick around some glasses. You are not helping behind the bar anyway.” Kid told me, pissed at my behaviour tonight.

“Now?” I asked surprised. He just glared at me with a killer look, I huffed and got out of the bar.

They started to play, and Ace voiced filled all my sentence. I stopped to listen to the song as I was closer to the podium now.

‘If I don't have you with me, I'm alone You know I never know which way to go I think I need you with me for all-time When I need new direction for my mind’

The song sounded so sweet. I didn’t realise that Ace was looking at my direction as I was focused on listening to the lyric.

‘I know that you're not something to lose, now’

Then the way he sang the last line of the first verse swept me off on my feet, as I closed my eyes loving the way how smooth his voice was. Then the chorus stared, and they were so catchy.

‘I've got something to confess I keep you in my pocket to use You're my only compass I might get lost without you’

As he sang the second verse, hearing minutes ago his brother proudly announcing how much he loves his girlfriend, the lyrics were having such a deep love held behind them.

‘Could you tell me where to go? You're always there to help me when I'm down I'm lucky you've been keeping me around You're the star I look for every night When it's dark, you'll stick right by my side’

It was hard to explain, but it was like something magical was happening around me and inside of me right now. I felt like I’m lost in the moment. Ace started to sing the bridge of the song, and I opened my eyes. The most cliche thing in every possible way - for every movie, book, play or song happened - our gazes met. The time felt like it stopped for a second.

‘Like a magnet Hard to imagine ever changing Anything changing my way Baby, like a magnet Can't help that I'm attracted to you, I am Could you keep on guiding me? Please’

He smiled at me as he didn’t move his gaze from mine. When he sang: ‘Can't help that I'm attracted to you, I am’ - he hold his hands up to his head and shock them, a big smile spread across his face, as I did the same thing back at him. I was in disbelief that he recognised me, yet alone did the whole ‘Fantastic Mr. Fox’ thingy. The last part of the bridge felt very personal: Could you keep on guiding me? Please’ I couldn’t hide away the grin on my face, as I just gestured with my hands a ‘maybe’, as he was looking at me with a playful questioning expression. Ace chuckled and winked at me. When he moved his gaze away from me, I quickly moved around trying to disappear in the crowd as my face as flaming hot.

The song finished the guys were met with loud and well-deserved applauses.

“You really are kind of a quote-unquote Fantastic Fox.” Ace chuckled on the microphone. I knew this was meant for me, even though he couldn’t see me, he made sure I could hear him. Trying to distract myself right now was quite a challenge. All I could think about was this moment of interaction, we had in front of so many people, yet no one knew what was going on.

Three more songs and they were done with their performance for tonight.

“Thank you, thank you all for coming here tonight.” Ace thanked the crowd, loud applauses echoed through the whole bar. “Six months ago, when the guys and I decided to finally start putting out the music, that we have been doing for the past year now, we never expected that people will find such an interest in us. For everyone streaming our music and coming to all the live gigs we have done so far – thank you from the bottom of my heart.” He bowed with his head before he took off his guitar and left the podium. The rest of the guys bowed and thanked everyone leaving a bit after him.

Ace was already surrounded by group of girls as he stepped down from the podium. As every man on this Earth of course he loved the attention he was getting, especially from young and attractive women, but there was this particular girl in his mind tonight that he wanted to get the chance to speak again with. He was thinking of their short interaction today even after she left the coffee shop. It was something about her that piqued his interest, and this hasn’t had happen in a quite long time. Ace didn’t really remember the last time he seriously got interested in a girl for more than a one-night stand or a short situationship.

His experience with girls was quite big, even though it wasn’t always like this. Girls started to pay attention to him around the age of seventeen, when he decided that he must start going to the gym and change not only his appearance, but behaviour as well. The person who he was now, and who he was almost a decade ago, were totally different people. Ace used to be the grumpiest, meanest and enrage kid you could have known; even now-a-days he would catch himself acting like this little kid again and he hated this. Lost in his thoughts for a moment he didn’t realise he had zoomed out until some waved their hand in his face.

“Sorry I got distracted for a second, what were you saying?” He smiled at one of the girls in front of him.

“I said would you mind giving me your autograph?” She teases him with a playful look in her eyes.

“Sure, you have a pen or something.” He gave her the same look, knowing that she was flirting with him.

“There you go.” She borrowed a pen from one of the girls standing next to her. “My name is Samantha, in case you were wondering.” She turned her back towards Ace, moving her hair on the side so he could sign the top of her shoulder.

“What should I write?” Ace took a look at her, from head to toe – ‘nice body, nice ass’ he thought to himself, stepping a little closer to her.

“How about your number?” She smirked at him, as he chuckled at her flirty tone. He checked her out one more time as he licked his lips with a sly smirk.

“There you go, angle.” He wrote his number on her shoulder. He gave the pen back to her with a wink as he continued his way towards the back exit.

Ace wanted to be at peace for just a second. A few more girls stopped him on his way to the back exit, but they were less flirtatious than the girl he gave his number to. Finally, he made his way outside and the moment the cold wind hit his face he breathed out. He pulled out a package of cigarettes, taking one out and lighting it, taking a long puff from it. Closing his eyes as he leaned on the wall, exhaling the smoke. Having attention was nice, especially from women, but that wasn’t so important for Ace. The goal wasn’t women – the goal was to make great music that people could love and enjoy. After every show Ace catches himself in the ‘imposter’ syndrome – that he was not good enough, that the performance sucked, that he was bringing the band down, that he was not a good singer or a guitar player. All these thoughts were hitting him like a truck every time he got off stage, and no matter what people were telling him, he couldn’t shake this feeling. The feeling of never being good enough. He was lighting up a second cigarette, and he noticed it was the last one.

“Fuck, fuck , FUCK.” He cursed himself, taking a puff after puff from his cigarette. As he was taking his last smoke from the cigarette, throwing it on the ground, he thought of her, the girl from the coffee shop. Ace wasn’t the type to believe in fate or anything from this sort of bullshits, but he chuckled to himself. What were the chances that in one day both happened to be in the same place at the same time – two completely strangers. And she was pretty – no, she was gorgeous. There was something in her that was waking up a little spark of fire in him, and she hasn't even had a proper conversation, yet. When he saw her from the stage it was like the time had stopped and he couldn’t move his eyes from her. She was just standing there, enjoying the moment, living in the song – and then she opened your eyes, oh those beautiful eyes which he didn’t have the chance yet to know the colour of, but he was looking forward to finding out soon. He took a few more minutes outside gathering his thoughts, before he put his poker face back, walking inside confidently like nothing was going on inside of his mind.

I wasn’t looking forward to going behind the bar right now, even when I knew I had to, but instead found Nami and the rest of the group.

“There she is!” Usopp saw me first and yelled, waving his hand gesturing me to come faster.

Nami had her head rested on Sanji’s shoulder as she was completely wasted, but Sanji was more than happy to take care of her. On his other side was standing a black-haired guy, a little shorter than Sanji, maybe the same height as Usopp. He was wearing a red oversized t-shirt and baggy light blue jeans. His face was scared under his left eye but still he looked quite boyish with his big grin on his face – I guess this was the infamous Luffy. Next to him was standing Zoro, he nodded at me as he saw me. Zoro was waring bandana on his head, his fit not very different from Luffy’s, the only difference was that his t-shirt was white. Nami tilted her head in my direction and quickly jumped from Sanji’s side, but he quickly grabbed her the shoulders, as she almost tripped and fell.

“Damn Nami, how much you drank, tonight?” I have seen her wasted but never this much.

“Way too much.” Sanji answered me instead of her as she was leaning on him again.

“Luffy, this is (Y/N) – the classmate we have been telling you about.” Usopp interrupted, introducing us as we exchange a handshake.

“Nice to meet you finally (Y/N). I have been hearing a lot about you.” Even thought we were the same age there was something so boyish in Luffy’s voice.

“So did I.” I smiled at him. “By the way, your brothers’ band is great.”

“Oh, I know! I’m so happy that Shanks let them play here tonight.” His smile grew wilder.

“How did you meet my uncle by the way? Nami told me that you two know each other.” I was really curious to know how these two knew each other, especially after Shanks refer to him as a ‘son’.

“Long story short – I was quite a troubled kid until I met Shanks. Then I became even more troubled and reckless.” We all laughed at his joke. “But yeah we met –“he got interrupted by someone shouting his name. We all turned around and the blonde guy from the band was joining to the table, with a girl under his arm, which I guess is his beloved girlfriend. She was wearing a very nice light purple ruffled dress; her shoulder length light brown hair was nicely styled in a blowout effect. Her face was lightened by her big smile and her big dark blue eyes were glowing with love as she was looking at her boyfriend.

“Sabo, Koala – come. This is (Y/N), Nami’s and I best classmate and friend from uni.” Usopp introduced me to them as I awkwardly nodded the moment Sabo’s eyes widen in shock.

“No way, look baby this is the stripper I was telling you about.” He told Koala, as she slapped him on the chest as she turned to me. I was shocked from the comment he just made, so did everyone.

“Stripper? You are a stripper?” Luffy looked at me confused, Zoro slapped him behind the neck, shushing him.

“Don’t listen to him, his humour, is little broken. Nice to meet you, (Y/N).” She smiled at me.

“No don’t listen to me guys. Sorry didn’t mean to offend you, I’m Sabo, nice to meet you officially.” He reached out his hand across the table, and we handshake. The other two guys – the light blue haired and the tattooed one joined as well. As they saw me, they had the same reaction as Sabo, but didn’t make any comments instead they just introduced themself.

