#Shoutout to the commenter that almost got the whole plot changed so I could be bratty!

[disasterbiwriter]

good morning, darlings. meet clarissa!

[xcertaindarkthingsx]

make you mine

pairing: jealous!mando x fem!reader

summary: you’ve been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now as a healer and caretaker for the Child.  one day, the Mandalorian needs your specific skills to help him catch a bounty, and needless the say he is NOT happy about it.  

warnings: two idiots that don’t know they like each other, some fluff and yearning, a smidge of possessiveness/jealousy, canon-typical violence, swearing in basic and mando’a, brief mentions of unwanted touching, mentions of taking care of injuries/stitching and blood, SMUT 18+ (minors BEGONE), porn w/ plot i guess, thigh riding, finger sucking, grinding, a lil’ dirty talk (if i miss any just please let me know!)

word count: 7.6k (i’m soRRY)

a/n: WHEW OK so i originally wrote this for #dincember but because i suck at deadlines and take forever to write it just turned into something else. reader is a lil insecure but mando makes it all better (self-projection, anyone?) ummm, this is my first time writing for din AND my first time writing smut but i hope you guys like it! comments/likes/reblogs/feedback are completely welcome and much appreciated! i apologize if this is a mess kladjflkd but shoutout to @a-dorin and @princessxkenobi for being wonderful beta readers and helping me when i got stuck.  i am planning on making this a two parter, so if you want to be added to my tag list let me know! if you prefer to read on ao3 you can do so here . mando’a translations at the end!

gif credit: @bestintheparsec

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Soft coos filled the air inside the Razor Crest as you desperately tried to rock the Child back to sleep.  You were almost certain he was starting to get hungry, but you were out of snacks and Mando had told you not to leave the ship under any circumstances.

You had been traveling with the Mandalorian for a while now, after being picked up on Arvala-7. You were a healer—a pretty damn good one, if you had anything to say about it—and had patched him up after a bounty hunt gone wrong.  

The Mandalorian thought your services would be helpful if things ever got a little dicey again, so he asked you along for the ride (the reality was you had nagged and scolded him so much about how cauterizing was not the answer for every wound, that he eventually caved just to get you to stop). There wasn’t really anything tying you to Arvala-7, so you agreed.

Plus, the Child had taken a real liking to you, and how could you say no to that precious face?  

The Mandalorian was an odd man—well, no.  Not odd.  More like intriguing, and you were drawn to it.  It had been quiet and awkward the first few months.  He was a rigid man of few words, never speaking more than necessary (unless he thought he was alone with the kid; the way he spoke with him made your heart melt).  But after countless late nights together of taking care of the Child and constantly tending to his injuries, you were surprised to find there was a sense of gentleness under all that beskar.

The Mandalorian had been just as surprised as you when he found himself warming up to your presence.  It was all the little moments that had snuck up on him, the stolen glances and lingering touches, and now his heartbeat seemed to quicken every time you were together.

Little did he know, yours did too.  

At the sound of the hatch door opening, you looked up.  You watched as the Mandalorian walked up the platform, admiring his strut.  How someone could look so good just walking, you had no idea, but it was maddening.  

“No bounty?” you called out, turning the kid in your arms so he would be facing out towards his dad.  It was unusual that Mando hadn’t found the target yet, but you were just thankful he was in one piece for now.  He shook his head.

“Not yet.  I ran into some… complications,” he huffed and even though his voice was laced with frustration, it put you at ease.  Being on the ship alone for nearly the whole day, sometimes you just missed hearing that husky baritone filtering through his modulator.  

Not to mention you thought it was sexy as hell.  

You quirked an eyebrow at him.  “Complications?”  

He heaved a deep sigh, lifting a hand for the Child to grab, which he took happily.  “Hey, kid,” he whispered, and you smiled as the Child babbled back.  Mando turned his helmet towards you and continued.  “Yes, but I found a contact who should be able to give more information.  I came back for you and the kid first.  I know you guys must be hungry.”  

You nodded at the same time the little green bean gave a resounding coo, earning a soft chuckle from the both of you.  “I’ll get the pram ready.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

After a quick stop in the marketplace for supplies, Mando had led you two into what seemed to be the only bar in town.  It was only late afternoon, leaving it nearly empty, save for a few older patrons lazily sipping on glasses of ale.  You ignored the way the Weequay behind the bar seemed to look you up and down.     

Mando set you and the kid up with two bowls of soup at a table nearby while he talked business with his contact, who happened to be the bartender.  Sipping your soup, you tried not to eavesdrop as the two began to fall into what you would call a heated discussion.  On Mando’s end.  Apparently, this was a particularly “difficult” target.  

“Lucky for you, he’s got an eye for pretty girls,” the bartender drawled, jutting his chin at you.  “She’ll do fine.”

Your head snapped up from your task of feeding the child, spoon mid-air.  “Excuse me?”

“No.  Absolutely not,” resounded Mando’s gruff voice from under the helmet.    

“Listen, Mando.  This guy is high-profile, practically untouchable, bodyguards with him at all times. And I’m not talkin’ your run of the mill pair of idiots that can’t shoot for a damn, I’m talkin’ highly trained mercenaries.”  The Weequay sighed.  “I don’t doubt your skills as a Mandalorian, but you’re just one man.  You need to get him alone, and she is your only way of doing that,” he insisted.  

“I said, no,” Mando gritted out.  You were non-negotiable.  

The bartender just shrugged.  “Then consider this a loss, cause you’re not getting anywhere near him.”

Your heart hammered in your chest listening to the two of them argue. Embarrassment flooded your cheeks, remembering the way the bartender eyed you when you walked in.  All you wanted to do at this point was bury yourself in the confines of your room in the Razor Crest.

Mando seemed final in his decision, and you couldn’t help but wonder if it was because he didn’t want you involved or if he thought you simply lacked the skills to do so.  He could probably tell you weren’t really the seducing type, and truthfully the thought of trying to do was mortifying.    

But Mando needed this, right?  You thought of all the things he’s done for you, how he’s protected and provided for you.  This was the least you could do for him.  You could deal with one night of potential discomfort so he could get his bounty.  It was a lot of credits.  

“I’ll do it.”

Mando snapped his head around at you so fast, it was a miracle he hadn’t hurt himself.  “For the last time, I said you are no—”

“I’m doing it,” you said a little more forcefully, cutting him off. You didn’t need to see his face to know he was staring daggers into you from underneath the helmet, but it was going to take more than a dirty look to get you to change your mind.  

“Excellent!” the bartender’s cheery voice cut through the tension in the room.  “Come on back, I’ve got an old dress an ex-girlfriend left behind that you could probably use.”

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

The dress in question was a slinky black number that had you freezing your ass off in the cold of the desert night.  

The dress was too… everything.  Too short, too revealing, too tight; but the only other thing you had to wear were some oversized t-shirts and utility pants, which aren’t exactly sexy, so you were shit out of luck.  

Mando nearly choked when you came out of your room, thankful for the helmet for hiding his widened eyes and agape mouth. You looked absolutely ravishing, the black fabric clinging to all the right places on your figure.  His eyes roved over the valley of your chest, the curve of your hips, the length of your legs, and his hands balled into fists, just aching to hold you.  It’s as if your skin was begging to be touched.  

You cleared your throat, feeling incredibly exposed and wondering what in the blazes Mando was looking at because you were certain you looked absolutely ridiculous.  The noise shook him out of whatever daze he was in and he quickly shifted his gaze.  

“Not a word,” you warned, wobbling down the platform.  As bad as the dress was, the heels it came with were somehow worse.  “I feel ridiculous.”

“You shouldn’t,” he answered a little too quickly. “You look…” words were lost on him as he tried to find the right one.  One that wouldn’t make it obvious that he was losing his kriffing mind in front of you.  “Good,” he finally decided on, and mentally kicked himself for it.  Good?

You gave him an exasperated look.  “I know you’re just being nice.”

He opened his mouth to argue but was interrupted by an ill-timed fit of babbling from the kid.  You had bent down as best you could to give him a little pat on the head and he could feel a lump forming in his throat.  

Mando couldn’t express how much he didn’t want you to do this.  And well, he tried.  The whole way back to the ship, in fact.  But for some reason you were completely hell-bent on doing this for him, and he didn’t know how to explain that you and your safety meant more to him than a few thousand credits.  

The reality was, Mando wanted you.  He never thought he’d be so fond for someone besides the Child, but you were the exception.  And even though he wanted to make you his, he knew it would be selfish of him to pursue you, to claim you, when he couldn’t give you everything you deserved; his Creed prevented him from doing so.  

But Mando was a greedy man, so he took what he could get.  He drank up all the kindness you so freely gave him, like a parched soul wandering in the desert, and cherished every little moment the two of you shared. They probably meant nothing to you, but they were everything to him.  And he wanted more.

Not only was he a greedy man, but a stingy one as well.  The thought of anyone other than him seeing you in that dress was enough to send his thoughts into a jealous frenzy.  

“You don’t have to do this,” he tried to reason again.  

You placed a gentle hand on the soft spot between his pauldron and neck and offered a small smile.  “Don’t worry, Mando.  Everything will be fine.”        

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

Everything was, in fact, not fine.  

The night had started well enough.  After all of Mando’s failed attempts at dissuading you again, he had finally resigned to silently stewing in his disapproval rather than voicing it.  

You entered the bar while he stayed behind and watched closely from the outside.  He had given you a comms device, that, with the push of a button, would let him know you were alone with the bounty and it was time for him to step in.  

“Just press it, and I will be right there,” he assured, his gloved fingers pressing the device firmly into your bare palm. Something about the protective tone of his voice stirred something in you.  You nodded before looking away, trying to ignore your racing heart.  

The bar was rowdy that night, patrons hooting and howling from the booze.  The smell of stale spice and death sticks wafted in the air, making you wrinkle your nose.  Your newfound bartender friend had waved you over, pointing out the target with a nod of his head.  

Your eyes fell on a Pantoran man across the bar with a drink in his hand, dozens of black suits surrounding him.  His associates—a Rodian and another Pantoran—seemed to all be talking business.  The bartender wasn’t kidding about this guy’s security.

How the hell am I supposed to get this guy’s attention?  You desperately racked your head for subtle ideas but came to a halt when his eyes met yours.  Kriff, he had caught you staring.  So much for subtle.  Trying not to panic, you flashed your best coy smile before turning back towards the bar.

Somehow, that was enough to give him the courage to approach you.  

Cocky bastard, you thought as he swaggered on up to you, leaning in close, leering.  With his chiseled features and striking yellow markings, you would’ve called him handsome— if you didn’t already know what a sleazebag he was.  An air of arrogance surrounded him, the type that made him think he could get whatever he wanted with a flash of those pearly whites. Typical douche.  You wanted to smack him for being so close.  

Instead, you flashed another winning smile. Placing a hand on his shoulder, you leaned in close and with a breathy whisper of, ‘Let’s get out of here’ he was tossing credits to the bartender and signaling to his guards that he was leaving with you.  

The Weequay had shot you a knowing look as he watched you leave; a warning.  You assured him that everything was fine with a slight nod of your head.      

The asshole had his arm snaked around you, hand on your ass, as you made your way to the motel just across the street.  You fought back the urge to throttle him, instead fawning about how, ‘I can’t wait to be alone with you, darling.’    

Your hands began to clam up as he retrieved the keys from the clerk, and you tried to convince yourself that everything would be fine once you clicked the button on your comm from the inside of the room.

Wrong.  

Immediately after the Pantoran locked the door, the unease in your stomach began to grow.  Bile rose in your throat at his grinning face, the way he fidgeted and licked his lips as he pressed you into the wall.  A hand landed on your bare thigh, trailing dangerously high, where you shuddered in disgust at the feeling.  

“We’re gonna have so much fun,” he whispered, and that was your cue to press the comms device you were desperately clutching in your small purse.  Your mistake was failing to mask the faint beeping noise it emitted.  Your companion stiffened at the sound, pressing you further into the wall.  

“What the hell did you just do?” he growled, using the other hand to rip your arm from your purse.  He stared at the comms device with contempt, before turning his attention back to me.  “You bi—”

He never got to finish, because the next thing you knew your Mandalorian was crashing through the door, blaster in hand.

The scene Mando had walked in on nearly made him sick.  That osi’kovid’s hands all over you, and worst of all, the look of pure fear on your face after being made.  He’d planned to put a quick end to the whole ordeal, but the bounty had plans of his own.

Mando rushed him, shoving him into the wall and away from you.  As expected, the Pantoran went flying before crumpling onto the floor.  What Mando hadn’t been expecting was for him to be armed. He didn’t peg him as the type to get his hands dirty.  

The Mandalorian was about to release the fibercord whip from his vambrace when the bounty rose from the floor with a sneer, a small combat knife in hand as he lunged at Mando, before wrestling him to the floor and sending his blaster skittering.  

You watched in frozen horror as the two fought for the upper hand. At one point, the bounty had tried to charge at you, slashing wildly, but Mando was already there blocking his blows. The knife caught on the cowl above his chest, slicing the skin underneath with a sickening noise.  That seemed to kick your brain into overdrive, and you dived for the fallen blaster on the ground.  

You took a steadying breath before you aimed and shot once, twice, at the bounty’s leg.  He cried out from his place above Mando before clutching his leg and finally falling over.

Mando rose and immediately released the fibercord, imprisoning the bounty.  He held his hand out for his blaster, and you watched with wide eyes as he smacked the butt of it into the Pantoran’s face once, twice, three times.  The third time ended with an appalling crack, his head lolling forward, and leaving him unconscious.  

You stared as Mando stood in front of the bounty, seething.  You could have sworn his hands were shaking.      

“Stars, Mando, your neck,” you murmured, breathless.  The room was dim, but you could see the dark stain of blood that was beginning to drench his cowl.  Your hands went to inspect the wound, but he quickly brushed you off.  

“We need to go,” he grunted, gathering the rope and heading towards the back entrance of the room.  The two of you hadn’t exactly been quiet and the bounty’s guards were bound to notice their boss had been gone for too long.  When you had opened your mouth to argue, to insist that you needed to check his injuries, he was already out the door.

Adrenaline still coursed through your veins as you walked back towards the ship.  You pulled your arms tight across your body in an attempt to quell your trembling hands; guilt, bubbling up in your stomach as you replayed the events of the night in your head.  

You had been the one to volunteer yourself for the mission.

You were the one who had repeatedly insisted that everything would be fine.  

And now, your Mandalorian was bleeding profusely from a nasty wound on his neck.  

“Mando,” you pleaded, trying to keep up with him in your ridiculous heels.  Instead of acknowledging you, your words fell to deaf ears.  He was stomping his way back to the ship, the unconscious bounty in tow.  

Worry bloomed in your chest.  The wound had looked bad back at the motel, but it was as if he couldn’t even feel it.  You could hear his ragged breathing from behind; whether it was from the fight, the long walk, or the wound, you weren’t sure.  

“Mando,” you tried again, this time raising your voice as you approached the hatch of the ship.  

Nothing.

He let out another grunt as he hauled the bounty onto the ship, towards the carbon-freezing machine.  You pursed your lips, jaw clenching in his direction. You did not appreciate being ignored, especially after just half-saving his ass just moments before.

Granted, you were the one that had put him in that position, but that was besides the point.

His back was to you and you stepped closer, ready to unleash a piece of your damn mind, when you stopped.  You took in his brooding stance and clenched fists.  The tremble in his hands.  Anger seemed to roll off the Mandalorian in waves, making you falter.  

What the hell was his problem?

“Mando, can you kriffing listen to me?  I need to treat you, you have no idea if he nicked an important artery or something.  I don’t know what you’re so worked up about, but you’ve been bleeding for a few minutes now and I just need to look—” annoyance rose in you as he continued to prep the carbon machine.  “Maker, can you even hear me?”

The Mandalorian couldn’t hear you, not clearly anyways.  Blood was still rushing in his ears, his vision still tinged red.  But with another call of his name, you were finally able to get through and he suddenly whipped around.  

“He touched you,” he gritted out, seething and shaking. “That skanah had his hands all over you and I swear if I didn’t need him alive for the bounty, he’d already be dead.”  He punctuated the last word with the slam of a button on the machine.    

You took a step back, eyes wide and brows furrowed. Something warm tightened in your chest and belly.  Wh-why did he care so much?  A lump had lodged itself into your throat.  “Mando, I—I’m fine.  Alright? I’m okay,” you tried to assure.  “So, can you please calm down and let me just—"

But the Mandalorian already had his back turned again.  You threw your hands up in the air, groaning in frustration as he continued to work.  Another minute passed and with a faint whoosh, the bounty was finally set in carbonite.  

A shiver ran through your body as the cool night air blew its way into the Razor Crest, raising goosebumps on your exposed skin.  Seeing you tremble in the cold seemed to break Mando out of whatever angry stupor he was in.    

In all honesty, he hadn’t meant to ignore you, but something in him snapped back at the motel.  The image of that skanah touching you had made his blood boil, and his sole goal was to get him back to the ship and be done with it.  

“You’re… cold,” he stated, the words coming out slow and soft, like pulling them out of a dream.  You must have been freezing in that dress.    

Your head snapped up at him.  “I—what?”

“Let me get you a blanket or—” He hesitated when he saw you pinch the bridge of your nose, eyes screwed shut.  

You couldn’t believe this idiot.  

“Mando, seriously?”  Your heart and your brain were having a hard time deciding whether you should be flattered about him caring so much or pissed off because he didn’t seem to give a damn about himself.  

You chose a mix of the two.

“Mando,” you sighed, looking up at him.  “I promise you I’m fine, thank you.  Really.”  You gave him your most genuine, caring look to show you were thankful for his concern, and then quickly replaced it with a hard one.  “But if you don’t get up into that cockpit right now and let me treat you, I’m going to use that damn pulse rifle on you.”

And just like that, you had managed to dissolve the lingering traces of anger in his mind.  His lips twitched under the helmet.  “That supposed to scare me?”

You glared.  “Don’t push it.” You could have sworn he was laughing under there.

The Mandalorian would have laughed if the wound on his neck hadn’t began to ache.  Instead, he begrudgingly nodded, throwing his hands up in mock surrender before disappearing into the cockpit.  

He began to input the coordinates back to Nevarro into the navicomputer, warmth unfurling in his chest as he listened to you check on the Child.  A tiredness had begun to settle in his muscles from the fight earlier, and he grimaced as he reached for a lever on the control panel.  The pain on his neck was getting worse, and if he was being honest it burned like all hell, but he was not going to admit that to you.

The door behind him slid open and you stepped in frazzled, medkit in hand.  Even with your hair in disarray and scrapes littering your arms and legs, he thought you looked breathtaking.  

“Uh, so bad news,” you began, gesturing at the medkit.  “They didn’t have any at the market earlier, so we’re out of bacta shots and spray.  I’m gonna have to stitch it closed depending on how deep it is.”  You shot him an apologetic look.

He nodded, putting in the last of the coordinates before removing his chest plate to give you easier access, and turning his chair to face you.  You closed the space between the two of you, quickly going to work.  Careful hands began to peel away at the fabric stuck to the wound, a hiss of pain at the tip of his tongue as you ripped off the last of it.

“Sorry,” you whispered, inspecting the fabric before discarding it.  “You’re definitely gonna need a new cape.”

He shrugged.  “At least now you’ve got a new blanket.”  You always had a habit of curling up into all his old stuff.  

With a smile, you returned your focus to the task at hand, mentally sighing in relief as you began to clean the wound.  It could have been worse, but it was still very deep.  An inch to the left and just a smidge higher, and you would have had quite the problem on your hands.  

“Idiot,” you muttered.

“What was that?”

“Lucky,” you corrected, biting back a smirk.  “You got lucky.  Any higher and this would be a lot messier.”  You tossed the last of the gauze out and prepared the needle and thread.

Mando took in your awkward stance as you tried to bend down and begin stitching.  Standing was fine for when you were cleaning, but for something this intricate it wasn’t the best position.  You cursed and tried again, trying to get the angle right, but it was no use.  The thought left his mouth before he even had a chance to filter it.  

“You can sit on me if that’s easier.”

Heat blazed on your cheeks at his words, nearly dropping the damn needle.  “Oh—um—” Coherent thoughts didn’t seem to be forming in your head at the moment.

Panic flooded the Mandalorian’s brain as he took in your shocked expression and realized his mistake.  “I—well, not like that—what I meant was—” he spluttered, trying to find the right words, thankful that his helmet hid his mortified expression.          

“No, no it’s okay I—I know what you meant,” you managed to choke out after picking your jaw up off the floor.  It would have been comical—the certain and capable bounty hunter struggling to regain his composure—but his words had flooded your mind with some less than innocent thoughts and images, ones that left you heated and flustered.  You swallowed hard in an attempt to relieve your suddenly very dry throat.  “I can, if you’re okay with it?”

He slowly nodded, mentally kicking himself for being so daft.  He held his breath as you stepped closer, bracing a hand low on his chest as you perched yourself on his lap.  You cursed, trying to your best to maneuver yourself onto him without being inappropriate.

Finally, you were situated, hovering precariously over his thigh.  You breathed deep, willing your mind and body to calm down. Being in such close proximity to the Mandalorian was… dizzying, but you had a job to do.  And so, you went to work.  

A few minutes in, Mando could feel the tension rolling off your body, the tremble of your thighs as you tried to hold yourself above him.  “You can sit if you need to.”

The thought had crossed your mind, but truthfully you were afraid of how your body would react if you did. Eventually you gave in, shivering at the cold kiss of beskar on the insides of your thighs as you straddled his leg.  A knot was forming in your belly, low and warm.  

Maker, help me, you thought.

The change in position had slid your dress higher and Mando’s eyes began to wander again, taking in the exposed skin where your dress had hiked itself up, the material bunching around your hips.  His hands felt that pull again, that ache to touch you; to dig his fingers into the soft, plump flesh.  

Osik, he cursed, trying to control himself.  In his mind he conjured up the image of a blaster, mentally taking it apart and putting it back together as a pitiful attempt at a distraction.

You had fallen into a steady rhythm of stitching and knotting, your hands absentmindedly working.  The Mandalorian had fallen into a dull haze in the wake of your delicate touches, despite the sting and pull of the needle.  But when your hands brushed the edge of his helmet, he snapped to attention, reflexes kicking in.

A strong hand had immediately encircled your wrist, forcefully locking it in place.  Your breath seized at the realization of your colossal fuck-up.  How could you be so stupid?

“Shit, shit, I—I’m sorry,” you stammered out.  “Mando, I—I promise I wasn’t going to take it off, I just needed to adjust it to get the needle under.”  Your heart thundered against your chest, and you swear you could hear it in the empty silence of the cockpit.  The iron-clad grip he had on your wrist was starting to hurt, biting into your skin.  

Mando saw the flash of fear in your eyes, the way you had flinched at his touch and loosened the grip on your hand.  Regret began to bubble up inside him.  He opened his mouth to apologize, it had just been his instincts, but you beat him to it.  Your next words caught him off guard.  

“Do you trust me?”

He swallowed hard. Of course he did.  There was no question about it.  You were the one constant in his life besides the kid; the one he found he could rely on time and time again for anything. You had never betrayed him, in Creed or otherwise.  He took a steadying breath before answering.  “Yes.”

You tried to ignore the burst of warmth in your chest at his admission and what it implied. Instead, you nodded, slowly allowing yourself to move again and continue your care.  “Lean back,” you whispered and he obliged, fully baring his neck to you. It was a vulnerable position, but the cautious movements of your hands crushed any anxiety that threatened to well up in him.

And maybe it was that cautious, careful touch that had begun to wear down his walls; the tenderness you so freely gave that softened his heart and opened him up.  He wanted to make up the last minute to you, to show that he really did trust you.  Maybe that’s why he couldn’t stop the next thing that tumbled out of his mouth.

“Din.”

You paused mid-stitch, confusion flickering on your face.  “What’d you say?”

His heart felt like it was going to fly out of his ribcage.  “My name.  It’s Din.”

Confusion slowly morphed to shock at his revelation.  He had just shared his name with you; something incredibly personal and dear to him. Knowing it felt… intimate.  How many people actually knew his real name? You couldn’t stop that slow smile that had begun to spread on your face.  

“Din,” you repeated, hushed as if someone else would hear.  His heart skipped at the sound of his name on your lips; the soft way your voice curled around the short syllable.  Your eyes peered into his through the visor of his helmet, a question behind them. “Just ‘Din’?”

“Din Djarin,” he corrected.  

You repeated it again, delight clear on your face.  “I like it.”

I do too, he thought.  Especially when you say it.  “You can use it whenever, as long as we’re alone or it’s just the kid.”

“Of course,” you nodded, then added a soft, “Thank you.”  For trusting me.

The two of you had settled back into a comfortable silence, his hands resting comfortably on your hips, and Din couldn’t fathom why you kept biting back a smile.  You were the first to break it.  

“I’m sorry, for all this.”

“It’s fine, it’s not that painful.”  

You shook your head.  “No, I mean—” you gestured at his neck and then to you. “He was aiming for me.”

He scoffed.  “You’re out of your mind if you think I’d let anything happen to you.” You could hear the anger beginning to simmer beneath his words again.  “No, I… I would protect you every single time.  Besides, that osi’yaim got what he deserved in the end.”  

Your eyes flicked to his visor again and you tried to ignore the way the knot in your belly tightened at his promise to you and the shiver his low voice sent down your spine.  Instead, you tried to change the subject.  “Osi’yaim?”

“A useless, despicable person.  A waste of space.”

A soft laugh escaped you lips.  “You need to teach more Mando’a.  Something besides the bad words.”

Din’s heart clenched at your request. Something about you asking to learn his language stirred something deep in him.  “Of course,” he managed to reply, but it came out more strangled than he had meant it to.    

You continued with your task, getting lost in the repeated movements of your fingers.

Watching you work had always fascinated Din.  You granted each injury the same amount of attention, whether it was as small as a papercut or as big as the gash he had now.  It was endearing.  The meticulous way you ensured every stitch, every bandage, was perfect and in place. The adept movements of your fingers, steady with every touch.  The way you bit your lip and furrowed your brow as you concentrated.  

