#all hail the ​bathtub scene

[spirit-of-beetlejuiceblues12]

I inhaled so hard I instantly started choking

[blacklight-ghoulette]

Okay so like, my brain was actually working the other day and planned out a scene of how Copia ended up coming to the abbey and

Just, Special trying to convince a teenage (~15 y/o) Copia that he runs a music label/studio and he's got a lot of talent he'd like to make him a deal whaddaya say it beats busking and floating from town to town and playing in seedy bars--

And Copia just giving him a scrutinizing look then saying, "you are either an undercover cop who is going to try and set me up and arrest me for drug dealing or prostitution, or you're from some mob and I'm going to wake up tomorrow morning in a bathtub of ice and missing a kidney... So thanks but no thanks"

So Special, after all his carefully planned out attempts fail, just gives up and admits, "fiiiine I'm a demon summoned from Hell by the Satanic Church to serve our unholy antipope Papa Emeritus in taking over the world in the name of Lucifer, and have been tasked to bring you, specifically, to our abbey now will you please get in the goddamn car" to which, Copia like fuck it he's probably at least got the good drugs I'd he's spouting this shit

But when they pull up to the old church and Special drops his glamor, and there's other ghouls and siblings of sin milling about the grounds Copia is staring at it all wide-eyed and gaping, then shrieking "oh Jesus christ you are in a Satanic cult you're going to sacrifice me aren't you? You are oh dear father in heaven you're going to sacrifice me to Lucifer and--" dissolves into partially incoherent rambling and reciting a litany of our fathers and hail Mary's as he tries to find his crucifix while Special is just hitting his head on the steering wheel

"are you fucking kidding me you honestly thought I was making that up who does that kind of thing you seriously can't be Imperator's--WILL YOU FUCKING STOP THAT ALREADY IT STINGS GODDAMNIT?!" as the holy prayers Copia has been muttering starts to make Special's clothes smolder and smoke

(I'll actually properly write it out at some point, it was funny and I had to share it)

[xiaq]

do you have any fics planned for after WDWG?

Funny you should ask because after I wrote that little Old Guard ficlet yesterday morning I’ve just sort of...kept writing. It’s over 3k words now and I don’t have any idea where it’s going, but it’s going. I also owe @pianosinthewild a fic that will either be a one-shot addition to All Hail the Underdogs in which Dex/Nursey adopt and introduce Finley to Dex’s team OR it will be a one-shot witcher fic expanding on that infamous bathtub scene and the equally infamous “rubbing chamomile on your bottom” line. Feel free to note your preference as I’m completely undecided at the moment. But first I must finish writing the WDWG epilogue which will be 99% fluff and 1% answering any remaining questions/tying up loose ends that remain untied in the final chapter. Because I refuse to have 3 active fic I’m working on.

[hobipaint]

What got you into BTS? 😍 It's so interesting to know every army's story😍

for me? ahaha be prepared for an absolutely lengthy story

so we're talking about when I was nearly 13, and i was this kid who had barely heard any pop music of any form tbh - most of what i knew was taylor swift, ariana grande, justin bieber and one direction because that's all my classmates would sing. once a classmate covered stitches in music class and I really loved the song when I heard it again, and became a fan of shawn mendes after a few more songs - particularly aftertaste for some reason hehe. and another classmate told me about vh1 - I'm not too sure about how it is where you live? but for international pop fans in India, vh1 is like that one channel that plays pop music all day long- and told me about seeing shawn mendes on there. So I used to come from school, wash myself and eat my lunch while staring at vh1 in the hopes of seeing a shawn mendes video 🙈 I didn't have my own phone so the tv was really my only hope lol.

someday in july, I came home late because of an event I had to attend at school, and realised that I almost missed my daily wait for shawn mendes. and they had a segment that ran for an hour after the show I watched, called kpopped- I'm not sure if it still comes tbh,, I think they've merged kpop with international stuff now? and there's this really weird mv playing- there's someone in a bathtub, someone is running, someone is staring at the mirror, someone just plain looking at the camera, someone has a lollipop, someone is trying to sleep apparently - WAIT WHY DID HE THROW THAT BOTTLE AT THAT PERSON? WHY DID HE FAINT? WHY IS HE GETTING BEATEN UP - oh they're on a train? there's a bonfire? what is just happening?? And the song's name at the end of the video was I need u, by bts. I hadn't understood a word, or a scene, but the hook just drew me in.

I think what really got me into bts was trying to understand the underlying chaos in the i need u mv. I spent weeks watching lyric videos, learning the lyrics, spending time watching the behind the scenes (all hail bangtan subs) and trying to understand what exactly is happening in this particular video and all others (hyyh plots are a rabbit hole) and after a point I started taking a massive amount of interest in the lyrics and their meanings - it amazed so much that they conveyed so many things so beautifully in just minutes. and that's how I became an army, I guess? :)

[imjeralee]

Wallflower: Chapter 5 - The Long Day

Raihan x F!Reader

Disclaimer: Do not own Pokemon

Note: This is my first Pokemon fanfic. I hope you enjoy it :) Originally posted on Archive of Our Own.

Summary: You’re an unassuming Pokemon breeder who works at the nursery in the Wild Area and he’s Raihan, the fearsome gym leader of Hammerlocke who has more than a million followers.

You don’t want anything to do with him but he’s…persistent.

Rating: Mature/Explicit

Warnings: Lemon, smut, violence, language

THE LONG DAY

...

...

It's been a long day.

A match has just finished. He lost, again. The gym challenger jumps up and down happily whilst he recalls his fainted Duraludon and the sandstorm subsides. There's sand in his eyes but he forces himself to blink through it. The crowd's cheers gradually die down as both challengers make their way to the middle of the pitch and shake hands.

"Congrats." Raihan says, before he goes over his rehearsed line. He's said it so many times, he's lost count. He hands out the Dragon badge, gives them a TM as a gift and sends the gym challenger along their merry little way. He'll also keep his eyes peeled whether the gym challenger makes it to the finals or not.

The audience leaves, the stadium grows quiet and Raihan retires to the changing rooms where he pulls off his hoodie, leaving himself in his dragon uniform, plops himself down on a cold, hard bench, removes his headband and checks his phone. He goes through his selfies and opens his trusted app, uses the filters and chooses which one suits his liking. When he's finished with the minor edits, he posts it up on his account and a slew of likes and comments appear within several seconds of being uploaded.

'Great match, Raihan!'

'Loser'

'Ur so hot my king <333'

'Lost again, huh? not surprised'

''I get how u like to use weather in ur battles - sandstorm, rain, hail - but that was a pure shitstorm'

'Sending u so much luv, ur ma precious bby (ง︡'-'︠)ง'

’DADDY’

'Marry me!!!'

'Maybe if u spent more time training ur pokemon rather than taking selfies, u wouldn't b a shitty trainer. Just sayin ¯\_(ツ)_/¯'

'can I suck ur cock??'

The comments are mixed, needless to say. He scrolls down the growing list until he spots one from a fan with a username that seems familiar to him. The message says 'Plz go 2 Spikemuth??? I know u lost but I’ll always b ur biggest fan'.

Huh. Interesting. He hadn't been to Spikemuth for a long time and he hadn't seen Piers for a while either. Checking his Rotom calendar, he sees that he doesn't have any matches scheduled until next week. Maybe he should go and unwind, take a quick break. Replying to the message, he says 'Great idea!'. He doesn't even need to pack anything because he'll just be there for one night; instead, he merely books a return ticket from Hammerlocke to Circhester online and grabs his hotel keycard. Being a gym leader meant he had several privileges, including a twenty four seven hotel room courtesy of Macro Cosmos in Hotel Ionia.

Once he arrives in Spikemuth, it's already nighttime and he hits the nightclub after visiting Piers. He doesn't remember the name of the club but he frequents it and before he enters, he snaps another photo of himself and uploads it.

Inside, the nightclub is bustling. He's used to this type of scene and he goes to the bar, orders a drink. The first drink is on the house because he comes here so often. Although he's alone, he's approached various times by attractive women of all shapes and sizes who take selfies with him. In almost every photo, they stick their tongue out and do the peace sign. The amount of people who recognise him and go up to him as the night goes on makes him a little exhausted, so he doesn't stay in one area of the club for long, opting to change seats often. As soon as he's changed seats for the umpteenth time, he's immediately approached by a girl in a black dress; she's very attractive and slim.

"Hi." She says coolly, looking at him through half-hooded eyes.

"Hey." He replies, taking a sip of his drink.

"What are you doing here?"

He shrugs.

She smiles widely. "I'm Louisa. Are you gonna buy me a drink or you gonna leave me hanging?"

He takes another sip of his drink and settles the glass on the counter. "Sure."

Calling the bartender over by waving his hand lazily, Louisa excitedly takes the seat beside him and he allows her to order what she wants. It's something expensive but he puts it on his tab. For a few minutes or so, they chat and flirt, and she orders more and more drinks and her words become garbled and she asks him invasive questions which he’s used to, then she tells him she wants to be as rich and famous as he is and asks him for his secret. When he tells her there is no secret, her demeanour changes - she rubs her foot against the length of his leg before she slips out of her barstool and tugs at his hand playfully, inviting him to dance. He lets her take the lead and once on the dance floor, she begins grinding against his hips and taking his hands with hers and putting them on her waist.

Louisa's pulling some pretty bold moves but he finds himself looking away and it's then Raihan spots a girl sitting amongst a group of women in one corner who are chatting loudly; he remembers that interview he did recently and this girl - he has never seen her before and she is definetely not a gym challenger either - but she fits everything he described. He can't help but stare. She's wearing a tight, black dress which she doesn't seem to be comfortable in as she sits at the very edge, looking rather lost as she holds her drink in hand. She doesn't even look like she's enjoying herself. He watches her for a few moments or so, noticing how she lifts a hand to tuck her hair behind her ear and glance at her companions before she shifts her gaze to her lap. She's clearly not at home here. Raihan stares at her for a little longer than intended, drinking in the sight of her until Louisa steps on his foot with her pencil heel.

"Oh! I'm so sorry - " She says, before she immediately slams a hand over her mouth and rushes away - and promptly projectile vomits all over the floor. Looks like someone’s had too much to drink. She collapses and some concerned members of the public go help her out.

After making sure she's okay, he watches as she's carried out and returns to his seat and orders another drink. He downs it in one sip and wipes his mouth, finding his eyes glued on this other girl who’s captured his eye and piqued his interest; he sees her leaving her seat and walking towards his direction. It appears she's been asked to order drinks because she's the only one sober. Raihan watches her; she walks right past him, not even batting an eyelid.

What the Bidoof? She totally ignored him!

Doesn't she know who he is???

He observes her as she returns to her seat, balancing three drinks on a tray which her friends end up making her drink. A while later, she seems to be drunk as well because she heads to the dancefloor on her own, looking around and swaying slightly. Raihan finishes another drink and his head's throbbing too but what the hell - he wants to talk to her so he heads over and once he reaches her, he slides an arm around her waist and she looks up.

"Hi, do you wanna dance?"

She squints her eyes at him; she didn't hear him over the loud music. "...What?"

He repeats his question.

"I don't...I don't talk to strangers." She manages to slur out.

He's fairly amused; she's so cute, like a little Skitty with her pink cheeks and somewhat dazed expression. "I'm not a stranger, I'm Raihan."

"Who?"

He pauses, momentarily stunned.

Then he grins.

A girl who doesn't know him.

What are the odds, really?

...

Present.

There's a team of investigators at your house; the box has been removed and they opened it.

A pokemon's heart was inside.

You didn't see it but these men dressed in white came and took something red and fleshy out and deposited it into an icebox. The date has ended miserably; you sit on your sofa with the front door open as Looker’s team scour the rest of your house but the culprit is long gone. After taking down your testimony, you wonder what's going to happen next - Looker speaks to a man in scruffy shorts, flip flops, t-shirt, cap and sunglasses. People would've thought this man was a hobo but it was actually Chairman Rose in his civilian disguise. You can't hear what they're talking about but it can't be good. His secretary stands stiffly in silence with her hands clasped together, looking rather solemn.

Raihan sits beside you and you're stuck in his embrace. He's been hugging you the entire time but you feel he needs a hug more than you do because no-one should be facing this alone and also, you are grateful he's here so you wrap your arms around his waist and when you look up at him, he smiles at you reassuringly and pecks you on the forehead before snuggling you, and you do the same. It feels good to be in his arms, even though the date is over and there’s random men in your house, going through your things and trampling over your nice pristine carpet with their mucky boots.

Luckily, your Pokemon were fine - you flung open your door and when you saw Drifloon and Phantump in the living room, you pulled them into a hug and returned them to their pokeballs. Then you looked around for Espie and found her sleeping in your closet so you quickly returned her safely into her ball as well. Poliwag never left the bathroom and was swimming in your bathtub which he had filled with water so you quickly recalled him too. You tucked all your pokeballs into your safe box and counted them  three more times just incase. Everyone's accounted for. Thank Arceus, your Pokemon are unharmed. You will call Glenn later and ask if he can pop by your house and look after your Pokemon if he’s free.

What a shit way to end the first date you have with Raihan. You'll remember this for the rest of your life. Oh boy, what a story to tell the grandkids. Jokes aside, the Chairman's presence here doesn't bode well because you know once he finishes talking to Looker, he will probably speak to the both of you. This is bigger than you, Raihan and Looker...no matter how much you wanted to keep the Dusclops in the closet. More and more people are getting involved and will find out about the one night stand. This is humiliating.

Groaning, you close your eyes and Raihan hugs you even tighter than before that your lungs might pop. "Are you okay?" He's asked you that question a few times now.

You're not okay and you don't know whether to humour him or not, so you utter, "This isn't the first time I've seen a dead pokemon. Did I tell you that too?" Sarcastic, cynical response it is. He doesn't deserve it but you can't help yourself in this situation.

"Yeah," He replies (thank goodness he's not offended), "I'm sorry I got you involved."

"It's not your fault."

You resume your cuddling but it's cut short when Chairman Rose finishes talking to Looker and begins heading towards your house and enters through the front door. His secretary follows silently. Immediately, you climb out of his lap, allowing Raihan to stand up and you follow his example, except you begin to tremble slightly until Raihan squeezes your hand. Once Rose is directly in front of you, he exchanges glances between the two of you before he smiles warmly.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, my name is Rose and I'm the Chairman of the Pokemon League. You must be Raihan's new belle." He says.

Belle? Like the character from the popular, classical movie, Beauty and the Buzzwole? This guy is kind of weird. There's something off about him but you can't just put your finger on it.

Before you can even speak, Rose turns to the gym leader and adds, "Raihan, it's been a while since we last saw each other; usually I have no business in your affairs but this time....well, where do I even begin?" He's smiling but you don't think this conversation is heading to a good direction.

"Chairman Rose." Raihan greets him; he's different when dealing with this man. He's more stoic and serious. "We're taking care of it. I've got Looker helping us."

"I'm taking your word for it, but I'm disappointed in you. Get this sorted out right now. This could ruin everything I've worked for and I'm not taking any chances. Why else do you think the paparazzi aren't going crazy over this? I'm paying them to keep their mouths closed."

Raihan's expression doesn't change. "I'm aware."

"I'm glad you understand the severity of the circumstances here." With that, Rose turns and leaves. The tight-lipped woman doesn't say anything and follows after him.

There's a brief silence between the two of you until Raihan sits down on the sofa again.

"Raihan?" You mutter; he keeps his eyes trained on the floor but he looks up when you sit down beside him. "What did he mean? Is...is that why...when the photo of us got posted online, it just vanished the next day? I mean, okay, I guess it's a godsend something else came up but...did Chairman Rose really pay the press off? I'm sure that man won't do things for free......Is it coming from your pay cut?" Although you're not sure exactly how Raihan's making money - either from being sponsored by various companies or individuals, or from his social media - you're not sure but now that you think about it... well, you didn't think about it until now.

He nods.

Oh, shit. Your lip trembles slightly and you rub your elbow awkwardly. "Oh, Raihan."

"It's fine. I didn't want you to worry or get hurt." Raihan says, smiling gently before he reaches for your hand, entwining your fingers with his. You gaze at him worriedly and when he drops the smile, you carefully pull your hand free from his and taking a deep breath, you attempt to calm your thundering heart as you awkwardly slide your arms around him. This is your first time taking the initiative and your cheeks feel warmer than usual. He realises this too and he looks at you in surprise before you give him a squeeze. So... here you are, showing affection and care.

"I think it's best if we lay low after this." You mutter, "Chairman Rose is right. This is getting worse...and your career might be ruined. It's not worth it."

In response, he gives you a tight squeeze.

You hear someone clearing your throat and that's when you both throw your glances over. It's Looker; he looks slightly disgruntled. "Sorry to interrupt, I just wanted to check if you’re both okay.”

“Thanks, Looker,” Raihan replies, "We're fine."

”Good.”

As he begins to leave, his Rotom hovers into the air and exclaims, "Bzzzt! Confirmed visual! Suspect is at Rose Tower!"

"Thanks, Rotom. Let's go."

You turn to Raihan and your gazes meet. "...Should we go with him?"

....

Looker leaves Ballonlea and makes his way to Rose Tower; arriving at reception, he shows the receptionist his badge and proceeds to tell her he's looking for someone. He gives a name - a female's - and the receptionist checks internal employee records and informs him this particular employee is located on the fifteenth floor, belonging to the IT department. Looker thanks her and enters the awaiting lift. He's only been to Rose Tower a few occasions and discovers it's quite a sterile environment. He watches various Macro Cosmos employees walking around, all donned in the casual, cool uniform, with the hat and shades and the funky-looking triangle shaped pokeball holders stuck to their hips. They're all role model trainers - friendly, intelligent and hip.

Rotom did an excellent job - Raihan's biggest fan is a Marco Cosmos employee who lives in Spikemuth. It was typical - drunk father, dilapidated environment, hundreds of photos of Raihan in her room... This will be over soon.

Once the lift doors open, Looker finds the next reception desk and asks the lady for the girl and where she sits; the lady asks if she should call her - Looker says no, but asks for access inside - the lady kindly grants permission to enter the IT floor using her pass. Once inside, there are rows and rows of desks in open plan all filled with large computer screens - many employees are looking at two or four screens at one time, tip-tapping away rapidly into their computers. There's numerous Porygon floating around but they don't pay attention to him.

Looker goes up to a random employee and asks if he knows where the girl is. The employee tells him that she's at a booth and points down the hallway. Looker curses and makes his way as quickly as he can to the hot desk area where he sees a lone girl with her back to him, sitting at one of the terminals. Looks like she's in the middle of uploading something. Shit, it's not the video, right? A Banette stands beside her and once it senses Looker's arrival, it tugs on her elbow and hisses, a rattling noise emitting from its body.

"Stop!" Looker yells; he's just a few feet from her and the girl abruptly turns round in her swivel chair. "Don't do it."