“Where is Ace?” Luffy asked Sabo.

“Ah, probably out smoking, I don’t know.” Sabo shrugged. “You know how he is after we finish every set.” Luffy nodded at what Sabo said and continue to talk to Law. Deuce was talking to some girl, who was wearing a ‘birthday girl’ crown, Nami was barely standing, while Sanji was making sure that she was getting enough water.

“I am going back to work; it was nice to see you all.” I tapped Usopp on the shoulder, interrupting his conversation with Zoro.

“No wait a minute, so you can also meet Ace.” Usopp stopped me from going as he hold my wrist. My heart skipped a beat when he mentioned his name.

“Some other time Usopp I promise, I really need to go back, otherwise Kid will kill me at this point tonight.” I pouted at him, and he nodded, understanding my situation and let me go. The universe had other plans whatsoever – turning around I bumped into someone’s muscular chest. He gently held me for a second by the shoulders.

“Easy there, no rush.” I looked up and my eyes met his. Ace was looking at me with a little smirk placed on his face. “Hey (Y/N).” He took a step back giving us some space. He remembered my name.

“Hey.” I smiled at him, tying to hide the fact I was a little nervous.

“You two know each other?” Usopp pointed a finger at us.

“No.” We both said at the same time. “We just met this morning by chance.” I explained to Usopp. “Oh, nice. What a coincidence.” He chuckled as he turned back to Zoro. Little did he know how right he was.

“So, you work here?” Ace broke the silence between us.

“Yes and no.” I laughed awkwardly. “Shanks is my uncle, so sometimes when he really needs help like tonight I just jump in behind the bar.” I explained, looking down at my hands as I was playing with my fingers, a habit I have when I’m nervous.

“Hey.” Ace bent his posture a little trying to catch my gaze, I looked back at him immediately. “I don’t bite – relax.” There was a little hint of teasing in his voice.

“I’m relaxed.” I brushed it off, trying to play it cool. “It’s just strange – from lending me your charger to hearing you perform tonight here was quite a surprise.”

“Yeah, I agree. You- you, um, did you enjoy it?” He ran his hand through his hair, awkwardly scratching his neck.

“I loved it.” I eagerly told him, a little too eagerly for which I cringed at myself. “I didn’t know about you guys until today. Actually, Nami and Usopp invited me to see you performing here, but again funny coincidence.” I started to babble. “Then they played me this song of yours “Cry Baby” and yeah – I can say I’m defiantly a fan now. Especially after I heard you tonight. But I had no idea it was you, until I saw you coming on the podium, so I was quite surprised.” As I continued to babble, he had crossed his arms in front of his chest making, looking at me with half lidded eyes, a little smile playing on his lips. “I think I talk too much.” I awkwardly chuckled. A wild smile spread across Ace’s face, he shook his head, as he laughed.

“What?” I playfully tilted my head at him, wondering what made him react like this.

“I think you need to listen to ‘Cry Baby’ one more time.” He teased me, without giving me any more information.

“Okay, I will.” I teased him back. We stood there for a moment, just looking at each other.

“Wait how do you know Nami and Usopp?” He was the one to break the silence again.

“We are classmates.” He raised his eyebrows in awe.

“Oh, a filmmaker. What are you the most lead to – directing, scriptwriting or...?” He asked me clearly interested in my answer. I was about to answer him when someone grabbed me by the shoulders and squeezed me hard.

“Ouch.” I turned around and I saw Shanks’ smug smile. He reached his fist at Ace, and they bumped it.

“Ace could I politely ask you to not distract my beautiful niece as she is supposed to work not flirt.” Ace nodded at Shanks’ comment, with a little smirk.

“We are not, I – I’m not flirting.” My whole face got flushed. I took a quick look at Ace, but his face was unreadable.

“Flirting or not – go behind the bar or I will make you stay and clean as well.” I knew he was serious, despite the smile on his face. I just nodded at him and left without even looking at Ace as I was quite embarrassed.

After some time, people started to leave, and the work started to decrease. I saw Ace and the rest of the guys starting to put their instruments away, getting ready to leave. We locked eyes a few times, but nothing more.

“Stop staring and forget even thinking about Ace.” Shanks interrupted my thoughts, his tone serious.

“Excuse me?” I looked at him confused, why would he even tell me this.

“You heard me.” He leaned his forearms on the bar, having a very serious face, something that I rarely ever see. “You only gonna end up hurt Foxy, so be thankful that I cock-blocked you.” He tapped the bar and went away, not letting me say anything further. I continued to clean the bar, Shanks words still in my mind, wondering what exactly he meant by that and a little surprised of how he worded it. “Hey, we are leaving.” I looked up and saw Usopp and the rest of the group behind him. “Thank you for the drinks by the way.” I waved my hand, brushing it off as there was nothing to thank me for.

“It was nice to finally meet you (Y/N).” Sanji told me with a wink, him carrying sleeping Nami in his arms.

“Yeah (Y/N), we have to properly go out these days.” Luffy cheerfully exclaimed, as he came closer to the bar to high-five me.

“We sure need to Luffy.” I smiled at him, Zoro just waved me ‘goodbye’, he wasn’t usually the most talkative but tonight he was extra quiet. They all stopped to say goodbye to Shanks as well, who was standing by the exit. I was still little affected by Shanks’ words and didn’t want to look at him right now.

“You know I discovered that coffee shop recently.” I turned around to face Ace, as I heard his voice.

“It is a hidden gem, right?” I gushed. He smiled at me and nodded.

“So I guess I will be seeing you there?” he raised an eyebrow at me, a little hint of tease in it.

“Definitely Ace.” I smiled at him. He kept his eyes on mine for a moment.

“(your eyes colour).” He murmured, I tilted my head at him wondering what he just murmured to himself. He saw my reaction and just flashed me a smile. “Till next time then.” He winked at me and then he left.

writing, format & dividers © eand47 fanart @a_phu14 on IG ©eand47, do not copy or plagiarise my work.

[rory-multifandom-mess]

My Thad Headcanons

Because I'm so totally autism about him, you have no IDEA

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.

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I took this from a fic I read, but Thad runs warm. By this I mean his cooling system likes to malfunction every now and then and he has to throw himself into a bunch of icepacks until it works again. If he overheats, he’ll shut down so it systems can cool down much like a phone would

He's self conscious about his sharp canines, but not in the sense that he’s constantly thinking about it. It’s more like a “if i look at myself in the mirror and see my smile, I’m going to remember they’re there and be like ‘oh. that’s not right.’” Because of his insecurity with his sharp teeth, he refuses to go to the dentist

The fact Uzi had a crush on him before meeting N absolutely flew over his head (he’s stupid)

He likes girls AND boys

Ever since the fight with J and V in the pilot, he coughs up oil on occasion. Basically; Worker Drones are stupid and don’t know anything about their own anatomy, so instead of trying to fix the internal damage, they just welded his wounds closed, so now he’s just perpetually internally bleeding

He heals pretty quickly and has a high pain tolerance (entirely because he’s a sports player, and also he heals quick because of the fact he runs warm)

Sometimes he’ll get nightmares about the attack with V and J and also when Solver yonk’d his ass in episode 2. These fucked him up for a little while after and he couldn’t sleep very well, but they’re not as big of a problem anymore

His room is usually surprisingly neat and full of trophies and medals and other various sports memorabilia

Gets really competitive during football matches, but has really good sportsmanship <3 like he’ll be screaming shit during the match and then he’ll lose and to the other team he’s like “good job guys you absolutely rocked it out there, but we’ll beat you next time i’m sure of it >:)” he likes a lil friendly competition

Thad and Lizzy are twins but he’s younger than her by like 2 minutes. She teases him for this. In retaliation, he teases her because he’s taller (by 1 inch)

Sometimes they get in trouble for ‘bullying” each other, but every time they do, Lizzy just says “Siblings are fair game!” and Thad nods

I think he says “no problemo” a lot. He also says other silly phrases like "Okie Dokie Artichokie" and calling things "Rad" and ironically saying" tubular." Lizzy says "This isn't the 80's" and then he responds with "Well the 80s were sick as heck dude so I don't care"

He's a morning person

Listens to highly energetic songs without paying attention to the lyrics, so he’ll listen to the most like. Innapropriate songs without even realizing it just because they’re bops

Gets dating advice from Ron (the drone at the door from episode 2 for those who forget the bg characters)

Yk how people will throw food like popcorn into the air and then catch it in their mouths? yeah he’s really good at that

Sometimes when he can’t sleep he goes out and plays basketball by himself. tires him out so he can eep

Has a nice singing voice, but he doesn’t think he does (i’m projecting)

He doesn’t like to swear, but sometimes jokingly says “I will swear word at you” to his friends

If he’s holding something, he’ll start idly just flip it in the air and catch it over and over. subconsciously too, he just does that

He also plays Soccer and Basketball

Sometimes when someone grabs him unexpectedly, he’ll flinch a little (thanks solver). This usually only happens if he’s been spacing out or doesn’t see the person who grabbed him at first

Chill until someone messes with Lizzy. Then he will fight. Though she’s one of the popular girls so it doesn’t happen often

Weak to flirting; he gets flustered easily. Yet he’s a total flirt when he likes someone and is comfortable enough around them

I like to think Thad gets hurt a lot because he’s a fucking football player and usually he doesn’t get it fixed because it’s normal, but Lizzy and/or Uzi will yell at him to get it fixed because it could fuck with the strength of his casing

One time Thad said “Bite me” to Uzi and she just looked at him like a smug cat while he had a moment

Sometimes he’ll try to hide in his collar when he’s flustered (it never works)

He, Lizzy, and Doll were a trio of best friends (Until Doll's Solver infection started getting really bad and began distancing herself from the other two)

[rubyvhs]

OUR CELEBRATION — FIVE HUNDRED PLUS

i am so completely blown away and thankful you guys enjoy my writing and for ever making this account because of how incredibly nice everyone is! mutuals especially, i’m honestly so surprised i talk to this many people i would have guessed i’d just write a little and keep to myself but honestly the nicest people ever on this site/in this fandom. thank you so so much for making this experience incredible for me— so this is me giving back

There’s so many amazing authors who deserve the absolute world for the effort they put in their fics that we get to read. For my celebration, here’s a little challenge to all the SPN authors (or those who want to start writing SPN) out there. i saw someone do something similar, so, all you need to do is:

— send an ask with one of these playlists and a number from 1-40:

Rock, 90s, dance/electronic, indie, upbeat, R&B, 2000s, Hip Hop, Country, Romantic, Pop, Rap. If you’re feeling indecisive choose my ‘On Repeat’ playlist and a number. (I do listen to Arabic music so if that’s something you can’t write with, send in 2 numbers incase the first one is Arabic).