He was captivated by it, and you, every time.

His gaze was concealed by his helmet most of the time, but tonight you could feel the weight of his eyes on you.  Your cheeks began to burn at the thought of him staring at you so closely and you thanked the maker that he couldn’t see the crimson hue painting your face.  

“Are you warm?” he asked, the low rumble of his voice startling you.  

“What?”

“You’ve been shivering since you started, but… you’re all flushed,” he explained.

Your eyes widened at his words, heart stopping.  “Wait—how can you see my—”

“Heat sensors.” Din couldn’t help but notice the way the heat on your face spread even more, down the soft slopes of your neck and chest.

Of course, heat sensors.  You were absolutely mortified, a nervous laugh erupting from your chest.  May as well be honest.  

“No, not warm, more like embarrassed,” you tried to explain, unable to meet his eyes.  

Din tilted his head, trying to understand.  “Why?”

You scoffed.  “’Cause I just realized I’ve been sticking my ugly mug in your face for the past 20 minutes.”      

Din was dumbfounded.  Ugly? The mere thought of you seeing yourself in that way made his heart ache.  How could you think such a thing when he saw you as the most radiant thing in this galaxy?  That, every time he saw you, he had to remind himself to breathe?

He had no idea what the in blazes he was doing, but he knew that he couldn’t let you go on thinking such things about yourself.  Din reached out and tilted your chin up towards him, making you meet his eyes.  

“Cyar’ika, you are the furthest thing from ugly that someone could be.  I—you are absolutely stunning.  Do you—do you know what seeing you in that dress tonight did to me?” he confessed, letting out a breathy laugh.  The front of his pants tightened in reminder.  “I’ll teach you something new in Mando’a right now.”  He paused, letting his fingers brush over your chin. “Mesh’la.”

It felt like you were on fire at that point, burning under his gaze, but somehow you found your voice underneath all the flames.  “What does it mean?” you breathed, unable to mask the tremble in your voice.

“Beautiful,” he murmured. “You’re beautiful.”    

Your body betrayed you, melting into a puddle with just a taste of his touch and the boldness of his words.  It was a devastating effect, and there was no denying the dampness that had pooled between your legs now.  You managed to stutter out a, ‘thank you’ before trying to finish the last knot of his stitches.

“All done,” you whispered.    

Din watched as you admired your handiwork and noticed that you made no move to remove yourself from him.  Instead, your hands were softly dragging across the planes of his exposed chest, leaving a trail of fire wherever they went.  It was such a foreign feeling, flesh against flesh on such a shielded part of his body.  He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him there, let alone so gently.  

A strangled sound caught in his throat as you brushed over a particularly sensitive spot, just above the other side of his collarbone.  It was almost too much, the shot of electricity that singed his nerves, but it felt good.

His body involuntarily bucked at the sensation and his hands gripped your hips roughly, pressing you flush against him.  

You gasped at the sensation, of your clothed core dragging against the beskar plate on his thigh, your knee brushing against the bulge that had tented his pants.  Your hands scrabbled to find something, anything, to anchor yourself from the blinding pleasure that fizzled through you.

“Maker,” Din murmured, letting out a shuddering breath.  “Osik, cyar’ika, I’m didn’t mean to touch you like that but—”

“But what if I want you to?” your own voice sounding foreign to your ears.  You did not miss the way his breath hitched, caught in the modulator of his helmet.  

Din’s mind was reeling. “You—you want me to?” he swallowed thickly around the ball of shock that was caught in his throat.  

And you’re nodding, eyes dark and body and mind clouded with need, leading his hands up your torso and chest; but Din, he needs to hear you say it.  “Use your words, cyar’ika.  I need to hear you.”

“Yes, Din.  Please,” and that’s enough to dissolve any shred of self-control he thought he had.  The sound of you saying his name like that, a plea for him and only him, was maddening.  

His hands were on you in an instant; hands that you had seen nearly beat a man to death just for touching you, but on you they were soft, gentle.  Desperate, but tender.  Rough, but passionate and loving.  The contrast was making your head spin.  

“Din,” you whimpered. “You have to be careful, your cut—”

“I don’t care,” he rasped.  “Do you know how long I’ve wanted to touch you?  Make you mine?”  He pulled you closer against him, hands grasping at anything he could reach.  He wanted to erase any trace of the bounty from your presence.

You tried to answer, but you were a mess, filling the cockpit with soft moans and mewls as you bucked your hips on his thigh.  

“I want to watch you make yourself feel good, can you do that?  Just like this?”  You frantically bobbed your head.  “Good,” he answered, stroking your cheek.  “You deserve it after tonight, sweet girl.”

The sound of ‘sweet girl’ sent wet heat straight to your core.  If anything, you thought he was the one that deserved to be taken care of right now.  But you were not about to argue with the Mandalorian who insisted on you using him to get yourself off.    

Your hands pawed at his chest again, struggling to find some kind of purchase to anchor yourself. They finally settled for his biceps, nails digging deep.  He watched as you grinded down on his thigh, eyes screwed shut.  His hands fingered the strap of your dress and you nodded, giving him permission to slide it down.  

Din took in the sight of your bare chest, your nipples pebbling in the cold air of the cockpit. He ached to take them into his mouth, hear you whimper and moan against his tongue, but he settled for brushing his gloved fingers over them and watching you arch.  

You ground down harder, desperate you get the friction you needed.  Din’s hands slipped from your breasts down back to your hips, stilling them.  A high whine escaped your throat and it was almost pitiful.  

“Up,” he instructed, confusion marring your face as you lifted yourself off his leg.  He gripped the thigh plate and dropped it to the ground, promptly setting you back onto his thigh.  “Wanna feel you,” he growled, and you could only moan in response.  

Soon enough, your arousal had seeped through your panties and onto the fabric of his pants.  The heady smell hit his nose and his mouth watered, desperate to know what you tasted like, to know what sounds you would make if he buried his face between your thighs.  

You guided his hands back up your chest, up to your neck.  His fingers cupped your face again, thumb brushing the bottom of your lip. You held his hand in place, biting the leather tip of his glove and slowly slid it off, letting it drop between you.

The feeling of his bare thumb resting on your lips sent another wave of arousal through you.  “Wanna feel you,” you breathed, grinning before taking his thumb into your mouth and sucking hard.  Din’s eyes rolled back and he groaned; the sight of your hollowed-out cheeks and the sensation of your tongue on the pad of his thumb nearly sent him over the edge.  

One hand trailed to the base of your neck, tangling itself softly in your hair.  He took in the way your eyes were screwed shut, the furrow in your brows as you chased your high.  You had taken your bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard and almost splitting it from the pressure.  It was almost the same concentrated expression you wore as you tended to his injuries, though it was clear you were concentrated on something far more rewarding now.  

“Mesh’la,” he commanded.  “Look at me.”

You wretched your eyes open, fixing your gaze on him.  

Din watched, enraptured, as you continued to pleasure yourself.  You were a sight before him; pupils blown, mouth agape, chest heaving as you tried to ease the ache in your belly.  He was lost in the way your eyes sparkled, perfectly matching the dark galaxy you were set against just outside the viewport.  

Your moans filled the cockpit, desperate sounds and pleads of Din’s name as he sent delicious licks of pleasure throughout your body.  You held on for dear life, panting as he brought you closer and closer to the edge.

He feels the tension simmering from your shuddering figure, like a coil just waiting to spring.

“Are you close, mesh’la?” he whispered, his words and the rasp of his voice sending you higher and higher.  “Are you going to come for me?”

And you’re a wreck, whimpering and pleading, yes, Din, yes; and all Din can think is he can die happy knowing how you moan his name.  He shifts you, pulls you right onto the straining bulge in his pants and you both gasp, the sensation pulling you even closer to your orgasm.  A bare hand snakes between where the two of you are pressed against each other and he presses right onto your clit.  

A sob tears from your throat and stars burst behind your eyes as you’re pushed off the edge; and you’re falling, waves of ecstasy washing over you and burning straight to your toes. Din holds you close as your body continues to shudder, a steady hand on your back coaxing you down from your high. He lets out a groan when he feels evidence of your orgasm seep through to his clothed cock.    

Fog clouds the bottom of his helmet as you softly pant, the pleasure lulling to a dull thrum in your veins. He’s admiring your sleepy eyes, the flushed cheeks of your afterglow.  You give off a shy smile, peering into his visor.  “Beautiful,” he murmurs right next to your ear.  “Just like I said.” 

“Thank you,” you hum, pressing a searing kiss onto his bare neck and sliding a hand over the hardness trapped beneath you.  

Din hisses at your touch and you laugh, trying to ease the ache between his own legs.  “Mesh’la,” he warns, grunting at the loss of contact as you lift yourself off him and slide between his knees, kneeling.  

“Yes?” you respond, sliding your hands up and down his thighs, and pausing at the button of his pants.

“You don’t have to—” he starts, but you quickly cut him off.

“But I want to, Din,” you assured.  You rest your head on his knee, peering up at him with wide, innocent eyes, awaiting his permission.  “Wanna return the favor, wanna taste you,” and you grin at the strangled sound that leaves his throat.  He couldn’t deny you even if he wanted to.  

Finally, he nods, spreading his legs wider to accommodate you.  Your smile grows and your nimble fingers make quick work of the buttons on his pants.  You’re just about to free him from the confines of his boxers when an alarm signal sounds from the ship, startling the both of you.  

“Come in, Mando,” Greef Karga’s voice crackled through the small room.  “We’ve got a problem.  I repeat, we’ve got an emergency, please come in.”

Din groans and you throw an exasperated look towards the comms on the control panel.  “Just ignore him, it can’t be that—” and you’re cut off by another sound.

The unmistakable sound of a baby crying.  

“Shit,” you muttered under your breath, pressing your forehead into Din’s knee.  You loved that little green bean to death, but damn him for his horrific timing.  Din softly slid his hand over yours and you looked up.  

“It’s alright, cyar’ika,” he hummed.  “Go check on him,” and you slowly nodded, shooting him an apologetic look before rising from your spot on the floor.

Din watched in mild amusement as you wobbled to the door, before turning his chair towards the control panel and sighing.  His own arousal was almost overwhelming, but he did his best to shove it to the back of his mind.  

Whatever Greef needed, it had better be good, he grumbled in his head.  

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

mando’a translations:

osi’kovid – shithead

skanah – very hated person, fucker

osik – shit

osi’yaim – cowardly, useless person

cyar’ika – darling, beloved

mesh’la – beautiful

︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵

thank you for reading! let me know what ya think!

[mikanyuzu-26]

Is Chapter 139 of Attack on Titan being messed up deliberately?

*Views are my own. I barely post anything on social media but I feel the need to express my thoughts as a long-term AOT fan.

You need to be a genius in getting everything wrong. As a reader who has been following the series for 8 years, the frustration and disappointment the recent chapters brought me are beyond words. The series Attack on Titan has long been known for its well written plotline, with pieces of hints eventually leading to the reveal of mysteries, ranging from the identity of enemies to the origin of titan. Isayama the author is more than capable in building a story, as evidenced by the carefully arranged setups and successful characterization in 130+ chapters. Probably echoed by other readers, the story surprisingly went downhill since Chapter 124 (aka the alliance arc) when pacing becomes slow with no major progress in overall plot. Eren who is the supposedly main protagonist is nowhere to be found in most of the chapters, let alone his inner thought. The conclusion in Chapter 139 is even more confusing, showing clear disconnection with previous chapters and major characters being OOC. There are fans who are kind enough to summarize the inconsistencies.

Chinese netizens’ comment on the story quality

I would interpret the bad writing in Chapter 139 as intentional, with two possible reasons, or both: 1). To betray and hurt the readers as expressed in his interview. He is free! 2). To passively protest against a plot change by his editorial team

“I was a big fan of Game of Thrones, so I can relate to the feelings of those fans who were disappointed with how the series ended. But when I’m drawing, I’m expressing my own feelings, and I think as long as I’m doing that, my fans will be able to accept whatever ending I come up with for them”. The question is – was Isayama hinting at a GOT-like ending that expressed his true feeling? Looking at his response at this point of time, was he foreshadowing a disappointment?

Personally I am a believer of (2) – the plot was hijacked. I see the pacing issue starting from Chapter 124 as Isayama and the editorial team trying to buy time in reconstructing the plot. This is the period when multiple minor subplots (e.g. Connie’s mom, Aruani, conflicts with Yeagerists like Daz, formation of Alliance, Reiner’s mom & Annie’s dad) are introduced and closed off shortly after, while Eren is nowhere to be found.

Also note that Isayama did not even show up in the interview/live stream after the end of the manga in on Apr 10 and Apr 14, 2021. The editor represented him instead. It was also revealed in the most recent live stream that the editorial team had quite a lot of influence over the plot, in which they changed the last few pages of Chapter 139.

As many of you have already raised, early chapters already mentioned the “only way to put a final end to the cycle of revenge” is to do a full rumbling. I believe this is the first draft of the ending of the story as this idea has been expressed more than once directly out of the mouth of Eren.

The other possible change is the way of how Ymir is being freed. In earlier chapter, Eren clearly understands what Ymir has been waiting for 2000 years in Chapter 122, and this is also the reason why Eren is able to start the rumbling in the first place. The possibility of Mikasa freeing Ymir is not being introduced until Chapter 138 (or 139), and certainly comes out of nowhere as the only people outside of path who have seen Ymir are Armin and Ramzi.

How is Chapter 139 being intentionally messed up? The inconsistencies above suggest that at least two plot twists are only being decided at the very late stage of the story. • Eren’s true intention (Eren Requiem vs. full rumbling) and the reasons behind • What Ymir wants

Throughout Chapter 139, there are definitely better choice of words which even average Reddit/Twitter/Tumblr users were able to re-write in the past few days. However Isayama just somehow chose the worst way in presenting the story as if it is a shoutout to readers. The presentation also makes Chapter 139 memorable, though not in a way most have expected.

“Why Mikasa?” “Well…only Ymir knows that one…” When I reread Chapter 139, it seems to me that Isayama is not trying to shy away from admitting the plot change. The disbelief from Armin’s way of saying “Huh? Did you just say Mikasa?” is an analogy to the readers’ reaction due to the lack of interaction between Ymir and Mikasa before the last panel of Chapter 138. Eren is also drawn with a resigned expression. If this is an over interpretation of the frame, Eren’s next response “Well…only Ymir knows that one…” directly points out how the statement lacks a clear and sound reasoning. You can translate it into “Well…only [the company/my editor] knows that one…” or “Nothing I just want to throw this in”. Isayama clearly knows what he is writing and indeed “only Ymir knows that one” becomes a meme.

Also to add that prior to Chapter 139, Ymir has always been a parallel of Historia/Krista, not Mikasa, even as early as Chapter 51, but this plot was just somehow nowhere to be found eventually.

Why Rumbling? The most disastrous consequence of a plot change, from wiping all history and civilization (that has been repeated in his conversation with Historia in Chapter 130 and his internal monologue in Chapter 131) to an Eren Requiem, is that it takes away all the justification and rationale for Eren to eliminate 80% of the population in the first place. Whether or not Eren executes the rumbling and dies willingly, the world will still be in conflict and future generation will remain in the forest. If the plan is to free Ymir, a better way is probably just asking Mikasa to chop his head off. That saves humanity (Ymir likes drama, after all!).

Isayama could have easily used phrases like “I just want to move forward” but he put “I don’t know why, but…I wanted to do that…I had to”. This is also Isayama speaking from the Eren – he does not know why Eren is doing rumbling just to achieve the 80% plan. He just “had to” draw it.

“10 Years, At least!” This is probably the most debatable and dramatic part of the chapter. Eren expresses his love to Mikasa but the scene is presented in a way as if it is a kid throwing a tantrum. In addition to that there is Armin’s comment “Oh ok…I didn’t expect something that pathetic..” as if it is again, the readers’ comment. The scene is portrayed in an unbelievably comedic way, especially when you compare it with Eren’s conversation with Ramzi in Chapter 131, which is supposed to serve the same purpose in showing Eren’s human/soft side. Most importantly, freedom has always been Eren’s core value throughout the series. The outright contradiction this line shows only makes the whole idea of this panel questionable.

Character Regression Needless to say, characters’ behaviours surprisingly regress back to the first arc, wiping out all developments throughout the series. The worst thing is it even kills the hype of re-reading the manga as you know the characters never grow, after all the sufferings and hearts sacrificed. Examples include: • Eren is still a crybaby • Mikasa remains trapped by her relationship with Eren and the scarf • Historia is not living proudly for herself after the Uprising arc • Reiner sniffs Historia’s letter after going through depression and wars (there is even a petition online asking Isayama to change this! You see how problematic this is.) • Jean and the horse joke

Almost everything that could possibly go wrong is wrong in 1 chapter These are written by the man who have been writing good chapters in the past 10 years. Can you believe it is just a lack of sense?

• “Thank you. You became a mass murderer for our sake.” • The “poop” that Armin gives Eren (Isayama likes using meme right? :P) • Eren’s face when he is punched

Is this the High School AU style?

Compared to Chapter 112...You can tell the difference.

The way how the fandom views Chapter 139 is certainly very divided, but even amongst those who like it, most still think “things could have done better” (source: SNK Chapter 139 Poll), showing how awkward the style is compared to previous chapters. The inconsistencies in character portrayal and plot are too hard to ignore. It pains me to see a well-constructed and reputable series, one step away from legend even just with an average ending, closed with a chapter that almost defeats the purpose of the rest. Trust in Isayama – while he can build a legend in 10 years, he can also take it down with 1 chapter.

By the way, Levi is one of the few characters who isn’t ruined. Probably also a conscious choice.

[ashesonthefloor]

baby, you’re a haunted house (ot4)

summary: Michael really wants to go to Sydney’s most famous haunted house. He may or may not get super startled by one of the actors, and may or may not hit them in the nose by accident. And, after that, he might keep coming back to to try and apologize properly. And the haunted house might just have a never-ending supply of cute guys working there. (That’s a lie. There’s only three he cares about). ao3 found here

prompt:  “I’m working as an actor in a haunted house and when I scared you, you punched me in the nose. Now I’m bleeding and someone had to get me an ice pack, and you won’t stop apologizing. You’re lucky you’re cute” (except i changed the POV because i wrote the prompt and i can do what i want thank u <3)

word count: 12,433 

content warning: blood! there is nothing too graphic, but, as depicted in the prompt, someone is accidentally hit, and there is a nosebleed. it is all handled and fine, though, and it isn’t too detailed. lots of pining :)

A/N: whew! i’ve worked on this baby for the last two months and only just finished her this week but i am PROUD! i actually really love the way it came out, and my plot! please let me know what you think, i’m a slut for feedback! this was done for my sexy, sexy halloween event that is happening right now! massive shout out to @mikeycliffords​ and @glitterblazercalum​ for beta’ing this! maddie ur comments gave me endless validation and i adore u, and iba u caught all my sexy grammatical errors and i love u for it (and ur reaction to luke’s major <3). and to both @calumcest​ and @clumsyclifford​ for having to listen to me scream and not know what i was writing. unfortunate shoutout to Mr. Gerard Way for the vibey Halloween song i named this after. baby, you’re a haunted house slaps.

Michael loved Halloween. He was pretty sure it was his absolute favourite holiday, and would say that to almost anyone who dared to ask, though most people who knew him knew not to. It was in Fall, so it was nice and chilly, and he had an excuse to bundle up in hoodies and stay there until spring. And he was an absolute slut for horror movies of any sort. He absolutely adored them, no matter how cheesy and poorly-produced. If he had any talent in it at all, he said fairly regularly to his few friends, he’d be an SFX artist. But he didn’t, and he was stuck working as a barista and getting his degree in film studies. 

So when his best friend in the whole fucking world landed a job working with Sydney’s infamous haunted house - known for being realistic, and terrifying, and all the makeup being technically perfect - and invited him to come see it, insisted he can get him in, who was he to say no? He absolutely couldn’t refuse - didn’t even want to, and he’d wanted to go for years, so this was the opportunity of a lifetime - and that was that. It was most of his favourite things all rolled up into one, with the bonus of it being sort of exclusive. Because it was so well known, they always ended up having to open a month early, and the line still wrapped halfway around the block every night. Michael was going to get a backstage pass to all sorts of shit. 

He dressed fairly warm for the occasion, even if it wasn’t quite cold enough yet to justify it, with his hoodie on, oversized so he could cover his hands with the sleeves. Sue him, okay, it was comfortable and warm and he liked tugging on the sleeves or his hoodie strings when he was anxious. Not that he ever wanted anyone to know he’s anxious. Michael worked fairly hard on keeping that part hidden away, so no one else could ever see it. It wasn’t that he was embarrassed, exactly. He just...didn’t want anyone knowing. It took level eleven Michael friendship to unlock his insecurities, thank you, and even then, there weren’t many he'd really disclose.

Sydney never got properly cold, so the hoodie was more than enough to keep him warm in the chilly end-of-September breeze. He made his way to the haunted house, queuing up in the line with the rest of the people preparing for the best fucking scares of their lives. 

The waiting process was the worst part of the whole thing. It was just him standing by himself in line, bouncing slightly on his heels every so often and worrying with his sleeves, from excitement, nerves, and maybe it was actually slightly chilly for once. He texted his friend a few times, only to get no reply. He frowned at his phone after twenty minutes of trying with no success. He was supposed to come get Michael at some point. If he was waiting to show him around at the end, wouldn’t he want to know which group he’d be in, or when he was going through the haunted house? Or at least answer him and tell him what his plan was? Apparently fucking not, though, since he made it up to the front without a single stupid text.

His jitters weren’t helped at all by that, but he eventually just jammed his phone into his hoodie pocket and hoped it didn’t fall out in the house. Michael and the people around him were finally let into the haunted house and given the long list of instructions. It was all the usual shit, that everything inside was fake, and to keep that in mind. To remember that the actors were just actors. And to go over the last few warnings - like that the actors would jump out, target people to scare them, ask questions, and generally, you know, act. Everyone agreed to the rules with varying degrees of excitement, and then they were all corralled into the waiting area. 

Michael was back to bouncing slightly in place, hoodie sleeves fully over his hands at this point. The decorations weren’t too scary yet, just meant to keep the haunted mansion theme going. The premise was something about a doctor and his torture chamber and all his patients gone wrong or something. Michael has forgotten a couple of the details, but he remembered the gist of it. He couldn’t make out anything specific, really, not through the awful dim lighting and the light fog rolling in close to the ground, thanks to the hidden fog machines, only adding to the chill in the cold building. 

One of the women in front of him was murmuring quietly to her boyfriend, gripping tightly to his hand. She didn’t seem much like she really wanted to be there. Michael hoped, for her sake, she’d remembered the safe word. Which was a nice touch, making sure everyone could yell it if needed. That rule was burned into his brain: if you yelled the safe word - mercy - any actor nearby would drop their act and escort you to the nearest exit, and you would absolutely not be allowed back in. Michael wanted to make sure he remembered it, but this was practically a once in a lifetime chance, and he really didn’t want to blow it. 

Finally - finally - they were allowed into the actual haunted house. The first room wasn’t too bad, just the doctor guy’s living room with some narration about who he’d been and a little about his ‘abominations’. Michael got enthralled in the story pretty quickly, gaze lingering on the (fake) family portraits on the (equally fake) mantle and on the walls. 

Room two brought a couple of scares, but he still wasn’t doing too badly. They were easily moved from room to room, sticking together in a clump. When the narration ended, basically, that was their cue to move on. Or for some sort or scare to jump out. 

But, of course, the greatest horror house in Sydney wouldn’t stay predictable. After room number three, the smooth transition was broken up by a long, dark corridor, with the sides pressing in on everyone as they went through. Michael curled in a little on himself, shuffling forward so close to the next person in line that he accidentally stepped on their heels. They didn’t even have time to be annoyed before they were in the next room. 

After room number four was worse. They went down an equally dark staircase, Michael’s grip on the handrail white-knuckled, pale skin almost luminous even in the pitch black. He shuffled forward once he managed his way down, unable to see anything, but didn’t bump into anyone. Which was...odd, given how tightly packed they’d all been up to this point. He took a gamble and swallowed his pride, sticking both arms out and stumbling forward, completely blind in the dark. Only then did the awful strobe light kick on above him, even fucking worse than the dark. He only got vague glimpses of where he was, and he couldn’t even see anyone around him in whatever room he was in. Fucking great, he had the best fucking luck in the entire world. Which he mumbled to himself as he continued his blind zombie-shuffle forward until his outstretched hand brushed a wall. Finally. 

He kept that palm pressed against the smooth (fake) stone, moving in one direction he chose to believe was forward. He was pretty sure it was the opposite direction from the staircase, at least. Hopefully he’d make some progress that way. This was so fucked. Where had his group gone? He was very, very sure he’d been with them. They’d filed down the staircase with him, hadn’t they? Where the fuck were they? Where the fuck was he? This certainly seemed like a fucking dungeon. 

He kept going until the shadows seemed to stay in one corner. He stretched out his unoccupied left hand, fingers brushing against another wall. He let out a frustrated groan, quiet and under his breath, even though he was pretty damn sure he was alone. He pressed his hand against it, palm against the cool stone, and he felt it open with a soft click. And he really didn’t care what was on the other side, he just wanted out of the stupid fucking strobe lights. 

And, of course the strobe lights turned off as he stepped towards the open door. His luck was so fucking perfect today, wasn’t it? 

He stepped through the hidden door (or whatever it was, Michael really didn’t care at this point), letting it slowly close behind him with the same soft click that definitely wasn’t ominous at all. This room, at least, wasn’t completely pitch black. There were lanterns hanging from the ceiling, and fake torches along one stone wall, that provided dim lighting. He skirted over to the side of the dungeon that was lit, gaze lingering on the shadowy side. His eyes still hadn’t really adjusted to the lighting, still absolutely fucked up from the stupid fucking strobe light. He would enjoy this a lot more if he knew this was intentional - if it was intentional - or if he was with his fucking group. Sue him, okay, maybe this shit was slightly better with company. 

