#THIS IS NOT INVITING A CONVERSATION. NO MORE ASKS REGARDING THIS WILL BE ANSWERED

[fyodior]

not to be hateful with this purely a suggestion please hear me out.

I think instead of completely ignoring the allegations made before you came back to this blog and deleting them all to act like it never happened, you should make one big post addressing it all, just to add as a link to your pinned post if you know what I mean.

i know the whole drama wasn't your fault, and I'm whole heartedly on your side, but there'll be people who'll insist because you deleted the posts on your blog about it that you're ignoring the issues and claims made towards your name.

of course this is just a suggestion, but with claims strong and harmful as such as the ones made I think it'd be smart to do so, especially with how people are on here. because pretending it never happened would probably cause some uproar .

english is not my first language. I'm sorry for any wrong words.

thanks !

i guess i’ll use this as a jumping off point then? me deleting the posts was never to pretend nothing happened. frankly nothing i could do will ever make it seem like nothing happened. i just really didnt want people coming back to check on my blog once i returned and being hit with all that nastiness, and i don’t want it on my blog. and to be honest i don’t really think that’s anyone’s business

and honestly i think a lot of this is no one’s business 😭 i don’t think i owe anyone anything because this is supposed to be a comfortable safe fun space for me and having to constantly defend myself completely defeats that purpose and the thought of that makes me just want to nuke this blog entirely

that being said, i guess i’ll say it once and NEVER again. i was not on that twitter, i did not use that twitter. i followed him when he made it bc he was my friend, and never checked it again. i deleted it when i did bc when we started getting the nasty anons and i found out what was there, i knew i was fuckin doomed bc that connection was already made, despite me having nothing to do with it. so i deleted it in a frenzy. also if i was a part of it do you guys genuinely think my twt wouldve been “floratumblr” and my blog wouldve been linked in the bio. do you really think that. like use ur head why would i have done that

i wholeheartedly and vehemently condemn underage content. i condemn shotacon and lolicon and any other fuckin nonsense bullshit that has anything to do with underage. i don’t know how to make that any clearer.

he and i are no longer friends.

and frankly anything else is no one’s business! that is all thank you!

[simpforboys]

surprise!

drew starkey x fem!singer!reader

summary: ever since the reader started blowing up, all the interviews and promotions that would ask her who her celebrity crush is, she always had the same answer. so when Jimmy Fallon invites her on his show, he might have a surprise in store…

warnings: fluff!! second hand embarrassment, reader gushes about Drew, she’s just a fangirl at heart

‘perfume’ by del water gap mentioned <3

part two , part three, part four

2020

“Who’s your celebrity crush?”

“Drew Starkey, he plays Rafe in Outer Banks.”

“Do you have a celebrity crush?

“Yeah, Drew Starkey from Outer Banks.”

“Are there any people you would hope to collab with or meet?”

“Definitely Drew Starkey from Outer Banks.”

2021

“Last year you said multiple times Drew Starkey is your celebrity crush, is this still true?”

“Yeah, he’s still my main one.”

“Are there any guys you’re interested in?”

“My dream guy is Drew Starkey, if that’s what you mean.”

“What’s your type in a man?”

“Umm… probably Drew Starkey.”

2022

“Update us on all the boy drama! Anyone interesting?”

“Just waiting for Drew Starkey.”

“You look stunning! Are you here with anyone tonight?”

“No, I’m not.”

“Your crush around Drew Starkey, is that still a thing?”

“It still is… have you seen his new movie ‘Hellraiser’?”

2023

“Your new EP just released, are any of the songs about Drew Starkey?”

“Not on this one, no. Maybe the next one.”

“Are you seeing anyone? Has Drew Starkey called?”

“No, not yet. Maybe next year.”

“Have you seen season three of ‘Outer Banks’ yet?”

“Yes, oh my god! Drew looked so good.”

2024

“Your new song ‘Perfume’ is an absolute hit! Is it about Drew Starkey?”

“Omg, no, but it should’ve been.”

“You’ve quickly risen to fame! Has Drew Starkey noticed you yet?”

“Unfortunately, no. He’s probably hiding.”

Ever since your career started, in every single interview you get the question regarding celebrity crushes, the answer was always the same.

Drew Starkey.

It became a known meme revolving you and your fans, along with the media. Practically every interview just loved to teased you about your known celebrity crush.

Your popularity rose more in 2023 to 2024, so, when Jimmy Fallon reached out to you to have you on his show, your agency immediately agreed.

Standing behind the curtain wearing a tight brown suit, the pants wide-leg. Black boots were your choice of footwear, your makeup done perfectly to match the outfit.

“Ladies and gentlemen, bring your hands together for Y/n L/n!”

When Jimmy announced your name, you came out from behind the curtain, a big smile on your face as you waved to the audience.

Shaking hands and hugging some of the crew members before you finally hugged Jimmy, settling down in the blue chair.

“How are you doing tonight?” Jimmy asks with a warm smile.

“I’m doing good! Pretty nervous to be honest, this is my first talkshow.” You answered sincerely.

The audience clapped and Jimmy sunk back in his seat a little more.

“Well, I’m glad to be your first one! So, your new song ‘Perfume’ recently came out, congratulations on 200 million streams.”

“Thank you so much, really.” Your hands were shaking as you fidgeted with the brown fabric on your knee, one leg crossed over the other.

“So, you’ve been singing since 2020?” Jimmy asks.

“Yeah, I started posting videos on Tik Tok but my career really took off at the end of 2023 and now here we are.” You smile, the whole experience still so surreal.

“Your voice is phenomenal, seriously. I’ll need to have you come back and sing on the show for us.” Jimmy says, causing the audience to erupt into cheers.

You laughed a little, nodding your head. “Of course, anytime.”

Jimmy continued to talk to you for a few more minutes about your career, the conversation flowing smoothly as you cracked some nervous jokes.

“So, I have to ask, Y/n. Since your career began you’ve said your celebrity crush is Drew Starkey, can you tell us more about this?”

You felt your face get a little warm as you shifted in your seat, an anxious smile on your lips.

“I dunno, I guess I’ve just always found him attractive. He’s insanely talented and just seems like a very genuine soul.” You say sheepishly, avoiding looking at the camera.

“He’s also becoming more and more popular right now, with season four of ‘Outer Banks’ that came out in October and November along with his new movie ‘Queer’.” Jimmy adds on.

“Yeah, I’m a pretty big fan so I’ve been following along with it. I’m very proud of him, in like a supportive-fan way.” You say, making the audience laugh at the last part.

You were completely oblivious to Jimmy looking behind you, motioning with his hand underneath his desk.

“So it’s not just his looks?” Jimmy teases.

“I mean, he’s a very beautiful man. He looks good with any haircut especially that mullet he had last year — and oh my god, he just looked so good in season four of ‘Outer Banks.’ Plus he has these big biceps that just bulge out of any shirt.”

You hadn’t even realized you were gushing over your celebrity crush until you finally caught yourself, hearing the audience laughing.

“Oh, gosh. You are really into him, huh?” Jimmy teases.

“What would you do if he was standing right behind you?” The host asks.

If you weren’t so nervous from being on a national talkshow you probably would’ve understood his message.

But your brain caused you to miss it, being as oblivious as ever.

“Probably pass out.” You answered, hearing the audience giggle more. Jimmy had an amused grin on his face.

“Please don’t pass out.”

Your posture immediately straightened, body tense as you stood up from the seat.

Turning around, your heart dropped to your stomach when you saw Drew fucking Starkey standing there.

The audience’s laughter grew as well as Jimmy’s, clearly satisfied with the surprise.

Your hands went to cover your mouth, face feeling hot like you had a fever. You just gushed about this man practically to his face.

“Hi, Y/n. I’m Drew.”

You couldn’t respond, just in pure shock as you stare at the tall man.

Drew also looked a little sheepish, his cheeks pink as he grinned at you.

“Did you— did you hear everything?” You finally managed to choke out.

“Maybe.” Drew chuckled, scratching the side of his neck.

“How do you feel after hearing all that, Drew?” Jimmy chuckles.

“I’m honored,” Drew replies.

You hated the way he fucking said that and the way you understood that reference.

Drew held his hand out for you to shake, but your heart was beating too fast and your brain was turning into nervous mush that you just embarrassed yourself in front of your dream man.

“Are you going to shake his hand? Hug him?” Jimmy chuckled.

“I’m… scared.” You murmured, the audience swooning and giggling over your shyness.

“Can I hug you?” Drew asked.

Stunned, your head slowly nodded. His strong arms wrapped around your body, your forehead resting against his shoulder.

You couldn’t even hug him back properly, just too much in shock. He smelt like cologne and it made your knees weak.

“I love your new song, by the way.” Drew murmured softly in your ear.

“Yeah?” You whisper, feeling like an idiot for the way you were reacting in front of him.

Drew just nods and hums, soothingly caressing your back in an effort to calm you down.

“Ladies and gentlemen, give it up one last time for Y/n L/n and Drew Starkey!” Jimmy has to end the segment.

The audience cheers as Drew continues to embrace you.

He had known about you for the last few months, having a few of your songs in his playlists.

He was just constantly busy so he never really got the chance to reach out, but when Jimmy’s team contacted him about surprising you on the show, he was excited.

And nervous.

“Sorry about surprising you like that.” Jimmy comes over, causing you and Drew to finally pull away.

“You gave me trust issues for talkshows now.” You said jokingly, finally calming down a bit.

Drew and Jimmy both laughed softly.

The film crew told you and Drew that the commercial break would be ending soon so to step off stage.

You did your signature on the wall dedicated to Jimmy’s guests, feeling familiar blue eyes gazing at you.

After thanking each crew member and shaking hands or hugging, an assistant pointed you and Drew towards where a car will take you both back to your perspective hotels.

“You ready?” Drew asked you.

You nodded, feeling nervous due to the fact that you were about to be alone in the back of a car with your celebrity crush, other than the driver in the front.

Drew opened the door for you as you climbed in, hyperaware of how he slid in behind you onto the leather seat.

It was quiet for a few moments, you nervously fidgeting with the rings on your fingers.

“So… you like my new song?”

You finally manage to choke out.

Drew smiled softly, turning his head to look at you. He was still a little flustered at everything that happened, but also very amused.

“I do, yeah. Are you going to shoot a music video for it?” Drew asked.

You nod, making eye contact with him.

“Yeah, my idea is to tell a story about these two lovers who move to like a quieter part, I was thinking either the forest or a desert, that live in poorer conditions but are completely happy and content because they have each other. I want it to be full of love, so kissing, affection, a sex scene.”

You rambled on to him, your eyes falling to your hands as you played with your rings.

“Oh, wow. That sounds cool as fuck.” Drew murmured, also watching your hands fidget. He thought it was cute.

“I’ve had the idea in my head for a few years, actually. I started writing ‘Perfume’ in like… 2021? So, I just want everything to be perfect.”

You added on, looking back at him. He had his left leg crossed over his knee, his body language towards you.

“Well… if you need a male costar, I would love to do it.” He gave you a smile.

A small grin curled onto your lips, stomach hurting at realization of what he just implied.

“Yeah?”

He nodded, licking his lips.

“Mhm. I told you, I love the song. Plus, your idea sounds amazing, and if you want me to, I would love to be apart of it.”

You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat when it finally hit you that Drew fucking Starkey wanted to be your on-screen lover.

“You’re not just fucking with me, right?”

You had to ask, blurting it out of your nervous mouth.

Drew just snorted, shaking his head in amusement. “No, I’m not.”

“Okay… I’ll have my manager reach out to your’s about details for when we start shooting. I appreciate it a lot.”

You were unaware the car finally came to a stop, parked outside your hotel, fans and security guards waiting for you.

“Yeah, I’ll definitely be there. Have a good night, Y/n.”

Drew smiled at you, your heart fluttering.

“You too, Drew.”

You got out of the car, letting the security guards guide you inside the hotel. You tried your best to take photos or sign autographs for your dedicated fans, something Drew admired as he watched from the back of the SUV.

By the time you finally got back into your hotel room and kicked off your boots, you started taking off your jewelry.

Flopping down onto the bed, you grabbed your phone.

It felt like your heart dropped to your stomach when one notification specifically caught your eye.

@/drewstarkey started following you back

[grandline-fics]

Shifting Focus

DESCRIPTION: The moment they began to see you differently

WARNINGS: None

CHARACTERS: Shanks, Kid, Smoker | Sanji, Law

WORDS: 2,850

A/N: Another part of this in honour of reaching 500 followers. This was my first time writing for Smoker so here's hoping you all enjoy!

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

MASTERLIST

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

SHANKS

Everyone knew Shanks was a flirt, a laidback charmer who always had a smile and a wink at the ready for the next pretty face he came across. No-one was meant to really take it seriously, to see anything that happened to be more than what it was, a fleeting moment of enjoyment for both sides. Serious feelings never truly came into play, it was easier that way given that he was always on the move. To let anyone believe he was the settling down type would have been cruel and he didn’t find any enjoyment in hurting people needlessly, unless they were his enemy of course. Everyone in the crew were more than used to his mannerisms, yourself included. You could understand his worldview on the matter however you never entertained him when he chose to flirt with you. Something that he finally started to notice and when he did, he couldn’t let it go. 

“Do I repulse you?” He asked suddenly one evening causing you to choke on your coffee. Your body tensed and you forced the liquid down your throat, wincing at the painful burn it caused and sharp tightness in your throat. You’d needed it to stay awake for your night shift but after that, you set the mostly untouched mug aside. Looking to your side you saw your captain staring at you intently, a small pout playing at his lips making you believe he was picking his words carefully to seem like he was keeping the conversation light. However underneath the joking you could tell there was a real question there. 

“If you repulsed me Cap, I wouldn’t have joined your crew, now would I?” You answered, looking back down to the sea chart in your hands, needing to keep track of any notable features coming into view. “What is it you really want to ask me?”

“I’ve noticed something about you.” Shanks began, scowling when you looked away from him to continue your work. You were always so task-oriented and levelheaded that even when you were joking with another member of the crew, you were still focused on what was needed to be done. Finally you looked up at Shanks again, eyebrows raised slightly to invite him to keep talking. “You don’t flirt back.” 

For a moment you had to think about what Shanks was getting at but finally you let out a laugh and lightly rolled your eyes. So he was in that kind of mood today. For a moment he almost had you by making you believe he was asking you a semi-serious question. Still smiling in amusement you shook your head and turned to go inside when a wind started to pick up. If you lost the charts in your hand it wouldn’t have been good. What you weren’t expecting was Shanks to follow you, with a sigh you settled down at your desk and sat back to stare at your captain who clearly wasn’t finished with this joke and you weren’t going to get any peace until you indulged him. “Am I being reprimanded for my lack of flirtation towards you, Cap? I’m surprised it’s affected you so much given how you’re never without company.”

“You flirt with the others on board.” Shanks pointed out, not really knowing why it was getting to him so much. Ever since he’d realised you’d joke around and tease the others on board but not him, it just kept gnawing at him. Shanks knew he shouldn’t get so irritated by it all but he just couldn’t help himself. He stepped closer until he was leaning of the edge of your desk, staring down at your calm expression. “So why not me?”

“I flirt with the others because it’s not serious and they know that.” You shrugged lightly, leaning back to regard your captain, a smile slowly pulling at your lips. “You, however are a different story, Cap.” With a breathy sigh you rose from your seat and Shanks’ earlier position meant you were now standing mere inches away from him, not quite touching but close enough for the warmth of your body to radiate into his. “If I gave in and flirted with you…I don’t think I’d be able to stop it as just a joke. I don’t have the same self-control that you do.” You murmured, tilting your head up slightly so your breath could softly dance against his skin. Satisfied that that should be enough for your Captain’s need for the joke to end you took a step back and grinned before sitting down at your desk. 

With your presence no longer engulfing his, Shanks blinked and immediately wanted more. More of that rush, that spark, more of you. However fate had other plans when Lucky Roux called for him and he had to do his duties as the Captain. Sharply letting out a huff of annoyance, Shanks reluctantly left your side to head onto the deck. When he reached the doorway, he couldn’t help but look over his shoulder and see your attention already drawn back to your work. Yeah, this was far from over.  

KID

There was never a dull moment on the Victoria Punk. Even on the calm days at sea, the heavy steps of the Captain and the usual tone of conversation was carried at a volume louder than some other ships were used to. But that was what you liked about it. It was only when the ship was deathly quiet outside of sleeping hours that any of you felt the need to worry. The seas were calm and laughter surrounded you all as you sat in the living quarters with plenty of drink to see you all through to morning if you wanted. 

Currently you were all playing a game with the bounty posters you’d all seemed to collect. It was a simple enough form of ‘Kiss, Marry, Kill’ by selecting three posters from the pile however each person that had to answer ended up getting drawn into a fierce debate about their answers. If you didn’t want to answer on your turn however, you had to drink. It was an empty punishment since all of you were drinking happily regardless. 

“Look I stand by my answer okay?!” Wire shouted, unable to keep the grin from his face knowing the argument was in good spirits. “I had the worst draw out of them all so far, you guys have been getting it easy.”

“Just hurry up and pick my three okay?” You grinned, sitting up from your lounged position to get a better look for your turn. Wire reached over to the pile of posters lying face down on the table and picked three at random, slowly flipping them over to reveal Blackbeard, Franky, and Bartolomelo. Grinning you sat back down into your previous position. “Kiss Bartolomelo, Marry Franky, Kill Blackbeard. Easy.”

“Not that I’d argue with the decisions, you just made up your mind so quickly…” Killer noted, a grin in his voice as his face remained hidden by his mask. You rolled your eyes and grinned. 

“Nothing to think about, Blackbeard is…ugh” you suppressed a shudder at the mere thought of the Emperor. “Franky is dependable and skilled, and fun from what we saw when we allied with them so marrying him wouldn’t be the worst thing.”