Sample

.・゜-: ✧ :-

GUIDELINES (please read before sending asks) :

— you must be off anon and must be 18+ to write NSFW. — this event is supernatural exclusive but you can do crossovers or SPN RPF. — if you don’t like your song we can change it, no problem. but i want this to be a challenge so try your best! (but of course still no pressure) — it can be character x character or x oc or x reader — tag @rubyvhs in your post and use #laila’s 500 celebration — one song per person (but if you finish it and want another one of course that’s welcome)! — I’ll reblog all the amazing works and make a masterlist by the deadline. —deadline for sending an ask: Feb 1st, 2025. — deadline for all fics is March 1st, 2025 (if you can’t get to it in time, no problem, just let me know please). — not a guideline but I’ll write just one myself (using a number generator for ‘on repeat’ as a starter<3) — all i ask of you, as a reader and anyone who follows me, is to please interact with the fics, whether these ones or any ones that pop up on your dashboard that you enjoyed, it’ll mean a damn lot to the author is you leave a comment or reblog with how much you liked it.

[gerogerigaogaigar]

In the wake of the Drake/Kendrick beef its become clear that a lot of people here don't know what hip-hop is and/or don't know how to listen to it. Instead of dunking on people's ignorance I'd like to offer up an educational opportunity. Hip-hop can be difficult to get into if you come from an exclusively white and rock oriented upbringing. It simply listens differently than other popular music and you have to learn how to listen to it. This is honestly true of all music, but white america grows up with modern rock and pop that more or less derive their structure from tin pan alley music of the early 1900's. Hip-hop is a derivative of the 70's disco scene. Disco had an even more dance oriented feel than the funk that it spun off from. And funk was already more rhythm heavy than the Soul and Rhythm & Blues that birthed the funk scene.

Hip-hop is, first and foremost, a black artform and I am not black. So I'm not trying to position myself as a community ambassador or anything, but I do get that there are some barriers that white suburban kids face when it comes to getting into hip-hop. I also know that I am very, very into hip-hop so being a suburban white kid is clearly not an excuse for dismissing an entire artform. And racism isn't something you are it's something you do. So its time to stop talking about Weird Al and Eminem* whenever someone asks if you like rap. Right now it is time to learn how to listen.

*all due respect to eminem, he's actually really good, but we aren't talking about white rappers right now

When listening to rap one of the first things you need to pay attention to is the rapper's flow. A rapper's instrument is their voice, but unlike what you may be used to rap vocals are part of the percussion. In the songs included below, try to listen for how the vocals create a rhythmic counterpoint to the instrumentals. and listen for how rappers use rhyme as well as rhythm to create a pleasing cadence. Don't worry about what they're saying, listen to how they say it.

All Caps We start with All Caps, an absolute beast of a song. MF DOOM meets the frantic energy of the beat with a steady even flow that feels effortless. DOOM interlocks Rhyme schemes and uses matching vowel sounds throughout the verses to create the illusion that he is just dropping thoughts off the top of his head. The maneuver he pulls in the last stanza always blows my mind. making a *pop* sound to onomatopoetically match the vowel sound in pot, got, and snot while also rhyming troubles and bubbles.

A Milli Next up is Lil Wayne. Much like DOOM he can bury rhyme schemes for days, but instead of a smooth even flow he goes in bursts of frantic energy to contrast the very steady beat.

Ultimate Denzel Curry is probably one of the best in the trap scene and Ultimate is an early track where he is nailing the lazy beat, angry delivery thing. his shouted couplets overlay the trilled snare to create a texture that is actually very typical of trap music.

Izzo (H.O.V.A.) Jay-Z has a triumphant tone and a sing-songy cadence to his voice. He tends to match the percussive parts of his raps to the downbeat of the drums and it further emphasizes the strings from the Jackson Five sample and his more melodic lilting.

Bad Character You might notice that Quasimoto sounds... uh... well its Madlib with his voice pitched up. Weirdly Quas has a totally different cadence than Madlib. The timbre of his voice is so distinctive but he raps so casually. It almost feels like he is disconnected from the beat, but he's still right on it. It is a weird quirky atmosphere.

ATliens ATliens is the first song on the list with multiple rappers on it. Big Boi is a master of the straightforward 90's gangsta style while Andre 3000 has a supernatural sense for where he is on the beat that allows him to dodge and weave around it. the two of them work together by giving a back and forth between the extreme steadyness of Big Boi and the extreme wonkiness of Andre 3000.

Protect Ya Neck The Wu-Tang Clan had a lot of members and Protect Ya Neck has all of them on it. It would take forever to explain the different styles of the whole Clan so I'm just gonna let you hear it all yourself. even if you can't tell them all apart it is still pretty easy to tell when they pass the mic.

Ready Or Not Wyclef Jean and Ms. Lauryn Hill are two of the best rappers, and also Pras is here. The interpolation of soul hooks that show off Lauryn Hill's singing skills were standard for the group, but Hill could switch from singing to rapping on a dime. Even when they are rapping there is a sense of soul music underlying their music.

Life's A Bitch Another track with a laid back beat. I couldn't tell you when Nas takes a fucking breath in this song. he just goes and goes. everyone on this is so smooth.

Fix Up, Look Sharp Finally I had to get some really rowdy shit on here. Dizze Rascal's flow is so bombastic. he hits every downbeat as hard as possible and almost drowns out the steady snare-kick beat with his voice alone. Like Jay-Z he is also very sing-songy.

To Be Continued ===> Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part4 | Part 5 | Part 6

[ghosttotheparty]

For the dialogue prompts: Steddie + 22. “Yes, you totally can. You can do anything! Um. Do what, exactly?”

also on ao3

"Do you think I could ask Eddie out?"

Robin chokes on her 7-Up, and a little goes up her nose, and it burns, but she still turns to Steve, wide-eyed. Her face is wet with soda, but she doesn't bother to wipe it at she stares at him and he stares back, blank-faced.

"Well?"

"Run that by me one more time?"

"Okay--" He sighs, dropping his head for a moment as he leans over the counter, pushing his pack of Red Vines away. "Look."

"Where did this come from?" Robin bursts, finally wiping her face clean of the soda and the single tear that's fallen from her eye. (It really burned.)

"I-- Okay," Steve says again, sighing heavily. He glances at the door, which is hanging open to combat the summer heat, but it's a slow day today, and the parking lot is empty except for his Beemer and two other cars. "I kind of... really like him." Her eyes widen more and her head tilts. "And I only realized, like, yesterday, so I haven't been keeping this from you, I swear. I just..."

And then Robin is grinning, and she hops over, bouncing up onto the counter next to him and setting her soda down dangerously fast. It almost tips, and Steve stares at it with wide eyes as Robin kicks her feet and looks down at him.

"How'd you realize?" she asks excitedly, rocking back and forth.

"Are you serious?" he questions, looking up at her with a raised eyebrow.

"I never got to talk about crushes when I was a kid," she complains, whining and kicking at him. "Let me have this, come on. Tell me."

He sighs heavily, looking around again even though they're alone, and he leans against the counter next to her legs, a smile now teasing at his lips.

"He made me a mixtape," he says, and Robin grins, watching the way his eyes glaze over a little.

"Was it all metal?"

"I mean. Yeah. That's kinda all he listens to," he says, and he's fidgeting with his fingers, twisting them and cracking his knuckles. "But it was... It was good. I liked it."

"Right..." she prompts, nudging his side with her foot again. She lifts her 7-Up to her mouth as he nibbles on his bottom lip, thinking.

"There was one song on it," he says slowly, carefully. "That just... I don't know. It felt... different."

"Different how?"

"Like... Romantic?"

Robin's smile grows until it almost hurts, and she kicks him.

"How does it go?"

"I don't remember," he lies (she can tell), "but part of the chorus says something about, uhm. 'I'm a prisoner of your eyes.'" He pauses, brows furrowing as he thinks. "And there's a part about, like, 'I've locked myself inside your heart and thrown away the key." And, uhm, 'Only time will tell if I can live without you,' or something."

"Oh my god," she says succinctly. He stands up straight, looking at her, exasperated.

"Right? And I can't tell if it's, like, just a good song that he thought I'd like or if he's trying to say something or if he's saying something without meaning to, or..."

"Okay, wait, how did you realize you like him?"

"I just..." He sighs heavily, falling forward so his face is smushed against her thigh, and she pats his head. "Was listening to it and thought about, like. If someone else showed me that song it would be romantic. And then I thought, like 'What if it is romantic?' and I thought I wouldn't mind if it was, coming from him, and then I just... Realized I kinda want it to be."