He heard something shift from the direction of the door, gaze sliding over there. The room really wasn’t that open, and was pretty small in size. He felt something brush his left shoulder and jumped, stumbling forward toward the shadowy side of the dungeon room - backward, now, maybe, since he definitely whirled around to look at whatever the fuck had poked him, only to find nothing but the stone wall. What the fuck was this fucking place? He knew that wasn’t a bat. Maybe it was a bat? He really, really didn’t know. 

There was a weird sound from the shadowy side of the dungeon, which he was way, way closer to, now. He turned to look at it, only to flinch back when something lunged at him, snarling. Michael whirled around to look and let out an absolutely dignified shriek, reacting entirely on instinct, which was the only reason he realized, seconds too late, that that horrifying crunching noise had been his fist colliding with the thing’s nose. 

The thing, that he was now realizing, was an actor, chained to the wall with long chains. They’d made the noise earlier, scraping against the floor, as the actor had shifted. Probably. “Oh, fuck,” Michael said automatically, eyes widening. His knuckles fucking hurt, sure, but he was more focused on the poor actor. 

The makeup was, as promised, spectacular. He was a half-turned werewolf, shirtless and covered in gruesome patches of fur and deep, gory claw marks. He had some sort of fangs in, too, and weird orange contacts that definitely made him look feral. What Michael was most focused on, though, was the blood dripping from his nose that was definitely not stage makeup. 

The actor had a small frown on his face, two fingers coming up to gently touch his nose. He let out a soft hiss, frown pulling more at his lips. “Damn,” he murmured. 

“Oh, fuck,” Michael said, ever so eloquent. “Oh, fuck. Dude, I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry. I don’t- I’ve never hit someone before in my life, I don’t know what the fuck-“

The actor shook his head. “It’s alright. It happens.” He gave him a small smile, one corner of his lips pulling up, before it dropped right back into a frown. Probably aggravated his injured nose. That Michael had done. Fuck. “Hazard of the job, you know? I told them not to activate the strobe lights and then put a jump scare after them. They make people jumpy since they fuck with your vision. They put people on edge. And then to have someone jump at you out of the dark….” He just looked sort of amused. Vindicated, too, maybe. “I figured it would happen at some point. I just got lucky until now, I guess.”

“Fuck, I’m so….I don’t even…..I’m so sorry,” Michael said again, brows drawing together. He really hadn’t meant to. Had he made that clear enough yet? He hadn’t meant to. His panic wasn’t helped by how fucking cute the werewolf was. 

The werewolf just ran a hand through his brown curls, pushing them back out of his eyes. “It’s alright. Really. It happens.” He eyed Michael, amusement in his eyes despite Michael’s clear panic. “I’m Ashton, by the way.”

Michael felt like he was still a few steps behind. Shouldn’t the werewolf be mad at him? Or kicking him out of the haunted house or something? “Oh. Uh. I’m Michael.” Ashton was a pretty name. And Michael was pretty sure it suited him, since it was clear Ashton was pretty attractive, even under all the makeup. And the blood. His nose was definitely bruised.

Speaking of his bloody nose, Ashton pressed two fingers right below it again, frowning as they came away covered in blood. “Well, Michael, you can definitely pack a punch.” He looked almost amused again before it gave way to concern. “Are you okay?”

Michael’s internal monologue still hadn’t shifted from ‘fuck. Fuck. fuck. Fuck. fuck. Fuck. fuck. Fuck.’ on loop in his head, so it took him a second to register the question. He still felt like he was short circuiting, adrenaline from the scare and the acute embarrassment immediately after still tingling up his spine and all the way to his shaking hands, fingers trembling a little where they were uncovered by the hoodie sleeves. “Wha- me? I’m- yeah? Fine, I- yeah, uh, think. I think, I mean. I mean I am, I’m fine. Okay. Yeah. Good.”

Ashton raised an eyebrow, stepping just a little closer. Michael was pretty sure he could hear his own heartbeat, too loud and too fast, echoing in his ears. Not loud enough to cover the unsettling scrape of metal against stone as Ashton’s chains moved with him. He focused on breathing, pretty sure he’d stopped for a second, inhaling the stale taste of the synthetic fog, permeating through the entire building, though the air lacked the telltale haze of a fog machine, and the equally stale, dank smell of the room itself. It was grounding, sort of. He was definitely not freaking out, though. Not at all. Not with Ashton right in front of him now, gaze fixed on him, Michael’s right hand still tingling, knuckles still aching. This definitely wasn’t social anxiety nightmare fuel. He was definitely perfectly fine.

Ashton reached for Michael’s hand, Michael numbly letting him take it, unable to do much more than watch. Ashton leaned forward a little, chains scraping again against the floor to make the worst sort of unholy noise, grating on Michael’s frayed nerves, thankfully on the edge of what he was paying attention to. He was too focused on how warm Ashton’s hands were, fake blood splattered over them like he was supposed to look like he’d been clawing at himself. “You’re bruised,” Ashton said, inspecting Michael’s knuckles where they’d made contact with Ashton’s nose. “Or, you will be, at least. You didn’t hit as hard as you could have, so I think you’re okay.”

With Ashton tilted forward, it was easier to see that he was definitely still bleeding - which, fucking duh, it hadn’t been that long since he’d punched him - dripping slowly but steadily onto the floor. Noticing Michael’s gaze, probably, Ashton took a few steps back out of Michael’s space, head still tilted forward a little. He lightly pinched the bridge of his nose, giving Michael what was probably supposed to be a lazy half smile. 

“Should you- do you need help?” Michael asked lamely. It was a pretty fucking stupid question, since he’d literally just punched Ashton in the nose. And he was bleeding.

“It’s not that big a deal,” Ashton said, as calm and collected as he’d been the whole time. And fantastic, at least one of them was. “I’d go tell someone, but I’m a little bit stuck.” He raised his free hand, chains rattling a little bit. “I’m actually chained to the wall. Someone comes by and lets me out between every couple groups or every couple hours so I can use the bathroom and grab a drink and all that shit. I can’t get myself out on my own.”

“Oh, fuck.” Michael frowned. “That seems like a pretty big fuckin’, like design flaw. Who the fuck came up with that?”

Ashton laughed, short and sweet before he cut himself off, probably because his nose hurt. Which sent a jolt of regret and embarrassment through Michael. “There’s a lot of stuff like that for the sake of ‘authenticity’. Don’t tell anyone I told you, they’d have my head. I don’t mind too much, though. Only lasts two months every year, and it’s fun. Well, except for the occasional scare that goes too well.” He gestured at his face to prove his point, smile tugging slightly at his lips again before it dropped.

Michael didn’t get a chance to reply before someone came in, freezing at the sight of Ashton slightly tipped forward, nose still dripping, but much slower before, and Michael standing stiff and shocked in place. “Oh, fuck,” the stranger said, echoing Michael’s sentiments. “What the fuck happened?” 

“Well, Michael here got so startled when I jumped out that he hit me.” Ashton answered for the two of them. “We’re all good, he didn’t mean to. He’s been keeping me company.” He winked at Michael, making Michael’s face heat up, especially noticeable in the gloomy chill of the fake dungeon room. 

“Fuckin’ hell, man,” the strange guy said, immediately moving forward to free Ashton from the stupid chains. “So, you mean, the same shit you kept saying was gonna happen, happened?”

Ashton let out some sort of noise that was probably meant to be a laugh. “Yeah, pretty much exactly.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” the stranger said again, succeeding in freeing Ashton. He leaned in close to look at his nose, frowning. “Well. You definitely need to be cleaned up. You’re out of commission for tonight, we’ll just leave the room empty and the supervisors can suck my dick. Come on, let’s clean you up and get you an ice pack or something, and you can sit down for a while.” He wrapped an arm around Ashton, hand splayed out in the middle of his back. They were clearly comfortable with each other, and had the easy familiarity of close friends. Or something. The stranger nodded his head at Michael. “You, uh, Michael, was it? You can come with us, we’ll get you out.” He paused. “Unless you want to finish the house..? But I’m gonna take a wild guess and say probably not, after that.”

Michael startled a little at being addressed, temporarily forgetting he had a corporal form. “Oh. Uh. No, not really. I”m- that was enough, I think.”

The stranger nodded his head. “Makes sense. You kind of got separated from your group, it looks like. Usually people are in groups of two and three. You sort of had shitty luck tonight, huh?” He said it kindly, though. Like he was sympathetic. “My name’s Calum, by the way.”

“He’s not usually the responsible one,” Ashton teased, shooting Calum an amused look, only making Calum roll his eyes.

“Yeah, yeah. Ashton. You’re always Mr. Responsible. That’s why we’re going to patch up your boo boo.” Calum patted his back consolingly, shooting Michael a grin. “So is this your first time here?”

Michael glanced up, fingers pausing mid-tug where he’d been fiddling with his hoodie sleeves. “Oh. Yeah, it is. Uh. Always wanted to come but it’s hard to get in and last year I got stuck closing most days and couldn’t make it early enough.”

Calum nodded, like it was a solemn affair, or he was thinking. Michael’s ability to figure things out - he was pretty sure it was called perception, but it just proved his point - was absolutely shot through with his adrenaline. He was still waiting for someone to get pissed at him, to kick him out and ban him for life. “It’s a fun place, yeah. I can’t remember if I actually ever went through it before getting to work here and see ‘behind the scenes,’ but we get pretty good reviews.” Calum grinned. “I’d say a bloody nose means you’re pretty fuckin’ scary, Ash.”

Ashton let out a half laugh. “Yeah, I guess so. Or people scared shitless and blind in the dark don’t like jumpscares. One of the two.”

Calum had led them through a couple dark, narrow back hallways, clearly meant for the employees, the whole time they’d been chatting. They get to the doorway of a brighter-lit room and hear a woman gasp. “Oh, Ashton! What happened to you? Oh, god, it wasn’t those dicks from last night again, was it? I swear I’ll hunt them down-”

“No, it wasn’t,” Ashton consoled, stepping into the room where the woman started fawning over him, leaning up to inspect his face and make sure he was okay. Calum, letting her take over, gently nudged Michael out of view and stepped back into shadow with him.

“Look, Ashton’s a trooper, he’s okay,” Calum murmured, nothing but soothing sincerity in his eyes and coating his voice. “I promise. You seem pretty worried but, uh...The floor managers might not be too happy, you know? We’re missing our werewolf for the rest of the night, so the room will be empty...No one else gives a shit, I promise, I just mean that if you want to come back, you might want to leave before anyone figures it out, you know? Not personal at all.” He gave him a sweet smile that probably would’ve rendered Michael incoherent and weak-kneed any other time, but with his nerves as wired and burnt-out as they were, it only tugged at his anxiety-ridden heartstrings.

“Actually,” Calum continued, tilting his head, “I can get you a ticket or something for another night if you want to do this again.” He gave him a lopsided smile. “You know, as long as you don’t hit another actor again.” Michael assumed he must’ve looked panicked, because Calum was quick to console him. “Hey, hey, I’m kidding. Sorry, too soon.”

“Holy, fuck, Ashton, is that real?” Someone else asked, entering the room behind them.

Calum looked back at Michael, expression apologetic. “I’ve gotta- I’ll have to run damage control, Alisha - the girl - is nice but he’ll need, uh, help. Uh...The exit’s right through there, down the stairs, to the left. If you can get back before we open sometime, cut the line and ask for me. Uh. Calum. That should get you in.” Michael only realized Calum had put a hand on his arm at some point when he squeezed it gently and let go.

With another hasty apology, Calum had to return to Ashton and the whole mess Michael had caused. Michael stumbled on nerve-numb feet through the dark employee back-passageways, hearing the occasional shriek from the haunted house proper. He couldn’t help but berate himself and wish he’d done the entire fucking thing differently. And where the fuck had his friend been? Maybe he wouldn’t have been so nervous to begin with if the fucker had actually texted him back at some point. 

This whole thing had been social-anxiety massive-fuckup nightmare fuel. Seriously, Michael thought as he finally managed to make his way out of the stupid house into the city, shivering in the much-cooler nighttime air, this was going to haunt him for years. Let alone punching anyone in the first place - his hand still sort of hurt, though not a proper hurt, more like the vague ache wrapped in the anxiety-spiking memory of what he’d done - but punching an absolutely gorgeous guy in the face? Fucking hell. Worst thing he could think of.

It was still fresh on his mind as he tucked himself into bed, fresh from a shower as he’d tried to scrub the stupid memory off his skin. He just hoped he managed to actually get over this and it didn’t haunt him forever. Though, he’d been pretty fucking haunted when he’d gone to grab pizza and when the guy had said “enjoy your meal,” he’d said “you too, thanks, mum.” He hadn’t even realized his mistake until he’d gotten outside with his prized pizza. In his defense, he’d been texting his mom, and gotten mixed up. There wasn’t really a defense here.

Fuck. He really hoped this didn’t haunt him.  

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

Well. It haunted him. That first night had really, really sucked. Like...really sucked. It had taken ages to manage to fall asleep after that, since every time he tried, he was painfully reminded of the moment he hit Ashton right in the nose, and how awful that had felt. And everything afterward had just been an anxiety-fueled mess. 

He had class the day after, too, which really fucking sucked, but it meant he didn’t have to sit and dwell on every single mistake he’d ever made in his life. The biggest one was obviously his birth, followed very closely by hitting Ashton. He decided, though, by the end of that day, that he definitely wanted to go apologize again. Just because it hadn’t felt quite like enough just saying he was sorry. He needed to actually prove it somehow. Maybe. Or he was just an idiot. Only time would really tell. 

He got a gift card for the coffee shop where he worked, because he got a discount on it, and everyone liked coffee. Did Ashton like coffee? He really hoped he did. He was still kicking himself for not getting his number so he could make sure he was okay and apologize, but, in his own defense, everything had gone upside-down topsy-turvy really, really fast. 

He got down to the haunted house, still a while before it actually opened. He went straight to the front of the line, remembering Calum’s promise to get him in. Hopefully he could use the advice to apologize properly to Ashton. The guy at the front of the line was kind of a dick towards him, but Michael managed to find a worker in one of the designated t-shirts for the house. 

“Hey, uh, is Calum or Ashton here?” Michael asked, praying he didn’t seem near as awkward as he felt. He just wanted to apologize and leave before he embarrassed himself any further, that was all. Everything was fine. It was fine. 

“Oh, yeah. Are you one of their friends or something?” The guy glanced at him before shrugging. “Calum’s working customer service and merch. Come on, I’ll show you.” 

Michael followed the guy into the house, down a hallway that wasn’t super obvious, to what was clearly right after the exit of the house. There was a booth set up, shirts dangling from the top and displayed in the back, along with magnets and other sorts of merch along the table. Calum was sitting behind it, earbuds in, focused solely on his phone. The guy Michael had been following tapped on the table to get his attention, making Calum’s eyes snap up. He grinned over at Michael, pausing his music and tugging his earbuds out. 

“I’ve got to get back to the front, but this guy was asking for you and Ashton. You know him?”

Calum’s smile didn’t dissipate. It didn’t do much to sooth the suddenly overactive butterflies in Michael’s stomach. “Yeah, I do. I’m good, you can go.” The guy nodded and left, leaving Michael alone with Calum. 

“Hey,” Calum greeted, grinning again. “I wasn’t sure you’d come back. I was hoping you would. Are you here for the house?” His smile went coy. “Or for me?” He was clearly teasing, but Michael’s face flushed. 

“Uh. I- well. Uh. I came- well, I’m here to apologize. Yeah. To, uh. To Ashton. Again. For hitting him. I mean, by accident. I didn’t mean to.” And wow, way to be smooth. Michael just didn’t know how to function around cute guys at all. Especially not when they sounded like they could possibly be flirting with him, if they were on another planet, where people actually flirted with Michael. 

Calum just gave him another sweet smile, standing and leaning against the table. Michael definitely didn’t pay attention to the way Calum’s back arched, or the way he tilted his head sometimes without meaning to, or how good his jeans looked on him. He didn’t see any of that at all because he was a good person. He just..wasn’t blind. And Calum was cute. “Ashton’s fine. I think he’s working tonight, but I can shoot him a text.” Michael didn’t even have to reply before Calum was pulling his phone out of his back pocket and sending a text, presumably to Ashton. 

“The house opens soon,” Calum continued, ��but we’ll see if we can get him up here.” He smiled a little. “You know, after you hit him by accident, they tested out some fake chains. They thought it worked great - until they did a test run, and Ashton broke them when he moved forward. Guess even plastic couldn’t hold up to his upper body strength, huh?” He smiled, eyes squinting a little when Michael flushed darker. Everything was absolutely, perfectly fine. 

Calum’s phone vibrated again and he checked it. “Oh, shit. He’s a bit hung up right now. You want to stick around for a minute and see if he can swing up here? I can give you a bit of a behind-the-scenes tour.” 

Michael considered but nodded. “Yeah, uh. That would be great.” His friend - who still hadn’t fucking gotten back with him, it had been two days, asshole - was supposed to do that when he’d originally come to the house. Better late than never, at least, even if he’d never gotten to actually make it through the haunted house proper. He just had to survive spending time with a super cute guy in the stupidly narrow employee hallways. 

Calum grinned again. “Great!” He slid over the top of the table, knocking a couple magnets to the floor. He glanced at them before shrugging. “I’ll deal with that when I’m back. Come on.” He grabbed Michael’s wrist, his hold warm and gentle, and lightly tugged him towards another hallway. “So what do you want to see first? How we put everything together? How we make a couple of the rooms function? Where we keep all the fog machines?”

“Uhhh……” That was….a lot of options. Michael honestly wasn’t sure where to start. The last comment earned Calum a laugh, short and a little nervous. “Anything?”

Calum nodded sagely, like Michael had made some interesting comment that could be considered, instead of fumbling over his words. “I’ll just start with the basic tour then.”

Calum tugged him into another room, launching into an explanation of how they put it together, and how it matched up with the other rooms in the house. He talked about how they had speakers in each room, and made sure the haunted house genuinely felt like an old rundown mansion with a stone basement. The next room was every bit as interesting, if a bit colder.

“That,” Calum explained, “would be because we keep one of the fog machines in this false wall.” He knocked on it, the sound hollower than a real wall would have made. “It adds to the vibe.”

Michael just agreed that it did, in fact, add to the general vibe of the haunted house, unsure what else to say to that. 

“You know,” Calum said, eyes lighting up a little when he smiled, bright and mischievous, “I’m pretty sure they spent most of the decorating budget on the fog machines. In order to get the light fog in the dungeons, we had to keep one every couple rooms. And then the one in the front room, so people know we’re spooky.” He wiggled his fingers with his free hand, his other hand still warm on Michael’s wrist where he hadn’t let go yet.

Michael laughed, earning another triumphant smile from Calum. “That sounds right,” he said honestly. The basement - or what little he’d seen of it, at least - had definitely been neat, with the very light fog swirling around his ankles. He just hadn’t really made it that far.

And, like Calum was a mindreader, he almost immediately said “Hey, you didn’t finish the house, right? Want to get a tour of the basement? I can show you where I had to use Klorox wipes to get Ashton’s blood off the floor.” Another grin, clearly amused with himself.

“Uh...Yeah, okay, that sounds good,” Michael said, ever so eloquent. Being in the presence of a pretty guy did not help him at all, only serving to shut down any critical thinking skills he’d ever had.

“Great! This way-” Calum started to gently lead him out of the room, hand still warm on Michael’s wrist in the chill of the room, before he was interrupted by his phone buzzing. “Fuck, what now?” He pulled his phone out of his back pocket, which Michael found impressive given how stupidly tight they were. Calum let out a huff, letting go of Michael’s wrist so he could send a text back. “Fuckin’ hell. I’m gonna have to go.” He gave Michael a look that really looked like apologetic puppy dog eyes, but Calum somehow pulled it off. “We’re letting in the first group soon. I’ve gotta go back to my booth.”

“Oh, shit.” Michael was pretty sure that was the right response. He was still distracted by the smiles Calum had flashed him just moments before. Sue him, his weakness was cute guys, okay? And social interaction. Especially social interaction with aforementioned cute guys. Like Calum.

“I’m sorry. I guess Ashton will be wrapped up in that, too.” Calum frowned, thinking for a moment. “Are you free tomorrow?”

Michael flushed, a natural reply to being asked that by A Cute Guy. “Uh. Yeah. I have class in the morning, but I’m free after.”

Calum grinned again. “Great. Swing by here again? You can ask for either me or Ashton. We’ll get you taken care of, don’t worry.” He winked at Michael, smile still on his face. Michael felt himself flush deeper, praying it wasn’t too visible in the dim lighting of the haunted house.

“Yeah, uh, okay. I can...I can do that.” Maybe he was reassuring himself a little bit. But it would be fun. Calum led him back out of the room, his hand going to the small of Michael’s back, warm even through his hoodie. If Michael’s blush had faded, that brought it back full force. Calum’s hand dropped once they were back in the hallway, but his hand brushed Michael’s on every other step as he led him back to the front, to the area where Calum’s merch booth was.

“Here we are. I’ll see you tomorrow?” Calum asked, expression earnest. He squatted to pick up a couple of the magnets and buttons that he’d knocked to the floor earlier. Michael definitely didn’t glance at his butt, because he was a very nice person, and very good at resisting things. 

“Yeah, I’ll, uh, I’ll be here.” Michael was completely fucking incapable of going one sentence without stumbling over his words. It was annoying. It was like being near any attractive guy whatsoever made his brain completely short circuit and stop working. He was pretty sure he just suffered from Dumb Bitch-itis or whatever. It was fine.

After a quick goodbye, Michael made his way to the exit and started the walk back home again. He couldn’t say that excursion was really a failure but he still hadn’t done what he’d meant to do. How many cute guys could work there, anyway? That had to be it. So hopefully he’d function properly next time he had to go, even if Calum and Ashton both completely shut his brain down. The gift card was still in his pocket, even as he reluctantly shucked his outside-hoodie to switch to his sleeping-hoodie. At least this time he didn’t have too much to haunt him before he fell asleep.

Except punching Ashton, his brain helpfully supplied. And with that, his hopes for some peaceful sleep went out the window, just like his critical thinking skills had earlier when he’d had to talk to Calum.

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

Michael prayed that this was the last time he’d have to go to the house. He didn’t dislike it, honestly, it was interesting and incredibly well put together. But he really just wanted to apologize to Ashton and have the whole thing be done with. Or, half of him did, at least. He hated when things got drawn out like this, and something hung over his head. He didn’t like feeling like he owed any debts at all. The other half of him, though, kind of didn’t want it to be over. Because then he wouldn’t get to see Calum or Ashton again. And alright, maybe he was a bit of an emotional masochist knowing that they wouldn’t like him but it was...nice, kind of, hanging out with people. And he wasn’t going to complain about getting to hang out with cute guys. Like...ever.

The thing was, though, it wasn’t like he could really be friends with them. He’d fucking punched Ashton right in the face for fuck’s sake. The friendship ship had long since sailed, and he’d lost any chance of talking to him like a functional person as soon as he’d panicked and hit him. Which sort of destroyed any chances he had in befriending Calum. And maybe he was a little bit lonely, and tired of spending all his free time by himself. The cute guys at the haunted house were a no-go, though, so he wanted to be done with them as soon as he could be.

Michael tugged his hoodie back on, and made his way back out into the outside world, where people weren’t so kind, and there were cute boys to accidentally hit and regret your entire life over. He didn’t want to think about having to talk to Ashton again, or Calum, doing his best to save all of his brain power for actually having to socialize, rather than wasting it on indulging his anxiety now.

He cut through the line again, though it was a bit earlier this time, so it wasn’t as long as it had been, and made his way to the front of the house. One of the workers, in the same haunted house shirts he’d see the others in the days before, stopped him.

“I’m here for Ashton?” Michael said, still not entirely sure of himself, like this wasn’t the second time he’d come back to the house and had to ask for them. “Or Calum.”

The girl glanced Michael up and down quickly, seeming to assess whether or not he was telling the truth. And really, why the fuck would he bother lying? He wasn’t even really trying to get into the house, but apologize fully to Ashton so he could hopefully stop being haunted by the memory of his major fuck-up.

“Alright, come on,” she said, turning on her heel and leading him inside. He followed her back through the room Calum had been stationed in the day before, the merch booth left empty, now, no cute guys with equally cute smiles there to drag him through the maze of the house.

The girl led her down a couple hallways Michael definitely didn’t remember, but he really hadn’t been paying as much attention to the hallways of all things the last time he’d been there. But he was pretty sure he didn’t remember any of this. Which was only reaffirmed when she stopped in a doorframe. “Luke,” she called in, hand on the doorframe. “This guy’s asking for Calum and Ashton. I’m busy downstairs. Can you try and track them down for him?” 

Michael could see over her shoulder, but couldn’t see who she was talking to. Luke gave her some form of affirmative, he guessed, because then she was turning back to look at him. “Right. You stay here with Luke. He should be able to find Calum and Ashton. You can wait with him. Good luck.” She turned and headed off back down a couple narrow hallways, leaving Michael more confused than he had been before she’d tried to help.

“Come in, I don’t bite,” came a guy’s voice from the other side of the room. Michael reluctantly shuffled in, already tugging his hoodie sleeves down over his hands. How many times was he going to be shuffled from person to person before he managed to actually give Ashton his stupid gift card and go back to his life of reclusivity, hidden away in his single dorm room. Then he’d finally get to forget how massively he’d fucked up, and not have to think about all the stupidly cute boys that worked at the stupid haunted house.

The room had several chairs set up, with a couple of tables cluttered with a bunch of weird bottles, makeup palettes, and gallons of stage blood. It was empty, except for a girl sitting in one of the chairs, and a guy working on her makeup. He was tall, with ridiculously long legs, and his blond curls pulled back into a small bun, messy, with flyaways wisping around his temples and a couple strands of hair in his eyes when he flashed Michael a quick smile. “Alright,” the guy said, pulling back to inspect his work. “You’re good to go. But maybe try not to fuck up your chest wound next time? It’s not so easy to fix.” She murmured some sort of agreement - and what sounded like an apology - before heading back out, probably to wherever she was supposed to be stationed.