It's a young girl; maybe even younger than Raihan's current girlfriend. Looker wasn't sure what to exactly expect but she seems perfectly normal. "Who...who are you??" She demands, clearly stunned by his arrival.

"Don't do it." Looker says sternly; he doesn't bother with any introductions. "I know who you are and what you did. Are you sure you want to do this to Raihan?" Looker points to the computer where the screen is frozen with the commands 'Confirm' or 'Cancel' and she throws her glance to the monitor. "Do you have it in your heart to do something like this to him? Is this something you really want to do? Think about it. If you press that button, you'll ruin everything he's worked for and you know he's worked hard to get to where he is now."

The girl looks annoyed at his words, "I-I don't know what you're talking about. Please leave."

"I went to your home and spoke to your father, and I found the hotel room with the slot behind the light switch where you put the camera. We know what you did to the Deerling. Do you really want to go through with this?"

He's expecting some kind of angry response, some form of retaliation to his claims. However, she merely closes her eyes, re-opens them and says, "You don't understand, nobody does. If I don't do this then he won't even bat an eyelid at me. I did everything for him. He is my everything. I've done everything for him and it's still not enough. He didn't see me at all. He doesn't see me...why doesn't he see me? I do so much for him. I comment on every video and photo, I go to as many matches as I can, I changed myself, I changed my hair, my eyes - but it didn't work, nothing did."

"And are you happy with yourself? With who and what you have become?"

She grows silent.

"You aren't, are you? You probably don't recognise yourself anymore. You probably don't even know who you are anymore. Deep inside, you know this is wrong."

"She was one step ahead. It should've been me, it was supposed to be me."

"But it wasn't. And now you're angry, you're upset and betrayed."

"Yes."

"It doesn't have to be this way."

A brief silence spawns before she casts her morose gaze to the floor. She utters, "He helped me get up every morning....helped me get through the day. If it wasn't for him, I probably would've killed myself a long time ago."

"I understand." Looker replies, "If you really love him, then you would forgive him."

Before the girl can say anything, however, there's the sound of footsteps approaching and Looker turns to see Raihan and his girlfriend standing at the hallway along with a random Macro Cosmos employee - looks like they've just arrived and everyone seems stunned to see each other.

Chaos ensues:

"What's going on here?!" The Marco Cosmos employee demands.

"Goddamnit, what the hell are you two doing here?!" Looker barks angrily; he rarely loses his cool, but this...? Motherfurret!

"What the...what is she doing here?!" The obsessed fan begins to screams; her calm demeanour vanishes at once and her expression turns murderous as she glances at Banette. "Go Banette, attack! Use Shadow Ball!" She promptly turns to the computer and Looker fumbles for a pokeball.

"Growlithe, stop her!" He throws the capsule and releases the puppy pokemon who immediately dashes over and bites on the sleeve of her uniform, pulling her arm away from the mouse but she's able to start the upload.

Banette's Shadow Ball hurtles towards the gym leader's direction; Raihan releases his Duraludon to shield his girlfriend whilst he also throws himself over her. She cannot react in time to Banette's attack but a pokeball stuck to her waist opens up and a burst of light appears, revealing another pokemon that blocks the attack along with Duraludon - it's a Garchomp - and it immediately retaliates with a Dragon Claw, knocking the Banette out in one smooth hit. Looker rushes up to the desk and grabs the mouse, cancelling the upload before it reaches one hundred per cent. Banette's attack bounces off Duraludon and the room grows silent.

”No, Banette!” The obsessed fan screams as Growlithe tugs her away from the computer and Looker quickly pulls out the USB device. With her other hand, she grabs a pokeball off her belt and tosses it forwards, “Druddigon, go!"

As a massive pokemon appears and attacks Growlithe, she is released and she quickly returns her fainted Banette into an Ultra ball before making a run for it. Looker chases after her as she disappears into the emergency exit.

...

"Beldum, use Take Down!"

From that day on, you took Beldum outside to train everyday. The mountains near your home was an ideal place and after a few days of scouring, you found a small patch of grass containing weak pokemon which you could use to train Beldum, namely Trapinch who are at a level much lower than Beldum. You direct Beldum when to attack and avoid and when the Trapinch faints, you jump and down on the spot with joy.

"Yay! You did it!"

Beldum turns to you, eye curling with happiness. You can't always tell what it's thinking but you know it enjoys training. You can also feel it's growing stronger as the days pass. Beldum is not strong enough to face other pokemon so you only have him face Trapinch and so far, you're also noticing that his attack stats are getting stronger compared to his others.

"Phew! Let's go home!" You exclaim, "It's been a long day."

Beldum nods in agreement. You've used up all your potions to keep his health up; no worries though, because Glenn will be going to the pokemart tomorrow and you can ask him to buy some for you. As you return Beldum to his pokeball, suddenly it disappears from your hand and you're shoved from behind. Landing on the ground, your knees scraping in process, you look up to see a group of boys on their bikes who are clutching Beldum's pokeball. Urgh, if it isn't Graham and his little gang.

"Hey! Give me him back!" You yell angrily as you get up wobbly. Your knees are bleeding and so are your palms, but Beldum was more of your concern.

"You want him? Then come get 'im!" Graham exclaims, before he starts pedalling away on his bike. His cronies follow and you growl under your breath, grabbing the handlebars of your bike and lifting it off the ground. You follow the boys as fast as you could go, going deeper and deeper into the forest and up a steep mountain path until you see them up ahead and looks like they've ditched their bikes to crouch in front of some bushes; once you arrive, you climb off your bike and run up to them, furious.

Before you can even yell, Graham grabs you and slaps his grubby hand over your mouth, silencing you. "Shhhh! It'll hear you!" He hisses and you blink, wide-eyed.

He drags you towards the rest of his group where they're spying on a large dragon pokemon in a cave that is hunched over a Deerling... it's a small, feeble thing - and your eyes widen as you see the large pokemon smash the Deerling's head into the ground and it lets out a weak but horrifying, pained bleat until it stops moving. Growling low, the massive dragon pokemon begins to sink its jaws into its body and tear at the flesh. Using it's massive claws, it proceeds to tear the body apart and you see nothing but blood and entrails. The boys are staring, transfixed, whilst you watch in horror. You try to escape but Graham's grip on you is too strong as he forces you to watch, much to your disgust.

"W-what is it?" One of the boys asks.

"I think it's a Druddigon."

"And it's eating that Deerling!"

In unison, they all coo in awe even though you're horrified and repulsed and you try to escape once more, your foot stepping over a twig and causing it to snap loudly.  Everyone gasps as the Druddigon immediately turns its head to your direction and the boys make a run for it; Graham lets go of you and pushes you to the ground once more and your head smacks against the dirt. As you sit up, your vision is slightly blurred as you watch the boys grabbing their bikes and pedal away, leaving you behind. You don't know where Beldum is until it appears in a burst of light and hovers in front of you protectively.

"Beldum!" You exclaim with relief. Glancing around, you find Beldum's discarded pokeball and grab it, just as a massive shadow covers your form and you look up to see the huge Druddigon before you. It lets out an insanely loud roar and you scream, throwing your arms over your head to brace for impact -

- but nothing happens.

Lowering your arms, you glance over to see a small blue pokemon with a red tummy that has stopped the Druddigon in its rage; it stands alongside your Beldum, facing off against the dragon. It waves it's little arms and snaps its jaws as it attempts to kick sand at the Druddigon and you know it's using Sand Attack.

A Gible?

Standing up, you know neither of the pokemon are a match against the Druddigon so you recklessly grab your Beldum and the Gible and take off running.

....

Oh crumbs, Looker had almost calmed down the culprit but your group ruined it by waltzing into the scene. Neither of you were aware, of course; you and Raihan had merely arrived at Rose Tower and asked if anyone had seen Looker. A kind Macro Cosmos employee said yes and agreed to take you over to see him. However, the moment you saw that Druddigon and fear gripped you like ice. It's been a long time since you've been afraid and you’re brought to your senses when you hear Garchomp growling and you blink, turning to him.

"Chompy?"

Garchomp emits another growl; you know he's asking if you're okay.

"Yes, I'm fine. Sorry about that. Thanks for saving me."

He nods and then turns to the Druddigon.

Ah, that's right. A Gible came to save you that day. It just came out from nowhere and once you successfully ran away from the Druddigon, it decided to stay with you and Beldum. Ever since you added Gible to your team, you trained him until he evolved into a Garchomp and now he's one of your most reliable fighters along with Metagross. You smile fondly at Garchomp as he waddles in front of you and you quickly come to realise that Raihan's Duraludon is fighting the Druddigon; he's whittled down the Druddigon's health until it's weak and you hastily issue a command to finish it off: “Garchomp, use Dragon Claw.” You instruct, and your pokemon strikes down your opponent with speed and strength like no other.

Druddigon is quickly knocked out and Raihan turns to you and your pokemon, grinning. "We make a good team."

You're not sure what to think - Looker was handling it fine without you two. "We shouldn't have come. What were we thinking? We're not ten years old anymore. I'm too old for this." You reply, and Raihan chuckles. Turning to the Macro Cosmos employee who has escorted you to Looker, you see he's busy on the phone informing his superiors about an emergency - also, the entire IT hot desk area is in complete disarray. Your skirmish with Banette and Drudiggon has resulted in many upturned computers and chairs and a few broken desks.

"C'mon, we need to help Looker." Raihan says, reaching for your hand.

You nod and you both recall your pokemon, then head towards the direction where Looker and the girl sprinted off to.

Adrenaline pumps through your veins and your pulse is racing. This is definitely a date to remember. You're going to remember this day for a long time. You reach the emergency exit, opening the doors where you see the stairs as well as three lifts. It's eerily silent - if Looker was chasing the girl, you would hear them, right? Two of the lifts are heading up, so naturally you assume they've taken the lift - looks like it's going to the very top floor - and you and Raihan immediately jump into the third lift once it arrives and take it all the way up. This very exciting moment is temporarily put on hold as you stand side by side and listen to dingy elevator music on your way to the top; Raihan even attempts to take a selfie. He tries to include you in the photo too but you're not in the mood for photos so you politely decline.

Once the doors slide to an open, action rears it's ugly head again - you and Raihan find yourself in a huge outdoor arena; the air here is terribly chilly and you can feel strong gusts of wind blowing from the stands. Your breath comes out in short puffs and you begin to shiver but you see Looker and the obsessed fan ahead; they have finished a pokemon battle with Looker recalling his fainted pokemon. You and Raihan rush up to him but he holds his arm out.

"Don't do anything rash." He warns, and you take note of the obsessed fan who is standing a distance away. The moment she sees Raihan, and her eyes widen with fright.

"Thanks, Looker. What's her name?"

Looker tells him.

"Thanks, I'll talk to her." Raihan mutters.

"Wait, don't - " You and Looker speak in unison, but Raihan is already walking towards her. You help Looker stand on his feet and you both watch Raihan approach the girl. The atmosphere feels terse, thick with tension.

"Hi," He says, smiling, "You're my biggest fan, right?"

"Y-yes, I am." Strange, she's very timid all of a sudden.

He says her name and she nods.

"You....you know my name?"

"Of course I do."

She clamps a hand over her mouth in shock before tears begin bubbling in her eyes.

"Thanks for supporting me. If it weren't for you, for all of you, things could've turned out a lot differently for me. Thanks for being there for me. I get a lot of harsh comments, but you've always cheered me on. Thank you."

She nods vigorously. "Yes, yes, of course I will!!! You're so important to me, I-I - " She clutches her chest, "I can't believe this, you're...you-you're actually talking to me. I-I've always imagined this! And it's really happening!" She can't seem to control herself now as she splutters and stutters before she reaches for him. She wants to touch him and she begins making her way towards him. Raihan doesn't move, allowing her to approach. What the hell?! You try to interrupt but it's too late - as soon as she's in arm's length of him, you see her pulling a knife from behind her and Raihan doesn't realise -

You release Garchomp from his pokeball and he executes a Slash, causing the knife to go clattering out from her hand. She whips her head to you, furious; Raihan exchanges glances between the two of you whilst Looker hurriedly collects the knife.

"I challenge you to a pokemon battle!" You find yourself yelling out; you need to avert her attention from Raihan or else she'll try to pull a stunt like that again should she get the chance. Enraged, the obsessed fan accepts the challenge, grabs a pokeball from her belt and releases her pokemon. It's a Garchomp, too.

"Garchomp, use Dragon Tail!" She directs her pokemon to attack first.

"Outrage!" You yell, and you watch as both Garchomp lunge at each other. You will show no mercy. The moment they clash and you wince as the Dragon Tail connects with your pokemon; your Garchomp assaults the opponent at the same time and both pokemon land on the ground. Her Garchomp wobbles slightly before collapsing. Success! The enemy Garchomp is knocked out cold and your Garchomp is still standing!

Annoyed, she recalls her fainted Garchomp whilst yours stands proudly in the arena, victorious. She chooses her next pokeball and throws it high into the air. "Go, Dragonite!"

You return Garchomp, thank him for his hard work and choose your next battler. "Go, Tyranitar!"

Raihan watches you and your pokemon with his arms crossed and a smile; you know he's impressed but there's no time to waste.

"Hyper Beam!" The obsessed fan commands, and the Dragonite begins gathering energy in its mouth.

"Ice Punch!" You yell, and Tyranitar acknowledges your instruction with a roar and slams one arm towards the direction of the Dragonite's belly. A cluster of thick ice surrounds your Tyranitar's claw which proceeds to ram into the Dragonite and it stops in mid-attack, promptly knocking out the dragon pokemon with one hit. It's super effective!!!!

The Dragonite is recalled and there's only one pokeball attached to her belt; the obsessed fan is down to her last pokemon. You wonder what her final pokemon is - and she tosses the ball onto the field. A Hydreigon appears in a burst of light and you stare as she quickly returns it; a bright red light appears on her wrist and begins to gather around her - she has a Dynamax band - and she grabs the ball which has become enlarged and throws it high into the air, revealing the Dynamaxed Hydreigon. It promptly flaps its massive wings and a fierce gust of wind almost knocks you off your feet if Tyranitar didn't help by shielding you.

"Thanks, boy." You say, as Tyranitar growls affectionately at you before turning to face the gigantic Hydreigon. "It's Dynamaxed but don't be afraid."

Tyranitar throws it's glance to the ground, twiddling it's claws together timidly.

"You can do it! I believe in you!!" You pat him on the back, and Tyranitar returns to the field. "Use Stone Edge!"

Your Tyranitar nods and emits a roar; the ground shakes and just as the Hydreigon is beginning it attack, Tyranitar summons enormous pillars of rock that burst out from the ground and slams into the Hydreigon without delay. Although it's not a super effective move, the attack hits the Hydreigon square in the chest and it begins to explode in a glorious display of fire and light before it begins to return to normal size. He did it!!

Raihan and Looker watch as the dust clears away. The obsessed fan is out of pokemon. Your pokemon had completely and utterly decimated her team in minutes and her jaw drops in disbelief.

"No!" She yells, furious. Distraught, she looks around the arena shakily before she runs for the railings - you know what she's trying to do - before she can throw herself off, Raihan has grabbed her, hauling her away from the edge just in time. She lands in his chest as he drops over the floor and she attempts to wriggle free, flailing violently. Although you wonder if she's got another knife hidden somewhere, you get the feeling she's out of options and now she is truly helpless. Raihan sits up with the girl who's crying heavily and she's immediately intercepted by Looker who takes out a pair of handcuffs, slapping them on her wrists.

You recall Tyranitar, rush over to Raihan as he gets up to stand, grinning at you. Without thinking twice, you throw your arms around him; he's taken aback by your action, eyes wide, before he chuckles and quickly wraps his arms around you in return and scoops you off the ground; you find your feet leaving the floor and you quickly adjust yourself to this new position, slipping your arms around his neck whilst he keeps you hoisted up with his arms tucked under your knees, your chest pressed against his.

"You idiot, you could've gotten killed!" You can't help but scold him.

Your faces are close as he clutches you. "I'm sorry I made you worry."

"Not good enough." You retort, "Don't do that ever again!"

"Okay." He leans in and quickly pecks you on the mouth and you find your anger subsiding; you can't stay mad at him.

The two of you then turn to Looker who is escorting the obsessed fan out of the arena and towards the lifts. She's still crying uncontrollably, and Looker glances at you and Raihan. "Good job," Looker grunts out, "Thanks for your help, I appreciate it."

"What's going to happen now?"

"You both need to come with me to the police station." Looker replies, and Raihan - still carrying you - begins to trail after him.

"You can let me down." You tell him but he merely smiles at you cheerfully.

"Nope, I like carrying my princess like this ~ "

...

At the police station, there's a lot to do but Looker releases both yourself and Raihan after a few hours; you have provided another set of testimony and it does appear the case is closed. He thanks you for your efforts in stopping the obsessed fan and also your assistance with police investigation. Unused to receiving compliments, you stuttered out that you didn't do anything substantial. Meanwhile, there is some damage to Rose Tower but Macro Cosmos will deal with this themselves and Looker will ensure there are no repercussions on you and Raihan. When you ask Looker what will happen next, Looker informs you that the fan is charged with a number of crimes - recording illegally, blackmail, abuse of employee rights, invasion of privacy, attempted murder and pokemon slaughter. It will depend if charges are to be pressed - in a few days, she could stand trial and her pokemon, confiscated.

Attempted murder? It sounds serious and you scratch your head in befuddlement. It's taking a while to sink in that you were in a dangerous situation earlier...it's like something out of a crime drama or an action movie. Again, these sorts of stuff might happen to your friends, yes. Just not...you.

You can't help but wonder how Raihan feels. Is he doing well? Should he see a counsellor after this? Is he traumatised? You stand at the vending machine, slotting in coins for two fresh waters. You collect the drinks and turn round to see Raihan sitting quietly with his gaze trained on the floor. He's not on his phone, either. You sit down beside him and hand him the bottle of water; he thanks you, unscrews the lid and takes a few gulps.

You both sit in silence for a while until you say, "Do you want to talk about it?"

He breathes in and exhales gently then leans back on the seat, resting his elbows on the chair and looks up at the ceiling. You guess he isn’t in a mood to talk - which you will respect so you don't press him any further. However, he reaches for you, lifts you off your seat and eases you into his lap. He lifts you up as though you weighed nothing. You blink owlishly as he encircles his arms around your waist and buries his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent. You're unmoving for a few moments before you slowly wrap your arms around him. Your action prompts him to clutch onto you tighter, his grip on you increasing.

It becomes a full body hug with your chest pressed tightly against his and your hips knocking together, your arms wrapped tightly around his neck whilst he holds you by the waist. You’re so close to him you can feel his breath on your cheeks. You rest your chin on his shoulder and give him a little rub on his back. His muscles are tense. You hope he will loosen up but all Raihan does is hold you close to him and you can feel the warmth that radiates from his body as well as his steady heartbeat. This actually feels...nice.

There's never a dull moment with Raihan, because he begins trailing little kisses over the side of your face as you cling onto him. You can feel him grinning against your skin before he presses another kiss over your cheek and finally, your lips.