Robin's heart swells. She runs her fingers through his hair tenderly, and he sighs again.

"You're cool with liking a guy?" she asks after a moment. "When I realized I like girls I totally freaked out."

He shrugs, standing up again and sighing.

"It took a minute," he says a little tiredly, "but... Weirder shit's happened in my life. Liking a guy doesn't seem like the end of the world when you've witnessed and survived the actual end of the world, you know?"

She frowns thoughtfully.

"Yeah. I guess."

"Just... I mean I guess I'm just kind of stressed about, like... What if he doesn't like guys?" he asks, picking up a Red Vine and taking a bite.

"I don't think you have to worry about that," she says without thinking, and his eyes widen as he looks at her, half a Red Vine hanging from his mouth.

"...Huh?"

"...Uh."

He stares for a few more seconds, chewing slowly.

"Do you think he's gay?" he whispers.

"Well, I don't think he's straight."

He swallows and throws the other half of the candy to the counter aggressively.

"Robin."

"Steve."

"Are you serious?"

"Look, I'm not saying I know everything, I'm just saying he seems kinda..." She shrugs weakly.

He takes a breath, one of his hands flapping weakly for a moment as he raises onto his tiptoes and then lowers, calming himself. And Robin thinks maybe they spend too much time together.

"Are you serious?" he says again, and his eyes are wide and shining, and he suddenly looks like he's the kids' ages, like he's just a boy with a crush instead of a man that had to grow up too fast and then never got the chance to slow down. She shrugs, smiling a little. "Do you think I could do it?" he asks almost excitedly, giddily, and God, she loves him.

"Yes, you totally can, you can do anything!" a voice says brightly from the doorway, and they both jump, looking up to find Eddie strolling in, wearing a pair of jeans despite the heat and a white shirt that reads Iron Maiden with some illustration on it. The sleeves are cut off, exposing his tattooed arms and his scars, and Robin knows Steve is probably melting just looking at him as he approaches the front counter and leans over, looking at Steve with shining eyes. "Um. Do what, exactly?"

Steve and Robin look at each other.

Now's your chance.

Should I?

Yes, obviously. Use the breakroom.

What if you're wrong?

I'm not, get out of here.

Eddie waits patiently, looking back and forth between them, smiling almost nervously like he knows they're talking about him, and his face light up and his smile softens when Steve looks at him.

"Uh. Can we talk?"

"Yeah," Eddie says lightly, confusedly. "'Course, what's up?"

"Like..." Steve gestures with a tilt of his head toward the back, and Eddie taps on the counter as he stands up straight, following him.

Robin kicks her feet, smiling at the ground and lifting her 7-Up again.

---

"So."

"You okay?" Eddie asks as the door shuts behind them. He leans against the back of it looking offensively good as he crosses his arms over his chest.

"Yeah, no, I just... Uhm." Steve takes a deep breath, moving to lean against the wall across from him. The room is laid out so there's a wall in front of the door, so their shoes are almost touching. Eddie's wearing some black Converse today, scuffed and ripped and stained with mud and grease. "Wanted to ask you something."

"Okay," Eddie says slowly. "What might that be?"

"Uhm." Steve takes a breath. "That mixtape you made me."

"Did you listen to it?" Eddie asks, his eyes lighting up.

"Yeah," Steve says, and he can't suppress his smile, looking at him. His hair is tied up in a messy bun on top of his head, probably with a hair tie he stole from Nancy, but there are some pieces falling down around his face, and it looks pretty. Eddie pulls a piece across his face shyly.

"Did you like it?"

Steve blinks at him.

"Yeah," he says breathlessly. "I liked it a lot."

"Really?" Eddie asks, beaming.

"Yeah," Steve says, his smile widening. "There was one song--"

"Which one?"

"I think it was called..." Steve hesitates, watching Eddie carefully. "Prisoner of Your Eyes?"

Eddie's smile falters, and his eyes flicker across Steve's face, his hand lowering the curl he's holding.

"You like that one?" he asks, his voice softer, and Steve almost has all the confirmation he needs.

"Yeah," he says shyly. "...Made me think of you."

Eddie's eyes widen the slightest bit, and he stares at Steve, and in the small space, Steve can practically hear his heartbeat. (And what a beautiful sound that is.) Eddie drops his hand and puts it in his pocket.

"The others didn't?" Eddie says, and Steve scoffs, kicking his foot lightly.

"You know what I mean."

"Do I?"

Steve looks at him, and Eddie's eyes are boring into his, dark and shiny and Steve could swear he can see the universe in them. Eddie is unblinking, and he looks like he's holding his breath, apprehensive and shy and nervous.

Steve stands up straight off the wall, taking a deep breath as he steps closer. Eddie's eyes somehow widen even more. They're practically the same height, but he still looks like he's looking up at Steve, eyes shining.

"Do you?" Steve asks, his voice soft now, almost whispering.

Eddie's lips part as he looks at him, and he's close enough now for Steve to see each eyelash, to see the strand of hair that's on his face. Steve reaches up to move it out of the way. Eddie's cheeks flush pink.

"Is this what you were talking about with Robin?" he asks, his voice breathy, as he looks across Steve's face, his eyes lingering on his mouth. Steve hesitates, his face warming.

"Uh. I asked her if she thought I could ask you out."

Eddie's eyes snap back to Steve's and flick back and forth between like he's looking for a lie in them, like he's searching for an indication of Steve's honesty.

"Really?" he breathes.

Steve nods, smiling softly at him. He reaches up and tucks a curl behind his ear tenderly, tracing a line down his neck, looking at the scars that match Steve's own.

"What do you think?" he whispers. "Could I?"

"Yeah," Eddie breathes. "I think you could."

Steve suppresses a smile, moving closer and touching Eddie's face, caressing his cheeks, tracing the scar that's on his left cheek, rough and pink and a little silvery and beautiful.

"Will you go out with me?" he asks softly, disregarding the second part of the question, which clarifies that going out for them isn't the same as it is for other couples, because they have to pretend to be friends, because Steve can't bring him flowers, because he can't kiss him in the parking lot. But for now, at this moment... they can pretend.

"Yes," Eddie says, and his hands finally find Steve's waist, his fingers pressing into the fabric of his vest. "I'll go out with you."

"Yeah?" Steve asks weakly, smiling, and Eddie's eyes flicker across his face again, his fingers tightening on his waist.

"Yeah," he says. "I wanna."

"Shit," Steve breathes. "Okay."

"Okay," Eddie says softly.

They stare at each other for a moment, just breathing. Touching each other. Holding each other.

"Will you kiss me, please?" Eddie bursts after a moment.

"Can I?" Steve asks, his heart pounding, excited, and Eddie pulls at his waist impatiently.

"Please," he says adamantly. "I've wanted to kiss you for fucking ages, I'm begging you, Stevie."

Steve beams so brightly that his face hurts, and he moves closer, setting a hand on Eddie's chest and pressing him into the door.

Eddie's eyes are already almost closed, and he's lifting his chin up for him, lips parted, and Steve wonders how he could have gone this long without realizing he likes men, because Eddie is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen.

"You're fucking gorgeous," Steve whispers when their lips brush, and Eddie's hands tighten again as he pulls at his vest.

Steve kisses him before he can say anything.

Eddie gasps and clutches at his back as Steve presses him into the door harder, and Steve is so glad his life's worked out the way it has, because somehow he has Eddie Munson up against a door, kissing him like his life depends on it, and he wouldn't want to be anywhere else.

Steve holds his face tenderly, tilting his head as he kisses him again, and he can feel Eddie's pulse hammering against his fingertips as he presses them into his skin under his jaw. Steve smiles, catching Eddie's lip between his teeth, and Eddie lets out a breathy hum.

"Do you wanna spend the night at my place tonight?" Steve asks breathlessly when they part, panting, and Eddie kisses him desperately before he answers. His hands are pressing into the small of his back. It feels good.

"Yeah, obviously," he says softly into his mouth, licking at his lip. Steve grins.

"Cool," he whispers. He pulls back just enough to look at him, at the way his lips are red and shiny now, the way his eyes are a little glazed over. "'Cause I got, like, twenty years of repressed bisexuality to work through and I kinda want you there for it."

"Oh, fuck. Okay, yeah, yes."

---

They're taking too long. Robin helps a customer, the only one that comes by, and she helps herself to Steve's Red Vines, nibbling them as she watches the movie they put on earlier even though she can't really follow along because she got a little distracted earlier.

She looks over at the breakroom, sighing, bored, and then she sticks a Red Vine in her mouth, stepping cheerfully around the counter to the breakroom, where she pauses, listening in case they're talking. She just hears a soft, breathy hum, and she grins, her fist hovering above the door before she knocks hard.

"Jesus fucking--"

"Robin!"

She cackles happily, throwing her head back.

"I'm bored," she says loudly, and Steve calls back, "Okay, well, I'm not, so fuck off."

She groans loudly, falling against the door, and she hears Eddie

They emerge after another few minutes, their hair touseled and cheeks red, and Eddie is grinning smugly.

"Rob," Steve says before he's even at the counter. "You're staying at Nancy's tonight."