The guy turned to Michael and flashed him a smile, tucking his brush behind his ear and wiping his hands on his thighs before offering one to Michael. “I’m Luke. But, uh, I think you already knew that.” His smile went a little sheepish. Michael just shook his hand, internally cursing himself for having cute boys as a major weakness. Because Luke was definitely cute.

“I’m Michael,” he said, because he was pretty sure he hadn’t yet, and it seemed like the proper time for an introduction. His brain might short circuit a little bit around cute boys, but he didn’t completely forget everything. Usually. Not yet, at least. He was just hoping to keep at least a fraction of his critical thinking skills. So he didn’t end up hitting him in the face, his brain supplied helpfully, even though that had only ever been the one time, and under very different circumstances. It didn’t make him feel much better.

Luke broke into a smile almost immediately, letting out a laugh - more of a giggle, really - that made his nose crinkle. “You’re the guy that punched Ashton,” he said, eyes crinkling a little with amusement. “Holy shit. You’re a legend.”

Michael flushed, feeling his whole face heat up, even though the room was just as chilly as the rest of the haunted house. “Uh. Maybe just a little. The one time.” He scuffed the toe of his sneaker against the ground, suddenly a little nervous. Or...more nervous. Luke was just as cute as the others had been, stray glitter stuck to his hands (and Michael’s palm, now, after he’d shook his hand), and his hair in that stupidly endearing bun. And apparently he knew about the biggest fuck up in Michael’s entire life, which really wasn’t all that good for his already not so fantastic self esteem. 

Luke nodded, still looking only a couple seconds from laughing. “The one time. Yeah. Ashton thought it was hilarious. It worked out, though, he got the rest of the day off, and convinced them to fix his position so it hopefully wouldn’t happen again. Well, I mean, they mostly agreed that he could keep his phone on him as long as it was silent so he could call Calum or something to come get him if something happened. But he counted it as a win.”

 Luke leaned against the table, hip causing a couple bottles to fall over. Luke flushed, pink covering his pale skin, as he rushed to sort everything out, right all of the bottles. He knocked one of them off the table, squatting down to grab it and smacking his head against the edge of the table on his way back up. It knocked the brush from behind his ear, which hit the floor with a quiet clatter. Luke managed to stand up properly, though, his face red, and clearly flustered. “Um. Anyway. So you- Uh.” He shook his head, more curls coming free of his bun and dancing around his temples when he moved. “Ashton wasn’t upset, you’re okay. He’s kind of hard to rattle. Calum and him have been joking about it, mostly. They just didn’t mention you were cute.”

Michael had watched Luke’s moment with the bottles, eyebrows furrowed in concern, but he hadn’t wanted to overstep. He’d gotten it sorted, anyway, and his head seemed fine. So he didn’t ask, just watched him with the same slightly cautious expression. Luke’s last sentence threw him off, though, and it was Michael’s turn to flush, staring at Luke a few beats longer than socially acceptable. “Oh, uh- you think- I’m not- I’m pretty, just, you know- uh. Thank you. You’re- the same. Cute. I mean.”

Luke laughed, soft and gentle and warm, meant to be with him rather than at him. Michael’s blush darkened, but he didn’t feel quite so bad about being an absolute idiot. “Thank you,” he said, head tilting a little to the side, smile back on his face. Luke was tall. Taller than Calum and Ashton had been, enough to make Michael aware of the difference. No wonder he’d been clumsy, though he’d seemed to have reclaimed his grace now, lanky limbs seeming only to add to his charm and poise rather than detract from it now that his footing was stable and no bottles were falling on the floor. 

“So why’d you come back, again?” Luke asked, yanking Michael out of his reverie. He’d moved to straighten some of the bottles and makeup palettes cluttered on the table. He glanced at Michael before his eyes shifted back to what he was doing. And yeah, that was definitely stray gold glitter stuck to his hands, front and back. 

“Oh. Uh. I wanted to say sorry to Ashton again. I just...haven’t been able to catch him. Came back yesterday and same thing.” Michael tugged at one of his hoodie sleeves, watching Luke’s long fingers tighten what looked like a tall bottle of latex. And okay, maybe he’d watched a few too many behind the scenes videos of his favourite horror movies, and wasn’t completely brand new to SFX stuff. 

Luke glanced up at him again, interest in his blue eyes and all over his face. His hands paused where they were. “You were here yesterday?”

“Uh. Yeah? I was just with Calum for a while but then he got some text and I didn’t get a chance to see Ashton before I had to leave.” He didn’t know what about that was so interesting, but whatever. At least he wasn’t tripping over his words now and could talk to Luke like a proper functioning human being. 

Luke hummed but didn’t offer an explanation for asking. “Do you want me to do your makeup or something while you wait?” He asked, as random and out of nowhere as anything. 

“What?” Michael asked, brows drawing together again. He was pretty sure Luke hadn’t said what he thought he’d said. 

“Do you want me to do your makeup while you’re waiting?” He repeated, gaze as earnest as ever. He wasn’t lying. 

“I mean, holy shit, yeah,” Michael said, maybe just a tad too eager. Get his makeup done by a makeup artist at the haunted house that had won awards for SFX? Hell fucking yeah! He wasn’t turning that opportunity down. Hopefully it went better than attending the haunted house had. 

Luke beamed, looking absolutely pleased with himself. “Okay, come over here and sit down and I will. Do you want, like, a cut or something? I have a couple spare prosthetic injuries I could use. I know I can’t do the missing eye one on you, you can’t really see in that one. I have a couple of the small claw ones, like I think I used on Ashton? If you want some of those.”

“Uh. Yeah, that works.” Michael made his way over and sat down in the chair, shifting a little bit. He’d never really had his makeup done before, but he was more excited to get to see someone do SFX up close. On him. 

“Can you pull the hoodie off?” Luke asked over his shoulder, starting to sort through his supplies. “I need more space. I can do it right below your collarbone, I think. That’s enough space. With Ashton, I think I slotted some at the top of one of his pecs and then some on his ribs, on his side.” 

Michael flushed but tugged his hoodie off, getting his head stuck in the stupid thing only momentarily, before it was off and he could ball it up in his lap. Luke turned back to look at him, humming softly to himself. He tugged his hair free from the bun, curls falling freely to frame his face, before pulling it right back again. Just like before, curls too short to fit in the bun curled around his temples and his ears. Luke ignored it, stepping closer with the small prosthetic in hand. 

He hummed a little again, eyeing Michael’s collarbones and chest. He tugged the neckline of Michael’s shirt down a little bit, holding the prosthetic up, just below his collarbone as he’d said. “This should work pretty well. Has anyone ever done makeup on you before?” Luke turned to grab something else, probably his adhesive, before turning back and frowning. “It might be easier, since I’ll need both hands for this. You can put it back on afterward, it’ll sit right above your neckline. Right here.” Luke tapped a finger lightly where he planned on putting the prosthetic.

Michael flushed. “Uh. Yeah, okay, I guess.” He really wasn’t used to this. Going shirtless in front of a cute guy? Yeah, that really didn’t happen. Like, ever. He reluctantly tugged his shirt off, though, still not about to turn this opportunity down. The shirt joined his hoodie, both balled up in his lap. He was rewarded with a sweet smile from Luke, before he was surveying the area he wanted to stick the prosthetic, which did little to help Michael’s blush.

“This might be a little bit cold. It’s room temperature, kind of.” Luke started applying the adhesive, completely in Michael’s personal space. “So did you like the house?” He asked, fanning the adhesive with his hand, gaze shifting to Michael’s face. “When you came? Before the thing with Ashton, I mean.”

“Yeah, I did. Uh. I’ve been wanting to come here for years, and I finally got to get a look. I really, really like horror shit, and thought about being an SFX artist but I don’t have the talent at all.” Michael resisted the urge to shift in place, or bounce his leg. He didn’t want to fuck up whatever Luke was doing. “It’s, uh, really well put together. No wonder it’s won awards and shit.”

Luke hummed, tapping the adhesive before grabbing the prosthetic and leaning down, tongue sticking out a little in concentration, as he carefully stuck it down. He held it in place for a moment, pulling back to inspect his work. He moved to grab one of his makeup palettes. “Yeah, it’s a lot of work to pull it together and get everything set up properly. But I can get out of some of it sometimes, since I do makeup.” He grinned at him before starting to add colour to the prosthetic. “You wanted to do SFX?” His gaze flickered up to him again, before again it dropped to what he was doing. “I could always show you some stuff, if you wanted. I’ve been doing it for a couple years, so I think I’d probably be okay at that.”

“Didn’t you guys win something last year for your makeup?” He asked, tilting his head a little bit.

Luke turned pink. “Well, yeah, but that wasn’t just me, that was the whole team. But, um. If you wanted that, I definitely could.”

It was then that it really clicked what Luke was offering. This was a chance for Michael to actually get hands-on experience with SFX and get to see it up close. Not only that, but he’d get the chance to actually do it himself, with someone else’s guidance, and see if he was actually shit at it. And that someone happened to be award winning. And really cute. “Fuck yeah, I definitely want that.” Okay, he needed to curb his excitement. Just a little.

Luke let out another one of his giggles, still working on the colouring of the prosthetic. “Okay. I’m happy to show you. I’ll get your number when I’m done? So we can set up a time?”

Michael definitely didn’t turn pink at that or anything. He was totally suave, totally used to getting cute guys’ numbers, especially while he was shirtless in front of them. Obviously. And maybe that was a little bit of a lie, and this was brand new. And maybe he was a little bit pink. “Uh. Yeah, that sounds good.”

Luke hummed, attention mostly back on the prosthetic. He was silent for a few moments before he spoke up again. “You said you wanted to do SFX. So what do you do instead?”

“Oh, I’m a film student. I work at, uh, Great Awakenings? The coffee shop a couple blocks down from here on campus.” Michael, again, had to resist the urge to shift around in place. Not because it felt weird, but because he didn’t know what to do with himself, or his nervous energy. He couldn’t even tap his foot or anything on the ground, for fear of fucking up what Luke was doing. 

“Oh, that’s neat! I’m doing philosophy right now. Ashton’s doing English. Focusing on literature, I think. And Calum’s doing psychology,” Luke flashed Michael a bright smile before going back to his work, still carefully adding pigment to the prosthetic. 

“Oh, that’s, uh...pretty cool. What made you choose philosophy?” Michael asked. 

Luke hummed a little to himself. “I dunno. Just thought it seemed interesting. I’m pretty happy doing this, but I don’t know if I can make a career out of it. Or if my skills are even enough to try.” He paused. “I know I’m good enough to work here, I just don’t know about beyond that,” he corrected, fingers stilling where they’d been working. It only took a moment before he was back at it again. 

Michael understood that, honestly. “Yeah, I know what you mean. That’s why I’m in film. I don’t know how far I’ll make it, either,” he said honestly. 

Luke gave him a frown, more adorable than it had any right being. “I’m sure you’ll be good at it, Mikey.”

Michael flushed at the nickname, but didn’t have any time to add anything before Luke was turning around to face the table. “Okay, I just have blood and then I’m done.” Luke grabbed the bottle and a tiny brush, turning around to face Michael yet again. He gave him a tiny smile before he was back to work, tongue poking slightly from between his lips in concentration. 

Luke was pretty. Michael was struggling to think about anything else, even with how desperately he wanted to do SFX, and how much he’d wanted to visit the haunted house. It only took a few minutes before Luke pulled back slightly, surveying his work. Good thing, too, Michael was starting to get chilly. “Okay,” he said, eyes still on the prosthetic, forehead creased slightly, lips pulled into a small pout. He looked thoughtful. Michael refused to admit it was adorable. “I think I’m done.” He gave Michael another smile, nose crinkling slightly with this one. 

Michael’s number one weakness was definitely still cute boys, because his brain short circuited immediately. He was saved from having to say anything, though, when a girl poked her head in the door, knocking twice on the doorframe to get Luke’s attention. “Hey, house’s opening in a few. Stand by in case of any fucked up makeup.” Luke just nodded, and then she left. 

Luke frowned a little at Michael. “Okay, you’ll probably have to go before we officially open and groups start coming through. I might get busy, and we aren’t supposed to have visitors.” Luke chewed at his lip, thinking. “Okay. Uh.” He pulled his phone out of his pocket - Michael didn’t know how he fit anything in his pants pockets, they were stupidly tight and didn’t look all that comfortable - and offered it to Michael. “Give me your number? I’ll text you and figure the whole Ashton thing out so you can say sorry to him or whatever. And then I can show you how to do makeup.”

Michael nodded, taking the outstretched phone from Luke and obediently putting his number in. “That, uh, sounds really great. Thanks, Luke.” He passed his phone back and earned another smile from Luke that definitely didn’t make his stomach flip. Michael went ahead and tugged his shirt  back on, careful not to fuck up his new prosthetic. 

“Okay, sweet. Can you find your way out or do you want me to show you?” Luke asked, as sweet as he’d been the whole time. 

Michael shook his head at the offer, though. “I’m okay. I can get out. Thanks, though. I’ll...I’ll catch you around?”

Luke gave him another smile. “Yeah. See you, Mikey.”

Michael made his way out of the haunted house for the third time, hoodie balled up in his hands despite the evening chill so he didn’t get fake blood on it. And maybe he stopped in front of the mirror once he got home to look at his makeup, stupid grin on his face remembering Luke (and the other cute boys that worked there). And maybe, just maybe, that was the first night since he’d punched Ashton that he didn’t seriously struggle to sleep. 

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

Michael had almost forgotten the whole dilemma, when he woke up to a text from Luke. The phone screen was stupidly blinding in the darkness of his bedroom, and he cursed himself for bothering to check his phone in the first place. To be fair, though, he’d only wanted to see the time - he slept with his phone on do not disturb for this very purpose - he hadn’t expected the text.

Luke H: hey, r u free 2day? :-)

Michael stared at the text, blinking sleep out of his eyes, before he managed to get his brain to function enough to reply. And of fucking course Luke added a nose to his emojis. He might have only met the guy once, but it definitely seemed like a Luke thing to do.

Michael: yeah I should be. y?

Michael didn’t have a chance to even roll over before Luke had replied, phone buzzing again in his hand. Did Luke have nothing better to do? It had to be fucking early in the morning, and Michael’s main priority was going back to sleep. Though, in Luke’s defense, it usually was.

Luke H: no reason

Luke H: can u meet me at that coffee shop @ 1 later 2day? 

Luke wasn’t making any more sense, even with his clarifications. And Michael was way too tired to think too much about his cryptic messages. So he just agreed.

Michael: yeah

His phone buzzed again, seconds after he’d hit send. Did Luke have nothing better to do than text Michael at fucking nine am on a Saturday morning? Didn’t he know how to sleep in?

Luke H: great :-)

Michael tossed his phone to the side with a sigh, resolving himself to being awake way, way too early. This wasn’t usually how he spent his mornings; normally, he slept in until noon if he didn’t have work, and spent the day catching up on homework he didn’t feel like doing during the week, and finished the day with pizza and a few rounds of FIFA. He didn’t usually meet cute boys at the coffee chop, for god knows what reason, and he usually didn’t wake up so fucking early.

The rest of his day passed slowly, starting with two cups of coffee to try and keep himself awake and functional. He could hear his mum in his head, reminding him that nine am isn’t even that early, that most people were already awake and functional by that point. So he just shook his head and told his imaginary mum to piss off, and that he wasn’t most people.

He managed to waste most of the day away until he was already running late to meet Luke. He tugged on a hoodie that he’d only worn once that week, making it objectively cleaner than most of his other ones.

By the time he made it to the coffee shop, he was a couple minutes past one. Which was fine, it was pretty standard for Michael. He never really knew what time it was, but he tried his best. At least he was only a couple minutes late this time. Hopefully Luke didn’t mind too much.

Speaking of the devil, Luke had taken a seat in the corner and, when Michael spotted him, was mid-laugh at something Ashton had said to him. Ashton, who was sitting right next to him, grin on his lips. Oh, fuck. Had Michael just been invited to fucking third wheel them or something? You could third wheel a friendship. Michael knew that, from trailing after a pair of best friends when he was a kid, before he’d just decided to be a loner for the rest of his life. But they seemed awfully cuddly now, too. Maybe they’d just invited him to laugh at him.

Or, the much smaller rational part of his brain pointed out, maybe Luke had invited Ashton since Michael had wanted to apologize to him again and had never gotten the chance. Maybe Luke was just being nice.

Michael just did his best to shove all those thoughts aside. There was no point in freaking himself out now that he was already here. Better to just figure out what Luke had planned and get it over with. Or enjoy it, maybe. Maybe. 

Michael made his way over to their table, awkwardly taking his seat in front of them. Luke turned and gave him a bright, happy smile. “Hey, you made it!” He greeted, clearly pleased. “I went ahead and brought Ashton, I hope you don’t mind. You said you wanted to apologize, and we both think you’re pretty cute, so-” Ashton smiled fondly, but nudged Luke anyway.

“Don’t freak him out right after he gets here,” Ashton chided gently. He gave Michael that warm smile, shifting in his chair. “Hey, Michael. Good to see you again.”

Michael nodded a little, socialization abilities immediately leaving him. “You look good,” he said, before flushing. “No, you don’t. I mean - fuck - I don’t mean that, I mean you look good now that you’re not covered in blood. Or, you looked good then too. Well, not really, because I hit you in the nose-” Michael snapped his mouth shut. “I mean, it’s good to see you too.”

Ashton just laughed, good naturedly, but Michael was pretty sure he was one fuck-up away from them hating him. Still, though, his laugh managed to calm some of that built-up nervousness he was holding on to.

“You look good too, no worries,” Ashton said, corner of his mouth pulling up into a smile. 

Michael just nodded a little, steeling himself before he spoke. “I’m, uh. Really sorry about hitting you. I didn’t mean to at all, and still don’t know how I managed to fuck up that badly.”

Ashton gave him another smile. Luke was busy fiddling with one of his curls, clearly only half paying attention to the conversation, if at all. “It’s okay. Really. You didn’t do any lasting damage, and you didn’t mean to. I’m fine now, and it made the managers have to reconsider the position. Besides, it just meant Calum and Luke were a little overprotective for a few days. I’m fine now, but they were worried for a couple days about bruising and possible lasting damage. You should really be apologizing to Luke for having to deal with blood.” Michael must have looked confused, because Ashton continued. “I don’t know why, but it freaks him out. He’s fine with all the SFX shit, he’s okay with gruesome fake injuries and fake blood, but any time there’s real blood? He freaks out.”

Luke abandoned his curl, tucking it behind his ear, to pout at Ashton. “Hey. I just don’t like it.” 

Ashton gave him another stupidly fond smile and draped an arm over the back of Luke’s chair. “I know.” Michael felt like he was third wheeling, again. Which, okay, Ashton and Luke were cute, but he couldn’t help the way his stomach dropped a little. He’d thought they were pretty cute, and he hadn’t deluded himself into thinking anything would happen with either of them. But it didn’t really make it feel much better to realize he was third wheeling.

Sometime into his quiet sulking (which only could’ve lasted a minute or two at most), Calum had come up behind him, because now he was pulling out the chair next to him. Michael was effectively caged in now by attractive guys. Which, okay, was manageable. If his brain would stay functional. At least now he wasn’t third wheeling Luke and Ashton by himself anymore.

“Hey,” Calum greeted all of them, smiling in the way that made his cheeks squish up and his eyes squint. And okay, yeah, Michael definitely needed to get back into the dating world. 

“Hey,” Luke said, brightening a little again at the sight of Calum. “Michael came.”

Calum nodded, giving Luke the same fond smile Ashton had. “I can see that, babe.”

Luke reached his hand across the table, towards Calum. Calum took it, gently squeezing his hand. And fucking great, had Michael gone from third wheeling to fourth wheeling? Was fourth wheeling even a fucking thing? It clearly was, if what he was thinking was correct. Because Calum, Luke, and Ashton seemed awfully fucking close - Calum had just called Luke babe, for Christ’s sake - and he was pretty fucking sure they were all dating. Or involved together in some way. So why fucking bother inviting Michael if they were going to act like that? It wasn’t like he thought it was a date or anything, but it seemed...rude to just be all couple-y with a fourth person there.

“I’ve gotta take a call,” Michael said, and the excuse to step out sounded lame even to his own ears. But it had seemed like they’d been...maybe not flirting with him, but flirty, and he felt pretty fucking awkward fourth wheeling them the way he was doing. So he wanted an excuse to step outside for a moment and breathe. He pushed his chair back, wincing at the noise it made, and awkwardly stumbled outside of the door. The bell above the door chimed as he did, which did nothing for his annoyance. 

He took a few steps to the side, so he wasn’t in anyone’s way if they tried to go into the little coffee shop. He leaned back against the wall with a sigh, forgetting his excuse, and completely forgetting that he should probably at least pretend to be on the phone. Even if his phone hadn’t been ringing in the first place.

His melodramatic inner monologue of suffering was interrupted by the stupid bell chiming again. It earned enough of his attention to look up. And none other than Luke was standing there in front of him, apologetic smile on his face. “Hi,” Luke said, making his way a little closer.

“Hey,” Michael said, a little unsure.

“I just, uh...I’m sorry,” Luke said, fidgeting a little in place. His gaze shifted down to his feet, where he was absently scuffing the toe of his converse against his other foot. “I should have warned you about us. We just...it’s still kind of new, telling people, and we all...well, we all thought you were really cute, and I thought the rest of it would be easy if I managed to get you here. But life isn’t really like the movies, and I was kind of a dick to not at least warn you. Ashton said I should have, and he was right. I should have.” 

Wait...what? Michael was left reeling a little. At least he wasn’t fucking crazy, and he’d been right about the three of them being together. Or, that was what it sounded like, at least. But the rest of it? What did Luke mean by them thinking he was cute? What the fuck? Why did Luke have to be so cryptic? “What?”

Michael was pretty sure Luke blushed. He just scuffed his toe against the ground again, before making eye contact. “I’m dating Calum and Ashton. Or, we’re all dating each other. Um...and we thought you were cute. We think you’re cute. And I fucked up and should have explained all of that earlier. So you didn't, uh...get blindsided by it when you got here.”

Well, that was...a lot. And unexpected. “So...is this a date or something?”

Luke shrugged. “It is if you want it to be.”

Michael considered that for a moment. Did he want it to be? He’d never dated more than one person before - hadn’t really dated many people in general, honestly. But he didn’t dislike the idea. He had gotten along with all of them individually pretty well...and they were already established, right? So maybe it would be easier for him to just join that. Maybe. “I think so, yeah.” He nodded a little.

Luke grinned, shoulders sagging a little with relief as. “Great! I’m sure we’ll talk about everything soon. Like, boundaries and limits and telling other people and the future and stuff like that. Ashton and Calum are pretty good about all that.” Luke reached for Michael’s hand, and he took it, letting Luke lace their fingers together. “For now, though, let’s go get coffee.” Luke tugged him back into the coffee shop, a triumphant grin on his lips. Michael couldn’t help the smile he gave him, just as fond as the ones Calum and Ashton had worn earlier. Something about Luke’s happiness was just...contagious and sweet. It made you happy to see him so happy.

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

The relationship ended up working out like a fucking dream. Michael had never felt so supported in his life, and he was pretty sure his boyfriends felt the same way. After the initial coffee date, they’d gotten themselves established, and talked about what they wanted and what they wanted the relationship to look like, and the future, just like Luke had said. And, to absolutely no one’s surprise, the conversation was guided by Ashton.

Telling his mum had arguably been the hardest part, but even that was made a little easier with their support. Answering her questions hadn’t been fun - he’d deflected the over-the-line questions, as anyone else would, and flat out refused anything rude - but they’d gotten it taken care of, and she’d been about as accepting as Michael could have hoped.

As promised, they managed to get Michael a job at the haunted house the following year. One of the managers had gotten fired after the incident with Ashton - not that that had been the cause, but he’d been a massive dick about it, according to Calum and Luke, and it hadn’t been a good look, so he’d gotten canned - which let Calum get a promotion. Ashton was happy to stick with being an actor. As long as, he’d said when they’d broken the news to Michael, stupid grin on his face, no one else punched him in the face. He didn’t want another boyfriend. It had earned him three eye rolls, and three fond smiles, from each of his stupidly indulgent boyfriends.

But it had meant there was an opening for the merch stand, and Michael would get three glowing reviews. So they’d managed to get him the job. And, Calum had reminded them at the time, pleased smile on his face, they had a lot of sway with one of the managers.

So after everything got settled, Michael’s life was the best it had ever been. He had three loving, supportive, wonderful boyfriends, a job he loved, and date night every Friday. Even if he was working, they were happy to come sit and entertain him until he was off. He didn’t feel left out with them anymore, either; after that first time, they’d gotten it sorted, and were quick to comfort and console him.

Ashton never fucking let him live down the way they met, though. He made dad jokes about it as often as they let him - “watch out for Michael, he packs a punch,” “ah, Michael’s got quite the feisty personality,” “Michael’s really got a nose for this sort of thing. He fucked up mine, so it’s only fair, I suppose” - which was way, way too often, given how bad they all were. Michael couldn’t even bring himself to care, though. Not when accidentally punching him in the face had been the one thing to pull his life together. Ashton’s dad jokes were definitely worth all of that.