...

Once you return home, you open the door to see Glenn in your living room, playing with your Pokemon. He's wearing a Hydreigon hood with Hydreigon sock puppets on each hand. You bristle at the sight but say nothing. Meanwhile, Espeon sits at his feet, watching. Even Poliwag has left the bathroom and is now sitting in the armchair to his left. Upon your arrival, everyone looks up and Glenn removes the hood and grins widely at you, "Yo!!! How was the date?"

You exhale loudly as you trudge over, removing your bag and collapsing over the couch beside him; you drop your head on his shoulder and groan. "It was fine. I have something for you." You take out Ponyta's pokeball and hand it to him. Glenn has been looking for one for a long time and you know he really wants one, so you figured you'd gift it to him.

"Ohh, a pokemon! This is so exciting! I wonder what's inside?" Glenn takes the pokeball off you and opens it, releasing the horse pokemon and for a few seconds, he's stunned as it lets out a high-pitched whinny and clops its hooves. Glenn's jaw hits the floor. "Oh my Drowzee, whaaaaaat! No way!! Whaaaaaaat? Nooooo, it can't be - whaaaat!"

"Yep, it's a Galarian Ponyta."

He lets out a hoot of joy. "Thanks, sis!!!!" Glenn exclaims cheerfully as he reaches over and pinches at your nose with his fingers hidden behind the Hydreigon puppet before he rushes over to the Ponyta and throws his arms around it. "Ohhh, you're so beautiful, yes you are!! I'm gonna call you 'Sugarplum'."

You giggle as Glenn continues fawning and doting over the Ponyta who neighs in response as he hugs it. It appears to have taken a liking to him immediately and he returns it to the ball, grinning widely. "Thanks, sis!"

"Raihan caught it but he gave it to me.”

He blinks. "Really?! That's amazing! Can you thank him for me?"

"Of course."

You and Glenn settle on the couch again where he continues where he left off with the Hydreigon puppet, "Hydreigon used Dazzling Gleam!"

You wrinkle your nose in response; you don't remember Hydreigon being capable of using this fairy type move, but you're well aware Glenn likes to improvise a lot. "Do you have another puppet?"

"I sure do." Glenn fishes around his bag and gives you a puppet - it's an Espurr with pink beady, glassy eyes - and you promptly drape it over your right hand. Phantump and Drifloon watch, engrossed. "Hydreigon used Dark Pulse!"

"Nooooo, it's super effective!" You cry, shaking your puppet and Espeon hisses angrily at Glenn, "But Espurr clung on using it's Focus Sash! Espurr used Play Rough!"

"It's super effective!!!" Glenn roars, throwing his fists into the air, "Hydreigon regained a little of it's HP using its Leftovers! Hydreigon used Dragon Pulse!"

"Espurr fainted!" You yell, and you make the Espurr puppet squeak with pain before doubling over. Phantump trills loudly in response whilst Poliwag and Drifloon looks between the two of you. And Espeon is still hissing in dismay. When it grows silent, the two of you burst into laughter before you drop to the couch, exhausted.

"Long day, huh?" He asks, when you stop laughing.

"Yeah," You say, "...It was a long day."

...

[otherworldlysinners]

desertgourd​:

He had tensed only in that first moment, that fraction of a second as those gentle yet firm hands came to rest on his shoulders. There was something vulnerable about lying naked in a bathtub with Addhir behind him - with any man behind him - that felt wholly alien.

Then Addhir began his ministrations, and Gaara folded like a deck of cards.

He felt as though he were observing the scene from a distant corner of the room. He watched his breathing slow and his eyes slip half-closed, watched his torso round and lean forward to give Addhir’s fingers access to every square inch of skin and the knotted muscles beneath them. Every so often he would press back and exhale softly when Addhir touched on a particular spot - here, the stressed tendon from training with a new weapon; there, where he had spent too many hours hunched over a text by lamplight; worst, the spots at the base of his neck just lateral to his top vertebrae where tension festered every time his father spoke.

He pressed back simply for the sake of it, too, just to urge the soft palms and fingers to dig ever more deeply into his flesh.

Gaara realized at some point that Addhir has asked him a question, and was awaiting his response.

“The musicians and dancers are beautiful to watch. They bring so much life into the hall. You’d hardly believe what it looks like the rest of the – mm, year.” Addhir had found a particularly sensitive area in the junction between his neck and shoulder blade. He braced his arms on the lips of the tub, limbs like putty. “But of course, I’m most looking forward to tomorrow.”

“And yourself? In your past stations, have you ever attended a festival like this? You must have.”

  Every movement was scanned, every sigh noted like a scientific discovery under the watchful eyes and ears of Addhir. The difference between a simple comfort massage and proper treatment was significant, and in the long run his current ministrations would not do much to ease the tension in Gaara’s muscles, he knew, but such concerns would have to wait for a different time to be addressed. Right now, all that mattered was the pleasure of the moment.

  “None of royalty like yours, I admit.” Addhir hummed, pressing his thumbs against both sides of Gaara’s spine before slowly dragging them out.

  “My former master did enjoy a good party, but his taste for guests tended to be... well. I probably should not speak ill of him.” His voice easily betrayed the cheeky smile tugging at his lips. 

  “But I have attended street festivals of all sorts, yes. Despite their differences I find that they all do have some things in common though - rich or poor, around here or up north where I hail from. There is usually music, dancing, whatever is considered tasty food, and a good amount of social mingling. Difficult for me to say which of those I enjoy the most, really. Maybe the dancing. Though alas, seeing as your father does not seem interested in having me dance for anyone’s eyes but yours, I fear that I will not be doing much of that tonight.”

[pikapeppa]

Fenris the Witcher: Simply Just

In which I shamelessly adapt the Geralt/Yennefer bath scene from episode 5 of the Netflix show to Fenris and Rynne Hawke. This is entirely @schoute​‘s fault, as is the BEAUTIFUL ART. 

Read here on AO3 instead; ~4000 words.

The bathing chamber was very nice, and it put Fenris on edge.

He cautiously examined the well-equipped room. A raised platform in the center of the room boasted a luxurious sunken bath that was easily large enough for four. Large stained glass windows along the western wall would allow the bather to enjoy the full sunset – if the sun was still up, that is. At this late hour, the bathchamber was lit by a multitude of candles instead: far more candles than Fenris needed or wanted, but which the sorceress insisted on lighting. 

For a romantic mood, she’d cheekily said before leaving him here alone. He supposed he should be grateful she’d left, given the heated way she’d been eyeing him since the moment he’d dragged the damned bard through the doors of the keep. 

His gut twisted at the thought. Fucking bard, he thought. Fenris had told the bard countless times that he preferred to travel alone: that his work was dangerous, and there was no place for someone so vulnerable at a witcher’s side. And yet he continued to follow Fenris across the continent, making his inane comments and singing his fucking songs…

That sorceress better be able to heal him, Fenris thought grimly. The last thing Fenris needed was for news to spread that an innocent bard had met an untimely demise while travelling by his side. Especially a bard as popular as Dorian. 

Fenris pushed the thought aside; there was no point worrying until the sorceress finished her work. He might as well wash the stinking drowner guts away in the meantime.

He took a bracing breath, then finally dropped his towel and stepped into the sunken bath. The water was hot and fragrant, smelling of something woodsy and sweet, and the soap at the side of the tub was just as sweetly scented.

Fenris ignored the scent as he roughly washed his hair. He scrubbed his neck and arms briskly, and in a matter of minutes his skin was clean, stained only by the lyrium and ink that had marred his body for almost as long as he could remember. 

He dunked his head one last time and slicked the hair back from his face, then stood up and waded toward the edge of the tub. Now that he was clean, he should get out of this chamber. Go find Dorian and make sure he was healing properly from the curse that was fulminating in his neck and closing off his windpipe. 

But the sorceress had said the healing ritual would take time. Even if Fenris did go to check on Dorian, there was nothing he’d be able to do to help. 

Besides, the water in this tub was so warm. It had been months now since Fenris had last bathed in warm water. Or indoors, for that matter.

He paused with his hands on the edge of the tub. He stood there for a long moment as the heat soaked into his aching legs. Then, with a sigh, he sank into the tub once more. 

He would just stay here for a little longer until his muscles loosened up. He needed to be ready to move again as soon as Dorian got his damned voice back, and stiff muscles never made for a timely departure. 

He leaned back against the curved edge of the tub and closed his eyes, all the better to meditate for a moment and relax his muscles even more. He sat in the water for some time, floating in a state of half-awake restlessness as he waited for the tension to leave his shoulders and his thighs.

A creaking at the bathchamber door pulled him from his uneasy reverie. He whipped around and glared at the door, his fingers hovering tensely near the small silver dagger that was always strapped to his ankle. 

The door swung open, and the sorceress stepped into the bathing chamber. She sauntered right up to the platform and smiled at him. “How is it?” she asked. “Warm enough for your liking?”

He narrowed his eyes. She’d promised him some privacy. From the bold-as-brass grin on her face, however, it seemed that any privacy he’d had was now forfeit.

He turned away from her and settled back against the edge of the bath. “It is warm enough. Thank you.” 

“You’re very welcome, Fenris of…?” She leaned her elbows on the edge of the tub and peered at his profile. “I didn’t quite catch where you hail from.” 

He frowned. It never ceased to aggravate him that people cared where he was from. Was it not enough that he hunted and destroyed the monsters that prowled these god-forsaken lands? According to Dorian’s nagging, it wasn’t; Dorian was constantly saying that Fenris would sound more trustworthy and heroic if he said he was from somewhere. 

But Fenris wasn’t trying to be heroic. He was just trying to eke out a living in a world where he was reviled for multiple reasons that were neither his choice nor fault.

He glanced at the sorceress. She was still looking at him expectantly. 

He grunted. “It is simply Fenris.”

She hummed thoughtfully. “‘Simply’ Fenris. I like it.” She pushed away from the edge of the platform, and to Fenris’s dismay, she sashayed up the few small steps until she was standing on the platform beside the sunken tub and looking down at him. 

He kept his stony gaze on the wall of windows, unwilling to betray his discomfiture at her open stare. He was no stranger to the staring; he was stared at wherever he went, eyes crawling over his uncommonly white hair and the tattoos that trailed across his body like malevolent vines. On the rare occasions when he bedded someone, tolerating their morbid fascination was just part of the price he had to pay. Just because the staring was common didn’t make it comfortable, however.

The silence stretched for a few loaded seconds. Then, to Fenris’s surprise, the sorceress sat beside the tub and crossed her legs comfortably. “You’re welcome, by the way,” she said. 

“Excuse me?” he said blankly. 

“For saving your bard,” she said. She adjusted the long skirt of her beaded white gown. “He’s fine. He needs sleep to make sure the spell takes, but he’ll be fine.”

An uncomfortable spike of guilt poked his gut. He hadn’t even asked how Dorian was doing. 

He bowed his head to the sorceress. “I… I’m in your debt, Lady Amell. Let me know how I can repay–”

“Please, don’t call me ‘lady’,” she said. “It’s just Rynne. No need to stand on ceremony when you’re sitting naked in my bathtub.” She raised a salacious eyebrow.

He eyed her curiously. Nobles were never this informal with him. “All right,” he said. “‘Just’ Rynne.” He raised an eyebrow at her in turn.

She grinned at him, and his breath caught for a moment as he gazed into her unusual eyes. They were a bright warm gold, almost fiery with reflected warmth from the candles that she’d insisted on lighting around his bath. 

He forced himself to look away. Odd-coloured eyes shouldn’t surprise him; he saw odd-coloured eyes every time he happened upon his own reflection, after all. Freakishly bright green eyes in his case instead of Rynne’s brilliant gold, but odd nonetheless. 

She stretched out comfortably on her side — an unusually casual pose by any measure. Her skirt slid apart at the thigh, exposing the golden length of her leg.

A ripple of carnal heat ran from his scalp down to his toes. Oblivious to his heated thoughts, Rynne was talking again. “Truth be told, it’s actually Rynne Hawke, not Amell,” she said. “But we like to pretend in this household that the Hawke name didn’t exist.” She propped her cheek on one fist and smirked. “Rather difficult when we all look so much like my father, but what can you do?”

He tore his greedy gaze away from her bare leg and gave her an odd look. “This is your family home?”

“That’s right,” she said.

He gazed at her with growing surprise. “You returned to your hometown after your training at Arlathan?” He raised an eyebrow. “I assume you trained at Arlathan, at least.”

“I did, yes.”

Fenris tilted his head. “That’s… unusual. That they sent you back to your hometown. Is it not more common that mages provide their services outside of the jurisdiction where they were born?”

“It is,” Rynne confirmed. “But I’m a strange mage.”

He frowned, and she let out a little laugh. “That’s my coy way of saying I’m a rather weak one. The Sisterhood couldn’t find much of a use for me, so they sent me home. Which is what my mother wanted anyway. She gets an Arlathan-trained mage to bolster the Amell name, I got to come back to my family…” She shrugged affably. “It’s a happy ending all around.”

He eyed her pensively. Her tone was light and she was smiling, but Fenris got the impression that there was something she wasn’t saying.

She waved her hand dismissively. “Enough about me, though. I’m curious about you.” She smiled sweetly at him and trailed her fingers in the bathwater.

He wilted slightly in resignation. “What do you want to know?”

“Anything,” she said brightly. “Everything. Tell me the last place you’ve been.”

“Before this?” He shrugged listlessly. “I was in Starkhaven last. I was there to hunt and kill a werewolf.”

Her eyebrows rose. “A werewolf? Shit. Well, you clearly won the fight.”

Fenris shrugged again. “It was not a true werewolf. Just a particularly large rabid wolf. Still, I put the creature out of its misery.”

“And took the coin, I presume?” Rynne said.

“Half of it,” Fenris said. “The wolf was not a true monster.”

She hummed thoughtfully and continued to swirl her fingertips in the water. “A witcher with a moral compass,” she mused.

He shot her a resentful look. “I take it you subscribe to the common view of witchers, then.”

“And what view would that be?” she asked.

“Freak,” he said baldly. “Mutant. Heartless mercenary, glorified butcher. Take your pick.”

“That’s not the view that I have,” she replied. Her eyes slid suggestively over his bare body beneath its feeble veil of water.

He huffed. This sorceress was certainly a bold one. He leaned his elbows back on the edge of the tub with affected casualness. “You speak your mind. I’ll give you that.”

“I try to,” she said cheerfully. “Even when it’s not always appreciated. On that note, I’ve got another question for you.”

He grunted. “I doubt that I can stop you from asking it.”

She flashed him another smile, but her bold golden gaze was tracing slowly over his neck and shoulders, and he sighed. “Go ahead. Ask about them,” he muttered. “Everyone does.”

She smirked. “If you insist. What’s the story with the tattoos?”

“What stories have you heard?” he said dryly.

“That they’re magical,” she said. “That you add to them every time you kill a new legendary beast.” She chuckled. “One story said you have a line or dot for every beautiful man or woman you sleep with.”

Damned Dorian, Fenris thought in annoyance. Still, the bard would be thrilled to know his fanciful stories were travelling as far as Lothering. 

Fenris closed his eyes and pretended to ignore her keen gaze. “Those are interesting stories,” he said. 

“They are,” she agreed. “I’d rather know the truth.”

“Wouldn’t they all,” Fenris drawled.

“They wouldn’t, actually,” Rynne said. “Most people prefer stories. They’re easier to swallow and nicer to think about at night.”

His eyes popped open. Considering her light-hearted manner, that was an oddly cynical statement to fall from her raspberry-red lips. 

He studied her carefully. Her expression was pleasant, but there was something serious and heavy about her gilded eyes – a weight that made him think her lightheartedness was just as affected as Fenris’s own ease with his naked skin.

They stared at each other for another heartbeat. Finally he deigned to feed her a crumb of truth. “I was given these marks as part of the ritual that made me what I am,” he said.

She tilted her head. “Tattoos are part of the usual witchering process?” 

Yes, he thought. He could easily tell her this lie; there were no other elven witchers left alive in the world to refute him, after all. 

“No. They aren’t,” he said instead. Then he frowned at his hands. Why hadn’t he lied to her?

“Ah,” she said. “You’re just the lucky one to get them, then.”

Yes, he thought again. After all, he’d survived the process – a stroke of fortune by any measure. 

“Quite the opposite,” he said, to his own dismay.

Her eyebrows rose slightly. “What do you mean? 

“I didn’t want–” He pressed his lips together hard, irritated at himself for revealing so much to this woman that he’d only just met. There was something about her, about this Rynne Amell – no, Rynne Hawke, he thought – that loosened his tongue in an odd way.

Suddenly it occurred to him why he might be talking to her so much – more in five minutes than he had in weeks, in fact. He shot her a hard look. “Are you enchanting me?” he demanded.

Her eyebrows shot up. “No. Why?”

He glared at her, and her fingers went still in the water. “Oh ho. Now who’s subscribing to a common view?” she said archly. She sat up and adopted a mocking voice. “‘Sorceresses are temptresses and manipulators. Purveyors of pleasure to keep their masters and mistresses happy.’ Or so some ignorant people think.” She shot him a flat look. “Including you, apparently.” 

She made as though to push herself upright, and Fenris grasped her arm. “Wait,” he blurted. 

She stopped and met his gaze, and once again, he was arrested by the limpid clarity of her eyes. In all the decades he’d walked this cursed world, he’d never seen eyes of Rynne’s particular shade of gold. 

A shiver ran down his back, lifting the fine hairs on his neck and his arms. The bathwater was getting cold. 

His eyes widened as he realized why. Rynne’s fingers trailing in the bathwater… 

“You were keeping the water warm?” he asked. 

She pursed her lips. “Does that offend you?” she said stiffly.

He stared at her for a second longer, then released her arm. “No,” he said. “It was… subtle, in fact. Skillful.” He settled in the tub once more and gave her an appraising look. “You’re not as weak a mage as you make yourself out to be.”

She lifted her chin slightly. “Are you calling me a liar?”

“Wha… no,” he said. Then he realized that that’s exactly what it seemed like he was doing.

He ran a hand through his hair. “Fasta vass,” he muttered. “That was not my intent. I apolog–”

“You’re from Tevinter?” she said suddenly.

A spike of alarm jolted through his chest, and he gaped at her. How had she figured that out? He was always so careful to mask his native accent. The only one who knew he was from Tevinter was Dorian, and then only because Dorian was from Tevinter too. If this information got out, no number of Dorian’s ballads would save Fenris from going entirely broke. 

He swallowed hard. If his pulse wasn’t four times slower than the average man’s, he was sure it would be racing now. “No, I’m… I’m not. Why do you think that?” he blustered gracelessly.

Once again, Rynne surprised him by smiling. “You swore in Tevene,” she said. “Swear words are extremely telling, you know.” She chuckled and stretched out on her side again. “You should train yourself in using different swear words. Try a little ‘fuck’ here and there.”