"Yeah, I figured."

dialogue prompts!! ❧ buy me a coffee // check out my commissions ☙

[tragically-jane-doe]

It's just easier if I compile all my screaming for this episode in one post so I don't flood the tag I'm srry

Rewatching it now cause a lot of my squealing and overwhelmedness made me miss some stuff

Love how she just camped out next to him all night

Oh fuck my wife is 406 fuck to

At least he knows she's kinda being threatened by the og 406

He's not okay I repeat he's not okay this is not a drill

Baby girl(sa-eon) is having a lil tiny bit of a nervous breakdown

OH NO HEE-JOO BEING HOT AND AND CONFIDENT

Even angry this man doesn't know how to stop being obsessed with her

"I forgive you for your wrong doings" my boy is this you saying it to her or asking her for her forgiveness cause lemme say I think you have a touch more wrong doings that her she's only harassed you a bit on the phone

THE PSYCHOPATH BOY IS THE OG SAEON ISNT HE oh no dead fishies

Is it impossible to change innate temperament? Oh girl oh sweet mama there's so much trauma there

In-a I can't tell if your gonna be a villain or someone is hee-joo corner?? Like I hope she's not a villain cause it'd be nice for hee-joo to have another person who cares about her but by God if she isn't a villain she's clumsy ASF in regards to hee-joo?

God how it pains me that still no one learnt sign language for her not her mother not her sister who was fucking deaf even not her husband (until recently but really he had so long to do so) idk much about her step dad? He's only rlly been shown talking like 4ish times he's gonna have his moment soon I'm sure from what I've seen he doesn't suck totally? Idk I'm going crazy here

Anyways GO OFF HEE-JOO

In-a dress fucking rocks thou it's so pretty

Mr snoopy over her holding garters "hee-joo is into this kinda thing"

oh my prolonged eye contact

Sa-eon knows zero chill ever

Sa-eon over here playing 4D chess

Oh so he's just been obsessed for like 20 years and started his stalking profession early

Hee-joo just casually outing herself "you didn't care whether I lived or died or whether I was by your side, until now" girly pop I love you but God are you clumsy

AND HE JUST IGNORES HER SLIP? Sa-eon just continues on with the 406 name dear god

Kay I know hee-joo mom is off but is the step dad? Is he I can't tell and it's driving me nutters

She really went actions are louder than words and he fucking acted

He's keeping her fed under the guise of buying the office lunch

No one is safe from this mans jealousy

I Love his death stares

Fuck his coffee take this cute juice with a heart on it babe

OH yeah there's a b plot I love this duo so much they're so cute together they're personalities compliment each other's so well!

Oh sang-woo you absolute fucking babe

Sa-eon is that you as a child dear do you have a twin brother is that what's happening rn is your twin brother trying to ruin you honey?

Oh nooo whatever shall I do my pretty wife has fallen asleep and she now rest her head upon me oh woo is me

Jesus Christ his hands

"is this how I get caught?" GIRL AT THE START YOU FUCKING SAID I LAST PHONE CALL HE KNOWS THAT ITS YOU, YOU OUTED YOUR SELF GODDAMN

Mr.Kang I love you so much your my favorite

His wiggle song I love it

HE LOVES HIS WIFE SO MUCH SA-EON IS OVER HERE TAKING NOTES

Mr.Kang is all of us my man youve been married three years and you show no affection

Nothing bad can ever happen to Mr.Kang l

NO ONE IS SAFE FROM THIS MANS JEALOUSY

Mr I can totally jump rope (falls on his face) and Mrs follow me and copy (proceeds to be the best ever) I love him psyching himself up the lil jumps

Mr Let me prove myself to you by showing you how good I am at this jump rope thi- hey are you even listening to me I'm trying to profess my love rn

Only a k drama could get me kicking my feet giggling over two ppl jump roping

No but this photo is every thing

Mr.Kang defending his mans HES A MARRIED MAN HE HAS HONOR DAMNIT

Okay wait is? I can't remember his name but sa-eon like right hand man all dressed in black? Did he? Did he push hee-joo? Cause the lil flash back showed someone wearing black pushing her and he was pretty close to where she was standing? is he gonna be a red herring or possibly in cahoots with the baddie?

why in the hell did she bring 406 on her lil retreat?

"Hong hee-joo I mean 406" love how he's playing the game

"you said to call when there's a corpse, come take her" my man sa-eon looks fucking wrecked by that

HE PACKED HER BAG FOR HER!

Only truths he's abiding by what she saiddddd

HES SO IN LOVE WITH HER

He just wants to take care of her fuck

THE FLARE HOLY SHIT SIR HE LOOKS SO RELIEVED

The previews my dudes! No wait him still doing the phone calls just to talk to her cause jts easier for her to speak like that 🥺

Why you gotta do this to me

"I like you" sa-eon you mispronounced I'm obsessed with you

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Get to know your moots (if you dare)

LOL thank you for the tag @imaswellkid

What's the origin of your blog title? I wasn't sure if I was going to like Tumblr, but I came here to read fics and enjoy myself, so it's kind of a double meaning: I'm just here for the moment (to experience and enjoy it), but also I'm just here for the moment (and next moment I might be somewhere else). Yeah... very deep.

OTP(s) + Shipname: I'm too new to fanfiction to have any of these.

Favorite color: Hex code #fa7a95

Favorite game: To play with others? I like board games like Kulami and Guess Who and Forbidden Island. By myself? Tetris or 2048 or Sudoku on my phone.

Song stuck in your head: When I first got tagged for this game it was "Fuck and Run" by Liz Phair; right now this moment it's "Old Before I Die" by Robbie Williams

Weirdest habit/trait? I rinse cups right before I use them, even if I just took them out of the dishwasher. Not like a full wash: just a little water, swirl, and dump. It's automatic, and I can't drink from a cup, any cup, unless it's "clean" first. For some reason drinking at restaurants and people's houses or drinking something someone else made, I don't care, but if I'm at home or at work and I'm about to fill a cup with water or tea or anything, I have to rinse it.

Hobbies: Writing, knitting, napping, TV, and checking out library books but never getting around to reading them.

If you work, what's your profession? the most human of resources: Human Resources

If you could have any job you wish, what would it be? Author/editor/publisher

Something you're good at: hugs (I'm stealing Maddie's answer for this one)... but also encouraging other writers, and also staying sober (12 years and counting!)

Something you're bad at: Lots of stuff, but that just means I have room to improve.

Something you love: my black cat, being right about stuff, helping people

Something you could talk about for hours off the cuff: Aw jeez, so much stuff: knitting, creative writing, Godzilla movies, forensic anthropology and death investigation (how cool bones are, and what they can tell you about the person who used to encompass them, and other stuff you didn't know bones could do, like be shaped to break at one certain spot so that something more important doesn't break and hurt you more and take longer to heal [your clavicles!] and also the really bitchin' stuff that goes on at forensic anthropology research facilities, a.k.a. "body farms")

Something you hate: Hate is kinda a strong word, but I do not react well when people treat me like an idiot and talk down to me.

Something you collect: Godzilla stuff, books, dust, friends, trivia and factoids and general knowledge

Something you forget: That I'm not actually Wonder Woman, and it's disappointing when that fact slaps me in the face

What's your love language? Listening and being a shoulder to cry on and empathizing and hugging (but only for people who reciprocate, if you constantly unload on me and never let me do it I get cranky).

Favorite movie/show: Favorite movie: The Thing (1982), favorite show: Friends or 30 Rock

Favorite food: Lots of things, but if you made me choose it would be plants, fruits and vegetables, all kinds

Favorite animal: Cats

What were you like as a child? Fearful, anxious, inquisitive, mature for my age, physically frail and sick a lot, stubborn, cried a lot, lonely, and constantly with my nose in a book.

Favorite subject at school? Language arts, or biology/chemistry/general science

Least favorite subject? Math, but specifically geometry or physics

What's your best character trait? Stubborn, fiercely protective of my people, and love to help others

What's your worst character trait? Stubborn

If you could change any detail of your day right now, what would it be? I should have hydrated more

If you could travel in time, who would you like to meet? Edward Gorey

Recommend one of your favorite fanfics (spread the love!): Good. Things. Take. Time. by @oonajaeadira (The ultimate in escapist fanfiction and I will never not be in the mood to re-read it)

[tavolgisvist]

Q: How did you meet Linda? Paul: Linda and I met in a club in London called the Bag of Nails, which was right about the time that the club scene was going strong in London. She was down there with some friends. I think she was down there with Chas Chandler and some other people, and I was down there with some friends, including a guy who used to work at the office. I was in my little booth and she was in her little booth and we were giving each other the eye you know. Georgie Fame was playing that night and we were both right into Georgie Fame. Q: When did you first realize you wanted to marry her? Paul: About a year later. [in 1968??] We both thought it a bit crazy at the time, and we also thought it would be a gas. Linda was a bit dubious, because she had been married before and wasn’t too set on settling. In a way, she thought it tends to blow things, marrying ruins it. But we both fancied each other enough to do it. And now we’re glad we did it, you know. It’s great. I love it. Q: Some of the critical notices on her debut performances seemed to ask where she had come from. Paul: Yeah. Well, the answer is, nowhere, really. Q: Mick Jagger had that quote. He wouldn’t let . . . Paul: … his old lady in the band, yeah. That was all very understandable at the time because she did kind of appear out of nowhere. To most people, she was just some chick. I just figure she was the main help for me on the albums around that time. She was there every day, helping on harmonies and all of that stuff. It’s like you write millions of love songs and finally when you’re in love you’d kind of like to write one for the person you’re in love with. So I think all this business about getting Linda in the billing was just a way of saying, “Listen, I don’t care what you think, this is what I think. I’m putting her right up there with me.” Later we thought it might have been cooler not to introduce her so bluntly. Perhaps a little more show business: “Ladies and gentlemen, I’d like to introduce you to my better half. Isn’t she sweet and coy?” It turns out it didn’t matter, it didn’t matter one bit. At the time it was a little rough, maybe. At the time it was rough for her. None of us realized what . . . it was like someone marrying Mick, you don’t realize . . . you know there’s going to be a lot of fans who are going to hate it, but you still end up thinking, well, it’s my life. I know of a lot of rock & roll stars or just even show business people who will regulate their life to their image. It can mess you up a lot. I know a lot of guys from the old days who wouldn’t get married, even if they wanted to. Wouldn’t get married because it might affect their careers. The old management thing—”You can’t get married, all your fans are going to desert you.” So the guy doesn’t get married. But the thing is, in a couple of years, his career is over anyway. And he didn’t get married, and he went and blew it. So I didn’t. “Well, I’m not going to let that kind of thing interfere with me.” Although I didn’t wish to blow my career, I thought it was more important to get on with living. We went ahead and just did what we felt like doing. Some of it came out possibly a bit offensive to some people, but it turns out that it didn’t matter in the first place. You just keep going. Q: Did your friends in music stick by you at that time or did you find it a little tough? Or did you have that many friends at the time? Paul: I remember Ringo saying at the time “How many friends have I got?” and he couldn’t count them on one hand. And that’s what it boils down to, really. You can have millions of friends, but when someone asks you how many friends you’ve got, it depends on how honestly you’re going to answer. Because I don’t think I have that many. No one went against me or anything, I think I isolated myself a bit. It’s just one of those things. We had just met for the first time. We’re very romantic, the both of us, and we didn’t really want to hang out with anyone else.