[clumsyclifford]

did anyone ask about neon weekend my beloved yet bc that's the fic i wanna hear about

ooooh neon weekend !!!!! i feel like it’s been a hot sec since i’ve talked about her. alright well let’s see

more than just a neon weekend

i’ll put this chit chat under the cut because i’m assuming i’ll get long-winded as i always do

so the idea for the fic came about literally from the title lyric, “it was more than just a neon weekend.” i thought that had such strong imagery!!!! in fact (did some moderate sleuthing to find this) here’s the original message that i sent to helen and ainslee, on july 10th of last year:

interestingly, i wrote down the idea into my fic ideas doc (one of the rare occasions where i actually wrote an idea taken from the ideas doc lol) and in it i had also written “is it muke?” because i sort of figured a relationship like the one i intended to write would be muke. since muke seems to be the relationship that is easiest to write as like, destructive? i assume that’s because they started out hating each other but point being i really meant to write the fic as a muke fic. but then i opened up the doc and i went to start writing it, and i just. felt like it had to be calum. like, luke was a given, but instead of michael i just ~felt~ like calum was the other person in this situation.

i can’t really explain why but i will say (and this fic is linked in the notes on ao3 as well lmao) i had read this fic like we always will pretty recently then, and that fic COMPLETELY shifted my view on luke and calum and cake. they went from this sweet charming pairing to like, this pairing of two adults with potentially a lot of problems and all this depth i hadn’t really considered before. genuinely i cannot emphasize enough the impact of like we always will on neon weekend.

right so i’ve opened up the doc and gone back to the beginning of the editing history to see what i’m not remembering and here it is: i grappled a LOT initially with whether to make this fic an AU or not. i originally had an idea that luke would do this drunken hookup with calum who was some random guy he’d picked up at a bar. presumably i determined that having it be a band fic would create more room for drama and also make it make more sense for calum to like, Still Be There, so band fic.

another thing i struggled with was the timeline, because i wanted the fic to be the story of woke up in japan but that meant they couldn’t have written the song woke up in japan yet, but i also wanted them to be youngblood era because the concept felt too mature to put on the shoulders of sgfg-era cake or 5sos. (in my sleuthing i discovered that apparently i brought this question mark to the club but as is my brand i seem to have ignored their advice.) so i ended up with the solution of basically saying fuck it as you will see in the notes of the fic lmao

the magic of fanfiction right !

so...neon weekend was a weird fic for me in the sense that it was what i referred to to helen as almost-smut. and while it is really nowhere in the ballpark of actual smut, it was very much the closest i had ever gotten to writing it, and i felt weird being Perceived like that ! but i sent the fic to helen when it was close to being done and when i tell you she gave me the validation of a lifetime. helen comments on a doc hit like nothin else. the other person who was tremendously helpful and supportive in the creation of this fic was cam! she let me talk at her about the fic and helped me work through some of the walls i hit. for example one problem i ran into was that in one version of the fic, luke had been crushing on calum for years and knew that about himself and that’s why he’d thought it was a bad idea to sleep with calum. but that didn’t end up working very well and i talked it out with cam and she helped me decide on the whole not-sure-how-he-feels luke which i think worked better (and also made my job easier since what i had already written of the fic fit better with that luke than the former).

anyway. some insider information that i usually don’t have on hand: this fic was written out of order! i rarely write out of order because reasons i could get into but won’t but for neon weekend i wrote the first scene, and then after that i wrote the scene with ashton. not sure why! i think i got stuck. those two pieces were written in mid-july and then i wrote the rest at the end of august, and basically the entire thing was written in weird order. that was strange for me. the result of that, especially with how much i wrestled with the plot, was i did a lot of retroactive fitting what i needed to work over what i had already written. there was a good long stretch during which a scene was split like, in the middle, divided just by (???????) because i needed to change the line that came before it. honestly now that i’m talking it out and going back through the process and my chat history and stuff............how the fresh hell does this fic make any sense at all. this really should not make sense. i basically pulled a fitted sheet over a bunch of throw pillows and went “behold, a fic mattress” and somehow nobody realized that it was just a bunch of throw pillows under the sheet. well. curtain is back, y’all. now you know.

whew okay i think that’s probably all the information i have on neon weekend. it was a really really interesting venture for me as a writer, possibly the first time i fully stepped out of my comfort zone, but i am genuinely glad i did because first of all that fic is inexplicably such a hit (and weirdly well-written, imo, considering aforementioned circumstances) but also, taking that step out of my comfort zone made me realize how much it wasn’t a big deal to do! like that was my first M-rated fic but we all know it wasn’t my last. neon weekend really gave me the confidence to keep exploring that kind of Heavily Implied Sexual Content avenue without feeling so self-conscious about it. so! shoutout neon weekend <3 

[ajoblotofjunk]

I was going through my first outline for HFoG and wow that is some wild shit. It was so different! For fun I thought I’d share some of it so you can see where it veered dramatically off course.

The first couple of chapters are the same, the first differences really start in March.

March (Yr 1) - Two weeks later in mid-March is first race - Did you declare the oil?/Of course I did, gods, Jaime, I know what I'm doing. /I saw you studying the regs again.; pit stop argument, etc.; Early pit stop, Jaime thinks they're too slow, is watching the racers pacing him, zooms off a bit too soon and Brienne is FURIOUS with him for putting them in danger, they have a huge fight and it's the first time he backs off a little and apologizes. She says 'if you do it again, I'm done.' I promise I won't. 'There has to be trust, Lannister.' 'Jaime's shorter, you know. You'd save a whole syllable. Could be critical in the pit.' She rolls her eyes. 'Fine. Jaime.'; Brienne in response makes Jaime learn how to stop exactly where he needs to; she stands in front, knowing he'll hit her if she doesn't trust him. I'll be the front jack. He makes a comment and she's like “this is serious, Jaime.” He swallows and nods by her use of his name. “Okay then. Let's practice.” He's still wounded from his team betraying him, he doesn't trust them, but he trusts Brienne. (This is all between the preseason and first race)

(Ed. note:That thing about the syllables shows up in the wedding night sex as my own personal shoutout TO MYSELF because I always loved that line and it never made it into the fic in the end and I’m an enormous dork.)

May (Yr 1) – Bronn places dye in Jaime's gloves so when he shakes hands they're blue (but Jaime laughs, he's the happiest he's been in years, he's driving loose and confident and reckless but he's winning for now); Martyn's payment comes due & almost fucks up Brienne (he's on tire duty, he is slow on the pneumatic during a practice and asks for her help and she comes over and he releases it as she's going for it and it almost breaks her wrist. It's obvious he did it purposefully and the crew swarms him, Bronn goes to get Jaime, who comes back FURIOUS and fires him; Arya joins the crew (Willem cleans up his act)

(Ed. note: I forgot Arya was supposed to join in year one. Hah.)

June has most of what ended up being in July, and July has most of what ended up being in June. Then:

August (Yr 1) – Two weeks in he shows up, middle of a hot, lazy summer; they have a great time; he drives the F1, they grow closer

(Ed. note: No sexytimes at all on Tarth. No sexytimes at all until the second year, which is one of the best changes I made.)

September (Yr 1) – Wins a race, shirt off, spray w/champagne; they kiss first time before crash ('for good luck' he says; realized he felt like he always did at the start of a race day, blood pulsing with the need for action and the roar and vibration of the engine under him); BEFORE he loses his hand, he's about ready to have sex with her on top of the car but he's got his celibacy thing and he's like “after the race”) and then he crashes the next day so their first time takes awhile. (He's glad she didn't know what he was like with two hands, he's worried he couldn't compete with that Jaime.); crash happens at Griffin's Roost end of Sept. (he hit Red before that for talking shit about Brienne; does Vargo Hoat cause the crash (Martyn gave him secret access to the info & the building w/Connington's help - oh snap)); she's watching, he takes the corner too fast and then in the second between watching live and turning to the screen, his car is flipping. She sees his car and her brother's car superimposed on each other, when she'd snuck out to see it at the impound after.

(Ed. note: The original reason they don’t get together in the first year was because Jaime had a celibacy vow during the race season that he kept as sort of a ‘good luck’ thing, which I’m super glad I dropped. Not my finest plot device. 😂)

Oct  (Yr 1)– Brienne convinces Selwyn to start a team and signs Jaime based on Brienne's belief in him; She ends up driving him fast to get that feeling back. But he's a complete disaster, drinks too much and makes a fool of himself, cruel as a defense mechanism, obsessed w/Brienne but doesn't want to bring her down

(Ed. note: This was a period of time where the Arctic Monkeys’ “Do You Wanna Know” was influencing everything I was writing and I wanted him to be very sweaty and wrecked and this is also a thing I’m glad I dropped. Brynn and I actually talked about this a lot - whether Jaime being cruel to her after they’ve started getting together would be a dealbreaker; at one point he was so mean to her she just left for Tarth and that kickstarted him into wanting to get his act together, but a lot changed and so did that, thankfully)

Nov (Yr 1) – Brienne tells him the news after the World Championship when he's super down on himself and that she will be his race engineer and have Bronn as his chief mechanic because she blames herself for not paying attention (which she doesn't reveal until later); and Pod and Arya and most of the crew; she says no December break, you have to work for it. “Why?” he asks. He starts rehab. They start fixing up Selwyn's F1.

(Ed. note: Oh I forgot she surprised him with the news they were starting a racing team for him. Hah. Wow this version was SO DIFFERENT.)

Dec (Yr 1) – She surprises him by bringing in Arthur Dayne to motivate him; they get FIA to agree that he can have a modified steering wheel. Jaime has conversation with Selwyn – you have more money than you  let on. 'I wanted Brienne to have a simple life.' 'Then why did you let her come with me?' 'Because you were the only one who didn't look at her like she was a freak.' Jaime is- OOF.

(Ed. note: I knew I wanted Arthur Dayne to show up, but he was playing a more active mentoring role in this version, and then once I really started getting into Jaime being left hanging alone with the ‘Kingslayer’ stuff, I was pissed at Arthur and realized it wasn’t okay for him to just show up. Heh. Also - that line is actually in the final version of HFoG, so some things do stay!)

Jan (Yr 2) – (they don't have NEARLY as much money as with Lannister Corp – look at this for ideas of how that will play out: https://us.motorsport.com/f1/news/tales-former-f1-chief-mechanic-952404/3045945/)

(Ed. Note: I did end up using a TON of the reading and research that I did throughout the story, even in the final version. Races were especially helpful for me to see the wild things that COULD happen - like Brienne coming in to pit with two flat tires. However, the Evenstar team having a much smaller budget never came in to play as much as I thought when I first started. There were some hints of it - their meager ‘cafe’ in the paddock, only having one wing at the end, not having all the extra parts teams normally would, but that article is actually pretty interesting for other ways the really shoestring budget teams have to cope. The LanCo LST was really helpful for me to get around the reality that having a car that can compete at the top level requires an absurd amount of money.)

Feb (Yr 2) - Oberyn Martell had won instead, his first championship ever, and he had not seemed happy when he took the trophy. Brienne had been touched when he'd dedicated it to Aerys and he'd had the trophy sent to Aerys' family; Rumor hinted they'd melted it down and sent that to Jaime Lannister with a note calling him 'Kingslayer,' but it seemed so medieval and cruel Brienne couldn't believe it.

(Ed. Note: Oh geeze I totally forgot about this subplot! There was a whole thing where the Targaryen’s HAD done that and Jaime held onto the trophy as sort of a self-flagellation and then he ends up throwing it away before he proposes to Brienne. Hah.)

Mar (Yr 2) – how he loses one race: https://www.dw.com/en/f1-sebastian-vettel-loses-his-cool-as-lewis-hamilton-wins-canadian-grand-prix/a-49120669

Apr (Yr 2) – he gets really frustrated and shoves all the tools off the table; “I'm not cleaning that up,” she said and walked out on him.

(Ed. note: Honestly a little sad I never kept this scene in some form. It could have been good.)

Jul (Yr 2) - (He puts the old-school lollipop sign in her hand. You tell me when you're ready.)

(Ed. note: this would have been ~symbolic~ because the lollipop signs were what the pit crew used to use to stop a driver in the pit lane and then released him back on the track, but it would have taken too much to explain and it never felt worth it.)

Aug (Yr 2) – She says he needs the rest; he wants to be with her; they have sex; she admits she's been reluctant she didn't want to curse him and he thought she just wasn't interested though he adored her. He says “you're the best luck I ever had.” They finally get together for good.

(Ed. note: I held onto that “best luck I ever had” line for far, far longer than it deserved. I mean it almost showed up in the actual proposal scene and luck had ceased to be a thematic thing between them.)

Oct (Yr 2) – He shows her the interview from their first week – this moment, and he paused right after her story, when he'd stared at her with what she recognized now as adoration; this, he said, is when I first fell in love with you. (That's how he tells her he loves her.); Bronn gets sick, she has to be Chief Mechanic again, she's terrified about Jaime crashing but she works a couple of races and everything is okay. Bronn comes back.

(Ed. note: So - this was going to be Brienne’s big emotional subplot in addition to the relationship. Her being Chief Mechanic again after she was his mechanic during his crash. That was why I ended up changing everything, because it wasn’t enough.)

Nov (Yr 2) – he wins the World Championship; they get fastest pit time record; they find each other in the crowd, Jaime pushing through the media scrum and other racers and everyone and he sees her tall and blonde and tears in her eyes and they find each other and hug and kiss and he doesn't care.

(Ed. note: He had been the more reticent one which was absurd. So many good changes from this version.)

January (again) - He retires to work with her and Selwyn on Tarth; they start a racing school with a focus on underprivileged and disabled kids, as well as girls; Brienne keeps getting calls to be a mechanic for another team (will she?? No, she loves being home mentoring girls interested in being mechanics)

(Ed. note: The karting school was there from the beginning!! But again I didn’t really understand Brienne in this initial outline, and I’m so glad I spent the time thinking more about her and what she wanted. I think the balance between them really worked to give the story so much more depth.)

[alegacyofmikalsons]

The Act of Living Chp.4: Connections

Author’s Note: I’m super excited to share this chapter with you. It’s a bit on the long side but, there was a lot I wanted to include since the plot is starting to pick up. There’s some heavy foreshadowing sprinkled in for where the story is going and what revelations are going to happen soon. I want to continue to thank everyone who has read and left their support, it really means a lot! 

Rating: Mature

Series Summary: Klaus and Elijah were supposed to die, but fate in the form of new friends Serafina Hewitt and her sister Stevie intervened. A year later Stevie is dead and Sera returns to New Orleans to see her friends and investigate her suspicions about what happened. When it's confirmed that a powerful hunter group is responsible, she realizes a much bigger threat is coming, one that threatens all of New Orleans. As they race to stop it, she gets more than she bargained for, finding the truth about who she is and a growing attachment towards a certain Mikalson.  Most importantly, they all get answers to the biggest riddle of all: what the act of living really means.

Masterlist: https://alegacyofmikalsons.tumblr.com/post/623479526213681153/the-act-of-living-masterlist

Tags: @kinda-iconic​ @endlesshero1122​ @katelynnicolerollins​ @im-a-bisexual-mess​

If anyone wants to be tagged in future chapters, please let me know! I also post this story on Wattpad so you can check it out there as well.

Shoutout to @bbchoices​ for beta reading this for me! 

Link to Wattpad: https://www.wattpad.com/916376115-the-act-of-living-chapter-4-connections

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

Several hours later, only a dull ache remains as I come downstairs freshly showered and changed into the lacy black dress Rebekah let me borrow. I stop in the living room surprised to find it in pristine condition. Just as Elijah promised all evidence of my destructive emotions is gone. That means Freya is here somewhere.

"Wow that was fast," I murmur before going to search for her.

However, I don't get far before hearing her raspy voice.

"That's the beauty of magic isn't it."

Turning, I see her walk into the room. "Freya, there you are!"

She quickly comes over, pulling me into a quick hug. "Sera, it's good to see you!"

"The feeling is mutual," I reply before asking, "Where's Keelin?"

"She stayed at home. Her feet are killing her lately so, I figured I'd let her rest. She's meeting us at the cemetery though."

I nod slightly. "How are she and the little one doing?"

"They're both good," she answers, a look of adoration appearing in her eyes. "The baby is healthy and is almost ready to go. After next week it'll be a matter of waiting."

I can't help the smile tugging at my cheeks. Talk of impending motherhood always put me in a good mood.

"Well, it looks like I'll still be here when the time comes."

She raises her eyebrows in surprise. "Really? How'd you get the time off?"

"I just lost my sister, they'll understand. I know my boss will. As if for the council, if they don't then, I don't really care."

I keep my response vague since I want to hold off on telling her about Nemean. I don't want her and Keelin stressing about this unless they have to.

At the mention of Stevie, Freya's expression falls. "I can't believe she's actually gone. She was just at our place yesterday afternoon."

I know the reason why. She was working on the nursery for the two of them. It was her latest design project and a gift. Now, she would never get to see the result.

"The nursery. She told me last week that it's almost finished?"

I frown as another wave of grief causes a lump to form.

"That's right. All that's left is a few furniture items to set up and things to put away."

"Well let me know if I can help. I can definitely assemble things," I offer, clearing my throat.

She lets out a little sound of relief. "I might have to take you up on that."

We continue to talk for several minutes while we wait for the others to join us.

At some point I inquire, "When exactly did you get here? I didn't hear you come in?"

"Oh, I've been here for at least an hour. No one told you I was here?"

I shake my head, pressing my lips together. "I wish they had, I would've gotten ready earlier."

Hearing the sound of footsteps behind me, I turn around to see Elijah walking into the room.

He raises an eyebrow as his brown eyes land on mine. "And that's precisely why I made sure no one did."

"Overprotective much?" I quip in protest. "I wasn't in that much pain you know."

He gives me a dubious expression, crossing his arms. "That's not what it looked like to me."

The level of concern causes my annoyance to disappear. I do tend to shy away from showing any kind of vulnerability, including taking other people's help. Most of the time I can cover up any discomfort or distress I may be facing. This time, I clearly let something show or he'd learned how to look beneath the surface.

"Okay I'll admit I was...a bit sore," I respond, with a half shrug. "But, I'm not made of glass Elijah. I could've walked down a short flight of stairs! Or if it was really that big of a deal you could've sent her up to the library. No movement from me required there."

Before he can respond, Klaus enters the room followed by Rebekah and Marcel.

"She's right, brother," the hybrid says, a smirk forming on his lips. "I tried telling you she would react this way but you wouldn't listen."

Glancing over, I notice Elijah's face turning a faint shade of pink. It's a prospect I find myself liking. He's always so controlled, so to see him suddenly flustered is refreshing. I try not to dwell on it too much though, much like the other thoughts I've had.

"Serafina," he finally stammers, rubbing the back of his neck. "I didn't mean to overstep I was just...concerned for your well-being."

I bite my lip in an attempt to hide the smile forming. "Oh, I know you were. You wouldn't leave the room until I had to get ready."

Freya's eyebrows shoot up in amusement. "Oh really? He definitely doesn't do that with everyone."

This renders him speechless, the flush deepening as he adjusts his already perfectly straight tie. Luckily for him, his sister's comment also leaves me at a rare loss for words.

"Well, it was nice, even if I did find it a bit excessive," I eventually tell him, my cheeks starting to become warm. "I guess it's just...easier to taking care of myself."

This seems to relax him somewhat, as he gives me a silent look. A shared understanding of what exactly I mean.

"I figured you could use the company given everything that's happened," he responds with a half-smile.

My smile widens. "It definitely helped take my mind off of things. So, thank you."

"You're welcome."

It's only now that I look around the room and realize everyone is staring. I quickly avert my gaze as the blush on my cheeks spreads.

For a moment, no one says anything until Elijah clears his throat. "I believe it's time to leave is it not?"

I look out the window to see the sun low in the sky, not quite at the point of beginning its final descent.

"I'm ready to go if you are," I answer.

When the others nod in agreement, I breathe a sigh of relief as everyone heads toward the front door. Less than five minutes later, we begin to head towards our destination. As I walk, I'm surprisingly able to keep up with the conversation without too many distractions. Occasionally, a fraction of a strange memory takes me away momentarily whenever I pass someone, but the visions don't last more than thirty seconds. Before long, we reach Lafayette Cemetery where Keelin is waiting for us.

"You look lovely," I tell her after saying hello.

She responds by rolling her eyes. "You don't have to flatter me, Sera."

"I'm only telling the truth."

We continue to talk as the group heads inside. However, I trail off seeing how many people there are. All four factions are here talking with one another as if there wasn't a deep history between them.

"There's no tension," I murmur, eyes widening.

"I told you everyone liked her," Marcel replies, his expression solemn. "She helped bring the whole community together."

I raise my eyebrows. "She always had this effect on people. But, I didn't realize she did this much."

"You have no idea Sera." Hearing Vincent's voice, I notice him walking towards me, a ghost of a smile forming.

"I assume I have you to thank for this."

He wraps me in a quick hug which I accept with no hesitation.

"In part," he replies. His eyes examine me, having not seen me in person for over a year. After he's done, his brows pinch together in care. "How are you holding up?"

The question forces me to acknowledge the grief that's come over me since we got here.

"As well as you'd expect," I finally answer with a shrug I definitely don't mean. "You'd think it would be easier after so many times, but...it's not."

He nods, sadness clouding his features. "Believe me, I wish it did too."

After a minute, I sigh, pushing past the emotions threatening to overwhelm me. At least I don't have to worry about another episode. They don't tend to occur repeatedly. In fact, the time between them is usually at least a few weeks.

"Anyway, I'm surprised you were able to do this so soon," I mention.

"I was told to expedite things with the local PD since you figured out what you needed. We couldn't get them to bury her any sooner than tomorrow afternoon but Elijah did compel them into letting us do this."

Of course, he did.

"I could've waited a couple of days. But, I appreciate it," I say, shaking my head.

When I look over, Elijah offers a shrug. "It was the least I could do."

I return my attention to Vincent. "In other news, it looks like I'll be in town for a while."

"Really?" His expression brightens. "Maybe this time you'll be convinced to stay for good."

This receives a scoff from Rebekah. "Oh, believe me, we're trying. But, she's more stubborn about obligations than Elijah is!"

I raise my eyebrows as the elder Mikalson purses his lips.

"That is a perfectly good thing to have," I protest. "It takes a lot of patience helping people who don't want it."

My tone hardens as my thoughts drift towards the leaders of Mirebrook.

"I don't know how you put up with them," Vincent grumbles. "They don't treat you with an ounce of respect."

More like they want me dead. I don't exactly fault their reasoning since I am the one that helped cause the decade of chaos we've had.

"I don't really have a choice. Not when I promised mom I'd finish her term on the council," I reply. "And I can't give up on the kids at the school. They need someone on their side."

Maybe one day I'll leave that place. Either if I get tired of it or if the townsfolk succeed in driving me out. But, as much as I've come to loath living there, there are some ties I can't sever just yet.

My gaze wanders towards the surrounding people, as I take in the scenery. For a cemetery, it's beautiful even without the addition of string lights and white flowers. Almost everyone is somewhat close together, in pockets of three or four.

Standing off towards the edge outside the gates is an older looking woman, her eyes wild and searching for something. Immediately, she piques my interest. She has to be at least in her sixties, judging by her warm and wrinkled facial features and wispy, graying hair. Several layers of clothing, including a loose dress and yellow knit sweater, cover her skinny frame.

For some reason, I can't look away no matter how hard I try. I jump when she suddenly notices me staring. A mixed expression of pain and fear appears on her face. Then, with superhuman speed, she vanishes. Almost like she was never there.

"That's weird," I mumble to myself.

I can't shake the feeling that we're connected somehow. That I should know her.

Then, I look over to see Vincent staring at the spot where she was standing. In his expression, I find familiarity and hesitation.

"Have you seen her before?"

He finally meets my gaze with a start. "Oh, that's Minerva. She lives out in the bayou but I've seen her in the city a lot. She's...a bit of a character. Keeps to herself for the most part. Except when...well...that's not important."

His sudden evasiveness is starting to bother me. Usually, he never hides anything from me. I don't from him.

"Vincent, what?" I ask, unable to let this go. "When she looked at me, it seemed like she knew who I was."

It doesn't take long to lower his resolve.

"She...knew your folks Sera," he finally says.

I widen my eyes as my mouth opens. "What?"

"They...made me promise not to tell you. But, yes. She came by the house occasionally, ever since they brought you home."

The information makes my head spin. Then, I gasp as old memories flood my brain. I remember talking to her when I was younger, her appearance exactly the same. All the things she randomly left on our doorstep, including a white jewelry box with a shimmering gold ribbon tying it shut.

"That's who she is," I whisper as I come back to the present. "She never told me her name."

"Serafina?"

Hearing his voice, I turn to find him staring at me in bewilderment.

"I talked to her when I was a kid," I tell him. "She gave me gifts sometimes too. My mythology books...this necklace." My fingers find the gold chain around my neck. "I wonder what she was doing here. Why she didn't just come inside."

"I wish I had an answer for you," Vincent says, clearing his throat. "Anyway, things are starting soon so, I'd better finish getting everything ready."

Once he's left we head over to where the chairs are set up in front of a small display. Sitting down in the front row, I examine everything. The first thing I notice is the closed black casket where Stevie is tucked inside. Next to it is a picture of her and a bouquet of her favorite flowers. A stage platform is also there with a podium that's chipping away in some spots from use.

Before I know it, Vincent's there greeting everyone. "Hi, everyone thanks for coming out here tonight on such short notice."

He then goes through the short program of the ceremony before beginning his eulogy.

"We're here to say goodbye to Stephanie Hewitt, better known as Stevie. I was friends with her parents for a long time, especially her dad, Anthony who I'd known since childhood. And so, I've had the pleasure of being here when Stevie was born. I watched her grow up from a sweet little girl to a remarkable young woman. Last year, she moved back to New Orleans and our community after being away for many years. That's when most of you met her. What she found was a community deeply divided, more than it ever had been before and that is an understatement."

The remark receives uneasy laughs from many around us.

After it settles, he continues. "We've had our tries at peace, but they never lasted long. But, in several months, Stevie was able to do what so many of us couldn't. Like many of you, I was skeptical at first. It definitely wasn't easy either. However, the challenges only made her more resolved to see this through. And eventually, by some miracle, we began to come together. Because of her, the factions have a real chance at peace. I will always be in awe of that. I know for me personally, that she made this place, this community, feel like home again. And I just...hope that we'll be able to continue this without her." He trails off as his voice breaks. "But, I know that she'll always be with us in spirit, looking after us. That here, she'll never be forgotten."

I watch with a heavy heart as he struggles to keep himself together. A few minutes pass before he can speak once more.

"Now, I'll leave the podium open for anyone who would like to say some words," he instructs.

One by one, people share their memories and pay their respects until almost everyone here has said something. Then, to my surprise, Rebekah comes up to the front, a tangled web of emotions on her face. I didn't expect any of them to say anything here given how closed off they usually were.

"I won't take too much time, I promise. I just wanted to say a few words on behalf of our family," she says as the small crowd quiets. Taking a deep breath, she continues. "Many of you know that our reputation precedes us. It's no secret that we're difficult to befriend or be partial to at all."