“You didn’t think about Bartolomelo as marriage material?” Kid asked with a grin and you laughed up at your Captain who you’d been leaning against for a majority of the night. 

“No way, he’s a major Strawhat fanboy. I’d be competing against that entire crew for his attention, sadly we just weren’t meant to be.”

“Yeah, you’re real heartbroken about it I see.” Kid laughed along with you and the others. The game continued for another while, some of the crew stopping from being too drunk to stay awake while others began to head for their quarters. Those remaining all agreed this would be the last round and it meant you were to deal out three posters for Kid. 

You were still far too comfortable lounging against your Captain so you quickly reached over, fumbling you flipped over the first three you could get your hands on and flopped back before even seeing who he had to choose from. From the sound of the stifled laughter you could tell his options were going to be good. With an anticipated grin you turned on your side and pushed yourself up with your elbow only to become surprised to see your bounty on the table along with Buggy the Clown and Nico Robin. You couldn’t help but become curious about what your Captain would pick about you although you supposed as long as he didn’t pick you to kill it was all fine, it was just a game after all. 

Kid suddenly felt tense and couldn’t help but look away from your printed face to the physical version of you. The you he suddenly became all too aware of. You’d been part of the crew forever and he’d never needed to see you as anything other than a valued member like the others. What if he said something that made you uncomfortable. But if he didn’t play then you could misread that too and make things worse. Fuck, why was he overthinking this? He had to finish the game and hope nothing more was said about it. “Kill the clown and kiss Robin.” He muttered quickly before looking away and draining the last of the alcohol in his mug. 

“Aww you wanna marry me?” You cooed, the smile growing wider on your face. With everyone satisfied with a good ending to the game, the crew began to clear up their drinks and the bounty posters and move to turn in for the night. You got up with a groan and stretched out your arms, finally feeling the need to rest too. With a yawn you turned to Kid who was still sitting and smiled softly. “Not heading to bed, Kid?”

“Yeah, heading soon.” He grumbled lost in his own thoughts that were now occurring to him and you tilted your head, a frown falling on your lips. Quickly Kid realised you were going to worry and he recovered enough to smirk at you. “We need our rest, right? We’ve got a wedding to plan huh?” He forced the joke out, relieved to see you laugh and leave while wishing the rest in the room goodnight. When you were gone, Kid glared at Killer who was sitting far too relaxed for his liking. “When did you add their bounty to the pile, Kil?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about and you have no way of proving it.” 

SMOKER

“Vice Admiral?” You paused in the middle of the G-5 Base corridor when you spotted the base commander leaning against the wall with his office just a few feet away. At the sound of your call he made no sign that he’d heard you. It wasn’t exactly uncommon for someone of his rank to get lost in thought especially if there were certain higher ups breathing down their neck or certain pirates occupying their minds. Adjusting the documents in your hands you approached the base commander. “Vice Admiral Smoker?” You asked again and moved to lightly touch his arm to get his attention. 

At the same time, Smoker turned sharply and knocked into your hand causing you to drop your files in surprise. As the papers fluttered to the floor you kept your gaze on Smoker, concern growing in your eyes. His usual steely gaze seemed to have dimmed and you noticed the small tremor in his otherwise imposing frame. As one of the base’s medical staff your critical, scrutinising stare was pinpointing all that stood out to you. Since you were dealing with the commander himself, you felt you had to be somewhat nicer and couldn’t just order him to rest. “Are you sick?” You asked and immediately his stare sharpened at the implication. 

“I’m fine.” Smoker’s answer was gruff as to be expected but you could hear the slight shake that could have been missed had you not been listening out for it. When he saw you weren’t fooled he finally took a proper look at you and through his mind that was getting foggier by the second he managed to recognise who you were and what department you worked for on the base. Inwardly he cursed his bad luck. He’d been trying to get to the safety of his office but a dizzy spell hit him hard and he had to stop to catch his breath just mere seconds before you’d approached him. Smoker didn’t want to be babied, getting sick was a rarity for him. He just wanted to get to his room and sit there in peace until he felt a little better. No one else had noticed his state all day, why did he get cursed with bad luck like this at the final moment? He just needed to get rid of you before you tried to take a closer look at him. “Aren’t you going to pick up your documents?”

“Well since you're not sick and are partly responsible for me dropping them. You can surely help me lift them, right Vice Admiral?” Your question was so sweet and innocent but still Smoker glared at the challenge in your eyes. In any of his previous interactions with you, you’d seemed so reserved and quiet but now he could see another side to you. With a grunt, Smoker lowered himself to the floor, trying to fight the wave of dizziness and aches rolling down his body. Mentally he cursed you as you smoothly crouched down and started collecting sheets at a pace far faster than he was able to. When Smoker was focused on the task you’d given him, you struck. Your hand touched his forehead before he could react and you scowled at the man in disapproval. “You’re burning up with a fever. You’re going to your room and resting.” 

Your order left no room for disagreement and before Smoker’s mind could truly catch up, he found himself walking into his room with you. When he was lying on his bed you set about gathering what was needed to help his fever and aches before making yourself comfortable at his desk to fix the scattered documents into their right files again. From the small layer of dust gathering on the surface you could tell Smoker didn’t use it much, being a man of action over paperwork. “You don’t need to stay, I’m fine.” Smoker grumbled. 

“The second I leave, you’ll rest for an hour at most and call yourself cured. I’m not leaving until I’m happy you’re actually fine.”

“An hour is all I need.”

“Didn’t know you had a medical degree.” You noted dryly. “Do I call you Doctor Vice Admiral Smoker or Vice Admiral Doctor Smoker?” It surprised you when Smoker’s deep laugh rumbled through the air and a small smile graced your lips at the sound. Perhaps he should laugh more, it was a nice sound and it would help make him more approachable to some people. 

“You can call me whatever you want.” Smoker mumbled, it wasn’t often people stood up to him like this and he had to admit it was refreshing to see. Unable to fight it, Smoker yawned as his body was beginning to give in to its need for rest. When you heard the telltale signs of him falling asleep you let out a sigh of relief that the medicine you’d given him was started to take effect. 

In the early hours of the morning, Smoker stirred at the soft feeling of fingers lightly running through his hair. It was a comforting feeling and still under the haze of sleep that hadn’t fully left him, his mind hadn’t properly caught up so he let himself relax into the feeling. Reaching up he curled his fingers around your wrist holding your hand in place as his eyes slowly opened and met your face. 

“Your fever’s finally regulated.” You informed him gently, keeping mindful of the time and not wanting to speak too loudly. “If you promise to drink more fluids and stay in bed until at least late morning I can leave.”

“I promise, thanks Doc.” Smoker mumbled with a half-smile, stifling a small yawn and letting his eyes fall closed again but when he didn’t hear you leave he opened his eyes again to see you still standing there. “Problem?”

“Um, kinda need my hand back…or did you want me to stay?” you laughed softly, trying to hold back the grin when Smoker tensed and quickly let go of your wrist, allowing you to leave. “Remember your promise.” You reminded him as you left, smiling to yourself as you left to your room with the memory of Smoker’s blushing, embarrassed expression fresh in your mind. You had to admit it was pretty cute to see. 

[littlegrapejuice]

Il Predestinato | CL16

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Summary: Meeting Louis Tomlinson and Charles winning the Italian GP at Monza on the same day? What more could you ask for?

Author's Note: as both a 1d and f1 fan, how could i not write smth ab louis being in the ferrari garage for the weekend🤭 also those pics fucking annoyed me bc tumblr was being a bitch so i just made a collage or else i would've thrown my phone through the window

F1 MASTERLIST🏎

Louis. William. Tomlinson. Was in the Ferrari garage for the Italian Grand Prix at Monza. You had been ecstatic to hear the news from Charles back on Friday, and had been thinking all weekend about how to act once you would be in front of him. However, you were as nervous as excited to meet your favourite singer and it didn't help when Charles's PR manager told you both that Louis had arrived on Sunday.

Charles was requested during a certain time slot to speak with him, which he was glad to do so compared to previous celebrities that he had met as Louis was someone you held in high regards, meaning that Charles was intrigued to see why.

You didn't know whether this was the best moment for you to try and talk to Louis, or if you should wait for the start of the race, or even until after the race to meet him. For now, you were simply engrossed in a conversation with Arthur about the Formula 3 and Formula 2 races that had happened a couple hours ago, discussing the latest winners.

You knew Charles was on the other side of the garage with Louis, probably having small talk and taking pictures, but you were unaware of the conversation they were now actually having.

"Saying it once again but it's good to have you here today with us," Charles told Louis.

"My pleasure to have been invited honestly," the singer replied. "Being in the Ferrari garage at Monza is crazy, massive thank you to your team. I'll be rooting for you today, mate."

"Thanks for the support." Charles glanced at you then thought for a second about how to start the topic, until he decided to just wing it. "Is it alright if I introduce you to someone while you're here? My girl's a big fan of yours and I know she's been thinking all weekend about how to stage your meeting."

"Yeah, no problem." Louis nodded with a smile, always down to meet a fan. "Bring her there, I absolutely don't mind at all."

And this is what Charles did, as he called out your name with his signature accent that you had grown to love over the years. Expecting to see him alone, you didn't think Charles would call you while he was still talking with Louis. Therefore, you hesitated for a second about whether to flee your boyfriend and favourite singer. However, when Louis turned to face whoever Charles had called, he gave you such a warm smile that there was no way for you to ignore the man now. So you calmly walked towards them, deeply breathing in and out as a means to compose yourself.

"Great of you to join us", Charles told you with a smile. "I'll leave you two alone for a bit and come back later, okay?"

"Alright man," Louis replied with a nod. "See you later!"

"I- what?" Charles where the fuck are you going? You thought as your boyfriend just waved at you before going to replace you in the conversation you had been having with his brother. No turning back now...

Louis Tomlinson, former member of One Direction and now in a successful solo career with two albums that led to sold out tours, was in front of you. He didn't know whether to talk first, but decided upon it as he was used to the state you were starting to be in.

"Hi love," he gently began. "You alright?"

"Yeah, hmm... sorry, oh my God..." You were so embarrassed right now, not even able to form a proper sentence in front of your favourite artist. "Hi! Yes I'll be fine, I think."

"It's just me, little ol' Louis. We're simply having a chat so nothing to panic about, yeah?"

Sharply inhaling, your answer was a nod, before you slowly exhaled. Okay, this is only Louis Tomlinson. This is my favourite singer, but we're chilling. All good, you repeated in your head.

"Is it fine if I hug you?" You eventually asked as you felt more relaxed.

"Of course love," he agreed before opening his arms. "Come 'ere."

People often said that Louis hugged his fans like a mother did, as a way to protect them and to show how much he cared for them. You didn't think it was entirely true until now.

This was probably one of the most reassuring hugs you've ever had, as you just felt calm and serene. Your mind suddenly stopped stressing over the fact that you were hugging the Louis Tomlinson, and you were now just enjoying the contact. Louis could sense you had become less stiff during the hug, and thought it fine to slowly remove his arms from around you.

"Feeling better now?" He inquired as he kept his hands on your shoulders for a few seconds before putting them back in his pockets.

"Yes, thank you. Sorry, I thought I would be ready to meet you but I guess my brain wasn't entirely agreeing."

"All good, don't be sorry about that." He smiled again, and the only words that came to your mind to describe it were gentle and warm like the sun. "So, what can you tell me about you?"

"Oh, hmm, I don't really know..."

"Any favourite songs?" He suggested with a teasing tone.

"Absolutely, yeah, of course!" And that was it, you were quickly back to your usual self as Louis himself was allowing you to rant about him. "So, from the first album I'd say Only The Brave. Could've made it longer", you added with a laugh, "but still an amazing song. And for the second one, I think Holding On To Heartache. Makes me cry everytime I listen to it, but it's always worth it."

"Wow, do you not like any happier songs of mine?" Louis chuckled. Damn, you made Louis Tomlinson laugh.

"Of course I do!" You retorted. "Silver Tongues is a masterpiece, great way to end the shows. And also every song you wrote for the band is a banger so there's that too."

"You went to one of the shows then?" He wondered. "I hope you did, wouldn't want my new favourite fan to have missed tour."

"I did, yes." Being jokingly called his 'new favourite fan' shouldn't make you blush like it did, but hey! This is still your favourite singer in front of you. "The Paris show, for both tours. I'm never getting over it, feels like I imagined it all."

"Paris, wow that takes me back. Those Saturdays lights man, they were insane."

"That's how you know you always have to come back there every tour, yeah?" You teased with a smile, over the moon when Louis confirmed that France would never leave his concert map. "I'm so happy you put this show on the live album by the way, that's like a fever dream to be somewhat featured on it."

"You liked it?" He asked, to which you nodded. "Got the album alright?"

"Oh, I didn't buy it yet but I'm planning on getting the CD don't worry."

"Forget that", Louis told you. "I'll get you one along with the vinyl and the whole package, yeah? Tell you what, I'll get in touch with your boyfriend's manager to send you all that properly. Sounds good?"

"Yes, oh my God, absolutely. Thank you so much!"

"Least I can do for you, we'll stay in contact." A look behind you notified Louis that Charles was walking towards the both of you, probably meaning that goodbyes were in order. "Very nice to meet you, I hope we'll see each other again."

"Thanks for taking the time to speak with me, I really appreciate it. Enjoy the race!"

Sharing a last quick hug, Louis left you so that he could go mingle somewhere else, before you felt a new pair of arms hugging you from behind.

"Sooo, how was meeting your favourite singer?" Charles asked.

"Amazing, thank you so much. I don't think I would've come talk to him by myself," you admitted.

"I'd be a monster and the worst boyfriend ever if I didn't push you to him. Who knows when you'd have another opportunity like that?"

"True. Now there's only one thing that could make me even happier than meeting Louis," you told Charles.

"Really?" He raised an eyebrow at you.

"Yeah," you nodded. "You on that top step after the race."

"That I can do, I guess."

"You guess?" You scoffed in reply. "Louis Tomlinson is in that garage, so you better win this Leclerc."

"I will", Charles assured you with determination in his eyes. "Do not worry even once about me, I will."

.....

And he did. He won in Monaco, his home race. He won in Monza, his team's home race. In. The. Same. Season.

You couldn't be prouder of him. From the first lap, you had been holding your breath when Charles managed to squeeze into P2 while Oscar overtook Lando.

Since then, it had been a rollercoaster of emotions for you and Charles's family with whom you were watching. You had been especially nervous when Charles got undercut by Lando, but it got better when you witnessed your boyfriend taking back the lead of the race later on.

You were scared when you saw the gap between Charles and Oscar getting shorter. Oscar had relatively new hard tyres compared to Charles who had his for the last forty laps or so.

But everything ended well. Charles crossed the finish line, P1 at the chequered flag. A Ferrari victory at home, at the temple of speed.

From then on, everything was a blur. You were a crying mess as Arthur hugged you. Everyone was cheering around you, celebrating a second victory of the Prince of Ferrari at Monza, five years later.

You didn't realise when Arthur pulled your hand and brought you with him to see Charles, the entire Ferrari team coming along. And when he drove his car to the P1 spot, everyone cheered once again. You knew you were far from being the loudest, still too emotional to actually process what happened.

Charles ran to his team, noticing you and Arthur in the middle of the red ocean. He hugged you both; happy tears pouring down everyone's cheeks.

The rest was another blur until you were looking up, with dried tears on your face, at Charles. As he had promised you, he was on the top step of the podium. Victory looked good on him, it always did. He seemed so relaxed, mouthing along to the Monegasque anthem, before the Italian one resonated and then all hell broke loose. Celebrations were in order, both for Charles and Ferrari, who had once again made Italy proud.

.....

You had been the proudest though, you assured Charles the next morning when you woke up in each other's arms. You both stayed in bed longer than usual, just basking in the peace and quiet you were getting compared to yesterday's fervour.

"It still feels like a dream," Charles told you.

"Dreams are made to be achieved", you softly replied. "You're making yours come true, as you should."

"I hope we are on the right path again now."

"Of course you are." Truth be told, you were waiting to see what would happen during the next races to be sure of it, but if Charles was trusting his team right now, then so did you. "This was such a wonderful weekend."

"Because I won or because you met Louis?" Charles asked with a laugh. "Which happened thanks to me by the way, you coward."

"Because you won, don't worry. Although Louis was a great bonus," you added. "I'm sure he was your lucky charm, you should invite him again."

"And lose my girlfriend to him?" He scoffed at your suggestion. "No way. You are my lucky charm, the only one I need."

"I'll be there for all your next wins then," you confirmed.  Whenever you need another one."

A comfortable silence then took place between the two of you, before Charles broke it:

"Would you rather be at his concert or a race?"

"Charles!" You exclaimed as you thought about how ridiculous he sounded.

"Would you, though?"

"Maybe..." Maybe not, you mentally added.

"You're kidding?"

"Unless you keep asking stupid questions like that, yes I'm kidding. Races can't be changed but it's easy to decide that I'll go see him elsewhere," you explained. "Don't worry, you're still my favourite."

"Favourite artist?"

"I can do favourite pianist, but that's it."

"I'll take that, I guess. Right now, I'm the one in bed with you so..."

"And I wouldn't wanna be anywhere else", you said. "I love you, Prince of Ferrari, Il Predestino; wait no, Il Pres- no... Il Predestinato! Is that it?" You asked, a look of hope in your eyes.

"It is yeah," Charles confirmed with a chuckle. "Let's be glad I'm not dating you for your Italian."

"Yeah, yeah... you love me too much to care about how shit my Italian is."

"I do love you very much", he replied before kissing you. "Even if you obsess over British men who disbanded almost a decade ago."

"Hey! That's low, and mean!"

Charles apologised as you threatened to punch him for his previous words, laughter now echoing in your hotel room. Those were moments you would never trade for anything else, not when you had the opportunity to witness Charles's highs after so many lows. His happiness made yours, and you would stay by his side for as long as he'll want you.

It's you and me until the end.

..........