Her tone was back to its usual warm and playful timbre. Fenris studied her for a moment, then settled back against the edge of the bath again. “Believe it or not, I’m usually quite apt at using ‘fuck’ instead,” he said. 

“Mm. I can only imagine,” she murmured. 

He darted a glance at her. Her expression was heated and sly, and his cock stirred with interest. Suddenly the idea of ‘a little fuck here and there’ didn’t seem entirely terrible. Or terrible at all, if he was perfectly honest.

He breathed slowly through the inopportune surge of lust until it ebbed away. Rynne’s fingers were drifting in the bathwater again, and when the water was hot once more, Fenris broke the silence. 

“Only Dorian knows,” he said, very quietly. “It–”

“–would ruin your reputation, I imagine,” Rynne said. “I can understand that. Your secret’s safe with me.” 

He glanced at her. A little smile was playing across her lips, but even so, she seemed sad.

He regarded her curiously for a moment: her casual lounging pose, the enticing line of her leg, the composure in her sad little smile. “You are not as young as you appear, are you?” he said.

She looked up and met his eye, and her smile widened into something more genuine. “What a question to ask a lady.”

“You said not to call you a lady,” he replied.

Her smile broadened further still, giving Fenris a glimpse of a dimple at her left cheek. She playfully splashed a bit of water at him before speaking again. “If you want, you could always tell people you’re from here. From Lothering, I mean. I’ll back up your story in case anyone asks.”

He stared at her, thrown off once again. She was offering not only to keep his secret, but to reinforce it, even though he’d accused her of enchanting him? Not only that, but she’d offered to save Dorian’s life before Fenris had even had a chance to offer any payment… 

He dropped his gaze to his tattooed hands. “Why are you doing this?” he said stiffly. 

Her fingers went still. “Doing what?”

Talking to me, he thought. Helping me. Being kind.

He shot her a hard look. “What do you want from me?” he said.

She raised her eyebrows and continued trailing her fingers in the water. “Nothing,” she said. She gave him a cheeky little smile. “Your company and conversation are payment enough.” 

He gazed at her beautiful face in silence, unable to find a suitable reply. His company and conversation… nobody wanted Fenris’s company and conversation. Well, there was Dorian, but Dorian didn’t travel with him for the company. Dorian was reaping the benefits of Fenris’s infamy, taking the grit of his life and turning it into glamour for their mutual benefit. What Rynne was suggesting – that she actually enjoyed his presence in her home, despite his surliness and his suspicions and his twisted, freakish nature… 

His chest felt tight, like an odd sort of discomfort was swelling in his ribs and his throat. All of a sudden, he didn’t want to be in this bathtub any longer.

He stood abruptly and stepped out of the bath without meeting her eye. He grabbed the towel he’d dropped and hastily wrapped it around his waist, wishing that he had something more protective to cover his scarred and stained skin. 

“What, finished already?” she said. “You’re quick. I prefer to take my time, especially if it’s hot.” She snickered. “The bathwater, I mean.” 

Her tone was playful and warm, and it set his teeth on edge. He stalked over to the bathing chamber door. “I would like to see Dorian now,” he said gruffly. He stepped into the adjoining bedroom and quickly pulled on the trousers she’d left on the bed for him to borrow. 

The trousers were tight – nearly too tight. He scowled as he laced them up. Then Rynne’s drawling voice followed him into the bedroom. 

“I believe I sized you up quite nicely,” she said, and she openly eyed his crotch.

He gave her a chiding look and reached for the shirt, but Rynne sat on the bed – and on the shirt – before he could pick it up. “There’s no rush, you know,” she said. “Your friend can’t leave until tomorrow at least.” 

“He’s not my–” Fenris broke off before he could say something callous. He’d already been unkind enough to Dorian for one day without clarifying that Dorian was not his friend. Not that Dorian was here to hear him say it, but it would injure Dorian’s feelings if he did. Not that Fenris was particularly concerned about Dorian’s feelings.

He ran a frustrated hand through his damp hair. Then Rynne spoke in a more serious tone. “You’re safe here, you know. Both of you. You can let your guard down for one night.”

“There is no such thing as safe,” he retorted. “Not truly.”

She tilted her head. “If you really think there’s no such thing as safe, then why do you bother hunting monsters?” 

He scoffed. What a foolish question. “It is my job,” he said.

“Really?” Rynne said. “Saving villages, risking your life to hunt enormous monsters, killing rabid wolves and only taking half the coin… that’s all just a job to you?”

“Yes,” he gritted.

“Do you ever feel called to some higher purpose?”

He glared at her. Why was she asking him such personal questions? “Do you?” he retorted.

She laughed lightly. “I don’t think so. But I’ve got no fucking clue. That’s why I’m asking you. You’ve lived longer than I, if the stories are true. I thought you might have some insight to share.”

He glowered at her for a moment longer, but her gilded eyes were wide and waiting, and… venhedis, it was so damned strange to meet someone who was so utterly uncowed by him. 

He unfolded his arms. “There is no such thing as a higher purpose. This is all there is.” He looked pointedly at the shirt she was sitting on. 

She smirked and shifted so he could pick up the shirt, then replied while Fenris pulled the shirt over his head. “What stops you from just lying down and giving up, then? If nothing will ever get better or safer?”

He shoved his hair back and frowned at her. “Are you asking my opinion or looking for counsel?”

She shrugged. “Maybe both. You’ve had more time to think about this, after all.”

He eyed her appraisingly. Odd that her tone of voice was breeziest when she was saying the heaviest things. 

On impulse, he reached out and tipped her chin up. Her eyes widened, making her look young and guileless again, and Fenris was seized by a strange sense of… of mismatch, almost, between the obvious youth of her body and the existential weight of the questions she was asking.

“How old are you, Rynne?” he asked quietly.

She nibbled her lush lower lip in the most enticing way before replying. “I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” she murmured.

His traitorous gaze dropped to her lips. When they curled into a cheeky smile, he released her chin and stepped away from the bed. “Fuck’s sake,” he muttered.

She laughed – an undeniably lovely sound – and rose from the bed. “Now that’s more like it. Come on now, ‘Simply’ Fenris, I’ll take you to see your precious not-friend.” She winked at him and wafted toward the door, and for the first time, Fenris noted the hint of a wicked-looking tattoo on her left shoulder blade peeking out from behind the veil of her gown.

He raised his eyebrows. That was very unusual to see on a noblewoman, even one who was a mage. 

He frowned slightly, then followed her toward the door. She was free to call him ‘simply’ Fenris if it amused her, but something about her quixotic manner made Fenris think that this Rynne Hawke wasn’t ‘just’ a weak mage. 

This Rynne Hawke didn’t seem like ‘just’ anything at all. 

[whipped-stream]

I watched: The Night Manager

I find spy stuff a bit difficult really. It’s so smug - long, indulgently complicated stories chock-full of smart men in smart suits drinking man-drinks like whisky or martinis, surveilling each other out of the corners of their eyes, skulking around the charming alleyways of some architecturally opulent urban space. No one is ever insecure in a spy story; no one ever has a moment where they’re at a loss for words; no one ever has acne or eats a burger or even drinks a latte, because the only coffee appropriate for a spy story has to be something tight and elegant like an espresso. Oh, and very few people in these stories are ever female, fat (unless they’re evil) or gay (unless they’re evil).

Of course, this is all completely endemic to the genre. Asking for a spy thriller without these qualities would be like asking for a Judd Apatow comedy without a bunch of scruffy beardy blokes. But like - it’s 2021 now, and you’d think we would be gradually nearing the point where we were ready to retire all the tiresome, difficult stuff about the genre and do something new and interesting with it. Alas, The Night Manager has proved to me that we are nowhere near this possible future.

Don’t get me wrong, this is an enjoyable, easy show if you don’t think about it too much. It’s polished, gorgeous to look at and the basic plot revolving around illegal arms trading in the Middle East is absorbing, albeit a little toothless (for all the action and violence in the Middle East scenes we never really engage on any level with the human impact of this nefarious trade, besides one anecdote which never really lands). Tom Hiddleston and Hugh Laurie are both, predictably, also amazing in this show. Tom Hiddleston is perfect as a hotel manager; his earnest, twinkly-eyed politeness fits perfectly in the luxury hotels his character glides through, just as his luxury suits and luxury face suit the luxury décor. Then, as a secret services mole amongst gangsters, he is perfect again, charming everyone into smitten trust with a gleaming smile as they fall into the glacier-blue lagoons of his eyes, barely noticing him surreptitiously gathering all their secrets.

Hugh Laurie is as charismatic and sinister as a cartoon devil and makes for a terrific villain, fiercely dedicated to chewing the scenery at every opportunity. It is unclear to me why they chose to give him a sortof shabby Friar Tuck haircut for the role, but perhaps he is doing a Harrison Ford and just exerting his Great Actor Famepower to refuse to undergo any kind of personal grooming before a scene.

But yeah. Every time I was enjoying it, the dang show did something to ruin it. Firstly it was the ‘Bond women’. Sure, stunningly beautiful and sexually inviting women are a staple of this genre, and this show tries its best to show good faith by making sure that the stunningly beautiful and sexually inviting women in this instance have some kind of personality and plot relevance. It’s a pathetic effort at best. The first gorgeous woman chivvies the plot along for all of two minutes before flinging her fabulous self at Tom Hiddlestone and being a charming bedfellow just long enough for him to be distraught when he discovers her moments later in a pool of her own blood. Ahh, yes, a classic Woman in Refrigerator - gosh, I haven’t seen one of those employed with such efficiency in quite some time. Despite barely knowing her, Tom Hiddlestone is so devastated that he moves into some kind of massive concrete bunker right at the top of a Swiss Alpine mountain (what IS that house, dude!?!? Do you live in a weather monitoring facility?) and eventually agrees to become an agent for the secret services - which of course presents even more opportunities for some top totty.

The other stunningly beautiful woman in this show is in a relationship with the baddie played by Hugh Laurie, even though the two of them don’t so much have an age gap as an age chasm. She is called ‘Jed’, and she truly is only here for the camera to make long, indulgent pans up her svelte legs and delicate back. The show leaps at any opportunity to show a bit of her boob and at one point she fully disrobes and walks slowly and teasingly into the sea, pointing her arse right at Tom Hiddlestone, in order to make a point about living a carefree life. All the personal details about this woman are arbitrary - she has a kid that she never gets to see, I guess, and like she’s kind of suspicious of her boyfriend the arms dealer or whatever, but the show refuses to waste any time giving these story points any more than a cursory glance. Jed is a hollow, objectified character whose clothes fall off at the slightest jostle.

And then there’s the other thing. The torture thing. What is up with these spy shows? And how the only thing they love more than sexy women is the spectacle of sexy women being battered, tortured and lying dead in revealing poses? Just like her predecessor, poor Jed barely gets to do anything interesting or even proactive before she is ‘found out’ and we have to endure a really queasy scene where she’s being beaten up and repeatedly almost-drowned for her treachery. As her sore, blue-purple face is thrust over and over again into the brimming bathtub and she thrashes for air, her naked breast dangles out of her top in a tactless mush of raunchy objectification and vicarious misogyny. It’s one of the most troubling things I have witnessed on telly in a good while.

Okay - there is one other woman in this show. Olivia Coleman plays the head of this secret service operation, and she is written as a fierce, ambitious agent who knows exactly what she’s doing. Oh, and she’s pregnant, so I guess we’re doing Fargo too, a bit? For the entirety of the programme, which seems to span several months, she appears to be at the end of her third trimester. No one ever asks her when she’ll be going on maternity leave and who will take over this spy operation when that happens. As part of the final showdown, she travels to the Middle East, stalks around a hotel filled with murderous gangsters, shoots people in the knee and hides from even more murderous gangsters WHILE SEEMINGLY MOMENTS AWAY FROM HER FIRST CONTRACTION.

Essentially this woman’s pregnancy is a decorative character quirk, like having an eyepatch or an eccentric moustache. The story doesn’t let the character engage with her pregnancy in any human sense: and sure, the logistics of being pregnant is not exactly thrilling espionage content, but then why bother doing it at all? Leave her unpregged, and let her run around with guns to her heart’s content, or do it properly, and engage with interesting ideas of how we see and define modern motherhood; how we see pregnant women as vulnerable and in need of protection rather than being the protectors; how a woman’s career clashes and harmonises with her biological fate to be the child-bearer. Fargo did all that stuff effortlessly. Watch Fargo. The film, not the telly programme.

I also feel that it’s worth pointing out that this character was a man in the book, which makes it pretty clear that she was the hail-mary gesture to preempt any complaints that the only female main characters are bland eye-candy.

I have one last complaint. Remember that thing I said at the beginning about how the only gay characters allowed in this genre have to be evil? Well yeah, stamp that one on your bingo card too. I cannot believe that we are at a point in society where we can generate edible meat in a lab and yet the most frequent gay characters we see in mainstream TV are still either camp BFFs or acid-tongued villains. Tom Hollander is a completely wonderful actor and I urge you to watch basically anything else he has done besides this. There is no need for this character, Hugh Laurie’s snide and suspicious right-hand man, to be a creepy, predatory homosexual man. He is preposterous - constantly leering at Tom Hiddlestone and making blunt innuendos or just full-on grabbing Tom Hiddlestone’s giblets. A clear conflation is being made: this man is a threat, and the threat he poses to Tom Hiddlestone’s mission is mirrored by the threat he poses to Hiddlestone’s hetero-masculinity, his sexual autonomy. It feels like this character is a charicature of how homophobes see all gay men: malevolent and sexually rapacious, on a mission to assault, harass and render uncomfortable all hetero men who are just minding their own business.

I truly don’t understand this show - how they made such an effort to shoehorn so much deeply troubling messaging into a story which needed none of these things. The bare bones of the spy story is solid and it could have been turned out in so many different ways, but this was what they chose. It all feels so retrograde, so unnecessary. This is the kind of thing that Netflix would not have toyed with - whatever you feel about that streaming platform, they create stories with real, three-dimensional women and all kinds of diverse characters from the LGBTQ+ scene and beyond. Amazon Prime still needs to work on getting woke. But I guess we shouldn’t expect too much from the platform that snapped up Jeremy Clarkson.

The Night Manager, available on Amazon Prime

[hollyhomburg]

3,5,18, and 22

3. is there a trope you wouldn’t touch with a ten food poll 

the only thing i can think of is like- some pretty hardcore kinks, or at the verry least like ‘stepbrother is in love with me’ i just find it cringe tbh, 

5. share one of your strenghts 

this isn’t Nessicarily something I understand or pat myself on the back about, but people comment all the time that i make them feel things, so maybe like- putting emotions into words is my strenght? 

18.  do you use any tolls? like worksheets or outlines?

no- not really, but one thing that I make for basically every one of my fics that has a complex setting is a floor plan, like of the house or of the town where they live. i have one for Reasons wretched and divine, Don't care if it hurts, and of Dance to this/call me yours, it really helps me writing scenes where people are moving from one spot to another. maybe one of these days i’ll share them with you guys! 

22. choose a passage from one of your earlier fics and edit it in your current writing style 

oh one thing i’ve totally wanted to revisit and rewrite is hybrid house. so i’ll go and pick a section of that. 

original version:

- You take a bath one night with Jimin, Hating it at first but then liking it more once they get it to the right temperature.You let Hobi brush your tail through and blow-dry it shivering every time his hands get too close to the base of your spine as you lay sprawled over his with your head pillowed on Jimin’s soft thighs in nothing but a large shirt of Namjoon’s.

-Hoseok isn’t immune to your nudity, and he has to take special care not to let his hands wander every time he gets a view of your cute butt. Jimin grins at him when he catches Hoseok staring, all the while running a careful brush through your hair careful not to snag it on your ears.They both giggle when you start to purr loudly and giggle harder when you flush after realizing they’re watching you.

edited version: (kinda??? more smuttish??) 

- that night jimin invites you to bathe with him and although normally you’d be shyer, the draw of the pleasant smells and warmth of the bathroom alleviate your misgivings about being naked in front of them. Jimin is already mostly undressed when you pause at the door.  his body concealed under a fluffy layer of sweet-smelling bubbles, the puppy makes little happy grumbles as hoseok shampoos his hair. being careful not to get the soap in his ears. 

-“do you want a bath too honey?” hoseok asks, his eyes kinds as he watches you from where you stand half-hidden behind the bathroom door, still rubbing the suds into Jimin's ears, his tail flops happily splashing water onto the floor. jimin’s cheeks are pink, his eyes half-closed when he mutters an apology, sliding closed again as Hoseok keeps scratching. 

- you nod a little shyly, and hoseok whips off his hands on a nearby towel before he stands, his knees cracking as he straightens. you nuzzle your face into hoseoks hand when he lifts it, and it smells like jimin- like orange blossoms and freshly cut grass. you Pur and chirp in agreement and Hoseok help you undress, careful to keep his eyes at face level. giggling when you almost get into the tub with your socks on. 

- You were right, the slow drag of hoseoks fingers against your scalp and sensitive ears is heavenly as you sit against Jimin’s front. It dosent feel sexual- it just feels sensual and tender when Hoseok drags the cloth he uses to clean you down the front of your chest. 

-he’d never admit it- but the way your skin pinks up in the hot water is kind of captivating- as is your pliancy as you relax into the hot water (oh- how the elder cat hybrid is going to bitch and moan when Hoseok teases him later- you have no problem getting we compared to how finicky the elder cat hybrid can be about bathtimes). 

- Jimin traces his fingers down your back when you lean forward for Hoseok to rinse you off, tracing the freckles you have you your back, his wagging tail making a thump thump thump against the sides of the clawfoot tub. Hoseok can tell he’s deep into his puppy headspace, the way all hybrids do when they get comfortable.

- Even thought you yowl when he leans forward and licks a sloppy stripe up the back of your neck. You’re just surprised, and jimin continues to nibble on your fingers when you reach up to touch your neck. Letting out a low whine when you initially pull away. The licks slow and sloppy eventually transitioning into little kisses until Hoseok makes a noise in the back of his throat and uses Jimin's hair to tug the puppy away, “hey- she’s not a chew toy pup” 

- You look wide-eyed and a little out of your depth, and Hoseok is glad that he has control over himself- because you’re definitely not at the point where he can do what he wants, where he can take this relationship to where all of them have been feeling it’s headed. 

-(later that night, he imagines it, Seokjin above him and his hands tied to the wrought iron bed frame, a blindfold tied around his eyes to make the elders hand movements a mystery; namjoon makes him tell- the words barked out from the corner where he sat content to watch- and play later.  how he would have ordered jimin to take you in the bathtub and make the water slosh everywhere, how he would have taken special care to clean every inch of you, even using less orthodox methods that wouldn't have left you very clean at all. by the end of it- Hoseok’s is sure he would have had you meowing)

-but this isn’t that- this is just them takeing care of you. 

- You let Hobi brush your tail through and blow-dry it, and honestly- that alone has you sold on the idea of bathtimes. You decide you love baths if you can have hoseok’s hands-on you running up and down the column of your hail. carefully combing it out so that it dosent curl as he blowdries is. every time his hands get too close to the base of your spine you shiver, phantom fingers running down the whole of your spine. 