...

Q: How did you feel people would react to Linda’s presence? Paul: She was on Let It Be doing backup vocals. That was her first appearance, and nobody said much about that. The time we did McCartney, as it was largely recorded in the back room, she was always there. That was how she came to be on the album as much as she was.

(Paul McCartney, Jan 1974, interview with Paul Gambaccini for RollingStone)

[vampire-meta-knight]

I swear, some of these "goth is whatever you want it to be" people act like telling them they're not goth means the Federal Bureau of Goths is going to break down their door and confiscate all their black clothes.

Loves, no one is gatekeeping what you wear. No one is even gatekeeping goth events! You can still go to goth clubs as a non-goth--you just may not enjoy it as much if you don't like the music. All we ask is that you not use the label, which is shorthand for "fan of goth music," to describe yourself if you are not, in fact, a fan of goth music.

We love seeing your cool outfits and gorgeous makeup and flawlessly-dyed hair, and we love sharing aspects of our subculture! But the second you try to redefine it and take away the ONE requirement, we get protective. Darkly-inclined is a wonderful label--use it! Use alternative! Don't use goth, emo, punk, or grunge if you aren't fans of the corresponding music genres. Can you imagine if I, who's never listened to K-pop, only heard of two K-pop bands, and couldn't name a single member of BTS called myself a K-pop stan? (Punk is probably the only one here that's a little more flexible, since it's also rooted in a political movement and protesting, but it still found its birthplace in the music--music which then led to post-punk and goth rock, might I add).

Subcultures have to have a barrier of entry to be a subculture. There has to be a way to set apart the people who are in it and those who aren't. Saying someone isn't goth is not an insult! We don't look down upon you. We get annoyed with poseurs, but not someone who's just into the fashion and makeup aspect and doesn't try to redefine what a goth is. I guarantee there's probably a spooky, black-clad non-goth that I've followed a makeup or DIY tutorial from, and I think that's wonderful. I love that we have this shared interest, even if we have different taste in music.

We're not trying to be mean when we enforce the one rule to be a goth (there is a second unspoken rule, to not be a bigot, but that's a rule that goes without saying for most groups--please know that when you see a so-called "goth" spewing racist bullshit or other kinds of hatred, the rest of us are NOT in agreement with them and want them evicted from our subculture). We love welcoming new people in, and we love seeing the goth scene thriving. It's just that our subculture means a lot to us, and although fashion is a big part of it, it has always truly been about the music. The music came first (watch old videos of 80's goth clubs--hardly anyone there looks recognizable as a goth today!), and it's the backbone of goth. When you call yourself goth, you're telling fellow goths "we like the same kinds of music." I want to get music recommendations from you, dang it, and share some of mine! I've had so many people insult the music I like and tell me my taste is shit, so it's nice to find someone who likes the same sounds and connects with the same lyrics, you know? Music is the strong glue that holds us together and unites us all. It brought us together in the 80's and has kept us together up until now. So when you try to take that away, to mold the goth label into whatever it takes to fit you because you didn't fit it, that's when we've got a problem.

And if you're into the fashion but don't like goth music now, do not despair, because that doesn't mean you'll never be a goth! Give it a listen. Check out different subgenres and bands. You might like what you hear. Synth and EBM were what bridged the gap for me. I started off being super into the fashion, but would be hard-pressed to name a goth band other than Bauhaus or Siouxsie and the Banshees. I was listening to Halloween Vocaloid songs and Lady Gaga, for the most part. I tried a few goth rock songs and didn't like them. And then I found The Birthday Massacre, and suddenly, those goth rock songs didn't sound so bad anymore. They sounded beautiful, atmospheric, ethereal, melancholy in a way you can still dance to. It wasn't long before I was devouring every subgenre of goth music I could get my hands on and making an ever-growing list of bands to check out and songs I liked. I was digging goth music like a grave, and all it took was a band that fit somewhere in the middle of the upbeat, techno dance-worthy music I was used to, the spooky lyrics I liked, and a gothy sound that got me craving more. Sometimes that's all it takes. Goth music is noticeably different from other genres, and hearing the unfamiliar sometimes results in dislike. It's an acquired taste for some, kind of like coffee, but once you get into it, you'll wonder how you even hated it at all in the first place.

Goth is my home, my family, and although I welcome all who show an interest, there's a difference between someone who actually wants to get involved in the subculture and those who wear a mask so they can pretend to be because they like the sound of the label, the allure, how cool it makes them feel, and insist they must be goth and all who tell them otherwise are just elitists. We call those people "poseurs," friend--don't be like them. If goth music just isn't for you, but you love the fashion, that's cool. Just don't call yourself "goth" if you're not a fan of goth music, since that's what the word means in the first place.

[laurenfoxmakesthings]

I'm seeing too many fellow aces not believing there's a problem when they say 'I'm not into rap because it's too sexual'. So I'm going to say, as an ace, yes there is.

The problem wasn't 'people overreacting to your sex repulsion'. The problem was you all honed in on rap having this allonormativity as your reason to not listen, especially when a lot of black culture gets accused of being too sexual. And there's a whole can of baggage of worms there I'm not qualified to get into as someone who's pasty white myself.

1. Rap is NOT all about sex. I prefer jazz more than rap, but even I know there's bops for us out there. Check out the ones about politics for instance or maybe check out some Childish Gambino, hell kid rappers exist, you think they rap about sex?

2. Literally every music genre has allonormativity (except I guess instrumental jazz, so there's a start, but jazz overall has this too...I love you, Ella Fitzgerald, but why all the love=sex songs?) and I'm pretty damn sure the rest of you don't exclude every other music genre in your lives. I don't see anyone saying this stuff about, say, rock from white guys in the '80s? No controversy about that, I guess.

It's one thing to avoid specific songs, it's just plain disengenous to avoid whole genres based on assumptions that don't apply to literally every song.

The thing is the ace community does have a racism problem, even though I know a lot of you don't mean it maliciously. You're not immune to biases, especially when the community becomes smaller white cliques on social media. I've seen more black aces on TWITTER, for crying out loud.

To fix this, you need to acknowledge the problem and not deny it as some 'touch grass' issue. It's really not and it's a bad look. It'll make the problem worse.

And expand your musical horizons, not avoid a genre based on an assumption from osmosis or mainstream radio. Hell, I've stopped listening to mainstream radio long ago since none of it plays jazz. Check out community and college radio stations, way more expansive and international tastes, with every song as a surprise.

I'm not trying to go 'rah rah you'll all bad people'. That's what gets people to not examine their biases, thinking racism only happens out of the mouths of the worst people. The systems we live in try to normalise racism. It's background radiation and you need to use your Geiger counter.

I'm getting this off my chest because I know you all can do better. If you get your denial out of the way and realise maybe there's something more unconscious going on than just consciously tending to your orientation's needs.

Now, I'm going to leave this here and trust you all to read it. I'm not going to respond, especially if anyone turns this into an argument.

[vacate-et-scire]

Hi! In case you still take requests for the match up event ;v; (Always wanted to try one!)

I'm an Aries, INFP (but I think it's not quite accurate). I'm an introvert who can absolutely talk someone's ear off for two hours and then needs to sit in my own room in silence for the next few hours. I have ADHD, so I'm all over the place, tbh. Very forgetful, very disorganised and usually confused. I also bring up the most random stuff at the most random times. Oh, and my friends usually say I'm quite smart, I'm just a mess. I prefer calling it "go with the flow" haha

I love crafts and all things creative, like drawing, writing, building little things, making decorations for my room, you name it. I play volleyball and I'm also a big fan of musicals (and I will sing musical songs to myself on nearly a daily basis). I quite like things that challenge my brain like escape rooms or reading murder mysteries and guessing along.

Anything else... a few random bits: I'm 5'10 and I love wearing platform shoes and heels, so I'd definitely look for someone who doesn't mind that. I love penguins very much and I have a lot of penguin plushies. I'd look for someone who's supportive of how passionate I can be about my interests, who wouldn't mind listening to me talking about the most random stuff. I wanna be able to talk about silly things or have discussions about different topics. Also preferably someone who can balance out my chaos and help me be a bit more organised. Someone who can keep up with me and pull me back down to earth, basically.