Anyone remembers when i said i had no idea if/when I'd ever write for a driver again🧍🏻‍♀️ well that was acc quick to happen lmao

Ig it's a bit addictive to write when you easily find material that helps create the content you wanna put out here - not only did charles win fucking monza but louis was there so that felt like a sign from the universe and i had no choice but to comply

Fun fact, otb and hoth truly are my fav songs from each album (i even have a tat in relation to hoth bc this song means sm to me and i fucking sobbed when i heard it live) + i did went to the paris show for each tour

Anyways, hope y'all enjoyed it and ig this time i really don't know when I'll write again - maybe next gp depending on who wins and/or what happens during the lil break so bye bye for now❤️

[boowritess]

i love love love the headcanon of the 141 not having kids and babies and ewey.

i think that john price is still very relevant to that. kinda. i don't really seeing him having a pet honestly. unless you wanted one... sure... but nah y'know... he's old tired af. maybe a cat. probably definitely a cat.

but it's been you and john for as long as you can remember.

happy to be in each other's presence from morning to night, or simply just exist in a shared life that means you two don't have to always be around each other.

you could be shopping and he could be sleeping. he's outside tending to the stuff he had supposed to finish before he left deployment while you're reading on the couch inside. he's on a long deployment again, and you're at work.

plus the prospect of kids just never seemed to work into the schedule. "nah," john says to one of your friends, "can handle kids fine, but when i'm home, this old mans bones are good for sleep and not much else. i mean the breeding kink can get me goi-" john grunts when you elbow into his side.

"crude." you huff with an eyeroll.

"but true." he says into his beer as he takes a sip, eyes sparking with mischief.

your friend turns to you. "but doesn't it get lonely?" they asks. "wouldn't you want a little one running around?"

and well sometimes the days may be lonely for you when he's gone...

but that's become impossibly hard to focus on when your phone is being constantly blown up - not by price though. by the 141.

it's never really anything outrages or civil conversation. it's gaz asking which tie he should wear at an event because price said the black one but gaz doesn't really like the black one. then it's johnny sending you a video of him besting his previous time on a training course. though it doesn't stop there. ghost is messaging late nights for him but mid-day for you, asking about how to deal with insomnia. ghost is asking you because he knows you're awake and the others are asleep, he doesn't want to bother them.

you answer every single one, with so much care and attentiveness. you save every picture, every video and boost about their achievements to other people as if they were your own. however, people always assume you're talking about little kids not grown ass men.

yet on days when you're at home or you've come home from work. you're hardly surprised to find one of them had invited themselves into yours and johns home as if it was their own.

sometimes it's gaz crashed out on the couch who's in a desperate need of a shower but definitely needs sleep more.

or the sounds of soap in your fridge, raking around to find something to eat. "lass, ye out of cheese-" he ate the cheese. the whole newly bought block of it.

gaz and soap like to hover around you when they're home. whereas ghost helps price around the house.

but when it's just you and ghost, the oldest boy. it's quiet. there's no forced conversations but probably a few shitty jokes. it's you or him making food and the other doing the dishes. yet ghost opens up and the conversations turn into some of the most randomist, boyish, silly conversations.

when everyone's at home, it can actually be pretty hectic. so you go do the grocery shopping, but you take ghost along cause he's a little like you in regard for a need of quiet time.

oh and can't forget the days you go out by yourself only to come home with a few other things. socks for john - socks for all of them. you bought johnny a new pair of jeans and gaz a couple of shirts. and simon some more sweaters.

christmas, easter, new years - every single holiday is always hosted at yours and price. where everyone comes. farah, alex, laswell and her wife. rudy and alejandro making their way- then of course your boys...

and it's there where you've kinda realized.

you and john do have kids.

just in the form of grown men.

which both you and john don't seem to mind.

you end up shrugging your shoulders as you look at your friend, "honestly i have my hands full when they're all home. so... i'm good." you say with a hum, sipping from your own drink with a small smile as john just chuckles softly.

a/n: realized I never posted this. oh well. the no baby saga continues with john price. drink water be well ya'll xx

[martinluvrr]

NUMBER ONE | KATE MARTIN ( II )

⋅˚₊‧ kate martin x actress!reader

⋅˚₊‧ summary: the actress, the rookie and the media circus.

⋅˚₊‧ part one || part three || nav

✩

liked by badgalriri, kehlani, sydney_sweeney and 1,034,561 others.

y/ny/l/n vegas i love you. had so much fun last night, thank you @lvaces <3

kehlani made for vegas

usera fit ate

userb she's so wag material

userc we need kate and y/n reunion pics

houseofdragonhbo from dragonstone to las vegas ♡

lvaces 🩶🩶🩶

load more comments...

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x.com ↙

scar 🌠 @scarrrrracesssss Y/NNNNS AT THE GAMEEEEEEEEE OMFG #y/ny/l/n #lvaces

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instagram.com↙

liked by y/ny/l/n, houseofdragonhbo, wnba and 12,786 others

lvaces y/n is in the house 🚨 we love the facial expressions 😭 @y/ny/l/n

userd she's so courtside coded idk how to explain it

usere kate and y/n reuniting????

y/ny/l/n girl u did me sooo dirty i can't 😔

↪ userf DEADDDDDDDDDD

↪ userg WE NEED YOU AND KATE PICS PLEASE

userh mogged everybody there

useri adriana lima got nothinggg on her

-katemartin reposted a post by lvaces-

✩

x.com↙

brea @breaces y/n reportedly cheered the most when kate scored🤔🤔🤔iship them so hard omg

↺ mia @miascardoni eating this info uppp

↺ kiki @kianaklarck this is just y/n being excited yall 😭😭

✩

instagram.com↙

liked by userj, userk , userl and 32.459 others

deuxmoi DEUXMOI EXCLUSIVE… y/n y/l/n and kate martin had shared a hug with a brief conversation in the locker room, reportedly flirting with each other 😶😶😶

userl you never let anybody have anything

userm this is so sad omg

usern AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

usero ship them so hard brooooo

userp i didn't even know y/n was gay...

load more comments...

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newyorktimes.com↙

OLD BUT GOLD?

Y/N Y/L/N IS REKINDLING WITH HER OLD "FRIEND" LAS VEGAS ROOKIE , KATE MARTIN.

In August of 2022, while on the press tour of HBO’s House of the Dragon, picture started circling around of Kate Martin and Y/n Y/l/n. While the photo looked like a normal photo between two high school friends, insiders told us “They weren’t friends” Hinting of something more.

While the actress didn’t label her sexuality, many assumed she was gay or bisexual when she was spotted with nepo baby, Lily Rose Depp.

Kate Martin, is a 24 year old, fan favorite rookie of the reigning WNBA champions, Las Vegas Aces. The player is recognized for her years in Iowas Women’s Basketball, who came in second in the NCAA Tournament. She was the 18th pick in 2024 WNBA Drafts.

When Y/n was asked regarding the photos, she denied claims of anything hinting in relationship and confirmed they were just friends. Martin, when asked , didn’t answer.

According to gossip site Deuxmoi, the pair was spotted sharing a hug while also having a flirtation conversation in the locker room of Michelob ULTRA arena. Y/n and some of her co stars, were invited for the game. After the win, their interaction happened.

After a post of Y/l/n was shared on the official instagram account of the Las Vegas Aces, Martin reposted on her story, tagging the actress who then reposted it on her story. It looks like the pair is in contact again.

Between the actress and the rookie, it seems like history is repeating itself.

✩

thank you for reading<333333

[tossawary]

So, in SVSSS, Shen Yuan makes a few really interesting assumptions when he sits down to speak properly to Airplane Bro for the first time. The first assumption is that Shang Qinghua is a transmigrator. Two of the other assumptions he makes, connected to this first one, arguably contradict each other slightly in fascinating ways. (I will put the full relevant scene fragment / quotation from these chapters under the cut at the end.)

Shen Yuan's assumption that Shang Qinghua is a transmigrator appears to be built first and foremost on the fact that he heard SQH say, "WTF!" during the conference. Shen Yuan also reveals: "At the time, Shen Qingqiu hadn’t heard him particularly clearly, so he hadn’t paid it any mind. But afterward, the more he’d thought about it, the more suspicious he’d grown." (Ch5)

So, Shen Yuan belatedly decides that he hadn't misheard this one accidental slip during a chaotic attack that damaged him both physically and emotionally. He decides that he definitely heard that correctly! He's confident enough that he invites Shang Qinghua over to his house and then immediately and calmly accuses his fellow peak lord of treason.

Shen Yuan very casually says: "How was it inadequate? You clearly overexerted yourself. You even found demonic creatures like the ghost-head spiders, Nu Yuan Chan, and bone eagles—none of which ever enter the Human Realm of their own volition. How could Shixiong rebuke you for inadequacy?" (Ch4)

Shang Qinghua sputters, jumps to his feet, turns red, blusters with offense, sneers, brushes Shen Yuan's hand away.

"“Why wouldn’t I? I have a clear conscience. Why would I fear a false accusation?” With a sneer, Shang Qinghua brushed away his hand.

“Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky?” asked Shen Qingqiu." (Ch4)

When Shen Yuan says Airplane Bro's ID, Shang Qinghua pauses and says, “You… How do you know my ID?” (Ch4) And the scene immediately switches from a confrontation between two peak lords regarding treason to a transmigration reveal.

But hey, let's go back to that first version of the scene! What if Shang Qinghua hadn't been a transmigrator? Shen Yuan must have mentally reviewed what happened at the conference and all of their previous encounters, but he still could have been wrong in this assumption. He might have misheard and misinterpreted.

In which case, throwing out Airplane's ID wouldn't have stopped the scene and Shen Yuan would now have to deal with a belligerent traitor who 1) isn't admitting to what he did and/or 2) may turn violent in self-defense. Shen Yuan even admits: "He’d only wanted to study Shang Qinghua’s reaction to this name to determine if he had also read Proud Immortal Demon Way—but given his reaction…he wasn’t just a reader, was he?!" (Ch4)

Shen Yuan has no proof of Shang Qinghua's crimes and everyone thinks he's out of his mind with grief, probably searching for someone to blame, though Yue Qingyuan might indulgently open an investigation anyway and might actually end up finding something. If this had been Original Shang Qinghua, this confrontation could have broken out into a fight.

It was reckless. But I'm not reading it as "recklessly stupid" so much as "recklessly aggressive".

If Shen Yuan had been focused purely on revealing a fellow transmigrator, he could have opened this conversation with something like, "Have you ever heard of the writer 'Airplane Shooting Towards The Sky'?" And whatever answer he received then would have told him if he was dealing with a fellow transmigrator, who could be disarmed by this revelation, or if he was dealing with Original Shang Qinghua, who would just be mildly confused. Once he had that information in hand, Shen Yuan could go from there.

But no, Shen Yuan opens with Shang Qinghua's crimes first. Which makes me suspect that he is angry with the man for causing the disaster at the Immortal Alliance Conference. If Shang Qinghua hadn't let in the demons, Shen Yuan wouldn't have been forced to push Luo Binghe into the Endless Abyss. I personally don't think that Shen Yuan would have minded here if this confrontation had turned violent. He's perfectly capable of dealing out violence. He's a pretty good fighter, even with the Without A Cure issue, and with his confidence here... I'm going to assume that Shen Yuan thinks he could take Shang Qinghua in a fight. He may be right.

He's probably also confident that Yue Qingyuan would side with him if he had to kill a fellow peak lord (a traitor) in self-defense. I agree with this assessment. I think Shen Qingqiu's reputation would take a hard hit, as would Cang Qiong, but Shang Qinghua is a traitor here. If they could find any proof whatsoever, then the other peak lords would probably begrudgingly go along with this story.

To be clear, I don't think that Shen Yuan is entering into this conversation thinking about killing Shang Qinghua. I think he would attempt capture first. But he IS entering into this conversation resolved to either 1) unmask Shang Qinghua as a transmigrator or 2) unmask Shang Qinghua as a traitor and accomplice to murder. He accuses the man before anything else! This is going to end in a transmigrator reveal or in eventual violence.

If Shen Yuan is wrong, he cannot take this accusation back. He is either finding a "friend from his hometown" or he is making a very serious enemy here. If Original Shang Qinghua manages to pretend he's innocent and shake off these accusations, clearing any trial Cang Qiong holds for him, then he's presumably going to be secretly gunning for Shen Qingqiu from then on.

Shen Yuan is betting a LOT on not having misheard a phrase that he admits he didn't hear very well! He admitted that!

I do think Shen Yuan starts this confrontation off being angry - angry at Shang Qinghua, angry at himself, angry at the situation - underneath his calm. I think he's ready for a fight if necessary. I kind of think he might want one on some level. I think he's feeling a little reckless in his fresh grief and loneliness.

Because the other option is that Shen Yuan entered this conversation unprepared for the possibility of being wrong about there being another transmigrator. And also unprepared for getting a really bad reaction from Original Shang Qinghua. And I'd really like to think that Shen Yuan is smarter than that. Shen Yuan can be pretty clever. It is totally possible that he is just not thinking beyond his assumption here, though. Shen Yuan can also get caught up in his own ideas and emotions sometimes.

I think this would make a fun Alternate Canon / Canon Divergence AU: "Shen Yuan is completely wrong about Shang Qinghua being a transmigrator and has just revealed to Original Shang Qinghua that he knows what the man did. Uh oh."

ANYWAY! That's just the first assumption that Shen Yuan makes: Shang Qinghua is another transmigrator. Connected to this first assumption are a couple other assumptions about this other transmigrator that are both also really interesting.

The second assumption is this: "As the one who’d masterminded the event (or the logistics of it), Shang Qinghua was subject to the irresistible pressure of the plot[.]" (Ch5) Shen Yuan assumes that the plot forced Airplane Bro to smuggle these beasts into the Immortal Alliance Conference, much like he himself was forced to push Luo Binghe into the Endless Abyss.

I would have to go check the Airplane extras to be sure, but we don't know that this is true. I do remember from the Airplane extras that the System would have been cool with Airplane Bro killing Mobei-Jun, who is arguably an incredibly important character to many PIDW plotlines. I've often interpreted this as Airplane Bro having far more freedom to make his own decisions. We the audience later confirm that the System forced Airplane Bro to stay with Cang Qiong Mountain Sect and to become the head disciple of An Ding Peak. We don't know for sure that the System put pressure on Shang Qinghua to make the invasion of the Immortal Alliance Conference happen. It's implied when Shang Qinghua gets the return home feature from the System that he doesn't see it often.

Shen Yuan doesn't know these things. Shen Yuan is assuming here their transmigration experiences are very similar. Shen Yuan doesn't really directly ask.

Personally, I do think that the System was involved somehow, even if Airplane Bro's consequences for failure or disobedience weren't nearly so dreadful. With a second transmigrator and their desires in the mix, and the beginning of the real plot with Luo Binghe, it's possible that System put more restrictions on Airplane Bro and locked him onto this path (freeing him after the original outline with the romance deviation is complete). I personally headcanon that Airplane Bro could have wriggled out of the Immortal Alliance Conference without any serious punishment from the System, because I think it's funny if Shen Yuan's most hated event could have suddenly not happened if only Airplane Bro had decided not to do it, but I think that that Airplane Bro didn't try to buck the System because 1) he was generally okay with keeping the plot on track and 2) he was unwilling to challenge Mobei-Jun by resisting any orders on this front. He chose to save Mobei-Jun, now he has to live with that.

Shen Yuan doesn't seriously take Airplane Bro to task for all of the deaths and injuries at the Immortal Alliance Conference. I think a large part of this is that Shen Yuan not-unreasonably assumes Airplane Bro was forced into doing it by the System and Shen Yuan simply doesn't really interrogate Airplane Bro thoroughly to be sure. I think he unconsciously wants this assumption to be true in part because that means there's someone who really understands what he was forced to do to Luo Binghe, he's invested in the Endless Abyss being necessary, but also because now he isn't alone generally and has someone to help him fake his death. Shen Yuan is first and foremost out to save his own skin at this point in the story.

To be clear, I think it's very reasonable for Shen Yuan (and the audience) to assume that another transmigrator is also being strictly forced to follow the plot. He doesn't know Shang Qinghua is the author at first. He doesn't know just how different their transmigration experiences have been. The assumption is valid. It's just not actually certain.

The third assumption by Shen Yuan here is what really stood out to me during my reread. It's what made me start thinking more seriously about this confrontation and its setup. Shen Yuan thinks to himself: "As the one who’d masterminded the event (or the logistics of it), Shang Qinghua was subject to the irresistible pressure of the plot—yet he hadn’t released the Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python that should have starred in numerous scenes. This was suspicious in itself, but if you considered the possibility that he had failed to do this intentionally in order to hinder the development of the plot—to sever the tragedy of Luo Binghe’s fall into the Endless Abyss at its roots—it made sense." (Ch5)

In the original PIDW, a Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python appeared at the Immortal Alliance Conference, and opened the Endless Abyss with its spatial-rift-creating scream. Mobei-Jun does it in SVSSS, appearing hundreds of chapters early. (I wrote a long meta piece on how I think Luo Binghe's seal works, and why it had to be something or someone with space-manipulation powers breaking it. It's under the "luo binghe demonic seal" tag.)

Shen Yuan noticed that the Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python failed to appear and also decided that Shang Qinghua was genuinely surprised by Mobei-Jun's appearance instead. Shen Yuan assumes here that the Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python's absence was an intentional act on the Shang Qinghua transmigrator's part in order to stop Luo Binghe's fall into the Endless Abyss. This is a WILD assumption!

It's possible that Shang Qinghua just failed to get one. It's possible that there was one somewhere else in Jue Di Gorge, but they simply didn't run into the creature.

It's also possible that Shen Yuan is right. Maybe Airplane Bro decided to quietly remove the Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python from the conference, single-handedly preventing 1) Luo Binghe's demonic seal from being broken and 2) the Endless Abyss from being opened. Maybe he thought the System would overlook this until it was too late? But something about this interference made Mobei-Jun suspicious and he showed up to investigate instead.