- between his minstrations and jimin brushing through your hair and your boor bristle brush- you’re a pliant mewling mess between the two of them,sprawled over his with your head pillowed on Jimin’s soft thighs in nothing but a large shirt of Namjoon’s.

-Hoseok isn’t immune to your nudity, and he has to take special care not to let his hands wander every time he gets a view of your cute little butt- turned pink like the rest of you from the overly warm water. Jimin grins at him when he catches Hoseok staring, all the while running a careful brush through your hair careful not to snag it on your ears which flick and pin to your head when they do something you’re not fond of or too sensitive for. 

- They both giggle when you start to purr loudly and giggle harder when you flush after realizing they’re watching you. resting your cheek against Jimin's thigh to look up at both of them, their gazes needy, you’re pretty sure the tent in Jimin’s boxers an inch from your face isn’t normal, but there is also a softness there, a fulfillment in Hoseok’s gaze as he twines your puffy and clean tail over his fingers and humms like he’s satisfied.

- He loves Taking care of you- you realize with a jolt that has nothing to do with jimin suddenly leaning down- overcome with his puppy instincts to nibble on your ear. you’ve never been taken care of like this before- never had someone who wanted to take care of you so bad.

- You sit up in Hoseok’s lap quickly, letting the purrs ripple out and fill the bathroom- melodic and honeyed. You rub your cheek along his chest, his neck, even licking little kisses there- Hoseok’s hip almost jump at the feeling of your rough tongue against his sweet spot. “thank you hobi” 

- His hands come up around your back, holding you to him carefully. “it’s no problem honey, any time” his voice sounds as wrecked as he feels, but it’s soft, even more so soft, when you take the brush from Jimin's hands and start running them through hoseoks curls as well. 

[laughing-with-god]

Pandemonium VII

Words; 4k

“Let them all say

Hey Lolita, hey

Hey Lolita, hey

I know what the boys want, I’m not gonna play”- Lana Del Rey, Lolita

It was quiet for a moment.

The only sounds being heard in the room was Jimin’s ragged breathing as the bleak sound echoed through the walls and came back to pierce your ears.

Everyone was currently staring at Taehyung, who just grinned with that rectangular smile as he bounced on the balls of his feet.  All too giddy with the attention he was getting.

Then, it erupted.  

If you had to guess what a demon sounded like, you’d think this was it.

A furious roar ripped through the room, the sound so thunderous and ear-aching that you couldn’t help but jump in your seat from shock.

“WHAT THE FUCK YOU MEAN MOTHER-IN-LAW?!  I TRUSTED YOU WHEN I SHOWED YOU THAT TEXT!”  Jimin had shot up from your grasp and lunged at his younger brother.

As you sat there, stunned while watching Taehyung and Jimin roll on the floor as Hoseok attempted to pry them apart with the help of Mr. Kim, it dawned upon you how Taehyung must’ve found out about your mother’s condition.  

Jimin.  

He must’ve stayed close enough to your ex sugar daddy in order to get information on you.  The shout from Jimin referencing the text just confirmed your suspicion, as within the ‘break-up’ text you sent Jimin, you mentioned your mom.  Jimin’s apparent feeling of betrayal caused you to shiver...did Taehyung really use his own brother to force himself into your life?

And although Jimin made little sense today, he did say one thing that you could agree on.

What the fuck did Taehyung mean when he called your mom his future mother-in-law?!

A wise scholar once said, “If a man does not have sauce, then he is lost.  But the same man can get lost in the sauce.”

You surveyed the scene around you.

Two brothers fighting before you, while two more brothers tried to tear them apart.  You looked to your side and saw Yoongi, Jungkook and Namjoon observing you carefully.  Yoongi focused on you while lazily rubbing the back of his neck. Namjoon just smirked and studied your expressions, way more enthralled by your reaction to said mayhem instead of the mayhem itself.  And Jungkook with a worried gaze as he nervously bit his lip. You shot a glare at them. Their lack of brotherly care made you slightly annoyed.

Shouldn’t they be more concerned with their siblings who were currently throwing hands?  Why the fuck did everyone enjoy putting you under a microscope?!

‘Yes’, you concluded to yourself.

Gucci Mane was right.  

It was all too possible for a man to get lost in the sauce.

In this particular scenario however, the sauce must’ve been male testosterone and crack cocaine.  

Only plausible explanation for the chaos that was ensuing before your eyes.  Or maybe their father’s sperm had a major defect where he was only able to father some shitheads with two functioning brain cells?

‘Shit head sperm’

Sounded very legit to you.

You released a very aggravated huff, and stood up to marched to the door.  

“Wait!  Y/n!”

“Y/n!”

“Don’t go!”  

You didn’t bother trying to decipher which three of the heirs called out to you given your back was turned to them.  You waved them off and sarcastically called out, “Mr. Kim, I’m going to have to pull my name from consideration. Thanks though.”  

And you slammed the door shut.  Almost right away you heard shuffling of feet and some more comments that were hard to make out through the mohagany door.  

You sped walked your way back to the waiting room, already hearing the sound of someone a couple yards behind you opening the conference room door to without a doubt, chase after you.  

The secretary lady became more clear in your line of vision the closer and closer you got to the front desk.  She looked confused, knowing that your interview couldn’t have been that short. You plastered a fake smile on your face and leaned over the desk when you finally got up to it.  

“Sis, I would call security to that room I was just in.  Some shit hit the fan.” You didn’t bother to stick around and witness her look of perplexion, running out of the building and hailing a taxi.  

--

Your search for a job continued, as did your unlucky streak.

The majority of places you applied for never called you back.  And the few that did, never asked to see you any further after the interview process.  

This bummed you out.  Since when did fast food chains and clothing stores become so picky about who to employ?  Becoming a stripper increasingly seemed more and more appealing to you.

It had been two weeks since the chaos of the conference room.  ‘The Conference Room Meltdown’ is what you nicknamed it in your head. Like some sort of legendary battle or historical tragedy.  Oddly enough, you felt rather numb after the whole ordeal. You couldn’t explain it, but for some reason, you found yourself not having any extreme reaction.  It’s almost like you were in shock. Like those soldiers who would witness some crazy shit, and then just go into a random sense of tranquility to calm down. It was as if your mind and body agreed that utter denial was the best way to cope with everything.  

Utter denial, indeed.  

You didn’t even share the crazy experience with Kat, thinking that to pretend it never happened was the best way to move on.  

You didn’t even allow yourself to think of the seven brothers, knowing that if you open that can of worms; you’ll end up with more questions than answers.

And your bruised heart, overworked brain and stressed out nervous system really did not need that.

However, there was one brother you couldn’t completely avoid.

Jungkook.

But before you can even come up with a plan on how to dodge him, it became apparent that ignoring him wasn’t going to be necessary.

He was ignoring you.  

For the first few days back to school, Jungkook was absent.  At first, you wondered if he dropped the class all together, but this was quickly ruled out when the professor approached

you and gave you the green-light to present the project by yourself because “Mr. Jungkook is quite ill and he won’t be back for a while.”

You were sort of relieved but also intrigued.

Was he giving you space?  Is he okay? Did something happen with his brothers?  

But you pushed this to the back of your head as you just focused on class.  Once again, you’ll never get answers so what’s the point of poking around?

However, one day you came into the classroom and saw the one and only muscle bunny already there.  

But...he was different.

On his face, you saw faded purple, blue and slightly green/yellowish bruises marking his usually porcelain skin.  Particularly, on the left side of his face was a stain of brutal violence that covered his eye and went down to the high points of his cheek.  His lip was also swollen and marked.

You gasped.  

He looked like he got into a huge fight and took some brutal hits.  

Jungkook wasn’t like that though...He may be big and addicted to protein powder but he was still a massive dork.  You didn’t believe that the same guy who showed off his iron man socks to you in effort to convince you that he wasn’t a fuck boy, would start any sort of physical dispute.  

And the only people who should’ve left that room with any marks, would be Jimin or Taehyung.  

As you recall, Jungkook was just worriedly watching from the sidelines.  

At the moment, Jungkook was at the professor’s desk, gathering some work that he most likely missed.  Jungkook was wearing a white shirt under a large blue denim jacket with black pants.

He turned around, probably sensing your shocked stare.

Eye contact was made.

But what happened next, made you want to be responsible for the next bruise that will cover his face.

His doe eyes scrutinized you for a while, then his plump lips pulled back in a scoff as a look of annoyance was thrown at you

With that done, he turned his back on you and then found a seat somewhere up front.  (Which was far from your guys’ normal spot in the back).

So he was ignoring you.  

You huffed and went to your usual spot.

Fuck him.

You didn’t like him in the first place.  

He was annoying.

And you definitely were not at all bothered at the latest development of him openly blowing you off.

Hell, you welcomed it.  

Now you had your spot all to yourself.  

He was probably in a hissy fit due to your affiliation with his brother.  Which was stupid because you just hung out with Jimin, nothing sexual was done.  Even more microscopic strings attached you to the other brothers. But a man’s pride was a very fragile thing.  And Jungkook was the youngest and barely out of his boyhood.

You spent the next few days in that class just glaring at the back of Kook’s head.  

It wasn’t your fault that all of his brothers were crackheads.  

--

Your life was quiet.

No sugar daddy to hang out with.

No run-ins with any odd men who demand to know more of you.  

No partner in class.  

Everything was just so….still.

One late afternoon, you were cleaning your dorm.  

Kat and you didn’t have a defined place anywhere on the cleanliness spectrum.  There wasn’t a ‘clean’ roommate or a ‘messy’ one. You both were very average with the dorm.  You two would clean up after yourselves, but neither of you would get on each others backs for a wrapper on the floor or a plate in the sink.

But, the place needed some deep cleaning, things that no measly “pick up around here” would cover.   Like wiping the windows, scrubbing down the bathroom, cleaning out the fridge ect. And you decided that cleaning was going to be a productive way to keep your mind off of things.

You’ve been doing that alot.  Trying to keep yourself busy so that your mind didn’t have time to wander.  

However, trouble always found you.  Even when you were going out of your way to be unproblematic and productive, it still attached itself to you.  Like a moth to a flame.

You really didn’t have a chance.  

It happened while you were scrubbing the bathtub.  

You were sweating, vigorously scouring the bottom of the tub while on your knees, when your music (that was playing from your phone) suddenly stopped.

A ring replaced your favorite song, as an incoming call vibrated your phone.  

You got up to see who was calling you.

A series of unfamiliar numbers is what you saw on your screen.

Usually, you wouldn’t answer an unknown number.  However, you phone number was out there now on many application and as far as you know, this could be a potential employer trying to contact you.  With a sigh, you answered the call.

“Hello?”  

‘“Y/n, why I didn’t think you’d answer...”  A deep voice purred on the other line.

Your brow scrunched up in confusion.  The voice sounded vaguely familiar but no nearly enough due to your inability to pin-point its’ owner.

“I’m sorry, whose this?”  

“The one and only, Taehyung.”

“Lol bye”

“WAIT!  I have an offer for you!” He injected before you could hang up.

“.......an offer?” You asked, stunned.  What the fuck was this? A mafia deal?

“Yes! Just hear me out.”  A pause ensued only to be followed by, “I paid for your mother’s bills after all.”

“I DIDN’T ASK YOU TO DO THAT YOU MANIAC!  YOU JUST DID IT YOURSELF! ARE YOU GOING TO KEEP USING THIS OVER ME?!”  You yelled into the phone, furious that he use your mom to get you to abide his wishes.  

“Calm down sweet thing, I didn’t have intentions of using it as a manipulation tactic.  I just think that my charitable act should be evidence that I’m not all bad and that you should at least hear me out.”  He rumbled, seemingly bored and unimpressed with your screaming.

You sighed but you couldn’t deny that your interest was peaked.  Although you knew virtually nothing about them, you knew enough of Taehyung to know that he was a very interesting character.  Part of you just wanted to hear this fucker out for the hell of it.

“Fine, what is this ‘offer’?”

“I would very much like it if we met in person.  I just want to take you out for dinner and apologise for what happened during your interview.  That was uncalled for and I’m afraid my brothers and I look looked little boys to you instead of grown men.”  

“Thanks for apologizing, but I’m good.”  

“I’ll give you 800 to show up.”  He bluntly responded.

“WHAT!”  You choked.

“Y/n, I might seem very airheaded but I know enough to connect the dots.  Jimin was your sugar daddy whom you met on a site. You must’ve put yourself in that position because of your lack of funds that my older brother was oh so willing to provide.  Also, the reason you were in that building in the first place was do to a job interview. Which means, after you cut Jimin off, you needed to get money somehow and this is why you began to look for a job.  Chances are you’re still jobless since it’s only been two weeks and it’s rather tough out there. So do yourself a favor, and go eat a free dinner with me to walk out with 800 dollars.”

“FINE!”  You exploded.  He was like an evil genius, explaining everything to you step by step before putting a nail to your coffin.  “I’ll go! Bring it in cash. But let me make myself clear Mr. Kim, we will have no drinks, appetizers and certainly NO DESSERTS!”  You hung up before you could hear that bastard speak again.

And like that, you were pulled in.  

But who could blame you?

You were just a stressed out, jobless and broke college student.

You were just trying to get by…

--

Taehyung had texted you the address of a restaurants along with a time and you were currently seated in the back of a taxi, heading over there.  

You wore some basic jeans and a rather simple long sleeved shirt, your hair down and very minimalist makeup on your face.  This choice of attire was an act of rebellion on your part.

You’ll be damned if you actually dressed up for that smug asshole.

You weren’t even shocked when you pulled up to a very fancy establishment, already expecting Taehyung to be extra as hell.  You thanked the driver and paid your fare before making your way into the place.

Right away, you felt underdressed.  

People were wearing nice clothes and the atmosphere screamed ‘rich people only’.  

Live classical music played, all the waiters wore nice uniforms, the rugs on the marble floor looked foreign with its’ complex patterns and what is a stereotypical five star restaurant without a snooty hostess?  

She stood before the entrance to the actual fine dining room, taking peoples reservations and calls at a podium.  A small line was already formed before her, so you joined it.

When it was your turn, she gave you a dirty look.  

“Are you lost?”  She asked while giving you an up and down look as you stepped up to her.  She was tall, wore a red wine dress, blonde hair sculpted in a elaborate bun while her face was painted in delicate makeup.  You gave her a fake grin.

“In many ways, yes.  But location wise, no.  Someone should already be here waiting for me.”  

She arched a perfectly plucked brow, probably mentally calling your bluff.

“Oh really?  And just what is their name?”  She asked, voice falsely chipper.

“Kim Taehyung.”  

Her eyes gave you one more doubtful look before skimming down at the list before her.  

With sick satisfaction, you smirked at her widened eyes.  

“Oh!  I’m truly sorry Mrs. Kim!  Your husband did mention you!  Please, right this way.” With a panicked haze, she began to lead you to a table towards the back of the dining room.  Your jaw dropped at ‘Mrs. Kim’ and ‘your husband’, Taehyung really loved a shock value, huh? He was weirdly obsessed with being your husband.  He even called your mom his future mother in law! You snickered at that thought. Like hell was that ever going to happen…. Nonetheless, you allowed yourself to be led to him.

And there he was,

Seated,

Grinning,

And surrounded by 6 other men at a round table.

--

The first thing you noticed were the bruises.

Almost each of them held some sort of mark.

Some had purple and black blemishes, while others carried angry red lines on their faces.  Apparently, Jungkook wasn’t the only one who walked away injured.

The seven brothers looked like they got out of a fucking battlefield.  

Currently, you were seated between Yoongi and Namjoon.  (Yoongi had a red line cutting diagonally across his left check while Namjoon had a somewhat healed cut on the right side of his upper forehead.)

Namjoon had pulled out the seat for you as Yoongi gave you a shy smile that came across as slightly guilty to you.

Since it was a round table, you could see everyone’s faces very clearly and each of them were staring at you intently.  You could cut the tension with a knife as if it was melting butter.

You fixed your attention at the artist.

You glared at Taehyung who was conveniently straight across from you.

“I don’t enjoy being set up, Taehyung.”

“Baby, trust me with this one.  We’re gonna give you an offer you can’t refuse.”  He grinned at you. Tae’s bottom lip was very swollen and bruised and he had a shiner under his right eye.  

“Well, you better spit it out because I’m not staying for food anymore.  Also, telling the front lady that I’m your wife isn’t cute.”

“You told them WHAT?!”  Jimin screeched, facing the grinning artist.  You noted with a frown that Jimin’s left eye was all bruised and blue.  

“Jimin, remember what we said about controlling your emotions.”  Seokjin’s calming voice erupted. His beautiful, model worthy face held a faded bruise in his v-shaped jaw.  

At this reminder, Jimin snapped his mouth shut but didn’t cease his pouting.  

“Okay, can we talk about the elephant in the room?”  At the sound of your question, seven pairs of eyes turned to you.  “Why are you all beat up?”

An awkward silence laid itself on the table as you watched the brothers share worried glances.

“Y/n, we came to a very rough and difficult conclusion.”  Hoseok answered. You turned to him and rose a brow, waiting for more.  “We all want you in our lives.”

“At first, we were selfish and thought we could have you on our own.”  Seokjin continued.

“But, after you left us that day, we all got into a really big fight on who could have you.”  Jimin’s raspy but high voice informed you.

Next was Yoongi, “After almost killing each other, we agreed that we ought to find a better way to keep you without such bloodshed.”

“And we also want to help you with anything you might ever need or want.”  Jungkook added.

“So, Y/n….”  Namjoon purred.

Tae said the last part while smirking at you with his glimmering pharaoh eyes;

“Will you be our sugar baby?”  

--

“Ummm….how would that even work?”  You asked after a solid six minutes of just befuddled silence.  You didn’t even believe what was happening right now. It felt like a lucid dream you couldn’t get out of.  

“Simple.  We each will have our own time with you and you get an allowance from all seven of us.”  Namjoon explained in his deep voice.

“I don’t wanna be a glorified prostitute.”  You grumbled.

Yoongi heard this and laughed, gummy smile making an infamous appearance.  “Y/n, we don’t want sex from you. Just hanging out with you and getting to know you is good enough.”  

“How would you guys determine who hangs out with me and when?”  You asked.

“Well, we all have our own jobs to do.  When some of us aren’t busy, we’ll ask you out.  But ultimately, you get to choose who you want to see on day-to-day.”  Hoseok explained.

“Allowance?”  You asked.

“All seven of us agreed that one grand per person every week is good.  So you can expect seven grand every Friday.” Seokjin explained.

You choked.  

7,000 every week?!  

HELL YEAH YO-

You cut yourself off before finishing that thought.

This was too good to be true.  

“Are there any rules you want me to follow?”  You hoarsely asked, dreading the catch that was sure to come.  

“To be honest, we haven’t thought that far ahead.  But if you agree, we’ll draft up some and send it to a group chat that way we’re all clear.” Tae answered.