This receives some nervous laughter.

"However, there are a few brave souls during our long life who have sought to do the impossible. Who sought to truly get to know us. Stevie was one of those people along with her sister, Sera. When they first met us, they knew all about the legend of the Original Family. Yet, that didn't affect how they treated us. That alone earned our respect. Over the past several years, that has turned into a close friendship, something that usually takes decades for us. That's because they were able to see good in us despite everything we've done. Stevie especially. When they care about you, they make it known and they would do anything for you."

She paused, taking a breath as her eyes glistened. "They even...found a way to keep our family together...against all odds. Stevie was one of the best people I've ever known and I'm sure that my siblings would agree. We've experienced our share of losses over a thousand years, but this one we will carry with us for a long time. Thank you."

"You didn't have to do that," I say after she sits back down beside me.

She rolls her eyes, wiping away her tear-stained cheeks. "Of course I did. Even if it meant a moment of public embarrassment, Stevie is worth the sacrifice."

I give her a bittersweet smile, unable to hold back a snide remark. "But, now the world knows that the Mikalsons aren't completely heartless."

"Oh, I'm sure we will do something to make them forget again," Klaus interjects, his smirk faltering ever so slightly.

It seems even he isn't immune to my sister's influence. The thought makes me smile. Lord knows he needed it as much as I did. When I return my attention to the front, Vincent is there once more.

"At this time, I'd like to invite Stevie's sister, Sera to say some words," he announces.

A coil of anxiety forms in my stomach as I widen my eyes. I didn't prepare to say anything since I don't live here. But, I can't turn down this now. Reluctantly, I stand and walk onto the small stage.

Sighing, I approach the podium, trying to tune out everyone's eyes on me. "Thank you, Vincent. And thank you to everyone who's here."

I swallow nervously, trying to figure out what to say that hasn't already been said. Eventually, I decide to talk about the beginning.

"Usually, when you meet your younger sibling, it's when they're born," I begin. "However, Stevie was five when I first came into her and my parents' life. That's because they first took me in when I was nine and the adoption was finalized a year later. When they first brought me home, I was a bit apprehensive and didn't trust them yet. Back then, I was known as a problematic child...by the system. My emotions, especially my temper, often got out of control causing destructive things to happen. At the foster home I was at before this, they didn't know what to do. The adults hated me and the other kids were too terrified to come near me."

I pause, as ancient traumas make their appearance. Taking a deep breath, I muster enough strength to continue.

"I was scared that this would happen at my new home too. And so for the first few weeks, I pushed them away as much as I could, Stevie especially. I, either ignored her attempts to talk to me or... I lashed out. This continued until... I went too far. This time, I ended up pushing her which resulted in a bloody nose and a decent sized bruise. My parents were furious, more than they ever were up to this point. I remember being terrified as they sat me down in the living room. I was convinced that this was it, they were going to send me back...to that system."

My voice breaks off as I relive that time of my life. How if I didn't have my parents, things could've ended up different.

"What I didn't expect, was for them to start asking me questions. Not as an interrogation, but because they somehow understood that I was doing everything for a reason. For a good twenty minutes or so I resisted, still expecting the worst to come. Eventually, though, I couldn't keep it in. I broke down and told them everything. They stopped being angry after that."

As I continue, I don't even have to close my eyes to be transported back in time.

"They promised that they would always be there for me, that they would always love me. And they kept their word. Right up...until I lost them. First, my dad when I was 19, and then my mom almost two years ago. After this talk, I had to go and apologize to Stevie. I found her in her room, drawing something. I barely got the words out before she forgave me. Just like that. In fact, she was happy to see me, as if the incident never happened. Even back then, she never held a grudge against you. Since that day, we became almost inseparable. I tell you this story because it explains why Stevie became the person she was. The ability to believe in the good of everyone, her capacity to see every perspective, her forgiveness. All of it, she learned from our parents. I'm not surprised she brought that here."

I shake my head, my hand balling into a fist. "All she wanted was to make people smile. Through her friendship, her art. Everything. She didn't deserve this...for her life to be cut short. I loved her so much...and I will miss her every day."

Blinking back tears, I step down from the platform and head back to my seat. Somehow, I'm able to keep myself together and they stay inside.

I feel Rebekah's hand come over mine, squeezing gently. The gesture somehow makes everything less painful. Soon, the ceremony ends with Vincent thanking everyone and providing instructions for leaving.

I make everyone wait outside the entrance for Vincent without too much protest. They still don't have the best relationship but, they manage to keep any lingering grievances to themselves around me. I wasn't going to pick a side in any arguments, which usually revolved around something small.

By the time I see him approach us, the place is empty and devoid of the decorations that were here.

"Sorry that went a little long," he says, a sheepish expression on his face. "I didn't expect that many people would want to speak."

I shrug. "Don't apologize, I'm glad they did. It makes me feel better that I wasn't here."

He frowns at me. "You're not blaming yourself for what happened, are you?"

"Do I really have to answer that?" I remark. "Of course I do. If I was there...I could've protected her."

"She wanted you to come with her."

I roll my eyes. "I know that, Vince. I wish I could've but...you know why I couldn't."

We exchange a silent look. He knew about Nemean and how they wanted me. He was the only person Mom trusted with it.

"So, you think her staying in Mirebrook would've been safer?" he asks incredulously.

"I don't know, maybe!" I exclaim, his tone rousing my easily set off temper.

I don't need a guilt trip or lecture at the moment.

"Come on, Sera. We both know how secure that place really is. She would've been just as vulnerable there as she was here. There was nothing you could do."

I whip around to face him.

"And whose fault is it?" I snap. "It's still mine. I'm the one who started all of this in the first place!"

"Because you were manipulated, Sera! By someone who claimed to love you!" I recoil, the words stinging as I'm reminded of the worst mistake I ever made. "What happened is on him and the rest of Nemean, not you."

Freezing with alarm, I widen my eyes at him. "Vincent--"

"Yeah, I saw the mark," he interrupts, his eyes slightly narrowed. "I know they're here, that they did this."

"Not everyone here did, and that was for a reason." My nerves tinge with anger once more. But, I know it's no use trying to keep this a secret now. "The community can't know yet, especially since we have no idea what they have planned."

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. "Sera, we have to tell people! They need to know what they're up against."

I shake my head adamantly. "No, that is the worst possible thing we can do right now."

"And why is that?"

"You know why," I snap, images from the last attack at the edges of my vision. "Mirebrook, two years ago. The council told everyone right away and look what happened! When the fire started none of them stuck to the plan we spent the last four months creating." This time as my eyelids well with tears, I can't keep them from spilling down. "Mom and I were the only ones who stayed behind! We were trapped in there for hours before someone came back."

When he meets my gaze again, his eyes are haunted. "I know Sera. As if I can forget what happened."

A tension-filled silence surrounds us as we calm down. Then, I hear Freya clear her throat.

"Wait a minute. Who the hell is Nemean?" she asks, her hands loosely on her hips.

Vincent gives me a nod. "They deserve to know."

As much as I'd rather not talk about this out in the open, I know he's right. Exhaling, I reveal who Nemean is and how I knew about them.

"Oh my god," Freya stammers after I'm finished. "Were they...really behind what happened to Stevie?"

"Yes," I say quietly. "Each time they kill someone, they leave their symbol in ink somewhere on the body. We found one on Stevie's neck."

"We also discovered one on someone else," Rebekah adds, her gaze landing on Marcel. "Daniel."

After a few seconds, he blinks in realization. "You already knew? And you didn't say anything?" he exclaimed, his forehead creasing into a scowl.

"I...yes." She gives me a hesitant stare.

Feeling a little guilty, I try to reassure him. "I made her promise not to say anything to you yet."

The irritation barely diminishes as it shifts towards me. "And why is that? I wouldn't have told any of the vampires yet."

"I know, I wanted to wait until I could convince Klaus and Elijah first which didn't take as long as I thought it would." I turn back to Freya who I can tell is also a bit annoyed. "And I didn't want to stress you two. My mom always talked about how it wasn't good for her clients."

Her gaze softens at this, her arms loosening from her sides. "I appreciate the concern but, I'd rather know what this threat is."

"What do you think Nemean will do exactly?" Keelin inquires.

Glancing around, I make sure no one can overhear us, even with enhanced hearing.

"I believe that there will be a large attack at some point," I confess. "One that could endanger everyone in the quarter, possibly more of the city."

Both of them look at me in horrified shock.

"What?!" Freya stammers.

"It's what they always do in places like this, with large supernatural populations. Did you hear about the explosion in Savannah, Georgia six weeks ago?"

Her eyes widen, the color draining from her already light complexion.

Keelin swallows, equally disturbed. "It was on the news. They said a gas leak was responsible."

"Which was started by Nemean. They also set the fire inside. I know because I've been tracking them for years now. Including hacking into their communications."

"That's awful," she murmurs, her hands gravitating towards her stomach instinctively.

"That's actually one of their less successful ones. Usually, their casualties are around twice that number."

Marcel's eyebrows knit in concern. "What made the difference?"

"The amount of warning time. Nemean only started sending their threats five weeks beforehand. The residents had enough time to prepare a defense while staying in the right mindset. The three places they targeted before this one? Same thing. I should've known they were coming here. All of them lead in a curved line...towards New Orleans."

This leaves everyone in stunned silence.

"That's why we need to keep this between us right now," I continue, giving Vincent a pointed look. "I doubt we'll be given the same treatment."

"Why not?" he counters. "Why wouldn't they just continue the pattern?"

I roll my eyes heavenward. "Because this is different! I'm here. More importantly, I care about this place, a thousand times more than I do Mirebrook. This isn't just a means to an end for them. This is personal. They're going to inflict as much pain as they can, which means they're not going to reveal their final move for a while. Trust me on this one Vince. Do you really think they'll give us enough to plan anything until they want us to?"

His jaw clenches repeatedly, his expression full of conflict.

"Alright," he relents, throwing his hands up in defeat. "I won't say anything for now." He narrows his eyes at me. "But if this backfires, I won't hesitate to say I told you so."

I press my lips together to keep a slight smirk from forming. "I would be concerned if you didn't," I remark before I raise an eyebrow at the others as a silent question.

Marcel lifted his shoulder in a half shrug. "The vampires won't hear a thing."

"You know we trust you," Freya adds, gesturing to Keelin who nods in agreement.

An ounce of relief runs through me, allowing the tension I usually carry around with me to ease slightly.

"Thank you," I say before a yawn escapes my lips.

Suddenly, I'm aware of just how exhausted I am from everything that's occurred since this morning.

"Are you...actually tired for once?" Rebekah exclaims with a laugh.

They all knew how I tended to stay up late. Usually, the short amount of sleep I received is somehow enough to keep me energized but, this isn't normal circumstances.

I fail to hide the smile making it's way upwards. "I know, I hardly believe it myself."

"I should probably get going then," Vincent says, his gaze meeting mine once more. "I assume I'll be seeing you soon?"

"Probably. You're the only person here who knows as much about Nemean as I do. I'm sure you'll be able to assist somehow."

He gives me an amused look. "What'd you do, bring all those files with you?"

"Of course not. I digitized everything several months ago. All I needed to bring was my laptop and four flash drives."

After another minute or so of idle conversation, he finally heads for his place. Freya and Keelin leave shortly followed by Marcel and Rebekah who have their own place in the Quarter for when they're not traveling.

"I assume that you'll be staying with us," Elijah says, somewhere between a statement and a question.

I shake my head, realizing I hadn't said anything until now. "Actually, I got a hotel room when I first arrived. It was a couple of hours before check-ins started but, I managed to charm the guy into letting me do it early."

He blinks at me in surprise. Though I catch something else too. Disappointment? I can't quite tell. Usually, people's emotions were easy to decipher but, not his. At least, not when he didn't want you to.

Finally, he gives me a slight grin. "I assume there's no way to dissuade you?"

"Nope." Though I have to admit, the prospect of staying with them is tempting. Luckily, I did plan on having to do it eventually. "But, I did just pay for tonight. After that, if your offer still stands I'll take you up on it then."

"Of course love," Klaus tells me, his gaze dancing between the two of us.

Elijah nods, choosing to ignore him. "You're always welcome when you're here."

We agree to reconvene around 10 in the morning tomorrow before taking my leave. The walk is a relatively short one, around fifteen minutes. The hotel is a historic one but not a major attraction. It's a bit more than I wanted to spend but, since I'll only be here for a night, I didn't really care.

As I start to round the corner onto the street it's on, I notice a figure emerge from the building. Something about it seems strange, compelling me to investigate. I quickly duck back against the brick. Peeking out, I freeze when the person walks underneath a streetlight, illuminating their face.

Minerva.

Why would she be at the hotel? Vincent mentioned that she lived in the Bayou. When she goes past where I'm hiding she stops suddenly, and I hold my breath. Then, the air suddenly warps around her and I have to bite down on my lip hard to keep from gasping.

Blinking, her appearance changes as everything stills once more. The woman is now several years younger and strawberry blonde hair cascades down her shoulders. A pristine white and gold dress covers her slim but muscular frame.

What the hell?!

She looks around as if she can sense someone is watching her. However, her blue eyes never land on mine and she eventually walks past me. The air shifts once more and before I can blink the older woman is back, as if nothing ever happened. I stare in confusion, unable to process anything until she's merely a shadow in the night.

Shaking my head, I finally walk down the street once more and head inside the hotel. When I reach my room, I'm snapped out of my bewildered state as my blood turns to ice. The door is slightly ajar. I didn't forget to lock it. The memory is clear as day. Which means someone else opened it.

I reach for the knife I always keep hidden, briefly closing my eyes to feel the coil of dark energy that hums in my veins. Once I have control of it, I push open the door open completely. Not seeing anyone from out in the hallway, I step inside, my eyes darting around the small space.

"If you're still here, I have a weapon and know how to fight," I exclaim, my tone harsh. "I suggest you come out now."

I receive no response, the only sound from the old radiator. Growling, I search the entire place including the bathroom and closet with no luck. Whoever was here left before I arrived. Examining my suitcase, I find it undisturbed.

With a huff, I lower my hand to my side and allow the energy to become dormant once more. Surveying the room again, I spot a small slip of paper on the nightstand that wasn't there before. Narrowing my eyes in suspicion, I pick it up expecting it to be from Nemean. The paper is smooth under my fingers, thick.

This isn't anything like they've left before. Turning on the lamp, I hold it up to the light until a faint watermark can be seen. Expensive no doubt. A short handwritten message is written on one side in simple yet elegant penmanship. I don't recognize the writing. It isn't Richard's or one of is subordinates. The ink is black which could mean anything. I'd have to analyze it up close to know more.

Sighing, I finally decide to read the message, which is addressed to me.

Dear Serafina,

You do not know who I am but, I believe that I may be able to help you. I am aware of your conflict with the Nemean Brotherhood and have seen the different ways that it may end. It is because of this that I have decided that the time is come to reveal myself to you. To tell you the truth of who exactly you are. More specifically, what you are. It will be the key to defeating your enemy. You have no reason to trust me but, I have watched you from afar since you were a mere infant. I have even visited Mary and Tony to ensure that you were alright. When you left New Orleans, they entrusted me with the care of your home. If you choose to meet with me, I will be there waiting for you. However, I understand if you do not. I will send you the information in another manner.

- A.

The words leave me speechless my heart hammering in my chest. Is this real? Or some elaborate trick? As I continue to stare at the note, it suddenly starts to glow in my hands. Jumping, the paper falls to the ground, a tingling sensation running up my arms. Then, I look down to see my necklace gleaming in the same faint yellow color, the metal suddenly hot against my skin.

I stumble back, almost knocking the lamp over as a strong realization hits me. An overwhelming sense that this is the clue to find out exactly who I am. What Nemean wants with me.

Everything.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

[fanfic-inator795]

RotTMNT/Baron Jitsu fanfiction: Dating… With Children - Chapter Eight

(Also on AO3 if you want to leave a comment or kudos)

Plot:  Benjamin Draxum hardly considered himself a man of high social standing. Not because he was uncouth or unworthy of it, mind you, but simply because he didn’t have much of a social life. Hard to have one when he usually spent his days at work, cooped up in a lab for so long that he often had his lunches in there, and his nights at home reading or doing research for more personal projects. But perhaps meeting handsome semi-retired movie star - as well as his four young sons - could change all that…

((Apologies for the long wait! Writer's block hit me hard this time around... But not only have I finally finished this chapter, but I managed to get a couple drabbles written out as well to make up for the lack of content, which I should have posted shortly. Anyway, hope you enjoy both them and this chapter! ^v^ Also, shoutout to @halloweennut, whose own celeb AU inspired a few small bits for the beginning chunk of this chapter, heh))

Lou could still remember when he was a younger man, fresh off the set of his first movie. A passion project from an already decently famous director with a foreign, previously unknown actor as the face of it. Lou had been so excited when he first walked into that small LA television studio, only half listening as his manager tried to ‘suggest’ answers to certain possible questions, and instead just tried to take it all in. Not only was he going to be a movie star, but now he was going to be on one of the most well known talk shows in America! Talk about a good head start! As was to be expected, he'd ended up completely acing his interview, charming both the live audience and viewers at home and cementing himself on the path to stardom.

But that had been years ago, the excitement and ‘newness’ of it all being long gone, even after taking a bit of a break from the business. As far as Lou was concerned, you be on one talk show, you've been on them all.

Still, the experience wasn't necessarily a bad one - especially when the studio put in the extra money for a decent backstage spread. Licking his lips slightly, Lou picked up another ham and cheese-topped cracker, quietly munching on it as he watched the various stagehands pass by. He was moving over the dessert side of the table when one of the show’s managers finally approached him. “Five minutes until you’re on, Mr. Jitsu!”

“Mm,” Lou nodded. He took a cookie to go and then stood at the designated spot behind the curtains, knowing the drill well. Popping the treat in his mouth, he took a moment to smooth out his outfit - a crisp white shirt with a light blue jacket and pants and a loose red tie, making the whole thing a sort of call back to the jumpsuits he used to wear - and make any last-minute quick fixes to his hair before the commercials ended.

Finally, the stage lights came back on just as the cameras began rolling, and the audience cheered as their favorite New York hostess strolled back on stage. “Welcome back, everyone,” Jessica grinned, soaking in the cheers from her audience. Jessica Jacklynn was more of a local famous favorite than a national one like other late night talk show hosts, but she still had plenty of fans thanks to her cool demeanor and always being on the search for exciting drama with her guests. “We’ve got a pretty special treat for you all tonight, a man who I'm sure needs no introduction, but I guess we’ll give him one anyway-” The audience gave a bit of a laugh at that. “Here to celebrate the seventeenth anniversary of his film, ‘Teriyaki Shakedown’, give it up for… LOU ‘JITSU’ HAMATO!”

Huh, it wasn't often people included his real last name - and even less often, if ever, his real first name. Most people just introduced him by his stage name. Heck, Lou himself usually did that too, not having much of a connection to his family name and only using it to sign official papers. ‘Guess she did her homework,’ Lou thought as he walked out onto the stage, a professional grin plastered on his handsome face.

He struck a couple ‘action poses’ for the cheering audience and shook hands with Jessica before setting down on the dark red couch opposite her desk chair. (From what he heard, Jessica was somewhat famous for actually standing on her desk when things got really exciting, and wondered if she'd end up doing that tonight at some point.)

“So Lou, seventeen years,” Jessica began, smiling sweetly now, “It’s been a while, though I bet the time just flew by for you, huh?”

“Oh yeah,” Lou nodded, “Seems like it was only yesterday I was tossing stunt doubles into bowls of soup.” The audience laughed again. “Heh, it's kind of funny that that film is more remembered than my first just because it started my catchphrase. But hey, it's a good catchphrase! And apparently still pretty applicable to non-soup situations.”

“Mmhm,” Jessica nodded, “Well, we all love a good action-hero catchphrase. But, we aren't just here to celebrate the past, we want to know what you've been up to since! After all, it has been a while since your last film-”

“Yeah well, you can thank the box office for that,” Lou joked, earning more laughs.

“Fair enough, but I understand that you've had other things keeping you busy as well?” Jessica inquired, leaning in a bit on her desk, “Things like trying to take care of four little boys, maybe?”

Lou’s smile faltered ever so slightly as he nodded. “Yes, I suppose you could say that…” Lou never minded the spotlight of the press, and could even handle the paparazzi! But when it came to his kids, well… It was a whole different story.

Even without reporting it to the press, the news that Lou Jitsu had adopted four young sons had still broken a few days after he signed the papers. Almost immediately, news and celeb magazines wanted info and pictures. They'd pop up like a nasty swarm of gnats, hoping for several pictures and wanting to ask the boys questions after questions.

The first time it happened, it caused poor three year old Mikey to hide his face in his father’s chest, obviously freaked out by all the sudden people and flashes, while his only slightly older brothers were still a bit too surprised and confused to know what to do, the three of them crowding around Lou’s tall, protective legs. It took threatening to throw their cameras into the nearest tree to get them to finally leave, though even that didn't discourage much of the media circus.

He had accepted one interview, hoping to relieve some pressure, from a local New York newscaster who simply wanted a cute fluff piece from the semi-retired action star (as well as to get the full story first before any other media outlet could). ...Unfortunately, said newscaster ended up being a huge jerk, doing everything from asking if Lou purposely chose to adopt ‘minority kids’ (as if Lou himself wasn't a minority? The guy was an idiot too) to asking if he was trying to ‘prove something’ to other celebs who had adopted kids by adopting so many at once, even going so far as to imply that his kids were simply charity cases. Honestly it took all of Lou’s self restraint not to just rip the stupid poofy blond hair right off the guy’s head by the time the interview was over.

And of course, once he allowed one reporter to talk to him, everyone else just tried even harder to get an interview too. It eventually took Tang Shen - as well as several other people in the industry who considered themselves Lou Jitsu’s friends - threatening the various members of the paparazzi on social media, as well as the public finding some other piece of celeb news to obsess and gossip over, to finally get it all to stop somewhat.

Though, thinking back on all that, Lou was beginning to wonder if he had made a mistake accepting the invitation onto Jessica’s show, possibly inviting that whole mess back into his life... However, Jessica was calm and professional as she continued. “I think we all remember a couple years ago when we all heard that action superstar Lou Jitsu was suddenly a father, and for what it's worth… We couldn't be happier for you!”

Lou blinked. “Oh… Well, thank you!” He nodded, quickly composing himself, “Yes, they are very good boys, even when they don't always listen. But hey, what kid does?”

“True, true,” Jessica agreed, “And I bet they love having fun just as much as you did, eh Lou?”

Lou chuckled. “Well, fun for them, and maaaybe a bit more on the side of stressful for me. But what can I say? I love my boys, even after the hundredth time I’ve told them to take off their shoes before running into the house.”

Chuckling along with his listeners as he relaxed on the couch, he began spinning various anecdotes about fatherhood and his new family that were funny and even relatable as they were heartwarming. The audience was practically eating out of his hands - not that Lou really cared, he just liked talking about his boys! Though, if he could entertain people with them then, hey, two birds with one stone.

“-and oh, you should've just seen the mess they made, and the faces they made when I caught them. They knew they were in big trouble - they got cheese and sauce on the CEILING! It was unbelievable!

"Ha! I can imagine!"

"Yes, and all over a ‘which pizza topping is the best’ argument! I wanted to be mad, believe me, but at that point, it felt like all I could do was laugh!" Lou shook his head at the memory. "Heh, I am sure I must have seemed crazy, but then again I was pretty crazy for leaving four kids under ten in the kitchen alone anyway. And it is like I told Ben, if you are going to have a food fight, you might as well do it as a child so you have a better chance of getting away with it-”

“Wait,” Jessica stopped him, “Ben?” She raised an eyebrow, smirking a bit. “Who's Ben?”

Again, Lou’s grin fell ever so slightly. Had he said Ben’s name? Shoot. “Well, ah… A-Anyway, after all that-”

“Oh, don't tell me you've been holding out on us, Lou!” Jessica told him, her eyes curious and mischievous as her now-curious fans throwing in a couple encouraging cheers, “Come on, you can tell us! Is there a new certain someone we should know about? Someone we already know?”

“Heh, I doubt it...” Lou mumbled. Draxum definitely wasn't the public type, he barely even had a social media page! There was no way he'd want his and Lou's 'story' shared with the whole city, much less the rest of the world. However, even knowing this, he also knew that his hostess wouldn't let it drop if he tried to play dumb and completely deny it. So, he decided to just choose his words carefully.

“I… may have started dating again-” The applause and surprised shouts were practically thunderous- “but, I want to respect my boyfriend’s privacy. It is what he deserves, after all. He is fun, smart, good with the boys-” he cracked a smirk, “Definitely handsome, aaaand… That is all I am going to say.” And his smirk only stubbornly remained as groans filled his ears.

“Are you sure you can't give us anymore?” The so-called Queen of Drama inquired, batting her eyes a bit, “I just know our audience would-”

“Now, I believe your people found some deleted scenes from the studio that you wanted me to give some insight on?” Lou asked, not even looking at her now, effectively ending the conversation, “Because, hey, isn't this supposed to be about ‘Teriyaki Shakedown’? I have got plenty of stories about that story too, you know! Does anyone here want to hear about how I came up with my Hot Soup finisher? Maybe a little demonstration too, if we can find some soup?”

Much to their hostess’ dismay, the audience unanimously answered, clapping and cheering once again. Remaining professional as ever, Jessica just smiled as she tucked a strand of dark brown hair behind her ear. “Well, I guess we know what we’re doing after commercials. Stay tuned for more stories and stunts with our favorite butt-kicking star, Lou ‘Jitsu’ Hamato!”

----------

“Great show tonight, Ms. Jacklynn!” “Wonderful job, Ms. Jacklynn!” “That was such a good idea, finding an excuse to get the Lou Jitsu on the show!” “I'm just surprised he said yes! Feels like it's been forever since he's been on something!” “And yet the moment someone says his name, his fans go totally rabid! Now that's what you’d call someone with star power!”

Jessica nodded as she continued making her way through her stage crew, only briefly acknowledging their comments and praise. Even the executive producer of the network only got a minute of her time. “I just really have something I need to get done before I head home,” she explained, not bothering to reveal anything else as she finally made it to her private dressing room.