Or Shang Qinghua organized Mobei-Jun's appearance and interference somehow, because MBJ breaks the demonic seal cleanly in SVSSS, whereas PIDW Binghe needed the Xin Mo sword to completely remove the seal only partially broken by the Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python.

We really don't know what Shang Qinghua was doing. Or what Mobei-Jun was doing.

I think this assumption is fascinating, because Airplane Bro being able to omit the BMRP kind of contradicts the assumption that he was forced by the System to ruin the conference. Not completely, of course. Shen Yuan may be assuming that Shang Qinghua's System-given quest spoke of beasts generally, rather than the BMRP specifically, and Shang Qinghua was trying to work futilely around the System's wording in order to prevent Luo Binghe's fall. It's possible that the System did not tell Shang Qinghua directly to ensure the opening of the Endless Abyss. The System may have only demanded that he assist in the demonic invasion generally.

But these assumptions still bump up against each other in interesting ways, to me, even if they don't directly contradict each other. Shen Yuan thinks that pushing Luo Binghe into the Endless Abyss was demanded by the plot, but he also thinks Shang Qinghua's meddling with the BMRP could have stopped it somehow? Or that Shang Qinghua simply tried to stop it by removing a necesssary plot device and the System compensated with Mobei-Jun, because Luo Binghe's fall is an inevitable event? Shen Yuan thinks Shang Qinghua was forced to release beasts on the conference, causing a great deal of death and injury, but he also assumes that Shang Qinghua was able to pick the beasts on some level. Maybe he's assuming that Mobei-Jun picked the beasts and Shang Qinghua simply got rid of the BMRP somehow?

It makes way more sense that Mobei-Jun both collected the beasts and released them into the conference, using his spatial manipulation powers, and Shang Qinghua only helped with intelligence and keys to the security. Shen Yuan comments on how dangerous these creatures are. I really don't think that Shang Qinghua collected them personally or put them into Jue Di Gorge personally; I think that would have been pretty dangerous and that lots of people on An Ding Peak and beyond would have noticed during event planning and setup. And if Mobei-Jun did most of the work (and entered the conference properly himself in SVSSS, rather than just disappearing without being seen in PIDW, I assume), then I don't really see how Shang Qinghua could have done much of anything to stop a BMRP from getting in. Maybe he asked Mobei-Jun to avoid BMRPs, please, and that made Mobei-Jun suspicious?

My assumption here is honestly that Shen Yuan isn't thinking too hard about what Shang Qinghua is personally responsible for, because he just doesn't want to think about it. If this is Original Shang Qinghua, Shen Yuan can bring him to justice. If this is a fellow transmigrator, then Shen Yuan has an accomplice / friend. He's trying to move forward so he doesn't have to look back.

I don't think his assumption that Airplane Bro got rid of the BMRP on purpose is out of nowhere. I think it's pretty reasonable to assume another transmigrator, if there is one, might have been seeking to change the plot for the better somehow and the System didn't allow it. I just think this particular assumption is a little wild, because Shen Yuan doesn't really confirm it. (I haven't thoroughly reread the whole scene. I could be wrong about this.) Shen Yuan does not clearly confirm Shang Qinghua's intentions or motivations. Or Mobei-Jun's.

Shen Yuan and Airplane Bro go on to have a different transmigrator argument, distracted by the revelation that this is the author and not another reader, and Shen Yuan doesn't try to confirm his theories. He doesn't ask Shang Qinghua if his wild (if plausible) assumption is actually correct. Like Shen Yuan doesn't really want to know for certain whether or not they could have changed things.

But, anyway, wow, that assumption is an interesting and funny Canon Divergence AU plot! What if Airplane Bro quietly removed the Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python from his traitorous invasion, and Mobei-Jun didn't show up instead, so Luo Binghe's seal simply didn't break and the Endless Abyss never opened? Would the System still demand that Shen Qingqiu push Luo Binghe into an Endless Abyss that isn't here? Would the System glitch? Would the System simply have to recalculate because it wasn't specific about what it needed Shang Qinghua to make happen here? Would the System just let Shen Yuan and Luo Binghe go back to Cang Qiong again?

~

RELEVANT QUOTATION (end of "Chapter 4: Conference" into the very beginning of "Chapter 5: Bai Lu"):

Shang Qinghua said nothing but sighed along with him. “Ah, Luo-shizhi was a heroic youth, such a pity. Those demons brought such disaster upon us; they are truly hateful. The whole world mourns with us. Shen-shixiong, my condolences.”

“If Shang-shidi truly felt it was a pity, this tragedy would not have occurred,” Shen Qingqiu said faintly.

At this, Shang Qinghua stiffened. After a moment, he seamlessly smoothed things over with a smile. “What does Shen-shixiong mean by that? Is he rebuking our An Ding Peak for inadequate administration? If so, Shidi should truly apologize.”

Shen Qingqiu refilled his teacup. “How was it inadequate? You clearly overexerted yourself. You even found demonic creatures like the ghost-head spiders, Nu Yuan Chan, and bone eagles—none of which ever enter the Human Realm of their own volition. How could Shixiong rebuke you for inadequacy?”

“Peak Lord Shen—to make such outrageous accusations!” Shang Qinghua shot to his feet, his face rapidly changing colors.

Shen Qingqiu put his hand on Shang Qinghua’s shoulder. “Why is Shang-shidi getting so excited?” he asked solemnly. “Let’s sit down and talk. Let me say something. Do you dare respond?”

“Why wouldn’t I? I have a clear conscience. Why would I fear a false accusation?” With a sneer, Shang Qinghua brushed away his hand.

“Airplane Shooting Towards the Sky?” asked Shen Qingqiu.

In that instant, it was like a bolt of lightning from the heavens had struck Shang Qinghua in the head, rendering him unable to speak.

After a long time, he managed to stammer out, “You… How do you know my ID?”

In that moment, it was like Shen Qingqiu had also been burnt to a crisp by the aforementioned bolt of lightning.

He’d only wanted to study Shang Qinghua’s reaction to this name to determine if he had also read Proud Immortal Demon Way—but given his reaction…he wasn’t just a reader, was he?!

After three long seconds, Shen Qingqiu jumped on him.

“It’s you?! How could I not know your ID after reading your entire fucking novel?! If you hadn’t let something slip when Mobei-Jun appeared, I really never would have known what hole you’d really crawled out of, ‘Great Master’!”

Volume 1, Chapter 4: Conference

The moment Shang Qinghua had seen Mobei-Jun suddenly appear, he had accidentally let out a “WTF!”

At the time, Shen Qingqiu hadn’t heard him particularly clearly, so he hadn’t paid it any mind. But afterward, the more he’d thought about it, the more suspicious he’d grown.

As the one who’d masterminded the event (or the logistics of it), Shang Qinghua was subject to the irresistible pressure of the plot—yet he hadn’t released the Black Moon Rhinoceros-Python that should have starred in numerous scenes. This was suspicious in itself, but if you considered the possibility that he had failed to do this intentionally in order to hinder the development of the plot—to sever the tragedy of Luo Binghe’s fall into the Endless Abyss at its roots—it made sense.

Volume 1, Chapter 5: Bai Lu

[lowkeyrobin]

HII so I was reading your who you write for and saw you write for Charlie Bushnell, so I was wondering if I could get like reader and Charlie at like the an interview???

Thank you -🍄

hell yeah of course 🙏🙏 ; thank you 🍄anon, hope you enjoy 🫶🫶 ; i dunno how but this got a little off topic?? I apologize

CHARLIE BUSHNELL ; the interview

summary ; youre a journalist, he's an actor

warnings ; language, little cringe kissing scene (totally sfw dw)

disclaimers ; I said "scandalous ankles" because back in the olden days ankles and showing any skin was considered scandalous, for anyone who didn't know. reader is described to be not into fitness stuff, also don't mind me not knowing shit about fitness/weightlifting

word count ; 883

masterlist

"Hi, welc-hum inside." You smile, waving to Charlie as he enters the room. You then cringe at yourself in embarrassment. "Sorry, hi, welcome." You awkwardly chuckle, "I apologize, my words are all tangled today"

"You're good" He waves, a comforting smile on his face. He wears a black t-shirt with a logo in the corner and design on the back, paired with some jorts and sneakers like he just came from the gym. You didn't mind though, you urged your guests to come comfortable over casual.

Video interviews that weren't in front of a live crowd were the best for both of you, thank God. Meeting this Godsend of a man nearly gave you a heart attack. Just looking at his gorgeous eyes and his perfect features, nothing was wrong with him whatsoever. He was genuinely a 10/10.

He sits down in the guest chair across from yours, watching you sift through a desk a few feet away, looking for something. Your dress pants rise at the ankles every time you make a step, revealing more of your scandalous ankles, covered by socks.

You finally sit down, apologizing for taking so long to find your notebook where you held a few questions and conversation starters. The cameras begin rolling, and you introduce yourself and Charlie as per usual.

"So, what's it like being on set, with all the cameras, lights, props, and green screens? What are the action scenes like?"

Charlie lightly smiles as he gives you an answer, using his hands to talk a little bit. He seemed a little tense and nervous, but you didn't point it out or blame him, it took you years to be fully comfortable where you sat.

"What even are you? Cause like, you're an interviewer but also a journalist, what do you prefer being called?" The curly haired boy asks you.

You shrug, "Journalist, I guess. Interviewer could be put like, inside the circle of journalism, I'd say. I'm a journalist before I'm an interviewer"

He nods, giving you a gorgeous smile that you had to quickly look away for. You discreetly hide your flushed face, looking down at your notebook.

You write down some memorable quotes as you sit and chat with him, bringing up some interesting conversation and learning more about being on set and the production behind media.

After the cameras are off, you thank him and invite him to stay for some aftertalk and lunch. You came in with a large bowl of taco salad you needed to finish before it went bad and were offering it to anyone who wanted it. He accepts the offer, staying back in the break room with you to eat some of that salad you'd brought in. In his words, it was very much better than whatever fast food he was going to go get before returning home.

Your conversation quickly turns into one regarding music and working out, although you weren't too into fitness, the occasional jog here and there keeping you healthy, apparently.

You both stand up, setting your bowls and forks in the dishwasher to get them cleaned. You stand against the counter as he leans his hand against it a couple feet away.

He pulls up his t-shirt sleeve, flexing his arm to show off his muscles. He's trying to impress you, mostly, but you had asked how frequently he worked out. Not his fault.

"Usually lift about 145"

You nod, paying more attention to his face than his muscles. Not exactly your question, but you'd take it.

"You okay?" He asks, seeing you zoned out staring at him.

"Yeah, sorry-"

"Am I that handsome to you?" He asks, lightly teasing you.

"Wh- I mean, hey now-"

He lightly giggles, stepping forward a bit.

You stare into his brown eyes, colored like a dark chocolate mocha. A smile tugs at the corners of his lips, seeing your eyes almost glimmer as they stare into his.

He's just a guy, you're an interviewer, a journalist. This is weird, isn't it? Is it not?

"May I?..." He whispers, looking down at your lips, then up at your eyes.

Triangle Theory.

You nod, a soft smile painting your face.

He quickly embraces your lips with his, hands resting on your waist. You melt into his kiss, your bodies tied together. He picks you up, hands resting behind your thighs, placing you on the counter.

You quickly pull away, hands on his shoulders as he stands between your legs. "Okay, what the fuck? Do that again"

He smiles, looking up at you. His arms are now loosely wrapped around your hips and waist area, his curls falling into place like dominoes.

"You're an interesting one"

"Says you, actor guy"

"Don't try and play me at my own game"

You open your mouth to speak, but shut yourself up, seeing the smug look on his face.

He holds your left hand in his right, a slight panic running through both of your heads as he rubs your knuckles with his thumb.

You speak up now, finding your stomach filled with butterflies.

"You make me want to grab a dictionary and manually find the words I'm looking for to describe you and how attractive that was."

He lightly laughs, kissing your hand.

"Whatever you say, journalist"

[seiwas]

₊˚⊹。if you're ready (let me) | gojo satoru

wc: 1.3k

summary: you find the other thing to surprise gojo with on his birthday. 

contains: f!reader, 18+ nsfw, reader is in lingerie, lead up to cunnilingulus (mentions pussy once)

a/n: a follow-up to the col lingerie fic, ‘take my time (i’ll spend it all on you)’, might be one of the more explicit ones i’ve written (which i don’t write often! so please be kind!); title inspired by ‘if you let me - alina baraz’; happy birthday to our boy ♡!!

collection masterlist: conversations on love +04a (extra). take my time (i’ll spend it all on you) <- you are here -> 04. these traces of love, they outline you

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT.

There are few things that come to mind when you think about what to get Gojo for his birthday: 

A couple of his favorite sweets (predictable and too frequent—he just bought a box of them last week); something customized and redesigned, maybe his blindfold? (which, you backtrack to realize, you had already gifted him for his 21st birthday years ago); answered prayers—requests that he continuously and ‘jokingly’ hints at (which, you also realize—he’s only really whined about two). 

Two requests, with one he’s already walked in on months ago, spoiling your what-would-have-been birthday gift. 

So, this leaves you with the other one—

The only other request. A repeat of something you did by accident more than a decade ago. 

Except, now, on purpose, you know that Gojo’s asking for something entirely different, far from innocent. 

You take a deep breath, closing your eyes as you bite the inside of your cheek. You hold it—

One.

The lace on the hem of your bra cups tickles your ribcage—it’s softer, but far more embellished than the pink one you’ve been (over)using. A gift from Gojo (“just a little something,” he said, handing it over to you one morning). 

Two.

You rub your thighs together, white suspender straps gliding against your skin; the metal attachments on the lace garters pull taut, holding them in place. 

Three. 

Goosebumps litter your arms, little dots surfacing; it’s hard not to feel nervous when you know what awaits you—your heartbeat racing.

When you open your eyes as you exhale, breath shaky and vision a little hazy, you focus on Gojo—sitting on the floor, back slouched against his couch with an impossibly handsome smirk on his mouth. His lips are upturned, pink and curled at the corner, but bitten, just the lower bit.  

You lock eyes, sleet white framing a darkening blue sky. 

Something stirs in your belly when he shifts in his seat, the sleeves of his shirt tightening as he rests his arms wide open on luxurious gray cotton—an invite towards him.

An invite to—

“Maybe you should sit on my face again.” 

The memory makes your face burn. 

You slipped the first time it happened, tripping backwards over Tsumiki’s books stacked up on the floor. At 20, you were far from rusty, reflexes quick as you caught hold of the edge of the couch—the couch that Gojo also happened to be napping on. 

There was an attempt: to balance yourself, only for your body to sink, gravity acting against your control. So, you landed right there, buttcheek covered by the fabric of your skirt, sitting straight on Gojo’s nose. 

That incident had buried itself so deep inside your mind you were confident Gojo would never bring it up again unless you did. 

But, of course he does, and when you least expect it too—by the counter of a gelato store, licking the dessert on hand while waiting for the cashier to punch the cost in.

And when he wets his lips now, a glimpse of pink swiping over his skin quickly, almost discreetly, you’re reminded of the same feeling you had back then—

—heated up, nervous; shy. 

You move closer, his eyes straying lower, going over the pretty white number you have on; the one he got you. 

And you wonder, if there’s vanity in the hunger he’s regarding you with, how what you’re wearing reminds you so much of him: white as the strands that fall into his eyes, playful but delicate at the same time.

The lace details on this set are more intricate, outlined with iridescent gray—an almost silver that shines blue when light hits; with sheer net as the base fabric, floral appliqués are carefully positioned on the bra and panty fronts, supported by ribbings that go down to the hem. 

It’s a full-set, garters with the suspender belt and everything. Sexy but still soft—just what he likes.

And you’d be a lot less embarrassed walking up to him now if it weren’t for the single, most nerve-wracking anticipation: that you’ll be sitting on his face, for real, later. and maybe from now on.

He pats his lap, motioning for you to settle on it. 

Your knees buckle under you when you reach him, holding onto his shoulders as you go down. And when you settle on his lap, straddling him, he reaches for your bra straps, pulling it off to the side.

The kisses he lands on each of your shoulders are soft, but his lips lay plump against your skin—a faint ‘smack’ sounding with each one. Your breath hitches when he goes lower, lightly sucking on the skin of your chest. It’s not enough to bruise, not yet, but a tightening in your stomach tells you you want it to.

He’s trying to get you to relax, you know—with how he’s gripping your hips, rubbing circles onto the skin underneath his fingertips.

When his mouth crawls up your neck, licking, you throw your head back—a sharp intake of breath as you release it heavily. Your fingers rake through his undercut, grasping onto fists of white. Then you shiver, gasping as trembles ripple through you when his lips glide past your ears.

“Toru,” 

He pulls away, blinking at you, half-lidded; you blink back twice. 

“You ready?” his eyes search for yours, your chin perched between his thumb and index finger—he tilts you to him.

The smile on his face is teasing, but gentle. And if you say no because you’re too nervous, you know he won’t force you. 

(Even if the hardness in his sweatpants is pressing intently against you).  

You try to shake off the nerves, nodding your head as you take in another breath, preparing to push yourself up by his shoulders.  

It’s odd to think about how he used to feel what you do right now; how he used to be led, guided—reassured; how he’s doing what you do when you try to get him to calm down. 

“We won’t do this if you don’t want to,” he bends his knees up, letting you lean on it as he cages you in. 

But that’s the thing, you do want to—you’re just failing to see how this can be more for him than it is for you. That, and what if you get the position wrong? Can’t balance yourself properly? Lean into him too much and knock him out completely? 

“I do, it’s just…” you sigh, running your palms over his chest. You fail to meet his eyes. 

“If you’re shy now, I’ve seen it all before. And I always tell you, you taste de—” 

You hit him before you catch how he’s watching you, chuckling—tender and knowing. He takes your hand, kissing each of your fingertips. 