You bit your lip as you began to ponder the pros and cons to doing this.  7,000 a week would pay off your college tuition in no time. You’d be a fool to not take advantage of such a good deal.  And they just want you to hang out with them! No fucking required! But wait, in your haste to capture this bread, you forgot a major problem.

“I have a problem with two of you guys right now.”  You said, recalling your beef. All seven looked up in worry.

“Who?”   Yoongi asked.

“Well, Jimin still attacked my roommate and Jungkook has been a total ass wipe recently so I’m not so hot about them, if I’m being honest.”  

Said boys shot up in their seats to interject, but Namjoon waved them off.  

“Y/n, please forgive Jungkook for any childish behavior.  He’s had a few temper tantrums ever since we mentioned this idea.  He’s just very clingy with you and has had a lot of trouble accepting this plan.  He probably distanced himself from you in effort to control himself from snatching you up for himself.”  You looked at Jungkook for search of the truth but by the way Kook was blushing and avoiding eye-contact, you knew Namjoon’s words were true.  

“As for Jimin….”  Namjoon continued.  “We’re very sorry about your roommate.  Jimin explained it to us and we can agree that his actions were uncalled for, however no physical altercation occurred.  He was just terrified of never seeing you again and being so emotional, he showed up to your dorm. All his screaming and crying must’ve scared Kat but trust me, Jimin would never put his hands on a woman.”  

You dissected everything Namjoon had said.  Was it possible that Kat was just shaken up?  She did say he mainly did some hollering and crying.  Kat had no evidence of bruising or handprints and technically even in her own story, Jimin didn’t lay his hands on her so much as he just threatened her. She said he was frantic and anxious, and that he forcefully backed her into a corner…..but did Jimin ever lay his hands on her?

Your sweet, bubba, teddy bear who wasn’t that tall and had chubby cheeks along with a squeaky voice?  

“Baby, do I look like the type to attack anyone?”  Jimin asked, puppy eyes all teary.

“I don’t know, you did it with your brother.”  You retorted.

Jimin rolled his eyes.  “That’s different, he’s my brother and brothers fight.”  Jimin pouted at you.

“Fine, just don’t be a meth head next time.”

Jimin grinned at the term ‘next time’ but asked, “Meth head?  I thought I was crackhead?”

He recalled your nickname rather fondly.

You shook your head,  “Sorry, but you’ve upgraded your status.  At the rate your going at, it might even be bath salts next week.”  

And thus, you had 7 sugar daddies.  

{Authors note; oml so what do you think?  this was kinda a filler chapter to transition us to the next stage of the story that’s gonna be 0t7 and like really intense.  I haven’t been answering any asks lately bc I was at a friends house but i’m going to hammer them out now so send in news ones and they'll be done really fast.  ALSO I HOPE YOUR THRIVING GUYS HAPPY NEW YEARS 2K19 LMAO}

[thecloserkin]

book review: E.L. Konigsburg, From the Mixed-Up Files of Mrs. Basil E. Frakenweiler (1967)

Genre: children’s literature

Is it the main pairing: yes

Is it canon: n/a

Is it explicit: n/a

Is it endgame: n/a

Is it shippable: yes

Bottom line: ‘sup i’m here to retroactively ruin your childhoods by excavating aaaaallll the incestuous subtext

“Two middle schoolers run away to New York City and live in the Metropolitan Museum of Art for a week” is a premise that would never fly in our present surveillance panopticon. It works just fine in the sixties though! This is a well-nigh perfect book and I didn’t reread it on account of the incest subtext, but once I had reread it it was impossible not to ship (and when I say ship I mean aged-up characters since these are prepubescent). Elder sister Claudia is a dreamer. Little brother Jamie is practical to a fault. They complement each other like peanut butter and jelly. Here is a typical exchange between them:

”But if we make a real discovery, I’ll know how to go back to Greenwich.” “You take the New Haven, silly. Same way as we got here.” “That’s not what I meant. I want to know how to go back to Greenwich different.” “You can take a subway to 125th Street and then take the train.”

Amazing, right? Initially she’s trying to Prove a Point by running away because she feels under-appreciated at home—props to E.L. Konigsburg who was unabashedly out here agitating for Eldest Daughter Rights:

Claudia was the oldest child and only girl and was subject to a lot of injustice.

Of all her brothers she picks Jamie to accompany her because he’s got the most money squirreled away. That moment when she singles him out still kills me:

Claudia sighed, “I don’t want Steve. Steve is one of the things in my life that I’m running away from. I want you.”

I DON’T WANT STEVE I WANT YOU. If we flash forward to halfway through the novel, by which time a period of sustained teamwork has forged Claudia and Jamie into a single unit:

What happened was: they became a team, a family of two … You might call it caring. You might even call it love. And it is very rarely, indeed, that it happens to two people at the same time—especially a brother and sister who had always spent more time with activities than they had with each other.

This passage establishes conclusively that Claudia and Jamie weren’t especially close before they ran away from home, that this adventure has changed them, and isn’t that what falling in love is, stripped down to the very kernel of its essence? You undergo a transformation. Which is why I’m arguing for a submerged courtship-and-marriage narrative beneath the surface narrative of “kids just want to have autonomy and be taken seriously” (it’s still a superb book even if you just read it on that level though!!! you don’t have to be wearing shipper goggles to enjoy it).

One of the great joys of this book is Jamie’s deadpan humor. This is him after Claudia explains they’ll be stashing a few changes of clothes in their empty instrument cases:

“All in a trumpet case? I should have taken up the bass fiddle.”

Claudia plans their getaway in excruciating detail, and from start to finish it goes off without a hitch—although when she told him to “destroy” the note she wrote, she probably didn’t expect him to swallow it lmao. Watching Jamie be dramatic is fun because he never does it out of an excess of feeling, he does it out of an excess of caution (later on he nearly batters a door down because he’s convinced Claudia is slitting her wrists in the bathtub). Jamie’s sense of humor is most effective when Claudia and Jamie are bickering like an old married couple:

”How come you didn’t take art appreciation lessons with me the summer before last?” “Well, the summer before last I had just finished first grade…It was all I could do to sound out the name of Dick and Jane’s dog.”

Let’s just take a minute to appreciate how on-point this sibling banter is. They find a candy bar on the floor, still sealed in its wrapper:

Claudia: ”Was it bitten into?”

Jamie: “No. Want half?”

Claudia: “You better not touch it, it’s probably poisoned or filled with marijuana.”

Here’s when he picked which wing of the museum to visit with the express aim of boring her:

Many painters of the Renaissance had painted huge billowy, bosomy naked ladies. She was amazed at Jamie; she thought he was too young for that. He was. She never even considered the possibility that he wanted her to be bored.

Tfw when your dumbass younger sibling does something that makes you want to throttle them:

It caused Claudia to want to embalm Jamie in a vat of mummy fluid right that minute. That would teach him inconspicuous.

Among the shenanigans they get up to while living at the Met, the time when these two INVENTED TELEPATHY to avoid getting busted by museum security has got to take the motherfucking cake. Runner-up is the fact they call each other “Sir James” and “Lady Claudia” on the way to the commissary to purchase potato chips for dinner. Then there’s the iconic bathing-in-the-wishing-fountain scene—it’s the next best thing to sharing a bath right? If this were a romance novel there would come the pivotal moment when feelings are confessed to and this is it:

”I didn’t run away to come home the same.” “Well, this has been more fun than camp. Even the food’s been better.” “But Jamie, it’s not enough.” “Yeah, I know it’s not enough. I’m hungry all the time.” “I mean the difference is not enough. Like being born with perfect pitch…or getting the Academy Award. Those are differences that will last a lifetime.” ”I think you’re different already, Claude.” “Do you?” “Yes. We’re all sane, you’re insane.” “James Kincaid!” “Ok ok I’m insane, too. I’ll go along with you.”

Note that Jamie does not disavow his prior claim—Claudia is insane, no two ways about it—but he’s willing to throw in the towel on the whole “being sane” project merely to keep her company. If that isn’t true love I don’t know what is. I just. Can’t get over how they are SO MARRIED and know each other SO WELL:

”You know, Claude, when I’m not wishing I could give you a sock right in the nose, I’m glad you’re on my team. You’re smart even if you’re hard to live with.”

”Jamie, you know, you could go clear around the world and still come home wondering if the tuna fish sandwiches at Chock Full O’Nuts still cost thirty-five cents.”

”You’re never satisfied, Claude. If you get all A’s, you wonder where are the pluses. You start out just running away, and you end up wanting to know everything.”

Yes, Claude is his pet nickname for her and he kind of employs it to annoy her but at the same time, nobody else calls her that do they?? He’s the only one. Just like he’s the only one who gets her. ”We’re the only two people in the whole world who live with it,” says Jamie, referring to a new exhibit they’ve grown attached to, but he could just have easily been referring to this entire scheme of Claudia’s that landed them in the museum in the first place.

SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS SPOILERS

The mystery of the new exhibit, a cupid statue of uncertain provenance, eventually drives the kids to call on the eccentric old lady who donated it from her own personal collection, the eponymous Mrs. Frankeweiler. But first a word about why Claudia is so bloody-minded about getting the dirt on this statue, which may or may not have been carved by Michelangelo. “Finding a secret can make everything else unimportant,” and Claudia is above all someone who relishes the hoarding of secrets. Discovering proof of the statue’s authenticity would enable her to go home the same on the outside but profoundly changed on the inside. If we’re diagramming this story Claudia’s lowest point is definitely when their funds are nearly depleted and they’ve exhausted every avenue of inquiry wrt the statue:

Jamie let her cry for a while. He sat there and fidgeted and counted the number of benches. She still cried; he counted the number of people on the benches. She was still at it; he calculated the number of people per bench.

So Jamie is absolutely useless at dealing with her emotional outburst but he readily acquiesces to spending the last of their money on a taxi to Mrs. Frankenweiler’s house. This is kind of a big deal for Jamie, considering we have him on record saying this:

”I haven’t been a tightwad all my life, have I?” “As long as I’ve known you.” “Well, you’ve known me as long as I’ve known me.”

That’s the sound of me screeching loud enough to bring down the roof. First of all did you notice that for Jamie “being alive” is synonymous with “knowing Claudia”!!! Second, he’s been vetoing Claudia’s motions to take taxis instead of buses/trains for …the entire book up to this point!!! And he says yes to this hail-mary pass in the form of Mrs. Frankenweiler because he knows Claudia needs the truth more than he needs the money. He goes along with it to please her, even if it goes against his most basic instincts. And that’s Jamie Kincaid in a nutshell: he’ll follow his sister anywhere.

The reason I want to dwell on Claudia’s fetish for keeping secrets is because it strongly supports my “submerged romance narrative” reading of the novel:

Claudia doesn’t want adventure. She likes baths and feeling comfortable too much for that kind of thing. Secrets are the kind of adventure she needs … That was why planning the runaway had been such fun; it was a secret. And hiding in the museum had been a secret. But they weren’t permanent.

YOU KNOW WHAT WOULD BE A PERMANENT, falling in love with your brother now there’s a secret you’d have to no choice but to take to your grave JUST SAYIN CLAUDIA. Like, yes they figure out the “truth” about the stupid statue but it’s the way they figure it out that matters, it’s Jamie inadvertently supplying the missing piece of the puzzle because as smart as Claudia is, as much as she’s 100% in the driver’s seat of this marriage partnership she couldn’t have done it without him. And the way it ends!! So open-ended!! So much scope for shipping!!! They resolve to adopt this lonely old lady since they’ve lost their own grandma(s), and to take day trips to visit her, and to keep any future visits secret from their parents too. What I love about Mrs. Frankenweiler as a character is that she’s the friend that Claudia and Jamie both desperately need. It’s instantly obvious why her and Claudia are kindred spirits; she susses out Claudia’s motives with little trouble:

”Because you found that running away from home didn’t make a real difference? You were still the same Greenwich Claudia, planning and washing and keeping things in order?”

What’s less immediately obvious is why Mrs. Frankeweiler and Jamie would get along like a house on fire:

”You won it at cards?” I could see the admiration grow in Jamie’s eyes.

Jamie, an inveterate cardsharp, is duly impressed. Mrs. Frankenweiler displays wily strategic thinking by extracting information from Jamie while Claudia’s in the bath, which devastates Claudia because she knows information is the only coin they possess to bargain with, but poor Jamie is like IN MY DEFENSE I HAVEN’T TALKED TO ANYONE ELSE FOR A WEEK AND I FORGOT HOW TO KEEP A SECRET. This is so sweet that these kids have not spoken above three sentences to another soul since they ran away from home. Their unplanned sleepover at Mrs. Frankenweiler’s also yields the funniest exchange in the entire fucking book, which goes like this:

Claudia wanted very much to let us know that she was annoyed and why. She acted cool. I pretended I didn’t notice. Jamie didn’t pretend; he simply did not notice.

“I’ll skip the soup,” Claudia announced.

“It’s good,” Jamie said. “Sure you don’t want to try it?”

I am DEAD and GONE. Claudia is subtly snubbing Mrs. Frankenweiler, but subtlety simply does not register for Jamie who operates entirely on a surface-meaning level. So he does what he does best (other than cheating at cards) which is urge Claudia to eat delicious food. He’s constantly thinking about food and whining about how hungry he is. But here he’s coming from a place of “this soup is lit, I care about Claudia so I want her to enjoy it too.” I love this scene sfm because it’s a harbinger of their future: Jamie’s totally the type to walk around obliviously in love with Claudia because as we’ve established he’s incapable of ascribing non-literal meanings to things, and she’ll have to clobber him over the head with the truth and it will be glorious. For those of us who ship incest because we like the idea of “secret” knowledge or a “hidden” text that only we have access to, this is it: This book is pretty much perfect.

While we’re here allow me to rec this pitch-perfect futurefic (11k words) chronicling Claudia and Jamie’s further adventures after they go home. It’s not shipfic but it’s startlingly in-character—even the authorial voice reads like Konigsburg’s—and since canon itself is a trove of shippy content, i’m a happy customer. This is Jamie’s BFF Bruce (the one he regularly cheats at cards): “Look, Jamie, am I your best friend or not? Or is it your stupid sister?” “SHE’S NOT STUPID!”

[imyourliquor-youremypoison]

A Girl’s Best Friend (Peter Parker x OC) - Part 19

Synopsis: Diamonds are man’s best friend- or dogs are girls’ best friends, wait… how does the saying go again?

Warnings: Family issues; Peter has a crush and it’s complicated; mention of assault; good dogs; College AU; aged up! characters; TONY STARK IS ALIVE AND WE ALL LIVE IN A HAPPY PLACE CALLED DENIAL

Word count: 3.8k

Part 18 <<< >>> Part 20

MASTERLIST

               He landed on the floor next to a screaming Emmeline; she fumbled around to try and see where he had been shot but the blood was flowing out, making his sweater stick to his skin.

“No, no, no, no,” she began chanting. “Peter, oh, my God. Peter, what do I do? Tell me what to do, oh, my God…” she rambled on, her eyes searching for something, anything she could use to press onto the wound to stop the bleeding. In the end, she used her own scarf. The silk immediately soaked up the blood. “Peter, talk to me!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” he tried to reassure her, looking at his own side to evaluate the severity of the damage.

               Fuck, it hurt. It hurt like a real bitch! He couldn’t let it show though, because Emmeline’s level of panic entirely depended on his.

               The other two men began to yell things about this not being part of the plan, that no one was supposed to get shot. The shooter didn’t seem to mind much; in fact, he seemed to be the head of their little squad. The sirens sounded a lot closer already, and they were packing up. The man Peter had taken a bullet for was now huddled in a corner, pants wet.

               The police burst through the doors before the last of the men could escape through the back, but Emmeline was too focused on Peter to pay attention to their surroundings at this point.

“Hold on, kid,” a police officer told them. “An ambulance is on its way.”

               Peter froze, eyes wide staring into Emmeline’s.

“No, no Em, listen, I can’t go to the hospital!” he told her, sounding like he was the one panicking now that they were mostly out of danger. He tightened his grip on her hand to gain her attention. “I can’t.”

“You have a bullet in your stomach!” she almost shouted back, still very much in shock. “Where else would you have them take you?!”

“Yes, I know! I felt it, thank you very much!” he snapped back, letting her panic get to him too. “It’s not the stomach by the way.”

“It damn well looks like it to me!”

“Listen, I can’t go there. I can’t, do you hear me?”

               The paramedics would soon swarm this place to check on the people who had been trapped inside the store during the robbery, and then take Peter into the ambulance. There was no time. Emmeline sensed the urgency in Peter’s voice and leaned in.

“I know I’ve been shot but trust me when I say I cannot go to the hospital!” he whispered in a rapid-fire speech to ensure no one else could hear.

“But you-“

“Please, Em. I need your help for this,” he begged her.

               She closed her mouth, lips pinched in a thin line. She needed to think. How were they supposed to get out and away from a crime scene filled with policemen? Their options were pretty limited, but she had to find a way. Peter never asked anything of her, never asked for favors, but this sounded important.

               He must have a reason for not wanting to go to the hospital, and she trusted it was more serious than a debilitating fear of needles or doctors.

“Fuck! Alright, let’s do this,” she swore, already helping Peter up while the officer from earlier checked on the other people present, especially the man who had pissed himself and now resumed his panicked behavior.

               She hoisted Peter up with a muffled grunt and he bit the inside of his cheeks to keep from groaning in pain as she led it towards the back, where no police car awaited them if their made a quick escape. She felt like she was the criminal fleeing from the crime scene.

“Wait,” she said, making him stop walking so she could grab the coat hanging from the back of a chair in the back office. “You’ll need this to hide the wound.”

               Before continuing, she pushed open the emergency exist to check it the back alley wasn’t swarmed in policemen, or worse, the robbers.

“Coast seems clear, but we should hurry. Someone must have noticed our disappearance already. It’s not like a pool of blood on the marble stone will look inconspicuous.”

               The walk around the building to a nearby street free of cops wasn’t long, but Emmeline felt as though she had run a marathon when they finally reached an avenue. While holding his coat closed to prevent people from seeing all the blood, Peter and Emmeline went to stand at the road and hailed a cab.

               It was a miracle the driver didn’t see the sweat trickling on Peter’s forehead, and his sickly pallor. Emmeline climbed in after him and gave her address. The ride never felt longer.

“Peter,” she whispered, more to make sure he wasn’t fainting on the backseat of the cab than to make actual conversation. “Peter!”

“Mmh?” he hummed, eyes closing lazily. Emmeline smacked him in the head and he sat straighter. “I’m awake, I’m awake!” he told her.

“Peter, we just fled from a crime scene. We’ll get in so much trouble, this was a terrible, horrible, disastrous idea!”

“You know a lot of synonyms,” he chuckled. “Yeah, alright, it’s bad, I know,” he added when he saw her jaw clench. “But it would have been worse if we’d stayed there. I can never go to a hospital, I’d be found out immediately.”