Thank you so much for doing this <3 I'll be waiting patiently, so please do take your time!

Your Blue Lock Matchup: Rin Itoshi

First, let’s talk about your personality—chaotic, passionate, and full of creative energy. Rin, despite his cool, distant exterior, gets that kind of energy. He’s someone who thrives on focus, but he also understands what it means to get swept up in something and lose track of everything else. If you ever got lost in a random topic mid-conversation, he wouldn’t just humor you—he’d engage in it, offering his own sharp thoughts and making sure the conversation stays interesting. But at the same time, he’d also know when to pull you back and say, “Hey, let’s get back on track,” without being harsh. He might not always show it, but he actually finds your random musings fascinating—he just needs a little time to process before he chimes in with his own perspective.

Your love for crafts, building things, and creating decorations for your space? Rin would love that, even if he doesn’t show it right away. He’s more of a “silent admirer” type, but you’d find him sneaking glances at the things you’ve created, admiring your talent in his own subtle way. And your brain-challenging hobbies like murder mysteries and escape rooms? Rin would absolutely be into those, especially if you’re there to keep him company while he solves the puzzles. He’s sharp, and a little competitive, so you can bet he’d want to figure things out faster than anyone else—but he’d also appreciate your ability to challenge him and make things more interesting.

As for your love of musicals—while Rin might not burst into song, he’d definitely appreciate your passion for it. You might catch him singing along under his breath during moments of intense focus, and he’d be very impressed by your musical knowledge. Maybe he’d even surprise you by knowing the lyrics to one of your favorite songs and using it as a way to show he’s paying attention to you.

Now, about your height and love for platform shoes—Rin is tall himself (6'1"), so he’d absolutely love the idea of you rocking some heels or platform shoes. He’d find it endearing and might even playfully joke about how you’re just trying to keep up with him.

Rin is exactly the kind of grounded, but also sharp, person who can match your chaotic energy. He’s not going to be overwhelmed by your enthusiasm or creativity—in fact, he’ll probably encourage it, helping you stay focused when you need to and letting you have your moments of randomness. He’d enjoy being your sounding board for all your ideas, and while he might not always be able to keep up with your level of enthusiasm, he’ll be there to catch you when your thoughts go off track. Rin would support you while also gently guiding you, giving you the space to be yourself while providing that grounded stability you need.

While Rin is great at balancing things, he can be a little distant, and his straightforwardness might sometimes feel a bit cold, especially when you're caught up in a topic and looking for more of an emotional connection. But don’t worry—once you break through his walls, you’ll see that he’s all in, and his way of showing affection will be subtle but very real.

In the end, Rin Itoshi would be the partner who keeps you balanced but still lets you explore all of your passions. He’d listen to your random ramblings, challenge you in the best way, and keep you grounded while still loving every quirky part of you. He’d be your rock when the chaos feels a little too much—and you’d be the spark that lights up his world.

[waitmyturtles]

THE MORNING AFTER: ONLY FRIENDS, EPISODE 6 ("DECIDING IN YOUR YOUTH / ON THE POLICY OF TRUTH") EDITION

In segment 2/4 of this latest episode of Only Friends, Boston let us know what year the show's mind is on.

Some stuff was percolating around this time, some of it majorly important, and other stuff important maybe only to someone like myself, a baby born in the 1980s and raised in the 1990s who happens to have a thing for 20th-century British electronic rock.

In February 1997, the infamous "The One With The Morning After" episode of Friends came out -- when Rachel discovers that Ross had slept with someone else when, "WE WERE ON A BREAK!"

In September 1997, Linda Tripp begins recording her conversations with a White House intern, Monica Lewinsky, about Lewinsky's affair with the U.S. president of the time, Bill Clinton.

In January 1998, the first public news of the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal comes out.

And in 1998, one of my favorite songs ever, "Policy of Truth," is released by one of the greatest bands of all time, Depeche Mode (ya feel me, Sand?). I thought a lot about this song, about the meaning of truth in the hands of young folks, and I thought a LOT about politics, during this episode.

It's just time to pay the price / For not listening to advice / And deciding in your youth / On the policy of truth

Truth, Bill, Monica, cheating, Friends. It's a lot. To me, this episode dealt with politics, with the nature of what "truth" means, what truth means when it is created and/or revealed at a particular point in time, and how young people begin to learn about the correlation between truth and consequences in safe, unsafe, and enduring ways.

We meet Boston's dad, shown above. We see he's got a flavor about him. He's quite casual with his son ("Ton, you dipshit!"). He's borrowing help from his son's friend for campaign materials (ooookay, lol, where is your campaign manager), while smoochin' on a Scotch.

What are campaign materials? Campaign materials -- posters, mailers, policies, commercials, etc. -- are the selling of an image. A political campaign is not quite about truth. A political campaign is a selling of a story that candidates want voters to buy with their votes. It's reality....-ish. It's a kind of truth that is ultimately selective and marketed to a particular voting audience that will hopefully allow that candidate to win and gain power.

There was someone else playing a political game, until his game crumbled. Top was playing a political game.

Before Mew blew Top's shit UP (Mew would have made Linda Tripp proud, goddamn), Top thought his political game was selling. He thought his IMAGE was selling. He thought his secret about his sex with Boston, while him and Top had reset and were not officially boyfriends again ("we were on a break"), was safe.

We saw Top's true nature come out time and time again, to Boston, to Nick, to Sand. We saw his aggressiveness and his confidence, his assuredness about his success as a top-tier man, directed to everyone EXCEPT Mew, with whom Top had to play a different game -- a game of touch-and-go, a game of restraint, a game of change, and certainly a game of withholding and/or manipulating certain truths about himself (Top) in order to continue to win Mew's heart. Before the in-bed blow-up at the end of the episode, Top even planted a guilt trip on Mew -- digging into Mew's continued distrust of Top by asking Mew to PLEASE consider everything that Top had changed for Mew.

Someone else was called out for playing a dishonest political game. Boston calls out Ray for not being honest about his feelings for Mew. Boston says to Ray, as Ray looks on in shock, below:

In this scene, I realized something. The only person NOT playing a game of deception at this point is Boston. Boston -- while an absolute jerk and asshole -- KNOWS he is these things. He doesn't fight off allegations that he is "nasty." He knows what he likes. He is honest about how he acts. He is truthful to his feelings. He is a jerk -- but he doesn't lie. (Or at least, he hasn't lied, yet.) He happens to keep secrets and withhold truths, but he hasn't distorted his image to try to fool anyone -- the way that Top has, the way that Ray has. He is utterly direct about his intentions with Nick, and he leaves it up to Nick to deal with his (Boston's) brutal honesty.

(Before I unwind on Boston to bring together these thoughts on sex, politics, and truth, I want to note that we had two instances of advice from GROWN-UPS -- from the quartet's business professor, and from Sand's mom -- that playing with friendship, work, love, and business, can result in awkward consequences. Finally, we begin to see a creep of the grown-up Greek chorus offering its thoughts on the antics of this group of aloof students who are almost Seinfeld-ian in their disdain of how they may hurt each other, others, and even themselves with their behaviors. This group has decided right now, in its youth, on its policies of truth. And Seinfeld, along with Friends, was the aloof epitome of the 1990s.)

The reason why I interjected that thought on grown-ups and consequences here is that both Boston and Ray had different takes on "truth" in this episode than Top. Like I said: Top has an image that he had been selling to Mew until the very end of the episode.

Boston and Ray, on the other hand, have relationships with truth in which they are unaware of the consequences of their almost thoughtless honesty (and in Ray's case, his simultaneous dishonesty). What do I mean by that?

As I mentioned before: Boston isn't deceitful. He's just brutal. Boston is brutally honest about his feelings and intentions -- and he doesn't realize that people like Nick, or Gap (DRAKE) may interpret sex, and feelings that might come from or after sex, differently than him. And those different feelings, from different people, will almost always have consequences of a kind that Boston is clearly not prepared to deal with. The biological urge that many have to be close or clingy after sex? The implication that if you have sex with someone, that you might automatically be “dating”? The theory that maaaaannny people have that sex is a way INTO a relationship (and not the other way around)? All of these notions need communication. I posit that Boston’s been VERY clear in his communication that he is NOT into ANYTHING related to a relationship—but he’s not aware that others do not think like him, and that WILL have consequences for him.

Ray, in that drunk and high performance of a lifetime at YOLO (cc @liyazaki LOLLLLL), thinks that he's saving his friends with a round of truth-telling. By being so blind to the feelings of others -- and, really, to ignore the rights and privacy of others to deal with their own truths on their own time -- Ray BLASTS past any of consequences that he might face, and that his friends may face, as he reveals their secrets, one by one.

@lurkingshan noted in one of her meta posts yesterday that Mew punched Ray at the bar in part to control the release of the truth of Top cheating on Mew, to leave that little bit out, so that Mew could have his own "gotcha" moment later at home with Top.

You know what that was? That was politics, baby. That was a HELL of a power move, for Mew to literally PUNCH someone out of his way, so that Mew could clinch a win for himself -- vis à vis a brutal truth that very clearly hurt and impacted him, either through his love for Top, and/or through embarrassment for his own reputation, as Shan notes.

I'm gonna tie this ALL together in just a moment -- but I want to make one very last note about the truth and a character. Sand runs to Ray in the parking lot after Ray's blow-up. Sand admits his feelings to Ray. Ray pushes him away and gets behind the wheel. And Sand hops on his bike and follows Ray.