The fact that he’s being this patient, this considerate on what you want is a testament to his restraint; he has to know that you want this too, if the wet spot on his sweatpants is any indication from you. 

So, you peer back at him, smile growing wide before landing a small peck to the tip of his nose. 

He guides you when you stand, lips grazing your thighs as you let him pass through them. Then he leans back, neck supported by the edge of the couch as he tilts his head up. The moment your knees press into the cushion, dipping as you climb over him, he holds your ankles. 

It tickles when he kisses his way down to the arches of your feet, but it’s a nice companion—a temporary relief—to the heat rising in your belly.

You hold on to the back of the couch, readjusting your knees as you find the right position to sit back down. And when you figure it out, angling yourself until you’re settled right over him—the heat of you is pulsing. 

He looks dazed between your legs, staring straight into you—the see-through net hiding absolutely nothing. Pussy-whipped, as they say. 

You giggle as you stare down at his face, anticipation rushing to your cheeks; it shakes him out of his reverie, prompting him to look at you instead. His breaths are warm against your thighs but cool against your core, and when he trails his lips higher and higher until he reaches it, landing a kiss on the fabric separating you, you think your knees might give out. 

The sight of Gojo smirking while being sat on stirs something within you—the creeping realization of how much it turns you on. 

And he can tell, grabbing hold of your butt and squeezing the flesh, kneading. The fabric separating you is pushed to the side, giving him a clearer view of everything; he sighs then moans, low. 

But before he pushes you down, bringing you closer to his mouth, he smiles cheekily. 

“Best birthday gift, baby.” 

thank you notes: to @stellamancer bc the idea of col reader sitting on gojo's face came up in convo some time ago!! + @augustinewrites for supporting and enabling me ♡

comments, tags, and reblogs are greatly appreciated ♡

[blueclownsworld]

"They're mine." — Diluc (Genshin Impact) x gender neutral reader

Diluc swears he isn't jealous. There's no reason to be, considering nothing's going on between the two of you. You just work at the same tavern, occasionally talking to each other during quiet hours. That's all, so why was he feeling like this?

You were serving beer to a group of men, most of them half-drunk already. You didn't really mind their flirty comments, considering they were just some sweet compliments regarding your looks.

Someone else did mind though. Diluc's eyes were like glued to you as you talked with the men. He wasn't jealous, no, how could he? But for some reason he felt fire burning inside of him, fire that wanted to burn those men. But he wasn't jealous.

"They want another round, sir." your polite tone snapped him out of his thoughts.

"I'll serve them, take my spot for a moment", Diluc replied with low voice, strange flame burning in his eyes as he looked at the table of men.

"You sure, sir? It's usually my job to serve customers", you asked for confirmation, something about him was off.

"I am sure, just let me take care of it", Diluc insisted and walked away before you could say anything further.

'What was different about him today?' you thought to yourself.

"I can see that you're very eager to flirt", Diluc started with almost threatening tone as he reached the table of men. "I'd prefer if you didn't flirt with them though, considering they're mine."

Was it his words or the flaming eyes that made the whole table silent? All of the men went quiet, and moment later Diluc left the table with relieved expression.

Fortunately or unfortunately, you hadn't heard the conversation as you were busy serving new customers. However, when Diluc came back, you could tell that something about him was different. As if a weight had lifted from his shoulders and he could breathe freely. No matter the reason, you were glad to see him feeling better.

"I'm closing early tonight. You can leave or stay around", Diluc said some time later. It was an invitation for you to stay with him, but you could have also went home if you wanted to.

"I think I'll stay around. No plans for tonight", you replied with more casual tone, dropping the 'sir' title as it wasn't work hours anymore.

"The same. Want to kill some time together?" Diluc asked, seeming to have some sort of idea in his mind. You agreed, not knowing where it would lead to.

Your body pinned against the tavern wall, Diluc's muscular chest pressing against yours as his lips were claiming you as his. The kisses started from your face, trailing down to your neck.

"Mine", Diluc spoke with low voice, his breath feeling hot on your neck. "I'm the only one allowed to flirt with you, is that clear?"

"Yes, sir", you answered with shy voice as he was making you feel butterflies in your stomach.

"Sir?" Diluc's eyebrows raised at the title. "We're not working currently, are we?"

"No- sorry. What should I call you?" you asked curiously.

"Anything but sir is fine", Diluc answered and continued with more teasing tone "How about 'love'?"

Your eyes widened at the suggestion, it was a bit early for such a name. But, you liked the sound of it.

"Love.." you said the word slowly, considering it. "Hm, I like it. Do you have a nickname for me as well, love?"

Diluc smiled warmly at your words, he felt like his heart was about to burst out of joy. "I have, my darling. Multiple even."

"May I hear them?" you had to ask.

"You'll hear them soon enough, lovely. First I need to make sure others won't think that you're available", he muttered in your ear before continuing the trail of kisses on your neck, these ones would definitely leave marks.

~

Author's note: was feeling silly today- also taking requests

[sungiejpg]

WHY ME?; na jaemin [smau]

17. the worst nightmare + written (after each 3 photos!)

𓂃⊹pairing: jaemin x f!reader

𓂃⊹tags: college au, enemies to lovers, smau, humour, reversed trope

𓂃⊹synopsis: he is known as the nicest guy on the faculty who gets along with everyone, well…maybe not everyone

𓂃⊹warnings: suggestive messages/topics

ignore how bad the narration might be 😭 I didn’t have enough time.

“So, Jaemin,” Y/n and Jisung’s mother called him while he was finishing preparing the table with Jisung’s help, he already had a bad feeling regarding the conversation. “Did you see that my big baby finally got a boyfriend?” She said smiling, Jaemin already knew their mother always wanted Y/n to get into a relationship. Bingo.

“Oh, they are not dating,” Jaemin clarified while trying not to sound pissed off about the topic. Although, why would he get pissed off, it’s not like he cares.

“Not yet,” their mother replied, still smiling. Jaemin loved that woman, she always treated him like a son, but this exact day he wasn’t that fond of her.

“Mom! Please don’t say that when Y/n comes,” Jisung jumped in the conversation trying to shush his own mother, something that made Jaemin appreciate him even more.

“I know I know”, she repeated, “but wouldn’t that be cute?” she asked while looking at Jaemin and completely ignoring her own son, who was pretending to vomit.

“Haechan is not cute,” Jaemin replied, trying to maintain his composure. But again, he doesn’t care if they date, does he?

“Aw, our Jaeminnie,” she screamed. “Always taking care of my kids,” their mom said while pinching his cheeks. He just smiled awkwardly.

“I’m gonna go to the bathroom then,” Jaemin said, exiting the room as a way to end the conversation and forget about it forever if possible.

No later than 4 mins you came, not without praying internally Jisung wasn’t already dead because of a spider or something, since you took longer than intended.

“Mom?” you asked when you saw your mother smiling standing in your kitchen and a kinda scared Jisung next to her. Well, not more than yourself, you could already tell what the topic of the night was going to be. “What are you doing here?”

“Aw my baby! I missed you so much” she screamed, running to hug you, which you reciprocated. “I came here since it’s been long since I last saw you and I wanted to have dinner with my two babies”.

“And?” You asked, already sensing what she was going to say.

“and I also invited someone special for dinner too,” she finally said after breaking the hug, Jisung smiling awkwardly, or scared, next to her. Kill me now, you thought, knowing it was going to be your biggest nightmare these days.

“Mom, don’t tell my is Jaemin, please.” Although you could already tell it was going to be him.

“He is already here, he went to the bathroom,” Jisung replied instead, still maintaining a nervous smile, which made you even more nervous.

“But I meant someone special for you,” your mom answered. Oh yeah, exactly, why would Jaemin be special to you. Wait, you thought, no way.

“Don’t tell me is…” But you weren’t able to finish your sentence since your doorbell rang, showing your biggest nightmare, fuckass Lee Haechan. Jisung is so dead, you thought.

“Hi family!” Haechan greeted everyone, not without smirking when he saw your face. And if things couldn’t get worse, it was at that moment when Jaemin came back from the bathroom and looked confused at you two. Jisung is so so so so dead.

“Well,” you said while putting your phone down after your mother and jisung left, not without her pinching Jaemin’s cheeks and saying he should go see her soon. You still don’t know how that even happened, since when was he that close?

“It’s been long since we last talked properly, only both of us,” Jaemin said, trying to make the situation less awkward. Who would have told you two months ago that you would be awkward with Jaemin, not because you hated him, but because you wanted him…

“I don’t think this counts,” definitely not awkward at all. Both of you were still in the corridor next to the door.

“So Haechan and you, huh?” he said while getting a bit closer to you, sounding a bit pissed off. Why would he? Maybe because Haechan was his friend?

“Not you too, I would rather light myself on fire than date him” quite literally. You even thought about doing it while your mom was trying to set both of you up during the dinner. Also poor Jisung, who had to listen to all of that.

“Hey, he’s still my friend,” Jaemin joked while smirking and still getting closer to you. If he kept doing that you would jump on him and bite his head off, out of excitement, not hatred. “Is he that bad?”

“Well, he isn’t I guess” you sincerely replied, “but I don’t like him, romantically I mean.” That coming off way more awkward than you intended since Jaemin was way closer than before.

“Romantically? So,” he said still getting closer, he smelled like vanilla, of course he did. “So do you like someone?”

“Maybe?”

One second he is smirking and the next second his tongue is tangled with yours, making your heart rate increase. Maybe this is where you die. After what felt like an eternity, he pulling back from the kiss and looking at you confused, as if he wasn’t the one initiating it. However, both of you heard the sound of keys.

“Well, bye,” he blurted out as soon as he heard Jisung out of the flat, opening the door.

“What do you mean by well bye?” You screamed, but he already left half running, leaving Jisung and you confused. What the fuck just happened.

“What’s going on? He didn’t even take his jacket with him,” Jisung mumbled, but you didn’t listen to that, too busy trying to grasp the situation.

𓂃before | 𓂃next

[twstfanblog]

*~Thanks Give Me~* Pt 1

A/N: I'm excited to get this fic out that I'm posting the first part before the second is even done XD Enjoy the fic and look forward to part two! Word Count: 2.5K Warnings: Swearing, Glossing over the history of the Native Americans Next

Banging on Ramshackle's front door was easily the quickest way to get Yuu to answer. Banging on Ramshackle's door at 7am was easily the fastest way to get Yuu to murder whoever was at the door with reckless abandon. 

Yuu had to give credit to whoever was on the other side, they did not let up on their knocking even at the sound of them stomping down the stairs nor the aggressive way they started to undo the locks more than likely broke one of their nails. Swinging open the door, hair wild from sleep and tired eyes glaring they started to yell, “What the fuck do you WANT-”

Ruggie barely missed a beat, stepping closer to squeeze himself under Yuu's arm and into the entry hall of the dormitory, “Hey Ramshackle! So…you told me about a holiday from your world last year and I wanna hear about it again.”

“...” Yuu slammed the door closed, “You were knocking on my door like you were the fucking police because you wanted me to info dump holidays?”

“Nah, nah, nah…Just the one you talked about happening in November…the food one…tell me about the food one again…”

“...Thanksgiving-?”

“Yeah, Thanks Give Me. Are you doing it…this year? Did you do it last year? You should do it this year…and invite your good friend Ruggie-”

“I should fucking kill you. You woke me up on a Saturday for this shit-”

“Come on, prefect!” Ruggie’s face had slipped into an almost pleading expression, “You told me that you'd host one if you had the money for it!” 

He gestures around, the updated and safer Ramshackle a clear difference from the poor squatter Yuu used to emulate, “You can't even bullshit me and say you don't have money now!”

“...” Yuu stood with their hands pressed together, lips resting on their interlocked fingers as they tiredly glared at the floor, “Ruggie if I threw a fucking Thanksgiving dinner will you get the fuck out of my house and let me sleep?”

“Yes.”

“You are so lucky you did this shit on the 1st, we've got three weeks to plan this dumpsterfire-RUGGIE!?”

Ruggie had quickly hoisted Yuu over his shoulder, fireman carrying them out the door and into the early morning, “Sorry, Ramshackle! Just gettin’ some insurance from your boyfriend!”

Azul had been just as confused and startled when Ruggie banged on his bedroom door at 7am demanding he draft up a contract between him and Yuu regarding their promise. A conversation that led to a contract that was painfully vague. An issue Azul tried to bring up but Yuu simply stated wasn't worth the trouble of explaining and to just do what Ruggie asked.

(“Is this what I do to you guys? Is this What I'm like? Why do you love me?”

“For many reasons, please just tell me what's happening.”

“Naw, this is more fun.”

“Alright…”)

Only a week after that incident, during a housewarden meeting, did Yuu call everyone to attention. They stood, going around the table and passing out invitations tied close with golden ribbons to the other wardens and the vices that had managed to be in attendance.

Vil opened his invitation first, squinting his eyes at the ornate yet bold script and reading aloud, “You are formally invited to the first annual Ramshackle Thanksgiving Dinner…what is Thanksgiving?”

Yuu clicked a button on the room's master remote, calling down the screen and turning the projector on to show a PowerPoint. She moved the projector control panel to the front, putting their flashdrive into it.

Riddle sat up straighter in his seat, pointing toward the set up in anger, “You did not file a request to use the projector!”

“Riddle, let me cook. This is the only way I could think to explain this and I have a magically binding contract with Ruggie.”

Leona groaned, letting his invite fall to the ground, “Is this what Ruggie’s been yapping about for the past four days? He's been hounding my ass to just agree with whatever you propose and I have half a mind to say no out of spite.”

“...”, Yuu pressed a button on the panel, a slide coming up showcasing an obvious stock photo of a feast, “Thanksgiving is a holiday from my world where you come together and eat so much you pass out.”

“...You have my approval.”

Idia spoke up, giving Leona a side eye while he held his own invite like a wet rag, “Wow, folded that fast, huh?”

“I'm depressed, not suicidal, Shroud…”

Yuu clicks to a new slide, showing another clear stock photo of a family all gathered around a dinner table, “As stated, it's a family-based holiday. Immediate and extended family all come together to share a meal, catch up, and just have a general good time and maybe watch some football.”

Idia frowned, the very idea of his extended family all in his home being nothing closer to a waking nightmare.

Another slide, hand-drawn images of two people; one dressed in an all-black traveler’s outfit of an olden Queendom citizen and a Republic Native in a large headdress*, “It started back when the pilgrims landing in America and had their first successful harvest with the help of the Native Americans. And now we just…don't talk about that.”

Trey tucked his invite into his jacket, raising an eyebrow, “Why?”

Yuu clicked to the next slide, showing the Native now scribbled out with red ink and the traveler smiling evilly as she mumbled, “Oh, the stealing of land, assaulting of women and children, the deliberate spread of disease, and erasure of culture-”

Riddle spoke for them all, eyes wide at the various horrors Yuu was seeming to brush past, “The what?”

Yuu clicked the button again, showing a new text slide that (annoyingly) used comic sans as the title font, “Anyway, your jobs. We're gonna do this fast because I have to beat Sebek into submission after this meeting. And just to explain, we're doing what is technically called a ‘FriendsGiving’. It acts more like a potluck instead of a traditional Thanksgiving.”

Jade raises his hand, “I think we'd like to hear more about the apparent deliberate spread of disease?”

Pulling out a collapsible pointer, Yuu smiled and clicked on a new slide to slap it against the screen, “Riddle, you're allowed to bring a store-bought dessert. But your main job will be to yell at everyone to behave and then call to the meal once it's prepared. Actually, Riddle, take notes, everyone will need it.”

Riddle sighed heavily, taking out his notebook and scribbling down notes that he would have to copy and deliver to the others.

The pointer hit against the screen more aggressively, Yuu glaring directly at Trey, “Trey…you bring dessert.”

“I'm not so sure I want to celebrate a holiday involving the desecration of a culture…”

“You bring a dessert or you will be hunted for sport.” Their pointer smacks against the screen again, “Cater: Gay Cousin.”

Idia looked at the screen in confusion, watching as even Riddle was tripped up before writing down what was said, “Is he… is he bringing a gay cousin or-”

SMACK “Deuce, he can bring an egg dish. I can't trust him with anything else. Ace, the family member that no one wants there but shows up anyway.”

Trey was already thinking of what dessert he wanted to bring, making a list in his mind of what the group would like the most, “Do…we invite Ace or do we just bring him with us-”

SMACK “Leona, your job is to hog the TV and watch sports. Just really manspread it on the couch; be even better if you fell asleep while watching it but won't let go of the remote.”

While he didn't agree nor disagree, Leona gave Yuu a look of annoyed bewilderment.

Vil spoke up, his own face pinched in confusion, “This is a food-based holiday, correct?”

Yuu was either willingly ignoring them or she actually was focused on dealing out her strange tasks. The pointer once again slapped at the fabric of the screen, “Jack, something…maybe a nice vegetable side or a pear-themed dish. No chicken…in fact, no meat. He can't be trusted. Ruggie.”

The room was silent as Yuu looked at the screen, a brief pulse of rage in her eyes before inhaling deep and releasing it, “Anyway. Azul, you're in charge of managing the drinks for the evening. We want a decently diverse but small selection of alcoholic and non-alcoholic to pick from.”

“I have no issue with that, though I'd like to know what the final menu will consist of to make a proper selection for wine…also. Is there a reason Jade and Floyd's names aren’t on this list?”

Jade spoke up, “I was also wondering. You are aware that my brother and I are in Mostro Lounge’s kitchen more than Azul is. We'd be best to bring dishes since most of the attendees are not so…culinarily inclined.”

Yuu had been poised to slap their pointer to Kalim’s name, pausing and looking over their shoulder to Jade, “Oh, You're not allowed to participate in prep.”

“...” Azul leaned forward in his seat, making a point to also scoot away from a now blank faced Jade, “You want us…namely me…to tell Floyd he isn't allowed to participate in a group activity that almost everyone else is allowed a hand in?”