“Why? Do you have six other legs I don’t know about?” Emmeline snapped. “I’m very serious, Peter! What if they think we were a part of this robbery? What if we get arrested?”

               She scoffed, not convinced, still shaken up and a little paranoid about being arrested.

“I heal too fast, it won’t be good if I arrived at the ER with a bullet wound that looks weeks old.”

“I know, I know… I’m sorry,” Emmeline sighed, finally seeing her building down the road. “Right now, the idiot you took a bullet for must have told everyone I was there. My face is going to be all over the news in no time, I hate it. Most of all, I hate that you got hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” he assured her, the grunt that followed not working in his favor. “It’s nobody’s fault, even if I had it with me, I can’t always sneak off to change into my suit. Sometimes I have to improvise. I’m not usually inside the premises when there’s a robbery, this is a bit new.”

“Don’t make me laugh, I’m supposed to be upset,” Emmeline told him, repressing a smile.

               Peter grinned boyishly.

“We’re here,” she announced.

               She tipped the driver and pulled Peter out of the cab with as much care as possible, still hiding his wound and the blood-soaked sweater underneath the coat she stole.

               The cab ride might have given Emmeline the opportunity to calm down a bit, but as soon as they reached her bathroom, and Peter’s coat was discarded, her eyes went wide in alarm upon seeing the sheer amount of blood he had lost.

“You shouldn’t even be conscious anymore!” she exclaimed although she had no notion of how much blood an adult male could lose before losing consciousness. “Tell me truthfully, have you ever had this kind of injury before? Or are you bullshitting me to stop me from freaking the fuck out? Which I am about to do, by the way.”

               Emmeline was not believing him when he assured her that it was nothing and she kept saying to herself that this was a mad, reckless idea, and now Peter was going to die in her apartment, and she would have to move out again because of the trauma.

“Okay, okay, I can do this,” she told herself in an attempt to gather her wits. Now wasn’t the time to give in to panic, that was too easy. Peter was badly hurt and he needed her to keep it together. “It still looks really, really bad, Peter.” It was downplaying it, but she tried her best.

               He rolled his eyes and sat down on the edge of the bathtub.

“See?” He pulled his sweater up, showing the wound and subsequently making Emmeline go several shades paler. “It’s not as bad as it looks with all the blood,” he promised her.

“What the fuck? What the actual fuck?” Emmeline whispered to herself, eyes not darting away from the oozing blood – it was impossible to look anywhere else; it was morbidly fascinating to watch Peter’s body reject the bullet and try to heal the wound at an abnormal speed.

               After wiping away the blood that had already dried on his stomach, it did look less like he was going to kick the bucket tonight but it was still a bullet wound and Emmeline was in no way, shape, or form ready to stitch Peter up after this entire traumatic endeavor.

“Look!” He pointed at the entrance hole. “The bullet is already coming out.”

“Oh, my God!” she swore, hiding her face in her hands. This was exactly the kind of freaky stuff she never thought she would see outside of a movie theater in her life. “Why did I look?”

               Just as she said this, she opened her eyes to have another peek through her fingers, unable to stop herself. It was like a car crash – she couldn’t stop looking at it. In any other circumstances she might have teased Peter about his abs, but she wasn’t in the mood to ogle him right now.

               He pressed his fingers on the skin each side of the wound to push the bullet out, and soon enough it was there. Emmeline didn’t know how she managed not to faint when she saw the bullet come out, making a disgusting sound, and hit the tiling in a clatter of metal, sending droplets of blood on her immaculate floor.

“Hey, hey!” Peter called her name, his hand shooting out to hold her steady. “Stay with me, Em. Where do you keep your first aid kit?”

“A first aid-kit?” she squeaked out and shook her head to shake off her parasite thoughts. Now wasn’t an appropriate time to daydream. “You need a doctor, Peter. I don’t think a Spidey band aid will do the trick.”

               He paused to look at her, one eyebrow raised.

“Do you have one?”

“No!” she exclaimed, now giving him an exasperated look. “Beside the point, dumbass! What I mean is you probably need stitches!”

“Some gaze will do, don’t worry. See? The bleeding has stopped, and the wound will be closed by tomorrow. I won’t even have a scar by the end of the week.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“I am totally serious. Look-“

“No, I’m not looking anymore!”

“Emmeline,” Peter started, using her full name. “Please, just see for yourself.”

               His tone had grown much lower, steadier. She didn’t like this in the least but thought she could trust him, and while she did not look forward to taking yet another lingering look at his bullet wound, she complied.

               Much to her bafflement, it did look much smaller already. Her mouth opened slightly but she didn’t say anything. In fact, she reached out, fingers stopping only an inch before touching the entry hole.

“It can’t be possible,” she murmured, barely believing her eyes. “It was so… it was… there was so much blood…”

               Her shoulders slumped in the faintest of ways, and only Peter, who had spent more time studying her than he would care to admit, would have noticed. She was obviously still upset and emotional because of what happened, but at least seeing with her own eyes that he hadn’t been lying about his fast healing seemed to have put a full stop to her panic.

“No need to worry, Em. I’ll be as good as new in no time, okay?” He took a hold of her wrist and she finally detached her eyes from his stomach to look into his eyes instead. “Better me than the other guy.”

“I’m not sure I agree with that,” she countered, clicking her tongue against the inside of her cheek and crossing her arms over her chest.

               She stood up now that the crisis was over. The adrenaline was coming down too.

“He might be dead,” Peter pointed out.

               She knew he was trying to appeal to her good nature, but after today’s events, she wasn’t so sure she still had enough of it to care about that cowardly man who put all of them in danger and so easily discarded her life.

“He will be if I ever see him again,” she snapped back. “He’s the reason why you got shot! Sure, I spat in our attacker’s face, but I got my own souvenir for it.”

               She pointed at the left side of her face, which was very sore and would no doubt sport a beautiful purple bruise tomorrow morning.

“You could have gotten more backlash for that, you know? I’m sorry I let the situation escalate so much.” Peter stood up, right in Emmeline’s face since she didn’t step back. He was a little taller than her, which always made him smirk a little when he thought about it. “I told you I wouldn’t let anything happen to you. I should have protected you.”

               Her expression softened and her arms fell back to her sides.

“And you did, Peter. The second he lifted a hand on me you were there,” she reminded him, but Peter shook his head. He was obviously disappointed in himself, and nothing she could say would make him feel better about what went down. “Don’t beat yourself up over this. Come now, you’re not fully healed yet and I intend to watch over you like a hawk until you are. You need rest.”

“What- no, please, don’t make me,” Peter whined when she began to walked out of the bathroom, holding him by the arm.

“Don’t be difficult!”

               He might be serious about his fast healing, and Emmeline might have slowly calmed down when she realized that he was telling the truth and he really wasn’t in danger, but she still felt entitled to fuss over him.

               When she ordered him to lie on the bed, Peter refused.

“It’s only half past six, what am I supposed to do in bed?” he argued.

               Emmeline didn’t say anything but the devious grin painted on her face spoke for itself and Peter regretted asking as soon as he spotted it.

“Alright,” Peter agreed, electing to put an end to his own misery since he wasn’t going to win this argument. He let his tired body fall onto her bed but just when Emmeline smiled in victory, he pulled her down with him. “But I’m not lying all alone in your bed and staring at the ceiling while you go about your day.”

               Emmeline gasped when she fell heavily on him, trying to absorb the shock with her arms but barely managing.

               They laid very still, chest to chest on her bed, and she wasn’t pale in the face anymore – not in the least. Peter hadn’t taken the full measure of what he was doing when he pulled her with him, but he wasn’t complaining about the result. Maybe it was the adrenaline speaking, but he thought this was quite an improvement from their usual careful distance.

“Gottcha,” he told her, easing himself on her pillow and wrapping his arms around her to prevent her from getting up. “You’re my hostage now.”

“Oh, too soon,” Emmeline grumbled, yet couldn’t hide the laughter in her eyes when she looked up.

“Sorry. I must be more shaken up than I thought. Maybe you could cuddle me better?” he suggested quite boldly, earning a frank laugh in response but no resistance.

“Alright, you win.” She tapped out and Peter opened his arms. “Let me get my shoes off at least.”

               Pretending to think about it, Peter hummed thoughtfully, but Emmeline only swatted his shoulder and sat on the bed to take off her shoes and bits of jewelry that she set aside on her nightstand. She typed something on her phone and then it joined the rest of her items. Just when Peter was about to start whining about her taking too long, she climbed on the bed, taking care to lie on the side he wasn’t hurt.

“Mmh, I feel better already,” Peter hummed and closed his eyes, welcoming Emmeline’s embrace and wrapping his arm around her shoulders when she delicately placed her head on his chest.

               It made his heart fluffer like a bird’s wings, feeling her so close. For a moment, however short, the distance between them shrunk to nothing at all. Maybe she could hear his heart beating wildly against his ribcage, and so what?

               It might tell her what Peter had failed to do, so far. Maybe she would be able to read his heartbeat like she could a piano sheet – understand it and hear its music. If she rubbed her thumb against his chest on purpose or not was hard to tell, but it soothed Peter. He relaxed enough to slow down his frantic heartbeat and enjoy the appeasing presence of Emmeline, snuggled into his side.

“We still haven’t found May’s birthday present,” Emmeline said after a while, turning her head to prop it up on her other hand and meet Peter’s eyes.

               A long groan answered her.

“You’re right,” Peter eventually said. He rubbed his eyes with his free hand. “Almost forgot.”

“Let’s forget about the jewelry,” Emmeline decided, surely done with jewelry stores for a long time now. “We should do something simple – a homecooked dinner, good wine, a bouquet of her favorite flowers… something cozy.”

               While Emmeline didn’t know May all that well, she had her in a nutshell when she talked about giving her something simpler but more personal for her birthday. He had only meant for Em to help him choose a gift, but if she offered to come and give a hand, he wasn’t going to turn her down. He had a feeling May really liked her.

“Yeah, sounds nice. But I can’t cook. Do you know how to cook? I’ve never seen you cook.”

“Of course, I know how to cook! I wasn’t counting on your cooking skills to make this dinner happen,” she teased him, sniggering lightly and scrunching up her nose at him.

“That’s what I thought,” Peter laughed too, agreeing with her. “By the way, I was meaning to ask you… why did you spit in the guy’s face earlier? That was a pretty stupid thing to do given the situation.”

               The mood shifted just then and Emmeline stirred a little bit until he released her from his hold. She sat up then, facing Peter and but looking mightily embarrassed – a rare occurrence for Emmeline Gerard. A strand of hair fell in front of her face when she lowered her eyes to stare at her hands.

“He called me ‘princess’,” she admitted, eyes looking into her lap.

               Peter frowned a little, confusion taking over his features as he pulled himself up and leaned against the bedframe to face Emmeline. Why should she be ashamed to tell him this? He didn’t know what to make of her reaction.

“But I’ve called you ‘princess’ before. You didn’t seem to mind back then,” he pointed out, not understand why she would react so violently for a pet name.

               The situation had called for cooperation, not deliberate provocation. Then again, he never called her ‘princess’ as Peter Parker, maybe it was different when Spider-Man did it. Maybe she liked it… This perspective dampened Peter’s mood quite a bit but he tried not to let it show.

“Yes. Exactly,” she quipped, looking up shyly. “You can call me that. No one else.”

               Awestruck, Peter remained quiet for a heartbeat too long, probably leading her to think he thought it was an idiotic reason for putting them all in danger. Her stray strand of hair swung in front of her eyes when she looked down into her lap again, and this time he couldn’t help it anymore and reached out. When he tucked it behind her ear, they both froze, realizing their sudden proximity.

               Their thighs touched; they couldn’t possibly sit closer to each other unless Emmeline decided to sit on his lap – which Peter would allow with great pleasure. His hand was still on his cheek, he hadn’t withdrawn it, and Emmeline leaned in ever so slowly, almost against her better judgement. The moment seemed to last forever as they both understood what was going to happen if they didn’t snap out of it.

               Did they want to snap out of it? Not really. Should they? That was an entirely different matter.

               He wanted to touch her so badly – not just her cheek, not just to tuck her hair behind her ear, not just to innocently cuddle her. Peter wanted to hold Emmeline against him and never let go, he wanted to finally know what it felt like to kiss her, and make love to her. Every last cell in his body ached for a kind of intimacy he hadn’t really thought about until she came into his life.

               Their foreheads touched and he let out a sharp breath. Could he hear the hammering on her heart from where he was, or was it his own that thrummed loudly in his temples?

               Bella’s loud bark followed by her dash across the apartment put a tragic end to the moment they were having, and Emmeline jumped back, getting off the bed and to the door.

“Must be the food I ordered,” she grumbled, obviously not happy about the interruption.

“When did you order food?” Peter asked from the bed, slowly getting up without reopening his wound.

               It was just his luck – finally about to take this step with the girl he’s like for months, only to be interrupted in the middle of their moment. By her own dog no less.

“When you decided I should cuddle with you instead of letting me do the cooking,” she chuckled, looking through her judas. Bella was still barking and pawing at the door like mad, until Em shooed her off, telling her to go to Peter.

               When the pit came to sit in front of Peter in the kitchen while he took out plates and cutlery, Peter narrowed his eyes at her.

“I thought we were friends!” he whisper-shouted at the dog. “Friends don’t cockblock each other.”

               Bella only tilted her head to the right, moving her ears in a curious way. It was dinner time for Bella too, so he filled her bowl with the usual, watching her get excited when he opened the fridge. She wagged her tails and ran around Peter until he set down the bowl and she could start her feast.

“You’re lucky you’re cute,” Peter sighed, turning away from the dog.

               Better luck next time.

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Reblog to save a writer

Taglist: @of-virtuoso​ @justanothergenzkid​ @complete-trash-101​ @the-freefeather​  @yarkmydude

[someone-online]

Okay now you have to tell us all about the show!! Was it as amazing as you thought a Percy Jackson musical would be?

HOLY HECKING YES!!!! I WROTE DOWN ALL MY THOUGHTS TOO BC I HAD SO MANY (spoilers for the musical):

•THUNDER!!!

•PERCY JUST GOES IN THAT “ALONE ON FRIDAY NIGHT GOD YOUR PATHETIC” POSE

•or its “draw me like one of my french girls”

•Ryan plays Chiron incredibly regal

•Jorrel!!! As Grover!!!!! Is so!!!! GOOD!!!!

•Percy is a lot sadder in person compared to the cast album

•Chris sounds so ready to cry like omg i wanted to cry withr him

•”im not a bad kid on purpose” MY HEART!!!!!

•Percy bringing out fabreze when Gabe came djdjdjdj

•Gabe wearing slides djdjdjdjdjdj

•OKAY BUT I LOVED SALLY IN STRONG LIKE SHES ACTUALLY SO FUNNY

•”YOU MET A FURY” “/YOURE/ A FURRY!!!”

•THAT MINATOUR HEAD IS SO BIG

•oof sally doesnt disappear in a beam of light but ;-;;;;;

•CAN WE TALK ABOUT RYAN PLAYING POSEIDON HEJDJDJDJD

•HE SOUNDED LIKE JASON TAM

•”you drool when you sleep”

•JORREL AS MR D IS SO FUNNY DJDJDJDJDJ

•WHEN MR D SHARPENS A PENCIL FRONT OF KATIE GARDENER

•CHIRONS HORSE LEGS DKDJDJDJDJDK

•I WANTED TO CRY!!!! FOR PERCY!!!!! BIG OOF

•Forgot about Annabeth’s crush on Luke and they actually had it!!

•”YOURE MY DREAM GIRL!!!”

•”it’s a sword not a lightsaber”

•”I love girls!!”

•shfjjdkdkdk why is percy a mood

•SILENA WITH A SLEDGEHAMMER!!!

•TOILET PAPER!!!

•”the toilet just responded to me”

•”all hail percy lord of the bathroom”

•”SHE COULDVE KILLED ME” “the plan wouldve worked either way”

•Silena and Katie just high fiving in Campfire Song

•GROVER DJDJDJDJDJDJ “MY TURN!!! ITS MY TURN!!!!”

•”thats so much mascara”

•”well he vomited them up afterwards”

•”all hail percy son of Poseidon” “SWEEET!!!”

•”I TOLD YOU WE SHOULDVE TURNED HIM INTO A DOLPHIN!!!!”

•Mr D just insisting on turning Percy into a dolphin djdjdjjdfm

•”not some zig zag prop for some traveling musical”

•”there are no sons of Hades or daughters of Zeus running around” I FREAKED OUT

•WOWOWOWOOW THE ORACLE WAS SPOOPY

•I ALMOST CRIED IN GOOD KID

•ACTUALLY I DID CRY

•KRISTEN SINGING THE WORD “QUEST” WOWOWOWOOWWO

•CHRIS SHAKING THE SHOES DJDJDJDJJD

•Chiron covering Clarisse’s mouth djdjdjdjjd

•WOWOW HOW THAT FIRST ACT ENDED

•I NEED TO MENTION THE CHOREOGRAPHY THAT WAS SO GOOD

•AND THE COSTUME CHANGES!!!! WOW!!!!

•THE BUS AT THE BEGINNING OF ACT 2 IS SO COOL

•also the bright lights wowowowow

•”Perseus Jackson!!! I want you to meet my sisters!!!”

•annabeth happily saying she hopes the quest will dangerous djdjdn

•THE SQUIRREL

•chris sounds so different from the cast album honestly djfjfjjdfn

•Auntie M’s Emporium djjddjjdjddj

•Medusa’s actor just randomly deepening his voice djdjdjd

•”i had a boyfriend once”

•Grover ranting about Uncle Ferdinand fjdjdjdndj

•”interesting choice to have him screaming”

•the statues shaking the things

•”your mother and i are old nemesis... nemeses... nemesissies... we didnt get along!!”

•”ew ew ew ew ew ew ew”

•”oh hey look! Empty boxes!!”

•”THE GODS WILL THINK WE’RE IMPERTINENT!!!” “Oh we /are/ impertinent”

•Annabeth teaching Percy to hold a sword!!!

•i was watching My Grand Plan and the only thing I could think was that Alana Beck should sing it too djdjdjdjjd

•KRISTEN STOKES!!!! QUEEN!!!!

•”I JUST SOLVED ALL OUR PROBLEMS!!! While you guys were here /not/ solving all our problems, the squirrel came back and gave us these!!”

•THE TRACTOR JDJDJDJDJDJD

•OKAY BUT I LOVE THE SET???? THE DESIGN AND THE LIGHTING ARE SO NICE????? AND IT LOOKED SO COOL AND REALLY ADDED TO THE SCENE LIKE WOWOWOWOWOW

•”i swallowed a bug i swallowed a bug”

•BIANCA

•it looks so fun to be part of that cast!!!

•THAT KRONOS SCENE LIKE WHOA

•WHOA WHOA WHOA WHOA

•”cant go to the movies mom, i have a quest... and homework”

•TREE ON THE HILL!!!! MADE ME CRY!!!!