She sighed, kicking off her high heels. Hosting a show was nice, but now it was time for the real fun. After all, content for shows and blog posts didn't just fall out of the trees most of the time. Sometimes, you had to go searching for it… And other times, you had to make it yourself. She had been hoping that with enough flirting, perhaps she could make some viewers see sparks between her and the semi-retired star, leading to plenty of publicity for the both of them and possibly start certain favorable rumors. But this… This was MUCH more interesting!

“Funny, Lou,” Jessica mused as she turned on her laptop, “You never used to shy about who you dated…” Even before she got into the showbiz game, she could remember seeing and hearing about all the various arm candy he’d have at movie premieres, award shows and Hollywood parties. Whether they were a new face on the movie scene, some beautiful model, a rich heir or heiress or even a co-star, Lou simply had no problem showing them off and having fun in both public and private for however long the fling lasted.

So what made this ‘Ben’ guy so special? What was he trying to hide?

Jessica went to Lou’s social media page first, naturally. She ended up scrolling through four months worth of content, but unfortunately came up with nothing. All Lou seemed to post were cute pics of his kids, random opinions on random things, Lou Jitsu memes and the occasional food or outfit pic when he had something to show up. Guess he was just as private about his personal life online as he was in person. Jessica scowled a bit at this, but didn’t give up yet. There was information out there, she knew there was! She just had to dig a little deeper…

She began searching for anything Lou Jitsu related on all social media sites. Most of it was useless - a fan mentioning they were doing a #JitsuMovieMarathon or someone taking a pic with an obvious Lou Jitsu impersonator. Those were the most frustrating. But finally, after over an hour of searching, she finally found something.

The Facebook page of a nobody with a followers number that indicated that anything he posted most likely stayed trapped within his circle of friends no matter how interesting or cool it was. There, she found a picture of Lou in a fighting ring with some guy she didn’t know, the caption explaining that this guy just couldn’t believe someone as awesome as Lou Jitsu was fighting in their gym.

But that wasn’t the most interesting thing. No, what was most interesting was the slightly blurry face in the background of the pic, tall with auburn hair and eyes wide with amazement. Jessica hummed to herself. He could’ve just been another fan… But there was something about him that seemed to claim otherwise.

This hinting feeling was indicated about twenty five minutes later when she saw the tall, redhead man again in another picture, this time on Twitter. It was slightly out of focus and far away, and Lou was wearing sunglasses, but it was them, there was no doubt about that. “Can’t believe it! A celeb date night on MY shift!” the girl had tweeted, adding an obnoxious amount of emojis and wishing the former star luck before adding “#HotSoupLove!” .

Jessica smirked. Hot Soup Love, indeed. “Now we’re getting somewhere…” It took some cross referencing and a lot more digging - whoever this guy was, he had little to know social media presence whatsoever, which made it even stranger that he was dating LOU JITSU of all people - but finally, she found him.

His stern, serious picture stared back at her as his information was revealed, thanks to the research lab website that introduced him: Dr. Benjamin Draxum, head of Genetics and Biochemical Research. “Doesn’t exactly seem like the ‘dating’ type, or the type of guy that a guy like Jitsu would go for,” Jessica commented, opening up a word post on her own social media page, “But hey, that just makes it all the more interesting.”

She always did love being the first one to break the story on any potential celebrity gossip, and this was certainly a story twist that no one would see coming…

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

Draxum’s eyes shot opened at the sudden alarm. He groaned, hating how early these Monday mornings always seemed to be. His eyes then shifted towards the windows, his body still lazy enough to ignore the alarm. Even behind the curtains, he could tell the sun was just barely starting to rise. So then, why was his alarm-?

It was then his tired brain finally realized that it wasn't his alarm going off, but his simple ringtone. He reached over and picked up his phone, and then glared at the screen when he saw it was a number he didn't recognize. Why they were calling over an hour before he had to wake up, he had no idea. It was probably a telemarketer, but just in case it wasn't, Draxum reluctantly answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hello,” a seemingly human voice replied, “Are you Dr. Benjamin Draxum?”

“Yes, and who is this?”

“My name is Samantha Vics. I work for the NYC Inquiry and I was wondering if I could ask you some questions.”

A newspaper? (Or, maybe a magazine, he didn't know for sure given that he didn't really read many of either.) Well… He wasn't expecting that. Better than a telemarketer, at least. “About what?” He asked, wondering if perhaps something happened at his lab and they needed a statement from someone who worked there.

“Well, I was hoping you could tell me a little about your relationship with Lou Jitsu.”

…………… What .

“Excuse me?” He asked after several seconds of silence. Maybe he just misheard-

“Your relationship with Lou Jitsu. You are dating him, aren't you? I was hoping maybe I could ask you a few questions about that. How you two met, how long you two have been dating, what it’s like dating an action star as famous as him-”

Draxum took a deep breath through his nose. “...Excuse me for asking but, which section of the paper did you say you worked for?” He was just barely managing to keep his tone even.

“Oh, it's not a paper, sir. It's more of a local and national pop culture and celebrity-focused magazine, why-?” Draxum hung up, releasing his sigh. He wanted to go back to bed for the next hour and pretend that the whole incident was just an annoying dream.

...That's what he would've done at least, had it not been for the two more phone calls he received that morning. One from some talk show host named Jessica, and another from the Today Show, asking for a comment to use during their ‘Trending Now’ segment. Those two simple words sent enough dread down into Draxum’s stomach to switch his phone to silent, effectively ignoring it as he got ready for what was sure to be a long day.

His temper only rose when he ended up running into more people outside of his apartment, at least three or four. More ‘reporters’ - weren't these people supposed to be researching and reporting REAL news?! - trying to ask him questions, as well as ordinary people passing by, whispering as soon as they saw him and watching him as if he were some sideshow. He lost track of how many times he said “No comment”, practically shouting the words by the time he got to his car. At least they were smart enough to get out of his way once he got behind the wheel.

He didn't drive to work right away though, curiosity finally getting the better of him as he instead pulled into an empty alleyway where he could check his phone - four missed calls now - in peace. All he did was type in his name into a search engine, and about half a dozen articles from various blogs and gossip rags came up.

“Beautiful Brawn Meets Brain! Lou Jitsu Dates NYC Doctor!”

"Just WHO Is Jitsu’s New Boyfriend?!”

"Hot Soup Love!”

"Is Lou Jitsu Into Scientists Instead of Supermodels These Days? These Pics Would Say Yes!”

“What the hell?!” Draxum scowled, reading title after title before finally clicking on the earliest post. Honestly it was more speculation than an actual article, with the only ‘facts’ being the two pictures that included both him and Lou, as well as his name - which was only used once. After that, he was just referred to as ‘Jitsu’s Boyfriend’ or ‘The Scientist’. That definitely irked him.

And one of the photos… That was the diner they liked going to. The diner that would no doubt be swarmed often now in the hopes of getting another shot at seeing the Big Apple’s newest celebrity couple, the public and media alike most likely not caring if they disrupted a date. This made Draxum’s heart ache as much as it made his anger rise. He really liked that diner...

“How did they even find out about us?” He wondered out loud as he continued scrolling through. Sure there were the pictures, but something would have to prompt people to go looking for them, given they weren't originally posted by paparazzi. It was then, in the back of his mind, he remembered Lou saying something about having a talk show gig.

His eyes narrowed as he immediately switched from the Internet to texting. “We need to talk,” he typed.

Thankfully, Lou didn't wait long to reply, his words serious for once. “I know… I have to take the boys for school, but I will meet you at your lab for lunch. Maybe before then I can call up a couple people, do some damage control.” So he already knew. Draxum texted back that he would see him then. Just as he started his car back up, he received one last text.

“Ben… I am so sorry.”

Draxum didn't reply back.

The drive to work was average, save for his still-set-to-silent phone getting more unknown callers. He would have to start blocking numbers soon, maybe even change his number. He scowled just thinking about it as he walked up the walkway to the research building. It was ridiculous, couldn't these people just take a hint and leave him alo-?

* CLICK ! CLICK !*

Draxum’s whipped his head to the side so fast it was a wonder he didn't get whiplash. His eyes had just barely caught the tail end of a flash of light, and as he stared at the seemingly-normal bush that sat near the parking lot, he could see hints of black and plastic within it. Unable to help himself, he clenched his fists. “HEY!”

The scrawny figure didn't hesitate to move, jumping out of the bush and dashing down the street with their camera in tow. Had he not been in work clothes, he might have chased the photographer down. But he was as tired as he was furious, so he settled for simply letting the lab’s security desk attendant know that he'd spotted a ‘suspicious person’ outside.

His interns thankfully were smart enough not to say anything, stiff in their seats and already engrossed in their daily tasks. That's what Draxum tried to do as well, to just pretend that everything was normal despite feeling like the entire city - the entire world - now had their eyes on him, desperate for any little scrap they could get. ...Naturally this made focusing on work fairly hard. In between in-putting data from current tests and doing research on upcoming projects, he’d switch to social media, reluctant yet too curious to stop himself.

By this point most of the ‘articles’ had stopped, given that there was no new information coming in and nothing new to add. But that didn't mean people didn't have anything to say - the comments sections were an absolute nightmare...

Some people claimed Lou was only dating him so Draxum could (somehow) get his kids into a good college, or free medical care (he wasn't that kind of doctor, morons). Others simply called Draxum out for only wanting to date Lou for his status and money, with some speculating that he was only faking being a doctor. They wondered what they saw in each other, how Lou could possibly think of ‘going out with someone like that’. Every quality or accomplishment Draxum had or might have had was just ripped to shreds by fans and gossipers alike, all of them agreeing that the famous action star could certainly do better.

Draxum wasn't the type to care what people thought of him. ...He had to keep reminding himself that. That these opinions were worthless in the grand scheme of things… Still, even the least social people could still feel the crushing weight of words and insults if enough was thrown at them. “Unbelievable,” he muttered, his anger more numb now even as his disheartened frustrations remained.

The morning hours of his shift took an eternity to get through, but eventually the noon hour rolled around, and there was a knock on his doorway. “Hey,” Lou quietly greeted, holding up a logoless bag. With the media circus going on around them, it made sense that his boyfriend would pick making a sandwich for him over stopping somewhere and buying one. Draxum nodded, thanking him as he took the bag, but didn't open it.

As soon as they were alone in the room, his interns heading to the cafeteria faster than he had ever seen them go, Draxum asked his first question: “Why did you think it was okay to just… To just tell the whole WORLD about me without even-?”

“It was an accident,” Lou told him, as apologetic as he was defensive, “I-I was on that show, just telling stories about the boys and, well, your name just… slipped out.” He winced, silently berating himself for such a stupid mistake before continuing. “But I swear to you, Ben, I did not give them anything! All I said was that I was dating someone and left it at that. I didn't say what kind of job you had, or any personal information about you, or even your last name!”

Draxum was still scowling, though at least it didn't seem to be directed completely at his boyfriend now. “And it would seem they didn't need you to tell them that stuff, when they could just find it on their own.”

“Hmph, right…” He still wasn't sure how Jessica was able to find all she did about Draxum with just a first name, but he did know one thing: He was NEVER going on her show again. ...Unfortunately, whether he made a reappearance or not, the damage already seemed done. “Ben, I… I am so, so sorry. I never wanted something like this to happen! Especially not to the man I care about.”

Draxum stared at him for a moment longer before sighing. “I know… And I forgive you.” It would be unfair to keep blaming him for such a minor mistake.

Lou managed a weak smile at that. “Thanks… So uh, I was able to get in touch with a couple of my old managers, and they are going to try and get the story pulled.” Though by this point, it was already far too late. The original reporters had done their job, and it wasn't as if they could control every single person on social media. They had lost the war before starting a single battle. “I, I could still make a public statement. Not sure how much it would help, but…”

“Couldn't hurt to try,” Draxum agreed. Still, while Lou didn't even attempt to ask it, it still hung in the air between them, and the idea of it still sort of broke Draxum’s heart. Even worse, he didn't even have a solid answer to it.

“So, uh… A-Are you still coming over tonight?” Lou asked, “Because if you are, there is this back road behind my house, which may help with-”

“I think,” Draxum suddenly began as he forced himself to not look away, already feeling cowardly enough as is, “that I need some space.”

Lou’s glasses were at just the right angle to catch the fluorescent lights of his lab. Between that and the shading from his poofy hair, Draxum couldn't quite tell what his expression was. Still, the man’s voice remained steady. “Take all the time you need,” he quietly insisted. He then said his goodbyes, and walked out the door - and both of them hoped it wasn't for the last time.

Draxum stared at the open space where his boyfriend had stood, and nearly followed him out the door - but stopped when his phone lit up yet again with another unfamiliar number. He glared at the device, blocking the number before slamming it down on his desk.

Some space between them was for the best… It was for the best...

----------

The nice thing about the media machine was that new news became old news pretty quickly.

Sure, it still took him a couple days and blocking at least a dozen more numbers, but eventually Draxum stopped getting calls asking for interviews or comments. His co-workers made sure to stay out of his way as well, even though he could tell they were VERY curious and we're just barely holding back questions. And even if Draxum still made it a habit to look over his shoulder while walking around, the attempts that various members of the paparazzi made to try and get a shot of him also became few and far between.

After all, there was no point to the pictures if he was the only one in them...

“...” Draxum sighed, his eyes once again going from the book he was reading (a book he'd already read twice over, and was only trying to force himself to read it again as a distraction rather than for pleasure) over to the coffee table, where his phone sat, its silence adding to the much too quiet atmosphere of his apartment. Part of him almost wished it would ring or alert him about a text, but he knew it wouldn't happen. It hadn't happened for nearly two weeks.

“I wonder how he's doing,” Draxum mumbled to himself, eyes going from the device to the dark sky outside his living room window. He wondered about Lou and the boys both… He was sure they’d had to deal with twice as much hounding from the paparazzi, if not more, but he really hoped that they were enjoying some well-deserved peace now too. With days of silence from both sides of NYC’s newest hot couple, the media and celebrity gossipers alike eagerly moved onto the next scandal, leaving #HotSoupLove in the dust.

It was a relief… But there was also little actual comfort to it, for Draxum knew as soon as there were signs of the two of them being together in public again, the cameras and microphone-wielding pests of the city would pounce on them once more like snakes from the shadows. Each date outside of one of their homes would be a spectacle for the world to see, and Draxum hated that.  What he hated even more, however, was the fact that if it weren't for these vultures and the mess they would bring to his life… He would've probably called Lou as soon as the coast was clear...

Draxum had never needed space, he just refused to give the paparazzi a chance to get what they wanted! He had just wanted some peace and quiet, some time to hide from the prying eyes of his newfound public audience. But Lou… He had never wanted to be away from Lou, not for this long at least.  He truly did forgive him for his mistake, and each time Draxum thought of him - of the fun conversations or the things Lou would do to make him smile, of all the small gestures meant only for him and the moments they would also share with Lou’s young family - it only made his heart ache… God, did Draxum miss him. He missed ALL of them, and wanted nothing more than to see them again. To go back to the way things were.

And yet his hand refused to pick up the phone.

Draxum growled, carelessly tossing the book aside before leaning back on the couch and shutting his eyes. He hated it… Hated that to be with the one he loved, he'd have to risk being exposed to the world. Hated that a single phone call between them or a simple night out could also invite thousands of eyes and invasive questions. Hated that, for their relationship to work, he would have to also most likely deal with dangerous rumors and insulting comments and possibly even threats (depending on how rabid that particular part of the Lou Jitsu fanbase was) on a daily basis.

...But most of all, he hated himself for being such a coward. He didn't care how reasonable it was to hide, he was still allowing them to control this part of his life. He was giving them the power to decide the fate of his relationship instead of fighting for it... But since when was Benjamin Draxum not a fighter?

Deciding to do what he should've done two weeks ago, Draxum stood up and got his laptop.  It didn't take very long, about an hour at most. Editing was minimal, and as he prepared to post it on his rarely-used Facebook account (which had amounted followers in the thousands in just a few short days with the number continuing to rise), he finally picked up his cell and sent a simple text:

“Hello, Lou. Sorry for taking so long.”

It only took a couple minutes to get a reply. “It's fine, do not worry about it.” It was a normal enough reply, yet something about it still made it seem like Lou was walking on eggshells with him rather than being his normal, carefree self.

Draxum scowled slightly as his thumb flew across the keys. “No, it's not fine. Yes, I was upset and-” Scared? Angry? Disgusted by society? “-worried about dealing with… this whole situation. But not anymore. By the way, I’m posting something online right now, and I just wanted to give you a heads up. I'd suggest you watch it though.”

That time, Lou’s reply took several minutes. “Should I be worried about this?” He finally asked. He could almost see the man raising an eyebrow at him, wondering whether or not the scientist was about to do something that could get him anything from a bunch of flame comments and haters to getting arrested.

Draxum chuckled despite himself, not exactly being able to blame his boyfriend for being concerned. “No, if this blows up in my face, I should be the only one in the crossfire. That being said, I did want to ask one last thing. Are you free to go out tomorrow? I'd like to take you back to the diner we like.”

He could see Lou thinking it over (thanks to the ellipsis word bubble) before giving him an answer. “Yeah, sure, I should be free...but are you sure u want to go back there? and not somewhere else?”

“Yes. Very.” He was certain that Lou was still a bit unsure, but nevertheless they agreed on a time that Draxum would pick him up before saying goodnight. With that taken care of, Draxum made his post and then promptly shut off his laptop, letting his video do the rest…

-----------

“Hello. My name is Dr. Benjamin Draxum - though I'm sure most of you out there don't care about that. You'll just call me ‘The Scientist’ or ‘Lou Jitsu’s boyfriend’. Speaking of Lou and my relationship with him, that will be the subject of this video. You all want answers? Then fine, you've got them.

“We first met about five months, at an art museum auction event. When we first met each other, he invited me to join him and his family for the rest of the evening. I accepted. Afterwards, he gave me his phone number, and after a long conversation over the phone where we got to know each other, he invited me over to his house for supper. Again, I accepted.

“Ever since then, we've been spending time with each other and going out on dates when we can. We talk on the phone, visit each other’s homes, and do all the normal, average things that literally any other couple would do on dates. Those are the facts. And because I have revealed all the facts that are there, I will not be accepting or answering anymore questions, from the public or the media, in this video’s comments section or through the phone or email. However, I understand that this will not keep people from asking anyway or from speculation, nor will it keep mine and Lou’s relationship private despite the more intimate details of it not being anyone else’s business. I fully expect candid shots of us together the next time we go out, no matter how much I may ask of others to respect our privacy. ...But again, I accept this, and I will give you all one last fact about me:

“I care about Lou Jitsu, fully and genuinely, and as long as he will continue to allow it and as long as I still have these strong feelings for him, I will continue to be with him. Thank you and goodnight.”

Jessica had watched the video three times now, and each time she found herself a bit hollow afterwards. It hadn't been the first time someone famous (or even just in the middle of their thirty seconds of fame) had made a video to help clear up certain things or vent about something. But those were usually a lot more dramatic, where they'd eventually start screaming or crying or insulting people - But Draxum had done none of that.

He had spoke as if he was giving a lecture on whatever it was he studied. He was clear and concise, only presenting the facts with little emotion whatsoever. Even how he presented himself on the camera was professional, sitting up straight on his couch at home, well dressed with brushed hair. This was hardly some dramatic speech or him boasting about how he was sure ‘their love could conquer anything’. ...At least, it wasn't that in words or tone.

But in his eyes and the way he stared down the camera - not caring how many were watching or judging - revealed his true feelings. His passion, his determination to fight for his relationship, maybe even his love.

“I gotta hand it to you, Jitsu,” Jessica smiled, finally closing the screen, “You sure know how to pick them…” She also had a feeling that they'd be one of the few celebrity couples to stay together - and if that were indeed the case, she'd definitely have to come up with a better couples name for them than #HotSoupLove.

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

As far as he knew, no one had followed him to the Jitsu household. No paparazzi desperate for interviews, and no cameramen hoping for candid shots. Though, if there had been someone, he wasn't sure how much he would actually care. At this point, nothing was going to stop him from finally seeing his boyfriend again.

So, Draxum walked up to the house, moved to knock on the door, and-

The door opened, Lou already knowing he was there. He was smirking, but there was gratitude and admiration in his smile. “Well well well… Don't we know how to make a viral splash?”

Draxum smiled back at him. “Well, I didn't exactly have much of a choice. I had to let the world - and you - know where I stand.”

Lou’s smile fell a bit. “...Except you did have a choice. You know that, right?”

“I do… But it wouldn't have been a choice I'd be happy with,” Draxum told him, taking a step forward. He took Lou’s hands, squeezing them with care. “I want to be with you, no matter how much I may have to deal with from everyone else.” Though, after a moment, he frowned. “Of course, I'm not the only one this affects… Even if I'm not around you all the time, I'm sure you and your family will have to deal with all of that extra attention as well, so-”

Suddenly, Lou was grinning ear-to-ear. “Wow, last night really was the first time you have been on social media in a while, huh?”

“...Yesss, why?”

He chuckled. “Tang Shen saw what was going on, and heard about how our house was practically swarmed with people wanting comments that first day. And well, heh, you're not the only one who can make an online video. Just recently she decided to, ah, 'renew' an old threat directed at the entire paparazzi community, and told them that anyone who tried to talk or take pictures of my children without my consent would be VERY sorry. My boys will be just fine.”

Draxum was grinning now, holding back his laughter. “Well, that settles it. I definitely have to meet that woman one of these days.”

“She always flies in around Christmastime, just a heads up. And as for me, I am pretty much used to the whole ‘rabid fanbase, occasionally stalked by media people’ thing by now. Although…” His smile softened. “It really is easier when you have someone helping you deal with it.”

Not willing to hold himself back anymore, Draxum closed the distance between them, kissing Lou softly. Lou deepened the kiss, wrapping his arms around his shoulders. Yes, this was where he belonged: Beside his boyfriend, taking on whatever came their way together.

As they broke apart, they could hear tiny feet coming down the stairs. “I will have to go drop the boys off at O’Neil’s place, and then-”

“Draxum!” “Dr. Draxum!” “Drax!” “DRAXUMMMMM!”

From out of nowhere it seemed, he felt one, two, three, four small bodies (though that last one was pretty heavy) run into his legs, knocking him off balance and onto the ground. “Wh- Boys?!” Lou shouted.

Of course, his sons just ignored him, too excited as they all shouted at once. “We haven't seen you in forever, Dr. Draxum!” “See, I told you guys he'd come back!” “Yeahhh well, I always knew.” “Nuh uh, Leo!” "Yuh huh!" “DRAXUM I’M SO GLAD YOU’RE BAAAACK!”

Unable to help himself, Draxum laughed, managing to wrap his arms around all four of them. “I've missed you boys, too…” And that was the truth.

It took about fifteen minutes to calm the boys down and get them to April’s house (and to get Mikey to let go of Draxum), thanks to Draxum happily promising to visit them again later. With that settled, the reunited couple made their way to the diner.

As was to be expected, the diner was pretty full, now infamous for being #HotSoupLove’s ‘place’. But the two barely gave anyone else a second glance as they caught up with each other and enjoyed their meal, nor did they hesitate in taking a nice walk through the open Central Park afterwards. Not even the annoying occasional flash of a camera out of the corner of their eye or the whispers as they passed people by could sour their mood.

They were dealing with it all together, and that was all that mattered.

(( I know Jessica Jacklynn was just a referee/commentator, but I feel like she would totally be the type of character to host a late night talkshow and just be all about the celebrity gossip and drama. Lol, anyway, hope this chapter was enjoyable and not too wordy. please leave a comment if you can!))

[jq37]

I'll be the one that bites the bullet. Fantasy High episode 11--thoughts?

**spoilers for cool kids, cold case**

Hoo boy. 

That could be my entire write up honestly because, geez ya'll. 

Let's break it down. 

Sidenote, I just got mildly into Overwatch so every time I say that and I say it a fair amount, I hear Lucio in my head. 

Anyway, like I said in an earlier post, I'm now pretty sure that the bloodrush fight didn't go the way Brennan expected. Like either he didn't expect them to win or that they would win but not kill Daybreak because there was so much exposition and change and repositioning in this episode. It was a lot like the first session with all the setup. It's like he needed to get them on a new trajectory so he took an episode to time jump and change the status quo before--BAM. But we're getting to that.

In another show or even another episode of this show, the opening convo with Ragh might have been the wildest part of the ep. There’s just so much to unpack there.

Fig making him kowtow to Gorgug and everyone being like dude, stop making it weird. 

Before she did that, Emily paused and you could just see every other person looking like “What insane thing is gonna come out of her mouth now?”

Kristen getting the scoop on his super gay dreams. 

Adaine trying to get him to got to therapy (and also to realize that he's gay). 

The group whole ass making him cry for possibly the first time?

Fabian trying to shut everything down.

“You’re cumming from your eyes.”

 Kristen, please stop. I’m begging you. 

As I suspected, the group reached the point of yeah, we NEED to call Riz's mom this ep. Like, they *had* to call her. You can only realistically take shenanigans so far before it becomes straight unrealistic to not just call a responsible adult. 

And, speaking of, yay! We got to see a little of everyone’s parents just like I wanted/predicted. 

We actually got a lot of stuff from my wishlist. There’s so much time jumping and stuff in this episode I don’t even know where to start. 

This is probably the wrong place to start but I remember wondering what their Christmas equivalent was because they can’t have Christmas because of the Christ thing so when they were like Solstice I was like, oh duh. It’s literally right there. How could I miss it.

OK I guess 

Christmas Solstice party at Gorgug’s house! I knew his house would end up being the hang house.  

Sklonda handled the situation pretty close to how I thought she would. I really think Brennan was forced into a, “This adult is too responsible to not wipe out my next ten plot points over the course of a week,” corner and that’s why he had to pivot. More on that later.

Fabian just refusing to eat any of the fast food she got them.

I totally forgot Adaine has diplomatic immunity. Which actually means she’s the ideal Bad Kid to do anything shady they need done, even though that’s not really her style.