“Yes.”

“...Do you not love me anymore?”

SMACK “Kalim-”

“Answer me?”

“-You will actually be securing a tableware set for the festivities. Nothing insane; simple but with a hint of fancy and lots of serving platters and bowls. Crystal or China is traditional, but I'll let you pick what you think would be nice within reason.”

Kalim had perked up, a story about how he had the perfect gold and gem-encrusted dish set dying on his tongue as he thought Yuu's request over, “Don't you…have a room in Ramshackle filled with tableware you found? It was some pretty nice stuff from what Cater told me…”

“Oh yeah. So after some further investigation, turns out all of that was just cursed and Sam has since confiscated it from my property. The cutlery was fine though, so we're good on that front, but if you find something to match the table set, get it.”

“...Okay!” Kalim quickly pulled out his phone, looking up tableware and just how many types of serving platters there were.

SMACK “Jamil.”

The look the vice gave them already showed how tired he was; a holiday based solely on hosting and seemingly meticulous planning of decorations and food prep sounded like an average day in the Asim household, making nothing new nor relaxing to Jamil.

“Do whatever the fuck you want.”

“Parden?”

“The actual task you'd normally be assigned is ‘Day-of Cooking’, but I'm not going to do that to you. So just…show up or don't. Take a nap the day of honestly, me or Kalim will bring you a plate.”

By the Seven, he loved this girl…

SMACK “Vil, you bring a salad. That is all I can trust you with.”

The Pomefiore head stopped looking at his nails with half-lidded eyes, glaring at Yuu's impassive expression, “Do you believe in my cooking skills so little!?”

“Yes. Though, I do have a secondary job for you. It’s to make sure, everyone is within dress code for the meal-”

Leona spoke up, folding his arms with a scowl, “Hold on, you never said there was a dress code-”

Vil raised his hand to Leona's face without looking, promptly silencing the other warden, “What's the dress code?”

“We wanna hover around the casual zone, but not informal. Best option is to be smart casual just tipping into business casual.

Vil had pulled out his own notebook without prompt, writing down notes and sketching out silhouettes of outfits, “Color scheme?”

“The holiday color scheme is fall theming, the warm tones with pops of purple and green. You don't need to follow color tones for the meal, though. Just make sure you're dressed for like…a nice dinner.

“My nice and your nice are two very different things, but noted.”

Rolling their eyes they slap the pointer to the screen, “Epel is allowed to bring anything apples are used in. Which is my way of saying he’s bringing pork tenderloin.”

Jade raised his hand, now fully glaring toward Yuu, “Funny how your friends are allowed to bring dishes.”

“Jade, you can’t be fucking trusted to not put poison in the food. So to be fair, Floyd isn’t allowed to help out either.” Yuu looks toward Rook, fluttering their eyelashes as they tapped his name gently multiple times, “My dear ex.”

Rook smiled back, leaning against the back of his hand and fluttering his eyelashes back, “Mon vieille amor?”

“You have the most important job of hunting down a massive turkey for us since that will be the centerpiece dish of the meal.”

“A hunt!?” Rook stood up so fast his chair slammed into the floor, “I shall make haste!” he raced out of the room, leaping from the window and disappearing around a corner outside.

Vil sighed, writing the last of his outfit ideas before packing up his items and walking out of the room, “Riddle, please forward your notes to me. I'll be free for style suggestions should anyone need them.”

Yuu calls out to him, “A salad! You're bringing a salad!”

Vil's middle finger was flashed just before the door closed behind him.

Rolling her eyes, Yuu turned back to the screen, “Idia, your job is to show up.”

“I'd rather not-”

“Too bad, it's mandatory. I already texted Ortho.”

Idias's tablet dinged from his hands. Looking at the screen his face pinched. Ortho was already sending him smiley emojis and rapid-fire messages on how excited he was to design a new shell and take photos of the upcoming group dinner. Sprinkled in were pleading and pensive faces begging that he agree to come and didn’t try to weasel his way out.

Glaring over his screen, already typing out a reply to Ortho's multiple messages, “You're a bitch.”

“Wear an actual outfit. Malleus.” SMACK.

The fae was still looking contently at his invitation, nodding as he already understood what Yuu was asking of him, “I'm aware of my job.”

“He can not know.”

“Lilia will only be made aware as we are dressing for the festivities.”

“You are one of the treasures of my life. Silver is tasked with making bread rolls for the dinner. Sebek is going to be helping me make the rest of the menu the night before/day of.” Yuu put the pointer back in its collapsible mode, putting the screen back up and clicking the projector off.

Leona raised an eyebrow but said nothing when Yuu had grabbed a stapler sitting beside him.

Riddle was too busy double-checking his notes, but Trey attempted to stop Yuu as she walked past, “What…what do you have there Yuu?”

“As stated at the beginning of my presentation, I have to go beat Sebek into submission and we have a rule now that I'm not allowed to use a brick anymore.” Yuu waved the stapler around, “So I’m going to use this instead.”

My take on Pilgrims and Native Americans in Twist

Next

[hobgoblinsandpeachfuzz]

Love is learned over time 'Til you're an expert in a dying field

Fic below the cut:

He was much too old to be as flummoxed as he was, but Emmrich and Alas’s flirtation was so new, so fresh, that he was not certain what to do at all. He hardly had realized that it had begun until Alas even said anything after their walk through the Memorial Gardens. It felt like being struck by lightning, a thrill to his senses, permission granted to indulge in thoughts he had attempted to keep quiet until now. 

Then, all too quickly, it seemed to vanish, after their battle in the Crossroads with the Revenant Dragon. He reached out, called to Alas, and Alas turned away, and did not speak to anyone as they returned to the Lighthouse. 

Affection, flirtation, infatuation, he was no expert in. But grief. Emmrich understood grief. And as a Mourn Watcher and a spirit caller, it was his solemn duty to aid those in their time of grief, more than anything. So when he heard the tinkling of piano keys in the middle of the night (or as close as he could tell, with the Fade and its ever inconsistent and shifting notions of light and dark), he sought out its source, and found Alas, bent over the piano, toiling away, alone.

He was already in the doorway, but he did not wish to startle, so he knocked all the same. Alas barely moved, though his head turned lightly, only to stare back at the keys. Emmrich’s heart sank. This was not how he had come to know Rook. Rook was jubilant, energetic, bouncing from here to there despite his age, always smiling, always ready with a quip and a laugh, racing to and fro, and never really stopping. To see them so still was–Emmrich sucked in a breath, and pressed the fear away at once. It would not do. He would simply have to assess the gripping and icy chill that threatened to effuse him at the thought of Alas’s lifeless body another time. For now, the living and breathing Alas was here and present and in need.

“May I sit?” he asked, thinking of taking a seat by the piano, across from him. But Alas scooted over on the bench, a wordless invitation. That was a positive sign, and Emmrich could not hide the small smile it brought to his face as he sat beside Rook.

It was best to be conversational in these matters. Slowly build to the topic at hand. To press too quickly would have the subject retreat. Wisps and people were oh so more alike than either considered, in that regard. “I didn’t know you played.”

He could not see his eyes from behind the curtain of his gray hair, but he saw Rook’s lips press together before answering. A gesture of shyness, perhaps. He could not imagine Alas as shy. “That’s what I was for. Back then. I served in June’s court, and I was his musician.”

Emmrich nodded. He had known that Alas was, much like Solas himself, an ancient elf, though the particulars were different with Alas than the Dread Wolf. Bellara had informed him as much, and he had been present for at least one of the Dread Wolf’s memories in the crossroads, where Alas had stopped, dead in their tracks, to stare at the face of the General who gave commands in those visions of the past. But speculation was not helpful. He would wait for Rook to tell him exactly. Even if he was curious for reasons beyond those of a Mourn Watcher.

“Do you play other instruments as well?”

They nodded, a wry little smile returning just faintly to their face, finally turning to look the whole music room over, and Emmrich could see how bone tired the poor elf looked. He had not been sleeping. Emmrich knew that. Alas brushed the concerns off whenever the rest of them tried to discuss it, that he had had plenty of sleep in the elven state of Uthenara, but from what Emmrich knew, that was not the same, and could not help. 

“I was made to be an expert in them all,” Alas sighed. “I sang, I danced, all the fancy little tricks to entertain. Came to a point that I hated doing any of it.”

“I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be,” they were looking at him now, finally, their golden eyes soft and piercing. Oh, but he’d been a fool to not realize that he was already far too deep with this infatuation, but he pressed a fist to his chest, and willed his heart to stop with its fluttering. Alas finally looked back at the keys, and their smile was gone. “Fel… Fel helped me love music again.”

“The General?” Emmrich had never been a jealous sort. It was a pathetic and silly emotion, and envy never featured in his ventures through the fade. There were other spirits and demons that sought him out. But now, he focused decidedly on Rook’s long fingers, dancing across the keys, playing a soft, quiet, and slow melody, something that sounded like the wish from one long ago, and tried not to think about the clear intensity of Alas’s devotion. “I would love to hear more about him.”

That brought the smile back to Alas’s face, a gentle thing this time. The melody picked up, no less soft, but firmer in its dedication, in its proud major notes. 

“He was my General. I was his lieutenant. That’s who we were in the war, yeah. But there was so much more to him. He was my first friend. The first person who saw me for who I really wanted to be. When the war was over, and the veil went up, he put us both in uthenara, and awoke us years later. He’d do that, over and over, desperate to see but also not wanting to harm. He was dedicated to discovering this new world Solas left behind, and helping where he could. I followed him to the ends of Thedas and back.”

“He was funny, you know. He loved to tease and make riddles of even the simplest ideas. I think he liked the thought that people viewed him as mysterious, when really he was the most forthright and honest person you could find. I think it was his own little joke against Solas really. And I think he went back into uthenara all those times to… To try to make Solas see the beauty that we were finding.” Alas’s voice shook, and his eyes shone. 

Envy was clearly not only infecting Emmrich. A dark look flashed in Alas’s eyes, before they closed them tight. “Fel never gave up on Solas. Not once. No matter… What I said.”

They stopped playing now, and wrapped their hands into fists, placing them on their knees, like the piano had burnt them.

“Then, sometime, I don’t know, in the age before this one at least… I got injured, fairly badly,” he gestured to his face, and the bit of his chest that Emmrich could see. Their scars, proudly worn, dancing around the scars that he must have chosen. “Protecting him,” he laughed. “I don’t… I don’t think he ever loved me the way I loved him, but he was broken up about it. Said he didn’t want to lose me, that he couldn’t bear the thought that I’d sacrifice myself for him. So he put me into Uthenara alone. Promised he’d wake me up when I was better.”

“I woke up when he died. When Solas killed him.”

“How… How did you find out?” he couldn’t help but wonder. 

Alas shrugged. “Part of me just knew, but I did ask. There was some girl Felassan had been helping. Hear she’s a big deal in Orlais now. And then I confirmed with Solas as soon as the bastard got stuck in my head.” He held himself now, and swallowed hard, mouth opening and closing a few times, as if the next sentence would slip out against their will. 

Alas’s whole body shuddered, and as he choked out a sob, Emmrich, though uncharacteristically nervous to do so, reached out, and stroked their back. Electricity shot through him when Alas leaned into his touch, clutching him. “And he’s everywhere here! I keep finding pieces of him, letters, notes, the way he arranged his books, the plants that grow, I can’t–I can’t stop seeing him! But he’s not here, Emmrich! I have looked and looked and I can’t even find the spirit of him! It’s like I lose him again and again every time I go into the crossroads!”

A wellspring of feeling had been unleashed, and Alas, nestled in Emmrich’s arms, simply cried for some time. He suspected that they had needed this for a very long time indeed. Millenia, perhaps. Something within him held Alas tighter than he might any other mourner, closer to his chest, stroking his hair. A fire was lit within him, and all he wanted was not simply to comfort this strange, beautiful person he was coming to know, but to take this pain far, far away, so that it may never reach Alas again. He knew, of course, that was not the proper way of things, that grief was a valuable gift–the memory that love happened, and it was there. But now, all he wished for was that it did not have to touch Alas, and take away the joyous, brash, bright spirit he knew. 

Alas’s tears started to slow, and the two of them just sat there, on the piano bench, Emmrich whispering soft things, as Alas took deep, shaky breaths. 

“I’m sorry, Em,” he coughed, and Emmrich held him tighter. “I shouldn’t. I shouldn’t have…”

“Hush, my dear. What else do you think a Mourn Watcher is for?” 

“I’m sorry I… I shook you away. After the dragon.” 

“That’s quite alright, Rook. I understand,” and he did. He’d been hurt and confused and fearful before, and even now, part of him still was frightened, that this tenuous, small thing that had just started was simply a beginning meant to go nowhere, that Alas’s heart was spoken for and could never be reached again. But he also knew that was not fair, and that was not how the Mourn Watchers taught him. He just had to remember. “I overstepped perhaps. I will refrain from terms of endearment from now on, if that is beneficial.”

Alas shot up, and looked him dead in the eye, his eyes wide and worried. “Don’t.”

“Don’t?” his heart had begun hammering again. He couldn’t remember the last time someone made him this flustered. But Alas was remarkably efficient at throwing off every bit of balance Emmrich had. 

“I,” Rook started, and while their body language betrayed that perhaps they wanted to shrink away again, they did not stop looking right into Emmrich’s eyes. “I like it. I like you.”

His face felt hot. It was his turn to look away, to give ground, flushed and unused to this kind of attention. 

And while he understood, yes, of course, he understood, his heart… did sink a little at Rook’s next words. “It’s just… Fel.”

This Felassan would always be there, deep within Alas’s soul, a fire that would never go out, a part of him, intrinsically. The things that Emmrich was coming to greatly admire in Alas were also parts of Felassan. That was how life worked. That was how love worked.

And he was a Mourn Watcher. He understood. And perhaps, in the grand scheme of things, it was better. He’d gotten his hopes perhaps a bit too high, knowing he had secrets of his own. Emmrich looked back at Alas, clasped his shoulders good-naturedly, and smiled. 

“I completely understand, my dear. By the by, are you still injured?” Changing topics was a good plan. He wasn’t sure how much more of Alas’s soft amber eyes he could take, looking at him like he was a puzzle, an anchor, a star. 

Their nose twitched, and they looked askance, shrugging. “Nothing a potion couldn’t handle.”

“Potions have their work cut out for them if those who imbibe them do not rest. Come, my dear,” he took Alas’s hands in his, and lifted the both of them gently from the piano bench. “You should sleep.”

Rook looked ready to protest, but finally, nodded, allowing Emmrich to help lead them to their room. He deposited his charge onto their small, narrow chaise, and moved to leave, before Alas caught his hand. 

Their hands were rough, callused and strong. The long fingers of a musician, and the sturdiness of a warrior. Emmrich felt like his whole arm would light, getting to hold Alas’s hand. 

“I do. Like you. Quite a bit, actually,” Rook smiled, and there was a hint of blush under that ruddy tan of his cheeks. Emmrich’s heart skipped a beat, like a school boy. “Thank you. I hope you know that.”

His throat felt tight, his own secrets threatening to spill out. But he wanted very much to just live in this lovely little infatuation, just a bit longer. It felt light and dizzying and just a bit like being alive. 

Instead, he just smiled, and laid a gentle kiss on Rook’s hand. “Get some sleep, my dear.” 

It was all he trusted himself to do.

[wordingg]

Drunk Boys

Summary: Edwin agrees to go to a Halloween party with Charles. When they both start drinking enchanted alcohol, things get out of hand.

AN: Written for Dead Boy Ween, Day 11, prompt: Halloween.

Somehow these fills keep getting longer and longer. This is another one that I would be open to writing a sequel to, if there's interest in it. It ends on sort of an ambiguous sad note.

“The two of you are going to a house party? On Halloween?” Crystal asked incredulously.

“What, you think we can’t fit in at a house party?” Charles asked, sincerely puzzled.

“You, I understand. It’s Edwin that I can’t picture partying, let alone somewhere as informal as someone’s house,” she said with a pointed look at Edwin. He was seated behind the desk, occasionally moving papers from one pile to another in a transparent attempt to look uninterested in the conversation.

“It is not my preferred activity for revelry,” Edwin said, dry as the desert.

“Do you have a preferred ‘activity for revelry’?” Crystal asked with a raised eyebrow.

“I think it’s wonderful,” Niko interrupted them to add. “It’s like an iconic teenager experience. I’m happy for you guys.”

Edwin frowned faintly in Niko’s direction, but held his tongue like Charles expected. Edwin was incapable of saying anything even vaguely not nice to Niko.

“Thanks, Niko,” Charles grinned, throwing himself onto the couch, even though there was definitely not room for him on the tiny loveseat. He ended up mostly sprawled across the girls’ laps, Crystal groaning and slapping his arms away and Niko humming happily and resting her bubble tea on his stomach.

“We’ve had a standing invitation for years, but this one,” Charles gestured at Edwin, who huffed and put his nose in the air, “has never been open to going.”

“Oh? Why the sudden change?” Crystal asked Edwin, her tone a little arch but mostly curious.

Edwin sighed and fiddled with the papers again. “No particular reason,” he mumbled, unusual for him but maybe he disliked all the attention.

Charles didn’t want Edwin to get self-conscious about agreeing to go to the party and change his mind, so he quickly changed the subject. “It’s like the biggest ghost event of the year! It’s super fun.”

“I didn’t realize ghosts had a social calendar,” Crystal said with a raised eyebrow.

“There are certain days of the year when spectral energy waxes and the veil that separates the living and the dead thin,” Edwin explained in what Charles thought of as his professor voice. If he was professor-ing at them, then Charles’ distraction must have worked, and he was back to feeling comfortable. “Both Samhain and Beltane mark days when the balance between light and dark, summer and winter, are perfectly balanced. This makes them ideal days for rituals regarding the dead.”