At this point in the series, I posit that Sand knows exactly what he is getting into. (I'm SMDH about it, but he knows what he's getting into, god fucking damn it, SAND, baka.)

He's NOT deceiving himself. He's being honest with his feelings, like Boston is -- but, unlike Boston, I believe Sand is very fully aware of the consequences that his feelings may lead him to face. Remember that Sand is not a part of the original aloof quartet. He's not one with the liars, like Cheum and Ray. He's not one with Boston, who doesn't think ahead. He's not one with Mew, who is insecure, conniving, and now potentially vengeful. Sand, the goddamn romantic, is caught beneath a landslide on a champagne supernova with his feelings, and will clearly ride them out, with intention. (I want to SHAKE HIS DAMN SHOULDERS, but anyway.) (GMMTV, why do you have to play First like this. I just finished Not Me. You took the anarchy outta my boy. Now he’s blubbering for another problematic dude. Can we just. Let. First. I dunno. Anyway.)

So.... whew. What of all of this?

I take this episode as one that says:

Truth is what you make of truth. Truth -- whether it's the presentable truth, the not-totally-complete truth, the whole and unedited truth, or in the words of Californians, your own truth -- will have consequences when it is revealed. And a huge part of maturity is in one's handling of those revelations when they are made.

When you are young, you don't have the benefit of years and years of time and life to recognize that your actions may have consequences, some that are fleeting, some that will last a lifetime. A huge point of one's young adulthood is how you are shaped by the consequences of your actions and your decisions -- and by seeing how your actions affect other people, either intentionally or unintentionally.

Sex and politics rarely, if ever, mix well. For Boston's dad.... what will be revealed about Boston is not gonna be good for his campaign. And Boston's own life may well be impacted for a good chunk of his lifetime.

But, more than anything else, this theme of politics that I saw in this episode reflected for me -- of course, as always -- a kind of ephemerality in this series. You know why?

Politics, unless it is INCREDIBLY corrupt, always has term limits. Unless you're Putin or Mugabe: power unto a leader, or a group of leaders, will almost always come to an end.

The image will fade. The rhetoric will wither out.

The politics will always change -- because people always change, ideas always change.

HOWEVER. The consequences of one's actions in politics may last a lifetime, or lifetimes. If you REALLY fuck up? You’ll be known for that for your life.

The OF quartet is heading into a dalliance between impermanence and permanence, as well as with consequences that their aloofness has not prepared them for, and it's bound to be devastating. Many of them tried to play games in this episode. Almost all of them are unaware that these games will have long-lasting effects. Some of them (like Nick and Sand) are still playing games. And these games, these risks, are bound to end in many of them ending up as losers.

The following rule is NOT ephemeral — it is a permanent truth: in politics, there will ALWAYS be losers. That is always the case, and will always be the case. There are going to be a lot of losers by the time this show ends.

(EPHEMERALITY SQUAD, HAPPY SUNDAY! Thanks for tagging me in your meta yesterday! @ranchthoughts @chickenstrangers @slayerkitty @twig-tea @clara-maybe-ontheroad @distant-screaming @lurkingshan @neuroticbookworm)

[techutones]

After the breakdown

a self care guide for my fellow tbh creatures

disclaimer!! This is just what I do. Don't feel like you have to do any of these things you don't want to <3

Also, you don't need to be autistic to have a hard day. As long as these things help you, then you are free to do them.

For context + words of advice

When I have a breakdown (like I just did), I scream, and I hit either myself or furniture. Unfortunately, I have dogs, and I scare them along with my mom, so they go into another room while I go through it. It often makes me feel worse that I scare them. However, I can't control my breakdowns, so I understand why they need to leave me alone. If you're like this, please know that you should take care of yourself first. If you don't, this can lead to getting worse and causing these moments to increase, which is what we don't want. We can't get rid of our neurodivergency so we must find different ways to navigate the world and ourselves. (As lonely as that sounds)

Let's get started!!

In general

Right after, I really like pacing. I need to get that extra energy out.

Listen to music. If you haven't already, make a playlist just of your favorite songs. This ranges from Mazzy Star to Korn to Doechii. Whatever makes you feel better.

I go to my room and make a nest. Grabbing all the comfy pillows, blankets, stuffed animals, and making it the perfect safe haven for me.

HEADPHONES. If you have them, NOISE CANCELING HEADPHONES. If you don't have access to headphones, I like wearing beanies because it keeps my head warm, AND it reaches past my ears, so it blocks out noise as well.

For yelling

Water!! For some reason, warm water is my favorite. Cold water is like a death wish for me. idk why.

Or tea. I don't vibe with tea. It's dirt water. HOWEVER, I will drink peppermint tea. (Dirt water with a minty after taste).

Chapstick. After yelling, my lips get dry. I drool a lot.. so... ya know...chapstick. I can't use regular chapstick because they have wheat in them, and I have an allergy to what, so I use Burts Bees chapstick. My favorite is the vanilla. Vanilla smells super yummers.

I like brushing my teeth or using mouthwash when enough time has passed, and the feel/texture isn't as heightened and bothersome to me. Idk why I do this it just makes my mouth feel better (I SWEARRR THIS MAKES SENSE IT'S NOT INSANE 😭😭)

For hitting/bruising

Ice packs. If it is too much, then get a wash cloth or a paper towel and apply it to the painful area.

Pain medication such as Tylenol er Ibuprofen will forever be my best friend. (Ibuprofen gang)

I seem to dent everything I hit. To avoid looking at the dent I made later and feeling bad/guilty about it, I like to cover it. You can cover it with drawings, photos, stickers and doodles (My door is fucked). If it's something like a table then I'll just put a placemat or table mat over it, table cloth.

If you live in a rental property or if you can't just doodle on things. Guess what? Post it note doodles. Tacs and pins to hold the material you doodled on up. I wouldn't recommend using tape because if it's on something for too long, it can just rip the stuff it was sticking too off. So. Yah.

If you are someone who will either hurt yourself or others, a fidget helps me. Or you can stim in a way that isn't harmful. For example, hand flappies are good until you do them too hard, and they start to hurt your wrists. I like to turn on stimboards, and I'll just rock back and forth while repeating a vocal stim to myself.

If you are someone who will hit others and yell at others, I recommend going into another room where you'll be alone and no chance of hurting others.

For the folks around me

Writing a letter to them if you're too scared to face and talk to them directly.

Making them a craft/gift.

Talking with them about what happened. Fair warning, I know parents can suck A LOT. So if they keep putting you down, then you don't need to talk to them or do any of these things. While my mom is understanding, she's also...questionable?? So more than half the time, we just never talk about what happened, and we continue our day.

If you have pets you worried/scared, giving them treats while you sit on their level seems to help. Give ur silly lil beast some rubs/pets when they feel comfortable with you.

If your pet is anxious to approach you afterward, please do not force it. Wait until they come to you. I find sitting on the floor in the same room as them and holding my hand out for them to sniff it helps. Be soft and gentle when petting them. Be slow in your movements.

I have never hit my dogs, and I don't yell at them. Sometimes, I'll be curled up into a ball on the floor, and my youngest dog, River, will carefully walk over and sit next to me and lock my face. This might be overestimating for some, but I find it pulls me out of my episode quicker when I remember how much I love my pups and need to take care of them. Also, it grounds me in the present moment. Obviously, this won't work for some.

For me

When I've calmed down enough, I like to take a shower. You can take a bath if you want but I like showers. I like to put on one of my playlists and listen to music while I shower. I don't have a fancy music shower Bluetooth thingy, so I just put my phone in next to the shower and turn that shit up.

BIG SHIRT. BIG SWEATERS. BIG PANTS. COMFY CLOTHES.

If you have them, candles. Candles can be overpowering in smell so you can open your door to let the intensity of the smell out. You can also just spritz your safe space with some perfume. Not a lot.

Meditation!! Doesn't have to be long, just five minutes.

Affirmations!! Here's some I repeat to myself; I am safe. I am focused on the present moment. I am focused on myself. I am safe where I am. I forgive myself. I am my own temple.

Watching video essays!! You can either put all your attention onto watching it or just have it in the background. Another thing I found is when I turn the TV on, and all of a sudden, I'm in meltdown mode, hearing the person's voice is grounding and returns me to the present moment. It makes me feel less alone.

After something as exaughsting as a breakdown, I need time to zone out and recollect my thoughts. So take it easy <3

Feeling something. I have had a blanket since I was like 3 or 4?? And while the original has been lost, I have more. I like to feel the fabric through my fingers gently, I LOVE PUTTING IT ON MY HEAD LIKE A HEAD BAND. I don't know why. It works though. Wearing it as a scarf, it all works for me.

If you think that the things that calm you down are childish or if you were told that. Don't listen to them. It works for you, and it calms you down. If they have a problem with your coping mechanisms, then you get to make fun of their insane collection of trophies they won in elementary and middle school. Or anything else they have an emotional attachment to from childhood.

Nap. Nap good. Blanket soft.

If you're like me, it's hard to get yourself to eat or drink after something like this. If this is the case, don't force yourself, but know that you gotta eat something. So I reach for things like protein shakes or granola bars....dare I say....Mac n cheese... SOUP.

Do something related to your special interest or current hyperfixation. I like to draw, so I'll doodle. I don't like vent doodling because I find it makes me sadder, so I draw something related to my favorite characters er something like that.

I read so much fanfic to calm down 🧍‍♂️

Add to my Pinterest boards

If needed, I have pinterest boards for things that make me happy when I look at them

happy quotes n stuff

comfy stuff

CRAFTS !!