Unlike, other people

We’re getting there

I’m glad Brennan drew the line at Kristen’s parents actively being in a cult. He was like, OK no. They’re willfully ignorant but they’re not PART OF THE CULT.

I also think it’s interesting that they didn’t actually kick her out? Like they sorta kinda did but not really because it seems like she’s couch surfing of her own volition a little and staying home sometimes too? I wonder how her brothers are doing.

Both of Fig’s dads just work at her school now. I wonder is they commiserate about her w/ Goldenhoard.

I can’t believe Brennan is letting her just ruin the life of this random, full-adult dwarf doctor. Like, imagine if any adult in her life found out about that.

Brennan says bud a lot. Almost as much as he says rad.

Gorgug choosing playing the drums as his proficiency, but not well. Just, like, a simple drum beat. Bro. Why.

Adaine’s makeover!

I knew we were gonna get to see that. Or at least I really hoped we would.

And it was in boutique setting similar to what I imagined. A little surprised that she went straight for the jeans and t-shirt thing but dope. I want fan-art. 

Also, if I hadn’t already been convinced, that scene would have convinced me that Fabian got everyone the gifts (before it was confirmed later).

“You’d look nice as a sailor.” Is that like a pirate thing, bro?

Real talk, does Fabian for-real, for-real have a crush on Adaine low key?He’s complimented her looks more than once, which he hasn’t done with the other girls. They’re at a similar social class which might be a factor. And he clearly has a thing for blond elves.

WE’LL GET TO IT. 

I am Concerned about Adaine’s jean jacket, regardless of how dope it is.

Someone needs to talk to Fig about the rat thing. Possibly also Emily. 

42069 LANE (or whatever it was). I hate that I love Brennan for that.

“The worst thing about you is that you’re rich.”

But aww, Fabian. I’m glad it ended up being him (and shoutout to the anon who pointed that out to me). This is exactly the character growth I wanted from him.

When Gorthalax said that tryouts had already happened, I was legit upset for Fabian for a sec. Also, how did I know Gorgug was gonna somehow end up on the bloodrush team?

Guys I feel like there’s still a million more things to talk about.

Adaine finding out about Riz’s dad. God I hope there’s a heart to heart soon but she won’t just drop that info unless she has a really good reason.

GILEAR. I can’t believe that was him on a NAT 20. God, he has zero game. Also, imagine Fig and Riz as siblings. Lord.

The return of Tracker. I was concerned that she was in college but she’s like a Sophomore so Kristen is good to go as soon as she stops being a total disaster so actually that’s probably a moot point. 

Sidenote, kinda surprised that she’s a cleric. I thought she was off religion totally but I guess she just switched. But I feel like it’s hard to be totally non-religious in a world where gods 100% for sure exist?

Adaine going, “Mrs. Gukgak. Actually Captain Gukgak,” to her racist-ass dad gave me life. 

OK so re: the whole conversation about perditional contradoxy and treaties and war and such. How much of that was in the plan and how much of that was last minute retooling by Brennan? Because, I’m going to be honest. If it wasn’t for that comment by Siobhan, I would never have guessed that we were off the rails. But, with that in mind, this feels like the work of a GM who needs to keep the game going because things ended up moving too quickly.

It does answer the question of where the story is going now that the Harvestmen seem to be taken care of. I was a little surprised when Brennan was like, “Yeah Riz’s mom gets them all arrested,” because I’d assumed that the bad guy was going to be just the higher guy on the totem pole. 

OK, I’m sure I’m missing some things because this was a JAM PACKED ep so, if I missed something you wanted my thoughts on, please tell me and I’ll be super happy to write more words but let’s get into that scene. 

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

OK OK OK

Before we start, I’m so pumped about all of this development but I hate how often I’m going to have to type the word Eolwyn because my fingers refuse to accept that that’s how that’s spelled.

ANYWAY

Dude, the pacing, switching between Adaine and home and the rest of the gang at the party. Like, I knew what the reveal had to be as soon as she walked in but I was still like, “Oh my God. Oh my GOD.”

Sidenote: It was very convenient for Brennan that Adaine never actually read those books because it was an easy and non-cheating way to dole out exposition now, later in the game.

What were the mechanics of Adaine not being invited to that party? Did Eolwyn specifically get her not invited? Did she actually get invited but couldn’t go because of the dinner at home? Did all her friends still decide to go, knowing she wasn’t invited? Was she OK with that? How exactly did that go down?

EOLWYN

BUSTING into that party

Magicking up a bunch of LOVE SLAVE PUPPETS

SNORTING magic coke

Playing Spin the Bottle DEATH ROULETTE 

MAKING OUT WITH FABIAN

CUT TO: I’M GOING TO KILL MY SISTER

DAMN BRENNAN, I did NOT Expect you to go THAT hard.

AND THEN IT KEPT GOING

Assuming they all live, I can’t WAIT for the, “YOU KISSED MY SISTER????” conversation. 

Which means they’ve either never met Eolwyn or only in passing and not enough to remember her. 

Shoutout to Riz for being the only person to give Adaine a heads up. 

Her eyes glow blue when she does certain types of magic so I’m just picturing her walking into that room, eyes blazing blue, ready to F up her sister (even BEFORE she finds out what’s going on).

I don’t remember if she called Eolwyn a c**t in this ep or the promo for next but I was like, “Oh damn.” Like you got her to escalate her cursing that much that quickly? Damn.

Also, I love that when she’s really upset, Adaine skips the magic and just starts hitting people. 

OK, so remember in the first ep when Eolwyn tried to have Adaine steal that book? The book that I’m pretty sure is the one they mentioned as having wards on it to keep monster stuff from happening at school? So, here’s what I want to know. Has Eolwyn always been a part of this? Because, clearly, it looks like she is right now. But it’s possible the original intent was that she wanted to get Adaine to do it as a prank, not knowing it was important and then, Brennan checked his notes while salvaging the plot and decided to work it in.  

Also, unlikely, but imagine if Eolwyn somehow induced Adaine’s panic attack during her entrance exam to Hudol specifically so she would fail, have to go to Augefort, and steal the book for her. Wouldn’t that be wild?

Idek what else to say about that last ten minutes or so that isn’t just incoherent, Ally-esque screeching.

I have to say, battle eps are never my faves but I’m looking forward to this one more than any other one so far. 

Man, I can’t believe I thought Eolwyn asking for that textbook might turn into a sister bonding moment. Lol @ past me.

Anyway, kick her ass Adaine!

[foolgobi65]

What’s the deal with padmavati?

this is going to be a long long post im so sorry in advance.... to start off with, im a diaspora kid raised in a dominant caste hindu family, and i just finished watching this movie in hindi which is not a language i understand well so if i didnt catch some things im so sorry and please feel free to add more. 

im basically going to separate the movie from the news event, and go further into why its both a bad movie and a bigoted one. the rest of this is under the cut

ok! padmavati/padmaavat (they had to change the name) as a movie and as a general News Item is .... a fucking disaster. 

in terms of the news, the karni sena which is a hindu nationalist (terrorist) group decided that this movie was an affront to their ancestors and dishonored their “queen” padmavati. Padmavati is the character in a Sufi poem called the Padmavat, and thus did not actually exist. There was talk of some dream sequence where she got with Khilji, the antagonist but most people are pretty sure it doesnt exist. The Karni Sena and their ilk has turned to rioting since the Indian Supreme Court ruled that the movie should be allowed to play, and their latest act of Rajput Valor has been attacking schoolchildren to show India the true glory of their caste. Before the movie came out there was a bounty on Deepika Padukone’s nose, her head, the director Bhansali’s head, and threats by Rajput women to commit jauhar (burn themselves alive). 

All of this, notably, without a great deal of interference and sometimes the tacit encouragement of the BJP government in power both within the provinces that are affected as well nationally. 

This mess meant that the movie released about 2 months after it was supposed to, and created this idea that to watch it was to support free speech. 

padmavaavat as a MOVIE is also a giant fucking mess.

it’s got a ridiculously regressive worldview, and the movie so far is casteist, sexist, islamophobic and homophobic. it is also a poorly written, plotted, and edited movie. 

casteist: it glorifies the dominant rajput caste, does not include anyone from outside that caste at all, will not fucking shut up about rajput valor when its clear in the present that rajput valor and values has led to a lot of shitty things. within the movie the rajputs basically constantly lose yet are still somehow portrayed as winners. their biggest victory comes from padmavati, who is from Singhal (sri lanka) and uses her intelligence instead of just fronting about her “rajput values.” Also historically the rajputs didnt become winners until they surrendered to the mughals and became commanders of the mughal army. they’re huge losers who are trying to rewrite history because theyre a pathetic martial caste known for hundreds of their women burning themselves alive when the men lose a batttle. 

sexist: the whole concept of jauhar is based on the idea that a woman’s chastity is more important than their life. 11 year old girls, pregnant women, it doesnt matter. A rajput woman cannot be allowed to live if there is even a glimmer of doubt that she may be touched by a man. Within this, she doesn’t even have the dignity to choose to die, and must ask permission beforehand from her husband. Are there women who might have wanted to live? Who knows? They’re all dead now, coerced into burning themselves alive. I’d also like to add that the movie never addresses the fate of the /non/ rajput women, which highlights a huge issue of caste and how it affects gender dynamics of hindu women. Dominant caste women are considered pure, and so they must die to preserve this purity. Other women are ignored -- if they are taken as slaves, it doesnt matter because the real victory is that khilji couldnt take the Rajput women. 

Islamophobic: the entire movie exists to highlight the differences between the “perverse” “dark” “dank” “dirty” “insane” “cheating” “evil” Muslim, and the “clean” “light” “honorable” “pure” Hindu. The colors, the scenery, the food, and of course the characters themselves, all serve this insidious idea that Muslims are the savage invader, in India to plunder everything beautiful about it, especially its dominant caste women. By all nominal accounts, Khilji was a conqueror, and he acted like many conquerors did -- including, I might add, many “hindu” conquerors. If he was crueler than other conquerors, that is of course because of who he was as a person and not because of his religion. Khilji’s wife played by Aditi Rao hydari might have been the only actually good muslim character and even then she’s portrayed as the islamophobic victim muslim wife, trapped in a horrific marriage with a savage. There’s more to be said but like ... the foundation of this movie is the idea of a primordial culture clash which of course doesnt actually exist 

homophobic: malik kafur is khilji’s eunuch slave general and he’s portrayed as being in love with khilji. its one sided, and theres one homophobic comment by the rajputs at some point. khilji maybe could be seen as reciprocating a little but tbh its all just to further this idea that khilji and co are savage, foreign (muslim) perversions. a few scenes directly contrast malik and khilji v padmavati and ratan and clearly, the hindu heterosexual couple is meant to be the good, pure, holy one. i will say malik/khilji was the only pair i was really rooting for, and this was an almost 3 hour movie meant to center on padmavati/ratan. 

bhansali also lowkey exotified sri lanka and made it seem as like .. some foreign place with lots of buddha statues and like ... shes this strange jungle princess??? i appreciate the mention of buddhism in sri lanka/south india but i dont think she was shown to be buddhist so .... yikes. also it was 7 minutes but it was weird. he cant do anything right. 

special shoutout to the absolutely horrific jauhar scene for valorizing and glorifying hundreds of dominant caste women killing themselves because their king is too incompetent to win in single combat. the way khilji wins is btw a pathetic attempt by bhansali to make his victory actually ratan’s victory even tho ratan is a huge loser who cheats on his first wife, drones on about his honor to the point where i want to kill him myself, has the military sense of a guppy fish, and is visibly proud that the love of his life wants to burn herself alive for him. 

also SPECIAL shoutout to the end positioning of the battle between the rajputs and khilji as a “dharma yudh” or a war of righteousness. it is compared to rama v ravana, and the kurkshetra war and khilji v rajput is said to be the third war of righteousness, akin to these religious struggles. khilji is directly compared to ravana. its ridiculous. its dangerous. its horrific. of course the victory of truth in this instance is that the women khilji covets (only the dominant caste ones ofc) are burned to death. to position khilji (whose army carries flags that look EXactly like the pakistani flag) as the essence of pure evil, and the fight against him a righteous war of religion in this especially islamophobic time is disgusting. the writers should be ashamed. 

As a movie, the dialogues which i admit i didnt fully understand are apparently overwrought, sappy and ridiculous. 

the plot was too much, there were a bunch of plot points that could have been cut to make a better movie.

i was never convinced of the central love pair because there really wasnt anything about them that made me feel the other was worth being their one and only love. the falling in love process was rushed to the point that i think it should have been cut out altogether and the movie should have started with padmavati established as his queen. 

the treatment of ratan’s first wife was horrific -- shes basically sidelined and is jealous a few times and then kills herself along with everyone in the fire. just ... bad writing all around. 

the editing overall was bad. the editing of ghoomar to make the karni sena happy was atrocious. 

i hated ratan, i liked padmavati for like 30 minutes maybe when she’s in charge of the kingdom and is smart, i liked khilji despite the ways he was villanized, i liked aditi rao hydari as khilji’s wife, i liked malik kafur. the visuals were fine but the battles looked weird. 

overall its a shitty bigoted movie that people are watching because the movie itself is like ... soft bigotry and portrays a bigoted worldview but the karni sena hindu rajput terrorists are stupid and decided to throw a fit and stone schoolchildren. it became some free speech victory to go watch a movie that espouses the same worldview as the ones trying to shut it down bc 2018 sucks. 

sorry for the long rambly reply, if you have any more questions feel free to ask! if anyone has more to add please do -- like i said theres stuff that i might not have caught given my privileged worldview 

[bookishreviewsblog]

Cassandra Clare: Queen of Air and Darkness (The Dark Artifices #3) | Lara

Dark secrets and forbidden love threaten the very survival of the Shadowhunters in Cassandra Clare’s Queen of Air and Darkness, the final novel in the #1 New York Times and USA TODAY bestselling The Dark Artifices trilogy. What if damnation is the price of true love? Innocent blood has been spilled on the steps of the Council Hall, the sacred stronghold of the Shadowhunters. In the wake of the tragic death of Livia Blackthorn, the Clave teeters on the brink of civil war. One fragment of the Blackthorn family flees to Los Angeles, seeking to discover the source of the blight that is destroying the race of warlocks. Meanwhile, Julian and Emma take desperate measures to put their forbidden love aside and undertake a perilous mission to Faerie to retrieve the Black Volume of the Dead. What they find in the Courts is a secret that may tear the Shadow World asunder and open a dark path into a future they could never have imagined. Caught in a race against time, Emma and Julian must save the world of Shadowhunters before the deadly power of the parabatai curse destroys them and everyone they love.

It came. Finally. After all that waiting and panicking I endured for this book, I can't believe I have finally read it. For me, this was the most anticipated book of this year and I am so glad my 2018 is going to end with reading this book. I've been following Cassandra Clare's work for years and I am huuge fan of her work. I was in love with Shadow World since I read the copy of City of Bones, I got for my twelfth birthday. Words can't describe how much I love her stories and characters she created. Reading this book made me extremely happy for so many reasons and I cannot be grateful enough that she keeps writing new stuff for me to fangirl over.

This book was enormously long, I think over 900 pages. I read the Kingdom of Ash in November and I am going to take a break with long-ass books and read some fluffy teen fiction for the rest of the year. But, despite its length, this book was really amazing, intriguing and entertaining from first to the last page. This book was never boring. No, for one moment I didn't think "God, I wish this scene would finally be over"; whether it was some action scene, battle, revelation, Clave meeting, romantic moment or even simple interaction between characters Cassie kept me chained to my kindle. It was nearly impossible to stop reading (seriously I read this in Tokyo metro, which is practically impossible).

There was a lot of action, parallel plots, problematics, storylines, and characters that filled this story. From the beginning of the Dark Artifices series, there was more than one villain: it is a long way back when we all thought Blackthorn's only problem was Malcolm raising his lost love. Now there is Unseelie King wanting to destroy all Shadowhunters sided with Annabel, who killed Livvy and Robert and cause a great havoc in Allicante. Then there is the inside, political threat of Cohort who want to bring back old ideals and hate for all who are not Shadowhunters. After (and during) Lord of Shadows so many new problematics made a way that I was seriously concerned how will it all turn out. But all I can say Cassie did a most wonderful job developing all those plots and problematics individually and in parallel and finally bringing it all together in one big finale.

I always loved how she represented political life of Shadowhunters and work of the Clave. Like, nothing is ideal and there are always new problems, new people with questionable agendas, but the point is to change for better, no matter how small the change is.

Cassandra Clare's writing style always was and will be one of my favorite things of all time. I adore her rich descriptions with a touch of purple prose, her love stories, and characters. Most of all dialogues and interactions make me burst out laughing whether I want it or not.

She has created an impressive spectrum of characters through all these books and all of them are equally special, unique and wonderful. One of the biggest perks of reading this book is POVs. There is just so many of them, but it doesn't seem too much at all. I wanted to read, with all my heart, I wanted to see this story from the perspective of each character, whether old or new. She combined all (surviving) characters in this one story that changes everything. Of course, TDA squad has the main word and it can be easily read without knowledge of other series, but for us hardcore fans it was soo inspiring.

*this part is going to be mostly about characters and spoilers will be clearly marked for those who haven't read to skip, but if you don't want my review to change your perspective of characters and their development through the book, I suggest you skip it*

I am going to do some analysis of characters because I really feel like it, so let's start with my otp Jemma: one of my favorite couples of all times. I love Jemma from the bottom of my heart and they are really so adorable. Cassie always does a great job with love stories, but this one is especially dear to me. Just how they are there for each other since they were children and how they complete each other uwu

“I still love Emma more than I ever thought was possible. I love her more every day, and more every time I try to stop. I love her like I’m being ripped in half. And I want to cut the throats of everyone in the Cohort.”

Emma is my favorite character from the Dark Artifices and one of my all-time favorites. I always, always come to adore badass fearless girls who fight for those they love. My favorite scenes were usually those that included Emma fighting (*plot spoiler* when she confronted Zara, god that was the best thing ever).

Another amazing and my favorite male character – Julian. I just want to give a huge shoutout to this perfect boy who raised five children, took care of his sick uncle and led the whole Institute by himself. He always tended to be anti-hero(ish), but that's what I loved so much about him, that he was willing to do anything to protect his family. He is considered ruthless and cold, while he is just protective of his siblings, who have suffered a lot. Many people were confident he was going to go all anti-hero, even villain, (and he almost did, khm we know why), but I kind of knew he wouldn't. *spoiler* It was believed he will try to break all parabatai bonds, that he was that selfish, but in the end, he knew that was wrong, and he stopped Emma because he knew she was going to regret doing that. (*end of the spoiler*)

After those two comes my new otp for TWP, Kit and Ty of course. I couldn't really see all the hype about Kitty before, but after QoAaD, I am probably the most hardcore Kitty shipper ever. I mean they are perfect, ADORABLE. ! Just the way they interact, work together and solve problems makes it clear they are made for each other. It was clear Ty was having an awful time coping with Livvy's death and Kit was always there for him. Not to mention Kit is one of the most hilarious characters ever (sometimes he beat Jace, Will even).

“Funerals are always so sad,” said a woman who had introduced herself as Irina Cartwright, staring at Julian with a deep pitying stare. When he didn’t respond, she shifted her gaze to Kit. “Don’t you think?”

“I wouldn’t know,” said Kit. “My father was eaten by demons.”

The boy gave Kit a considering look that seemed to say you look familiar. Several people had done the same. Kit guessed it was because he looked like Jace, if Jace had suffered a sudden and unexpected height, muscle, and overall hotness reduction.

I mean just reading his perspective made me laugh sometimes. *spoiler* Anyway, that moment at the lake when Ty did the spell and Kit said he loved him!!! I was so so so happy. So, of course, their separation at the end of the book almost killed me, because that means 3 years without any of them and they will barely be in contact since Ty will be at Scholomance and Kit is at Jem and Tessa's… TDA just ended and I am already desperate for TWP, it's going to be a long way.

I liked Cristina's and Mark's characters a lot, too. Cristina-Emma friendship is one of the most amazing things in these books, and if it weren't for the curse, they should have been parabatai. I rooted for Cristina and Mark to get together, but Cassie decided to go for polygamous relationship between Kieran, Mark and Cristina. As much as I love her representation and diversity (she is kind of a queen when it comes to that), I hated Kierarktina. For starters I never liked Kieran, sure he had his redemption and became quite more likable, but I always found him kind of bland and annoying. Then, I can literally see no chemistry between Cristina and Kieran. Kieran and Mark, sure, they had a lot going on in the past. Cristina and Mark had fireworks going between them, but Kieran and Cristina? Nope, I felt nothing. I really didn't like three of them together and, to be honest, I felt really uncomfortable reading Kierarktina scenes.

Those were characters I wanted to point out or say something about. I love rest of them as much, especially those who were important in other series. Their appearances, interactions and contribution to the plot warmed my heart (*spoiler* especially Livia's Army when all of them worked together).

*From this point there will be spoilers and they won't be marked because I am going to comment on ending and some parts of the plot*

I am going to refer to some parts of the book and problematics that were solved one way or another.

First: Thule. I didn't see this coming, so there was no particular theory of mine about this, but a trip to Thule took a good third of this book. I wasn't entirely satisfied with it and couldn't say I actually liked it. It brought an interesting perspective on what would have happened if Clary hadn't won The Battle of the Burren, but aside from that, it wasn't of much significance. Sure, they brought back the mortal sword, but they didn't figure out anything with the curse or how to defeat the Unseelie King. I don't like concepts of parallel universes and such, so that is the reason I feel kind of bitter about that part (if it is like that, there are infinite universes and versions of characters and all could go in any direction, so what is the point anyway…). So maybe I am wrong and it was really important (it will be important for TWP for sure), but I did not like that part.

Then comes the big problem that stretches through all three books –the parabatai curse. I was eager to know how are things going play out with the curse for Julian and Emma, Cassie created an amazing plotline and mystery about the origin of parabatai. My theory was that Cortana was going to break the curse somehow, but that wasn't the case. Not even close, actually. I liked how were the effects of the curse shown and how Emma and Julian suffered not only mental but also physical changes. Yet I didn't find myself entirely happy about how things turned out. I didn't expect Julian and Emma to turn into half-giant angels in the middle of the battle and then just ? stop being parabatai?. That part is still a little bit foggy, like all that with the True Nephilim and what that has to do with parabatai. It was cool and I can't say I hate how things turned out, but I expected something a bit darker or something.

Second thing, how things got resolved with Faerie. Honestly, I expected Faeries to be of more importance in the end. The Unseelie King died in the middle of the book and his half-drunk son inherited him, so the only actual threat that was left was the Cohort. I was surprised that Ash was the weapon that caused the blight they were talking about and that was one big and quite an important point to the plot. In the end, Kieran inherited the throne of the Unseelie Court, which wasn't a big surprise and I think there ends the rivalry between Shadowhunters and the Unseelie Court. About Seelie… well, Queen fell suspiciously quiet in the second half of the book and I have this feeling she isn't done yet (which leaves another thing for The Wicked Powers).

Now I'm skipping to final battle because I have been dying to say something about that. I always enjoyed reading Clare's battle scenes, because all of them felt so inspiring and epic. One of the best scenes I have ever read is fighting between Julian, Emma and Riders of Mannan when Emma killed Fal. It was one, the last thing this book needed – an amazing battle, with all characters working together. Let's just not forget Dru, who has become one of my favorites through this book and Kit (Heir with powers!!! I already see TWP is going to be awesome). The outcome was pleasant, but not unexpectable. I knew Blackthorns and squad are going to win, but I was (pleasantly) surprised with the lack of death. After Lord of Shadows, I expected this to be a massacre, but it was less brutal. I'm not sure if I could take any of them dying.

And finally, the political outcome aka Cohort plot. As I said before I love how Cassie develops political life of Shadowhunters, as a forever changing constant that needs to be updated and fought for constantly. It had all led to the point where Horace became the Inquisitor and turned whole Council against Downworlders. After ending of Lord of Shadows, where I thought nothing could go wrong with that final plan, I was kind of anxious about Livvy's Army, but it all turned out well. Except for the Exile. When Cassie said Shadow World is going to change forever I didn't expect anything near this. I am eager to see how Clave works without Idris and I feel like this is going to be a major plotline in The Wicked Powers.

The ending of the Dark Artifices was pretty important to me and I had really high expectations for this book. Probably too high. I was hyped all year about it, so when it finally came, I expected it to be this epic book where I wouldn't be able to breathe and everything would surprise me. Which is totally unrealistic, I know, but that sense of disappointment disappeared after thinking through it and seeing how amazing this book actually was. So, all these negative comments are just small critiques or something that bugged me a bit, but all in all, I loved this book. This is probably the longest review I have ever written, so I think it is time to finish.

Cassandra Clare will remain one of my all-time favorite authors and I will never stop being so excited about her books. Can't wait for The Red Scrolls of Magic and then Chain of Gold!

Some other notes that I can’t fit in my review but have to share:

· I hate Zara more than anything I have ever hated

Zara always chose the same chair in the Inquisitor’s office. Manuel suspected it was because she liked to sit beneath the portrait of herself, so that people would be forced to gaze at two Zaras, and not just one.

· Some Kitty fluff

He made a face that was probably supposed to be scornful but was actually just cute.

“Yes, you can,” Kit whispered. “You can. You think this will make your family stronger, but it will destroy them if you bring her back. You think you can’t survive without Livvy, but you can. We will go through it together.” Kit’s face was cold; he realized he was crying. “I love you, Ty. I love you.”

Ty’s face went blank with surprise. Kit plowed on, regardless, hardly knowing what he was saying.

“She’s gone, Ty. She’s gone forever. You have to get through this. Your family will help you. I will help you. But not if you do this. Not if you do this, Ty.”

· Jemma fluff of course

So who am I to you, then?” he asked, dropping his hand.

“You are the person I have to protect until my Julian comes back to live inside you again,” she said. “I don’t want this. I want the Julian I love. You might be in the cage, Jules, but as long as you are like this, I am in the cage with you.”

· Ragnor Fell is one of the most amazing characters that ever existed

· Jem calling Emma little sister uwu