“He means that Aleister Crowley enchants a whole house every year and throws a crazy rager in it where ghosts can actually interact with the living and get drunk and all that,” Charles adds with a grin to the two girls.

“I suppose, if you want to be crass, you could explain it like that,” Edwin said crossly.

“Aleister Crowley is a ghost?” Crystal asked with big eyes “A ghost that throws Halloween parties?” she added, sounding even more surprised.

“He’s completely off his chump,” Edwin snapped, “A fake in all but the most rudimentary of magicks,” he added with a curl of his lip.

“We don’t like him, as a rule,” Charles said with an apologetic look at Edwin. Edwin was too busy scowling down at the surface of the desk to notice. “He called Edwin a, uh, what was it, a poodle something?”

“Poodle-faker,” Edwin spit, then winced, like just saying the word left a bad taste in his mouth.

“Yeah, that,” Charles sighed.

“I’m sorry, but what does that mean? Poodle-faker? Off his chump?” Niko asked quietly.

Edwin made a face like he’d rather chew on a shoe than explain what those words meant, so Charles quickly answered, “Off his chump is like, he’s totally nuts, off his rocker like. Poodle-faker is like an old timey insult that means you hang out with women too much,” Charles added that last explanation carefully, hoping that his tone got across how stupid of an insult he thought it was. He didn’t totally understand what it meant or why that was an insult, but he knew that Edwin had been in a properly awful state for days after that casual insult, so it must have meant a lot to him.

“So, he’s a monumental dick,” Crystal said dryly.

“Yes,” Edwin agreed enthusiastically.

“Why do you want to go to a party thrown by someone who’s a monumental dick?” Niko asked as sincerely as she asked every other question that ever escaped her perfect pink lips.

“Because I’ll be there to kick his spectral ass,” Crystal said with a grin that showed the sharp points of her teeth.

“No way!” Charles exclaimed, sitting up fast enough that Niko’s tea almost spilled, though her quick reflexes saved it from toppling off of Charles’ stomach and all over the girls’ laps. “You guys can’t come,” he said frantically.

“Why not?” Crystal asked, her eyebrows communicating that she was two seconds away from wanting to fight him about it.

“Because any party thrown by Aleister Crowley is a dangerous place for the living to be,” Edwin said darkly, giving Crystal a severe look. “He has no respect for anyone, but he especially does not respect the living. Or women,” he added with a troubled frown.

“Ew,” Niko said quietly before sucking her drink loudly through her straw.

“We can all go to Miss Ava Gardner’s party on Beltane,” Edwin said with a nod, like it was already decided. “She is a consummate host and a lovely woman. You’ll be safe as houses there.”

That set them off on a completely different tangent, with Crystal and Niko asking Edwin and Charles how many dead movie stars they knew and how many lived in London and what Crystal and Niko could possibly do to earn a polite introduction.

They never quite circled back to why exactly Edwin wanted to go to Crowley’s Halloween party. Charles was happy that Edwin wanted to go, he had been trying to get him to agree to go for literal decades after all, but the lack of explanation was concerning. Crowley was shite, but the party was fun and it was a huge get together for all of undead London. Charles had been a ton of times, though it was a lot less fun without Edwin there.

Charles tried to push his concerns down. Edwin had agreed to go. Charles didn’t have to be let in on every little twist and turn of his best friend’s thoughts, he could just be happy that they were together.

---

The night of the party, Charles was a mess of nerves. Edwin seemed nervous as well, though Charles expected that had more to do with his anxiety over running into the host and less to do with the party itself. Charles got the impression that Edwin had never been comfortable around people when he was alive, based on the stories that Edwin told. But, Charles had never seen Edwin act anything other than confident and self-possessed in person. Still, Charles wanted the night to go well so badly that he could almost feel his stomach doing flips below his ribcage.

The girls had decided to aggressively have fun without them. They were both decked out in beautiful creative costumes. Charles definitely appreciated all the bare skin and glitter and makeup and Edwin seemed to be fascinated with the pageantry of it all.

Crystal was dressed in huge curling demon horns, red glitter, and a series of sinfully suggestive black leather body harnesses under a tiny halter top and distressed shorts and huge platform boots that looked like they were built with curb stomping as the one and only activity in mind. Niko looked like a dream in pastels and holographic fabric, every movement she made shining and glittering back in prismatic halos of color.

“I’m an angel alien. I think,” she said, adjusting a headband with pink pompoms on bouncing springs on top of her head. The pompoms bounced cutely every time she moved.

Charles barked out a laugh. “Hell yeah you are,” he agreed with a grin.

Edwin curiously fingered her plastic holographic skirt, watching the play of the warm orange light of the office lamps play across it. “You look enchanting. I can barely bring myself to look away from you,” Edwin said with a smile that Niko shyly returned.

“Am I enchanting?” Crystal asked with a teasing smile.

“You’re terrifying,” Edwin said, straightening from examining Niko’s outfit and trying to suppress of a smile of his own.

“And hot,” Charles added with a wink.

“Perfect,” Crystal declared, “Just as I intended.” She flicked a curl over her shoulder while Niko giggled.

Not much later, they were all off. The girls had an impressive itinerary of clubs and bars and parties planned out, but the boys had only one location in mind.

Every year Crowley’s Halloween party was held in a different location. That year it was being held in the Ragged School turned museum down in the East End.

By the time that Charles and Edwin got there, just as the sun set below the skyline, ghosts from all over the city were flowing into the building. The lights were on inside, making every old broken down window shine out into the near darkness of the crisp autumn night like a beacon. Music poured out of the open front door, an odd mix of music from all manner of eras and time frames. The nearby canal gave the chill a humid tinge, making the air around them feel even colder than it really was.

“It feels morbid, doesn’t it?” Edwin asked, frowning up at the squat square facade of the school. It wasn’t grand or beautiful like some of the old buildings left behind from Edwin’s time. Charles thought he might have read somewhere that the building was a warehouse before it was converted into a school for the city’s poorest children sometime around the end of the 1800s.

“Suppose it’s just because we’re school boys, init?” Charles asked. The building did look a little ominous, even with the bright lights and music and all the ghosts slowly making their way inside.

“You ready?” Charles asked with a smile, thinking it was probably better to move inside rather than linger and wonder about times past.

Edwin took a deep breath and visibly straightened himself, his chin tilting up, his shoulders pulling back.

“As ready as I’ll ever be, I think,” he said doubtfully, despite his stiff posture.

“Brills,” Charles smiled. “Let’s head in.”

The inside of the Ragged School was absolutely packed with an eclectic mix of people both living and dead with the odd scattering of other kinds of supernatural creatures. The museum itself was pretty sparsely decorated, from what Charles could see through the press of the crowd. It definitely looked like a school, with glimpses of old wooden desks in big empty classrooms and a nice open staircase in the front hall with a polished wooden balustrade. It was obvious that the bits near the front entrance had all recently been repainted and polished up. Charles wondered if it would continue to look that way through the whole school.

Charles and Edwin didn’t have much of a chance to investigate, as they were quickly recognized by a knot of ghosts lingering near the front door.

“The Dead Boy Detectives themselves!” a pretty young man with curly hair and mutton chops said with a cheer.

“You’re both here!” a young woman with her dark hair shaved close to her head exclaimed in surprise. She was hanging from the neck of the young man who had spoken first, her dress so tiny that Charles would have blushed if he was able to.

“Are you on a case?” an older woman with a mischievous smile asked from their other side.

Charles recognized most of them from previous cases, though it was hard to remember while he was trying not to look at all the soft dark skin the young woman had on display. He thought that the guy with the mutton chops might have been haunted by a devil dog or something twenty years ago.

“Not tonight,” Edwin said shortly, nodding to them all.

“Yeah, just here for a bit of fun,” Charles said, winking at the older woman, even though it was the young couple who laughed.

“If you want to avoid Crowley, stick to the first floor,” the older woman said to Edwin with a knowing smile. “He thinks he’s holding court up there, but really he’s just making it easy for rest of us to avoid him.”

Edwin perked up a bit at that, some of the tension leeching out of his shoulders. “Thank you for the tip. I will do that.”

And then they were being buffeted through the crowd, bouncing from one group of ghosts to another. It was almost like a who’s who of spirits that the dead boys had helped or talked to or bargained with in the past thirty years. Everyone seemed happily surprised to see them and everyone was eager to talk. It was times like this that Charles was reminded of how deeply they had ingrained themselves into the supernatural tapestry of London.

Charles felt a little bit like he understood why girls fantasized about being the prettiest girl at the ball, because that night Charles certainly felt like one.

At some point, someone pressed a red solo cup into each of their hands. With a laugh, the ghost had explained, “It’s enchanted!” which made Edwin frown and Charles smile.

Edwin opened his mouth, probably to ask for the exact specifics of what kind of enchantment was on the cup, but Charles was already knocking it back.

It bubbled across his tongue in a familiar tang of sour and hops that Charles recognized from the bottles of bitter he and his friends used to sneak behind the school gymnasium after games. The taste of nostalgia was so strong it almost brought tears to his eyes. He had almost forgotten what it had tasted like, but that was it exactly.

“Charles,” Edwin sighed in exasperation. “Really. You should not drink things handed to you by a stranger.”

“I’m not a stranger,” the stranger said. “You boys saved my pet goldfish from a hungry selkie three years ago. I owe you one.”

“See?” Charles said, elbowing Edwin gently with what he knew as a cheeky smile. “He’s an past client. We can trust him. Try it!”

Edwin looked doubtfully at the liquid in the cup. It looked like nothing more spectacular than tap water, but Charles knew that it wouldn’t taste like it.

After taking a bracing breath, Edwin tipped the cup up and took a sizable swallow. When he brought the cup back down, his eyebrows were raised in surprise.

“Oh,” he said faintly. “That tastes just like the wine tonic my mother used to make me take as a child.” He turned to Charles in surprise.

“To me, it tastes like the beer me and my pals used to sneak after school,” Charles said.

“And to me, it tastes like Jack Daniels and tears,” the strange man said mournfully. “Cheers, boys. Enjoy the party,” he said and then wandered off, sipping from his own red solo cup.

The party got noticeably more blurry after that.

Charles and Edwin kept their cups in hand and kept drinking from them. No matter how much they drank, the cups never seemed to empty, so they never had to wonder where they could get more and didn’t keep much track of how much they had drank. At least, Charles certainly didn’t. He couldn’t speak for Edwin, but it felt like he was keeping pace with Charles.

Edwin had stuck close to Charles since they entered the party, but the drunker they got, the closer they became. First, they started leaning on each other, then Edwin looped Charles’ hand around his elbow when he started stumbling, until eventually they were mutually clinging to each others’ arms to stay upright.

The happiness that Charles had felt when they first entered the party just kept building. He felt warm and comfortable, even more so when his own enjoyment was mirrored in Edwin’s face. Everyone was so happy to see them, they laughed when the boys stumbled and helped right them again, pretty men and women kept touching Charles’ sleeve hair and older women carefully fixed Edwin’s hair or righted his bow tie.

Charles felt like he was on top of the world. So, when he heard one of his favorite songs come on over the speakers set throughout the house, he didn’t hesitate.

“Come dance with me!” Charles insisted, already dragging Edwin into the middle of a nearby classroom that had been repurposed into a dance floor. The desks had all been pushed into the wall, a small knot of people already swaying in the center.

Edwin stumbled, his hair falling over his forehead for the thousandth time that night.

“Charles,” he mumbled, “I can’t dance.”

“It’s okay. It’s not that kind of song,” Charles assured him, pulling him into the knot of other dancers.

England Belongs to Me by Cock Sparrer was blaring over the speakers and people were jumping and banging their heads, but Charles wasn’t paying attention to anyone but Edwin. Edwin looked uncertain and ungainly, his long legs becoming so much less certain as they both became more and more drunk. But, his eyes were stuck on Charles, watching him, waiting for him, and it made Charles feel like he was at the center of the universe.

“It’s easy!” Charles shouted over the music. “Just bounce up and down!” Charles said, grabbing both of Edwin’s hands in his and popping up and down on the balls of his feet to the rhythm of the music.

Edwin tried to follow his instructions, but he looked self conscious. He squeezed Charles’ hands in his and looked down at their shoes which was just not the thing, was it? Charles let go of Edwin’s hands after the second verse and instead wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close.

“Just move with me,” Charles said with a grin and a squeeze. Edwin still looked completely lost, but now he also looked a little flustered which was perfect in Charles’ opinion. Charles kept bouncing, but now he also swayed side to side. After only briefly hesitating, Edwin put his arms around Charles shoulders and let him move him.

And then the song changes and Pure by The Lightning Seeds came on. The crowd around them was laughing and dissolving and then coming back together as new people took to the floor. Charles and Edwin stayed where they were, swaying, pressed together.

Charles looked into Edwin’s eyes and they were so intense and pretty in that moment. Edwin was a pretty boy, Charles thought, in a different way that people sometimes called Charles a pretty boy. People called Charles pretty because he had an earring and he styled his hair. Charles thought Edwin would look pretty no matter what he wore or what he did with his hair.

They swayed together, looking into each other’s eyes for longer than either of them would have been capable of doing sober. Charles remembered the song that was playing, the way he used to listen to it on loop the month before he died. The guy who was on the cover of the cassette, Ian Broudie, was cute in a way that Charles hadn’t let himself think about back then. But, when he would lay on his bed and close his eyes he would imagine that the singer was there in his room with him, singing him a love song with soft lips and softer looking hair and big glasses that made him look sweet and inviting.

Before Charles noticed it, Edwin’s lips were on his, soft as the Charles back then had imagined the boy in the song’s might be, sweeter than any kiss he’d had before then.

Charles barely got a chance to kiss back, before Edwin was pulling away. His brow was crumpled and his eyes were afraid. Charles tought that Edwin shouldn’t look so afraid, especially not right after kissing him.

“I’m so sorry. I don’t,” Edwin swallowed and his throat clicked, his adam’s apple bobbed against his collar. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I liked it,” Charles said. He heard the slur on his voice, so he repeated himself just in case. “I liked it,” he grinned and leaned in. “Do it again?”

Edwin met him halfway and they were kissing and swaying and music was playing. Someone whistled and clapped and Charles had enough thought to take a hand off of Edwin’s shoulder and point his middle finger in the general direction of the whistler to the raucous laughter of the crowd.

They kissed and danced and the music kept changing. It felt a bit like the room was spinning, but Edwin felt solid and perfect, so Charles just held onto him and kept kissing him until long after a living boy’s lips would have gone numb.

---

At some point, Charles and Edwin ended up on a couch.

“This does not seem historically accurate,” Edwin had muttered into the couch cushion, but by that point Charles was too invested in kissing every square centimeter of Edwin’s long beautiful throat to bother engaging in talk about Edwardian furniture.

“Perhaps you boys should get a room,” a feminine voice laughed from somewhere nearby. Long acrylic nails glided through Charles’ hair, scratching his scalp. “I think you’re scandalizing some of the geezers.”

“Don’t care. Fuck off,” Charles grumbled, waving a hand to banish the heavenly nails. Whoever she was, she laughed and removed her hand. Charles fumbled around until he found Edwin’s hand on his waist and slapped it onto his head instead. Edwin seemed to get the message and started scratching his short nails through Charles’ hair.

Edwin was laid out on a hideous plaid couch, his long limbs splayed out, his bow tie long gone, his shirt unbuttoned. His hair was a mess and his lips were wet with Charles’ spit. Charles had no idea how they had gotten to the couch or even a vague idea of where they were in the building, but he was glad to whatever drunken stumble or nice friend had gotten them there. They must have been at the edge of the party. There were a few people talking or necking in the room with them, but it was a lot wherever they were than it had been earlier.

Charles was cradled in the basket of Edwin’s legs, his strong thighs squeezing Charles’ hips every time he did something especially clever with his mouth. Somewhere in the back of Charles addled brain he knew he was hard and that Edwin was hard and that he had been rocking himself into Edwin for however long it had been that they’d been making out.

A small voice was starting to panic somewhere in the soupy mess of his brain. Edwin loved him. Charles had told Edwin that he didn’t love him like that. And now Charles was grinding Edwin into a dusty couch in the back of a house party while they were both drunk off their asses. That was not a respectful way to treat a friend.

Charles reached over the edge of the couch and grabbed his solo cup, tipping a huge swallow down his throat. His thoughts became pleasantly unfocused again.

Pushing himself up Edwin’s body in an indecent drag, Charles mouthed at Edwin’s ear. “You feel so good,” he groaned, thrusting down hard. Edwin gasped and moaned, thrusting up to meet Charles, the hand not buried in Charles’ hair reaching down to grab Charles’ ass and pull him against him harder.

“Oh-kay. Everyone out,” the woman’s voice from before called out through the room.

There was grumbling and laughing as ghosts and creatures started to slowly trickle out of the little back room.

“Who gave them solo cups?” someone asked in exasperation as they walked by. “They’re practically babies.”

“Jerry,” someone said with a snort.

“Jerry!” a number of people chorused their discontent with poor Jerry, but Charles didn’t want to hear that. He didn’t want to think about the cup, he just needed every thought that wasn’t about Edwin and how to make him make that sound again to go away.

Charles reached over and fumbled for his cup again, almost knocking it over. He tipped it back, his throat working to swallow and swallow and swallow until his stomach rebelled at the thought of swallowing more. Then, he passed the cup to Edwin, who wobbled his way up onto his elbows so that he could do the same.

Whatever happened after that was indistinct. Charles remembered more moaning, from both of them but especially from Edwin. He remembered the taste of Edwin’s skin and the feel of his soft hair between his fingers. He remembered pleasure singing up and down his spine and burning low in his gut.

He remembered that they clung to each other afterward and whispered sweet words against each other’s lips and nuzzled together so tenderly. No one had ever touched Charles as gently as Edwin did, but Charles would never be able to remember the words they whispered to each other as they did so.

And, even though ghosts don’t sleep, something like it must have stolen over them eventually, because Charles couldn’t remember anything after that.

---

If Charles had felt like a princess during the party, he felt like the scum of the earth the next morning.

It didn’t seem fair for ghosts to be able to get hang overs, but Charles couldn’t come up with any other explanation for why his head was pounding like it was. Even when he was alive, he had never gotten a hangover before, but he supposed enchanted endless solo cups were probably stronger than the cheap beer that his mates would steal from their parents.

Charles pried his eyes open to blink at the sunlight bright room and saw Edwin blinking tiredly at him from about two inches away. Charles screeched, lurched backward, and fell painfully onto the dirty floor beside the couch.

“Charles?” Edwin asked sleepily, leaning over the side of the couch and looking at Charles with concern.

But, Charles couldn’t look at him. He couldn’t look at his pale throat still plainly visible against his open collar, or his mussed hair that had felt so soft between Charles’ fingers, or his frowning mouth that had gasped and moaned just the night before.

“I know what he sounds like when he cums,” Charles thought wildly, before shooting to his feet in a burst of adrenaline as that thought seared itself into the inside of his skull, something he could never unthink or undo or bury.

“Are you alright?” Edwin asked, looking distinctly more concerned.

“Yeah! Brills! Perfect!” Charles shouted, his voice strangled and awful even to his own ears. Edwin’s face was folding into a more severe frown. Charles had to do something to salvage the situation. “My head is killing me, though. Can’t remember a thing about last night,” Charles laughed, wincing and pressing a hand to his forehead. Luckily, his head was actually killing him, so he didn’t even have to pretend to wince.

Edwin’s face went startlingly blank, the frown and the furrowed brow dropping off like they’d never been there. Charles held his breath and felt like the world did too.

After what felt like an eternity, Edwin faintly said. “Yes. Me too.” He looked away and swallowed and very briefly a pained look flitted across his face that cut Charles to the quick.

“No no no,” Charles thought. “That was wrong. That was the wrong answer! Fuck!”

Edwin sighed and began doing up the buttons of his shirt in sharp yanks and twists of his elegant fingers. “You really should listen to me, Charles. I told you it was foolish to accept mysterious drinks from strangers. Now we might as well have not come to the party at all.”

“Ah, well. I mean. It wasn’t that bad,” Charles stumbled. His heart was pounding in his chest and Edwin wasn’t looking at him. “It was a lot of fun before we started drinking, yeah?”

Edwin ignored him, running a hand through his hair to try and neaten it, though the effort was wasted. His hair was too mussed to be fixed by a little bit of finger combing.

Climbing to his feet, Edwin began to pull his clothing straight. But, it still looked rumpled, even to Charles’ untrained eye. He wondered why Edwin didn’t just imagine his clothing neatened like he usually did. He wondered if Edwin was as flustered as he was.

“We ought to be getting back to the office. The girls are likely wondering where we are,” Edwin said stiffly, opening the old wooden door out to the corridor and striding out. The school looked different in the daylight. The glass was old and dirty in the unfinished part of the museum, making the early autumn light look strange and anemic on the peeling paint and scuffed wood.

“Wait, Edwin,” Charles hurried after him, but Edwin didn’t slow down. His long legs ate up the distance down the corridor toward the general direction of the front hall. “I said wait!” Charles grabbed Edwin’s wrist.

Edwin stopped suddenly, twisting his head to the side to pin Charles with a venomous look.

“Do you have something you want to talk about, Charles?” he snapped.

Charles felt pinned to the spot, like Edwin had pinned him to a piece of corkboard like a bug. “Well,” Charles mumbled. He hesitated. He knew what he should say. He knew he should come clean and admit that he did remember what had happened, but there was a rock in his stomach and his tongue felt too numb to get the words out. “Well, no, I guess-”

“If you have nothing to say to me, then let’s get on with business as usual. Shall we?” Edwin asked.

He looked brittle in that moment, like he had spun himself up a facade made of glass and if Charles so much as touched him the wrong way he would shatter. Charles had done that to him, to his best friend in the world.

Charles let go of Edwin’s wrist. He felt small and pathetic and that he likely deserved much worse than Edwin snapping at him.

“Yeah. Okay,” Charles croaked.

Edwin looked at him for a long time, but eventually he nodded and turned back around. He started walking again, this time at a more reasonable pace. Charles walked just a step behind him and tried to force down all the feelings swelling up in his chest with nowhere to go.

He would follow Edwin and protect him and be his best friend as well as he could, Charles decided. That was all he could do.

[dropoutconfessions]

I wanna start off by saying that I agree with the fans who say that the rep of trans women and transmisogyny affected comedians on dropout isn't enough (because it is orders of magnitude less than the rep of cis people and less than 1/10 the rep of transmisogyny excluded trans comedians iirc).

But I have to disagree with some folks I see calling Sam and Brennan greedy rich assholes as an explanation for why they don't wanna platform transfemmes. Because when we talk about class, it's very important to separate specific levels of "rich" between comfortable and ultra wealthy.

Robert Reich of all politicians is not going to hoard wealth, but he probably did make Sam's life growing up more comfortable than most people and gave him some financial grace to pursue comedy. But Dropout as it used to be was bleeding money in 2020. They have less than a million paid subscribers, and they share profits with the cast AND they're paying the wages of the crew. However much money Sam and Brennan are making, it is nothing compared to a billion dollars. It's not clear how much they make, but say Sam is worth $50 million (a high random number that I think is still way too high for what he'd have). That's still only 5% of $1 billion. We are all closer to Sam's level of wealth than he is to, say, Jeff Bezos. Any kids he and his wife may have are going to have a comfortable life, and he is probably going to have a good retirement, but I think you still have to look at the scale of things. And Brennan is likely making less than Sam while still being financially stable, but he clearly knows what it's like to be broke and starving and is still heavily affected by that past to this day.

Is it possible that Sam and the folks in charge of hiring casting at Dropout think TMA folks are less likely to bring profit and that's why they don't hire them? I don't know. I'm not psychic. But the image of them some people push in regards to their class is straight up wrong.

DEFINITELY more TMA comedians besides Persephone (I love her and I would actually want to see more of her in addition to other new cast members) should be hired as cast for Dropout shows in general. I think Sam should/could also pass off hosting duties of Game Changer at the very least and possibly Make Some Noise, too, bc the amount of cis men representation from him and Brennan alone in comparison to any trans people but especially TMA people is insane. They're always going to have the seasons they ran, and they can still be cast once in a while.

But I really think this lack of representation started as a blind spot rather than evil intent to squeeze as much profit out of Dropout as possible the way some people think it is. If it continues after all this conversation about it (they film like a year in advance, so maybe some grace can be given), yeah, I'm going to be upset. I already canceled my subscription, though, tbh just because the statistics of rep in terms of cis men/women and transmascs/transfemmes is extremely disproportionate for the kind of work they do.

I haven't personally seen people make it a "greedy white cis men" thing, but yk, I'm not omniscient, could be a part of tumblr doing that. I personally don't think it's an intentional thing, that's the vicious part of normalized bigotry/lack of diversity, you don't notice it until you do.

I will say though, I don't think Sam needs to stop hosting either Game Changer or Make Some Noise, he's addressed them being his dream projects and like, a love letter to game shows, I don't think either would be as good without him.

But like, they're creating a lot of new shows, there's clearly space for new regulars on Dropout. There's space for us to be included, just gotta wait for them to answer our ask for an invite and all that.

[ninyard]

"if you can't figure it out by now, then i don't have anything else to tell you."

This would be perfect for Andrew to say to Neil

“If you can’t figure it out by now, then I don’t have anything else to tell you,”

(aka an Andreil “what are we?” conversation.)

-

“Allison hasn’t stopped calling you my boyfriend since we got back from the cabins.” Neil was sat parallel to Andrew with his arms wrapped around his knees in a meagre attempt at keeping warm, next to Andrew’s outstretched legs. The air on the roof of the dorms was crisp with a fresh Spring breeze, the wind swirling debris in little whirls around them. “I haven’t told her to stop, but I will if it bothers you. ”

“Is that what you’ve been thinking about for the last twenty minutes?” Andrew asked, a rhetorical air to the question he didn’t really want answered at all. The smoke that left his lips disappeared quickly in the wind, miraculous that his cigarette was still burning. He brought it back up to his lips and inhaled before turning to look at Neil. He didn’t say anything, and his bored gaze didn’t say much either.

“It’s Allison.” Neil settled for, as if it were explanation enough. He sat up straight to match Andrew’s eye-line. “It’ll catch on.”

Andrew regarded Neil for only a second longer before turning back towards the view in front. “She has never strayed far from being a tabloid princess. It’s nothing more than front page news to her.”

“I told you she was betting on us,” Neil said, but Andrew held up a finger to stop him. “What?”

“Their poor choices in gambling are not my business.” He said, stubbing out the finished cigarette next to him and flicking the butt over the edge. His hands found rest in his lap, interlaced into each other. “They chose a horse in a race and think that they’ve won. I don’t care.”

“Tell me to ask her to stop, then.” Neil looked away as well, arms crossed over his chest, close to asking Andrew to go inside. They could talk in their dorm, except for the fact that Kevin had surprisingly invited Matt over to discuss his playing strategy, and this was not the kind of conversation Neil wanted to have with company. They could speak in German; but he’d made a conscious effort to speak in English in front of his teammates since he promised not to keep secrets from them anymore. “Say the word and I’ll tell her, because I don’t care.”

“Evidently not.” Andrew said. “Why bring it up if you didn’t?”

“Well, does it?” Neil didn’t want to indulge in his desire to dodge his questions by changing the subject. “Bother you, I mean.”

“Irrelevant bullshit doesn’t bother me.” Andrew pedantically emphasised the word bother with quotation marks in the air. “You’re asking stupid questions.”

“Valid questions.” Neil corrected.

“Needless questions.”

Neil sighed and extended his legs. He had to brush the hair from out of his eyes to look over at Andrew, reminding himself that he needed a haircut. “I’ll tell her to stop, then.”

“That is not what I said.” Andrew brushed him off with a wave of his hand.

“So are you my boyfriend?” Neil wasn’t sure why he cared so much, or if he even cared at all, because he knew in truth he would never go out of his way to call Andrew his boyfriend anyway. But in some ways it felt important to understand what was really happening, and how exclusive was their nothing? In his own mind, never to be spoken aloud, did Andrew even believe that they were a thing?

Andrew looked at him, his gaze falling from the top of Neil’s head to the bottom of his chest and back up again. He tilted his head, and landed on Neil’s eyes. After a small inhale, he nodded forward, “No.”

Even expecting it, even knowing that was what he was always going to say, it still felt like a surprise punch to his stomach. That’s what Andrew had done to him, he’d turned him soft, he’d turned him into someone with an interest in normality. He’d turned him into someone who longed for a boyfriend and a life, a home, a future, even if his stomach twisted at the thought.

He pushed down the tiny feeling of disappointment that radiated through his gut, and smiled, “Okay.” Andrew didn’t look away, but he remained silent, and Neil filled the space with a question he knew he shouldn’t ask, but had to ask anyways, “So what are we?”

“You are living inside a movie.” Andrew didn’t laugh, but Neil was sure that the desire to was buried somewhere beneath his stoic expression. “Is that how far removed you’ve become in your freedom, that you think that is something you have to ask me?” He shuffled himself over so he was better facing Neil, and he glanced between his eyes. “We are nothing.”

“A truth?” Neil tested.

“Fuck off,” Andrew poked Neil’s chest hard enough to hurt. “That is the truth.”

“So I’ll tell Allison to stop.” Neil’s head bowed in an over exaggerated nod of understanding. “I’ll tell her that you are not my boyfriend, and you don’t want to be called that. I’ll tell her you said that.”

“I hope that is not supposed to be a threat.” Neil had hoped his response would be more telling, but Andrew continued with, “Would you like to be called my boyfriend?” His tone was less inquisitive than it was mocking, the slightest grimace in his face telling Neil that he hated even saying it.

“I don’t know.” Neil reached a hand out towards Andrew, pausing for a silent glance of approval from him before he placed it on his chest, playing with the strings of the black hoodie he wore. “I’m mostly tired of not knowing what I mean to you.” Andrew’s expression hardened into something resembling annoyance as he continued to speak. “I’m not asking you to call me your boyfriend, okay? I just want to know if you‘re going to meet another guy, and think it’s okay to get him off, because we’re not together.”

Andrew didn’t move to reciprocate the touch Neil had given him, but raised an eyebrow at the hypothetical. “It sounds like it would be a problem for you if I did.”

Neil matched his stare and coolness in his response, “And what if it is?”

“This is an entirely unproductive conversation to have,” Andrew rested a wrist on Neil’s shoulder and brushed a piece of hair back behind his neck. A small but meaningful gesture that perhaps was given in lieu of ensuring Neil that his example would never happen. “I will not give you the pleasure of reassurance. If you haven’t figured it out by now, then I don’t have anything else to tell you.”

“How can I figure it out, when you keep telling me it doesn’t exist?” Neil’s voice was low, and Andrew’s sigh meant he heard the gentleness in it. He heard the way Neil hadn’t meant to sound so pleading, the words leaving his lips in such a way that felt like a desperate whisper for answers. “I want to hear you say it.”

Andrew looked down at the hair by Neil’s neck. “You know that I won’t.”

“Then tell me that we’re not just fucking for fun.”

Andrew dropped his hand and pushed Neil off, seemingly thrown by his bluntness. His laugh was a single short breath, not a semblance of a smile or humour in it. He shook his head as he took a cigarette from the packet he’d pulled from his pocket. Once the cigarette was placed between his lips, he stopped with the lighter a few inches away from his face, pointing the fire starter at Neil. “Well, we’re certainly not fucking for love.”

“That’s not what I meant.” Neil watched as he struggled to ignite the lighter, hand cupped around the flame, the wind set on blowing it out. After the third unsuccessful try, Neil reached forward to help him shield it with both his hands, until three short puffs in from Andrew told him it was lit. Andrew leaned back and exhaled. He watched as Neil pulled his hands away.

“You want to know if I’m going to get bored of you, then.” He said through smoke. Andrew adjusted himself to tuck one of his legs beneath the other, leaning his elbows on his knees. “You want to know if I have feelings, is that it?”

Neil shrugged his shoulders and looked at his hands. “Maybe.”

Neil listened as Andrew let out another smoky exhale. He cleared his throat, and when Neil thought he might speak, he instead filled his lungs again. There was no need to flick off the ash as the wind did that job for him, but from instinct he did it anyway. He let out another humourless laugh, two short puffs following in order to keep the stick lit. Andrew was not looking at Neil as he lifted his eyes to watch him, Andrew’s hazel gaze fixed on something in the distance. Using the thumb and index finger of his free hand he wiped the sides of his lips, tensing his jaw like the words took it out of him just to say. “Fuck you for even asking.”

The tug in Neil’s chest was impossible to ignore. It felt wrong to hear Andrew’s voice wrapped around those words, words that separately read like an insult, yet meant something different to their original form when he uttered them. Like watching a fish out of water, like listening to a mime sing; to have these moments of vulnerability from Andrew were as beautiful as they were rare. He hadn’t intended to steer their conversation to the place where it had landed, and part of him felt guilty as he watched Andrew silently struggle through the side of himself he swore did not exist. The side of Andrew that kept itself buried six feet below, hidden from anyone who asked, except for Neil, who’d been digging a hole for months trying to find it.

“When you put a name to something it gives it permanency, yet an opportunity to end,” Andrew sat up and moved closer to Neil, finding his position with one knee in between his legs, sitting back on a spot on the lower half of Neil’s thigh. He threw the cigarette somewhere behind him as he settled. Taking Neil’s hair into his fists, he examined the look on his face with his lips slightly pursed. He considered his words and took one hand out of Neil’s hair to hold his chin up, making sure he was listening. “You label it however you wish. I will not. Do you understand?”

Neil nodded, afraid to speak, as if any words insufficient would cause Andrew to change his mind about where he rested his body weight. It was reassurance enough that he’d found his way there, and that he remained, comfortable by his own volition.

“And for the record, Abram,” Andrew leaned in close, wisps of his hair tickling Neil’s face, his breath hot as he left a gentle kiss on his jawline. Neil shut his eyes and breathed in the moment, hiding his fists in the pocket of Andrew’s hoodie. “To answer the question you so annoyingly want answered,” He left another kiss higher up on his jaw, brushing his lip against his ear lobe as he moved, slowly, so gently Neil was both afraid he would fall apart, or that he would be able to feel his quickly beating heart through his skin. The hand that had sat in his hair moved to cup the opposite side of his face, the other tucking Neil’s hair behind his ear and holding him by his neck. Neil couldn’t help but shiver as he whispered in his ear, “I will not be fucking anyone else, and I am not just fucking you for fun. Happy?”

Neil nodded as he turned into his lips, melting into the kiss that warmed him up as the wind persisted. His hands pulled out of the hoodie pocket, and he tapped Andrew’s neck for permission to hold him. When Andrew hummed with a barely there nod, he hooked his hands around the back of his neck and pulled him closer.

There were a million things Neil could label Andrew;

Terrifying but caring. Gentle while violent.

Beautiful, like something that deserved to be hung on a wall, yet so precious Neil wished nobody else could see.

Rough. Jagged.

Talented. Human.

Misunderstood, perhaps. Genuine, most of the time.

When he thought about Andrew, there were a million things he could identify him as before landing on Neil’s boyfriend.

He would not tell Allison to stop, nor correct Nicky when he joined in. He would not say it out loud, either, as if their nothing that is something was so sacred it couldn’t be uttered. It was a relief of course to know that Andrew was his, and though he felt embarrassment rush through his blood at the idea of it, he was certain that what they had both found in each other was glaringly rare and hauntingly perfect. He noticed how perfect they fit together in each others space, lips on lips, hands on skin, and wondered how he ever doubted this was it; that this was real.

He was sure that no one else could experience such a thing.