•THALIA!!!!!!!

•have i mentioned yet that i love grover? Bc i love grover

•THEY KEPT THW DROWNED IN A BATHTUB THING DJDJDJDJDJDJDJ

•Charon is so extra djdjdjdjdjjd

•”my true pssion is music”

•IT LOOKED LIKE THEY HAD KERMIT PUPPETS????

•i forgot to say earlier but wow James is shorter than i thought i thought hed be taller than Chris but hes shorter

•”why would Kronos want my shoes?” “They /were/ cool shoes!”

•ANNABETH THINKING PERCY WAS THE LIGHTNING THIEF!!!! THEN PERCY THINKING ANNABETH WAS THE LIGHTNING THIEF!!!! MY PERCABETH HEART

•”HADES ISNT THE BAD GUY!!! WHY DOES EVERYONE THINK IM THE BAD GUY??? Well, maybe its the decor...”

•why does hades talk like that djdjdj

•WOWOWOW THE FIGHT WIRH ARES

•PERCY AND POSEIDON MEETING!!!

•Poseidon is a massive dork

•also lets talk about that dolphin fjdjdndndn

•Poseidon and Sally interacting djdjdjdjdjdj

•”i got your gift.” “And i got yours”

•”so. Thats my dad” “*seductive voice* thats your /dad/“

•percy trying to get lukes attention in last day og summer!!!

•LUKE SOUNDS A LOT MORE ANGRIER THAN IN THE CAST ALBUM

•I FREAKED OUT WHEN LIKE STABBED PERCY LIKE WHOA WHOA WHOA

•”he wont get far!! Ive got all the squirrels on the east coast searching for him!!”

•chris dont stare at me before Bring On the Monsters telling me i have to face my monsters

•LUKE IS IN THAT SONG

•the bows were short

•im sad they all decided they didnt want to stagedoor so i didnt get to meet anyone but you know what i got to see the Lightning Thief musical im okay with that

•AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

[killian-whump]

Nudity in Kiss me judas?

Yes… but no.

Depending on how the opening scene is done, when Phineas wakes up nude in a bathtub full of ice, there might be some nudity. Depends on how much ice they put in that bathtub ;)

There’s also some sex scenes and a hospital gown and all kinds of other opportunities to see some bits and bobs. Phineas basically spends the entire story high as a kite and giving no shits about things like clothes and grievous bodily harm and his own life expectancy and basic sanity or the lack thereof. He’s the character equivalent of Dark Hook running naked down Main Street, flailing his arms and shooting people, whilst inviting people to look at the erection he got from doing so. In other words, he’s awesome.

BUT… If our suspicions are correct and a butt double was procured for Colin’s role in JJ Sneed, it’s likely any actual nudity in Kiss Me, Judas will be either respectfully done (ie Austin Powers style “look at this lovely towel rack conveniently obscuring his bits”) or will employ a body double.

That said, I would think we’re gonna definitely see some chest/tummy/abs content, considering the removal of Phineas’ kidney (and the wound left behind from that) is a huge plot point and, in general, we’ll probably be super happy with everything in the entire film, because it’s gonna be awesome.

I would bet on the Sacred Navel making an appearance - possibly its first ever actual appearance, if it doesn’t reveal itself to us before then in JJ Sneed or elsewhere. All hail the Sacred Navel, first of its name, rightful ruler of the Six Kingdoms and protector of the Treasure Trail.

[shewantedtobeasecretgirl]

6. This means war a. k. a. a butcher knife, an interrogation and a battlefield (Part One)

After taking a deep breath I enter Eric’s room. Glancing around I realize it’s not as big as I thought. We assigned him to the host of the party since due to an administration failure he’s been accommodated in the honeymoon suite, which led to a hilarious competition among the guys for the role of the new wife. But standing in this so-called honeymoon suite the differences I see in comparison to our double room are only the enormous double bed and the corner sofa. The latter is occupied by Jeff, Eddie, Beth and Karrie who arrived probably just a few minutes earlier than me, she left when I was drying my hair.

“Judy, finally, we were waiting only for you!” Eric exclaims as he spots me.

“Man, I’m disappointed. No candles, no rose petals on the bed?” I complain.

“Actually, you’ve just missed the rose petals. Smitty ate all of them a few seconds ago.”

“That’f nod drue, he’f lyimm! Don’t believe him, Miftreff Judy!” I hear Smitty who joins Eric’s joke miming chewing and swallowing hard. He’s sitting with Mike and Brett on the carpet in the other corner of the room. They’re playing a game which is unknown for me and seems to be a bizarre combination of beer pong, strip poker and building house of cards.

“Hey Jude!” Mike hails cheerfully singing the first notes of the classic Beatles song.

“They say it’s your birthday!” I shout back responding with another song of the same band.

“Uh, can I call you Jude? I know, I know, it’s a male name, but I’ve always wanted a friend who I can greet by singing a famous line!”

“Of course, I’m honored. But why me? I mean, you have a bandmate called Stone, so… “ I point at the referred person who sprawls out in the armchair between the bed and the huge window that serves as the fourth wall of the room. As usual, he’s holding his acoustic guitar on his lap and sips his beer time and again. Noticing I’m talking about him he sends the lovely look of an axe murderer to me.

“Nevermind…” I wave resigned. “Dave, Scully?” I turn around searching for the missing members of the team.

“In the bathroom” Mike points with one thumb behind his back, straight at a door opening to the room in question and after twinkling for a few seconds I spot two figures sitting in the bathtub in the darkness.

“Hi guys, why are you hiding?” I peek in.

“Just a second Judy, we’re busy.” Dave answers closing a small, transparent plastic bag and searching for something in his pocket. I hear a quiet clicking and as the tiny flame of his lighter rises to his chin I realize what’s going on. The orange light of the joint wanders towards Scully and a few seconds later I see it approaching me.

“Uhm, no thanks, I‘d rather… I’d rather have a beer.”

“As you want, no pressure. But since you go back in the room would you take the role of the mailwoman?” Before I could answer Scully raises my right hand and puts the glowing joint between my thumb and my index finger.

“Oh… okay… and who’s the addressee?” God, I hope they can’t see how hard my hands are trembling. Shit… l could be arrested for this…

“We share everything so it can be anyone… even if you would change your mind on your way back.” Dave snickers.

“Ooookaaay…” I start walking back slowly in the room. I hope I don’t get high with that shit while inhaling its smoke… Maybe I shouldn’t breathe until I get rid of it… “Hi folks… I have a spare joint… Does anyone need it?”

“Mike, you’re cheating!”

“No, I’m not!”

“Yes, you are… Smitty dropped the queen of spades so now you have to take off one of your socks!”

“But I hit the glass with my ball!” Mike argues.

“But it touched the edge of it; that costs one sock.” Brett insists. Okay, these are too obsessed with their insane game... I wave with the joint towards the couch group but they all shake their heads, Eric disappeared somewhere while I was in the bathroom so there’s no one left except him.

“Hahaha, guys, I can confirm that Mike can hit anything with his balls but could we skip the sock part? We’re not prepared for chemical weapons.” Stone giggles in that annoying nasal voice which drives me crazy every single time I hear it. And he giggles at his own joke, as always.

“Stone, do you wanna get high? Or could you just take this, I don’t care what you’re going to do with it…”

“Am I your last hope? Well, after all, someone has to do it…” he grins reaching out his arm for the joint. I should have known, this fuckin’ hippie… “Oh, wait! What does the Bible say about getting high?” he asks with pretended concern.

“It doesn’t matter; you’ve already deserved fire and brimstone.” I shrug and try to hide the satisfaction I feel seeing his surprised expression.

“Wait, are you trying to joke with me? Sorry, but I’m not high enough to appreciate your efforts yet.”

“And I could never get high enough to bear you for more than three seconds, so bye…” I wave to him and turn back to join the others, giving myself a mental pat on the back for making him speechless for a few seconds. I’m still in readiness to stay prepared in case his retort hits me with a little longer delay than usual but the scene doesn’t go on since Eric arrived back in the room in the meantime, lifting the cake box over his head with a loud whistle.

“Nobody’s going to take off any socks or get high before the most important event of this party.” he begins his speech. “We are here to celebrate two people.” What, two? “On one hand, our badass lead guitarist…”

“Who has the body of a Greek god…” Dave cuts him off as he and Scully show up in the room in the meantime.

“Yes, Michael David McCready, the Greek guitar god turned twenty-six today so we’re going to consume this awesome cake with him, yes, I said “consume”, it’s full of alcohol, we’re not going to play cake throw this time. But we forgot to buy candles so you’re not entitled to make wishes.” Eric places the cake onto the table right in front of Mike who seems puzzled and excited at the same time.

“And on the other hand, we’ve had a new member in the team for a few days, a diligent road intern who deserves her own cake as well…” Eric nods towards Karrie who puts a small cupcake in my hands and quickly begins to distribute paper plates and plastic forks which were probably hidden behind a pillow until now.

“It’s a coffee cream cake, as far as we know you’re addicted to coffee…” Eric explains. He must have asked Karrie, her mysterious smile reveals that she was involved in the surprise.

“That’s right… I… I didn’t think that… I… thanks…” I have to fight for every single word since I wasn’t prepared for getting in the middle of the events. And I hate being in the middle of the events.

“They should have bought rather a grammar textbook for you…” Stone’s caustic remark brings me back from the shock in the present but I decide to push Mike into the limelight again instead of starting a battle of words with Stone again.

“Mike, you should slice the cake and make wishes while doing it. Could you get a knife?” I ask Eric who pulls out a terrifying cleaver from behind his back.

“The birthday party resulted in a cruel slaughter. The victims are the members of the Seattle-based rock band Pearl Jam, the other corpses haven’t been identified yet…” I try to impersonate police spokeswomen, which makes Beth laugh out loud probably because it reminded her of our very first conversation in Cleveland.

“Hey, this is all they could find in the kitchen. Mike?” Eric wants to hand him the frightening tool but he protests keeping his hands behind his back.

“Uh, I’m very clumsy with kitchen tools, uhm, Jude… would you take over the task? I’d do the wishing part in the meantime.” he begs with his eyes, which makes me sigh and accept the object of his fear from Eric.

“Wow, that butcher knife looks good in your hands!” Jeff laughs nudging Eddie who’s also chuckling quietly.

“Okay, who wants to be the first?” I glance around with a devilish grin stroking all over the blade cautiously with my index finger and enjoy the perplexed faces for a few seconds before I go on. “I mean, the first to eat a slice of cake…” I add angelically.

“I’ve suspected since our conversation that you’re not that innocent schoolgirl you look like but that’s high above my expectations.” Eric shakes his head smiling.

“Which conversation?” Mike inquires curiously.

“There wasn’t any conversation. Eat, private McCready!” I command placing the first slice onto his paper plate.

“Yes ma’am!” he yells. “Who would dare protest while she’s holding that lethal weapon?” he mutters in front of himself.

I serve everyone with cake consistently ignoring Stone who puts his plate in front of me again and again thinking he’ll be the next one to be offered.

“I thought you forgot about me.” he remarks as he finally receives the last slice. “A typical example for an abuse even of the tiniest hint of power.”

“You embarrass me with your exaggerated kindness all the time, how could I forget about you?” I bite back faking a smile before licking the rest of the chocolate cream carefully from the blade. Glancing up I can see a shocked Stone turning away with his prey to plop down into the armchair again.

Since Mike finished his cake in the meantime I settle next to him using the occasion that everyone else is busy with eating; I don’t want to be bothered by anyone’s idiotic jokes.

“Hey, birthday guy, I don’t know what the customs are here but I have something for you.”

“For me? You shouldn’t have… we don’t really give presents to each other so…”

“Not a Fender Stratocaster… or actually it’s almost that…” I put the little, electric guitar-shaped bottle opener I bought at the shop of one of the gas stations we stopped at onto his palm. “Uhm… it seemed like a good idea but now it’s rather embarrassing, as if I thought you’re the maniac lead guitarist dude who gets fucked up all the time but…”

“Hahaha, stop that, I like it, it looks cool! And your description was hundred percent accurate. But I think I won’t use it for its original function, it matches my necklace as a medallion, what do you think?” his face lights up while he’s examining it taking a closer look at it. “Thanks, Jude!” he pulls me into a light hug and for some unknown reason I forget to protest and even reciprocate the hug instead of that. “Anyway, I can open beer bottles with anything, anyway…”

“That’s true, once I saw him using a cat for that purpose.” Dave confirms the statement with the typical, dumb grin of stoned people.

“A cat? How…” I want to know more about the story but Eddie’s warm baritone emerges from the monotone, incomprehensible mass of parallel conversations as he starts talking into his fist using it as a makeshift microphone.

“This is a service announcement. Judy Camden is awaited at the customer service department. I repeat: Judy Ca…”

“I’m coming, I’m coming. But I won’t leave you alone until you tell me that cat story.” I pat Mike’s shoulder and I while I’m heading to the couch I can’t help playing Eddie’s voice in my head again and again. How does he do that? He didn’t even need to shout and still, everyone fell silent for a second. And how can Beth manage not to die every single time he talks to her? What a gift, my goodness…

***

Since I share one side of the couch with Beth and Karrie, Judy’s only option is to sit down next to Jeff who obviously doesn’t object to her decision. He pulls away to offer her the place between him and the big pillow in the corner, carefully measuring the inches to give her exactly as much space as she needs without leaving any unnecessary distance between them. I catch a faint flush on her face when she realizes due to a side glance that Jeff’s arm keeps resting on the backrest behind her.

“We decided to hijack you since we haven’t had a normal conversation since you got here yet.” Beth begins playing with my fingers in her lap. I love these involuntary moves of her, her touch makes me feel like home but it’s like electricity at the same time even after all those many years we’ve spent together.

“Yeah, that’s the official version but our main purpose is to run some… uhm… background check… you’ve barely told anything about yourself and we… we failed to interrogate Karrie, she’s the discretion itself on two legs.”

“My lips are sealed.” she shrugs smiling.

“Yes, and unlike you we want to pry into your privacy.” Jeff confirms with a shameless smile leaning his head against his palm, still keeping his elbow behind Judy.

“Uhm… and what do you want to know? I didn’t know I needed a national security clearance to join the team… uh, all I have to confess is that I touched a joint like ten minutes ago, does that count?”

“Hahaha, I think our bureau of investigation has a different profile… seriously speaking… how do you feel after the first days? As far as we know, uhm… you came from a… a quite different scene…”

“Are you trying to refer to the fact that the police have already had an assigned parking place at the school I worked at due to their regular visits? Yes, being a ghetto teacher is something different.” she responds fidgeting with the string of her dress.

“He was trying to refer to your classical musical qualification.” Beth explains raising her voice a bit as Stone started strumming random chords on his guitar ignoring the fact that apart from him everybody is chatting in smaller groups.

“You mean classical musicians are considered serious while rock musicians are hilarious and reliably unreliable?”

“Uhm… I don’t know how I meant it… did I mean it that way?” I look at Beth for help, damn, women are so much better at directing conversations in a tricky way.

“Kinda.” she rolls her eyes and squeezes my hand slightly.

“That’s a huge mistake. I was forced by my music teacher to play in the wind orchestra of the high school… we toured several times, you can imagine how it feels to spend basically days in a bus with forty teenage guys who are struggling with the hormonal explosion of adolescence…”

“Gosh, poor teenage Judy, judging from my experiences with basketball teams it must have been rude…” Jeff strokes her forearm playfully, which makes her move one inch towards the corner.

“Ahah, yes… I’m still unbeatable at endless citing of dirty jokes flavored with poop and pee humor.” she frowns.

“And were you the only girl in the band? I’ve never understood the cause of that massive majority of male wind players…” Yes, that’s my feminist girl.

“No, I wasn’t… there were about four or five girls in the orchestra apart from me but… ahem, their musical skills played only a secondary role behind their… ahem… primary function in the band…  Let’s say they didn’t use their oral skills only for musical purposes.” she ends the sentence staring her hands on her lap embarrassed.

“Ah, band bitches?” Beth chuckles.

“So to say. And as the guys figured out I was really there for playing music, they lost interest in me. Not that they had had much interest in me before that… And the girls didn’t want to socialize with me either, regarding I wasn’t really animated when they tried to share their stories about the skills of the guys with me.”

“NUHUN!!!” we get interrupted by Stone’s loud fake sneeze which he uses to express his opinion about Judy’s attitude. I can’t believe this guy, I knew he was eavesdropping even if he pretends to be busy with searching for new riffs. Beth sends me a perplexed look questioning ‘Is he serious?’; yes, babe, he is…

“So was attending the classes at school a relief in comparison to the band tours?” Beth tries to lure Judy back in the conversation seeing she’s probably planning how to kill Stone as cruelly as possible, or at least that’s what I can read from her face.

“Uhm, not really, if you’re labeled as the nerdy, valedictorian girl who spends all of her spare time with classical music and was elected for the president of Resting Bitch Face Society three times in a row, nobody cares who you really are… except from that two or three friends I had from my class. Probably you’ve already realized that I’m not that party girl type…”

“Catholic girls with a tiny little mustache…” Stone starts playing and singing Frank Zappa’s song. What a coincidence. Hearing Stone’s performance Judy furrows her eyebrows hard; she must have dropped the plan about pushing Stone in front of a train and now she’d rather spill hydrochloric acid on him.

“Don’t believe her, she seems shy but had quite crazy adventures with her sister…” Karrie nudges Beth with one elbow nodding towards Judy; our female road has already gained enough experiences with Stone to know that ignorance is the best thing you can do in these situations.

“Oh, yes… the riot girl.” she smiles in front of herself probably recalling some of the mentioned adventures.

“Younger or older?” I ask.

“Two years younger.”

“And didn’t you fight a lot? My younger brothers were yelling with each other all the time, I started listening to my vinyl records using a headphone partly because of them.”

“Actually we’ve always been pretty good sisters. She’s a ray of sunshine so she compensated my distant relation to the pushy old relatives… of course later she freaked them out with her rebellious ideas and it was me who saved her ass after her pranks.”

“Rebellious ideas? Like climbing through the window, crawling down on the gutter and going to parties despite the parental prohibition?” Jeff takes over the role of the interrogator. He should blink sometimes before his gaze burns a hole into Judy’s skull… In the meantime, Stone starts tuning the strings, one after another, driving me crazy enough to ask him to stop.

“Stone, could you do that later? We’re trying to talk.”

“Yes, all of those classic teenage stories. But she began to shock people earlier… little schoolgirls usually like wearing nice dresses and shoes at school events but guess who was the only girl who was dressed up as a Kiss member at the Halloween dance of 1978…” Judy goes on while Stone keeps torturing his instrument.

“Did someone mention KISS?” Mike cranes his neck suddenly from behind the table like a curious mongoose but I can barely hear his voice over our cackle.

“Yes, I was talking about my sister, Effie, she’s a fanatic. She decorated the wall around her desk with posters of them and I swear once I saw her praying in front of the picture of Gene Simmons.”

“That’s not so unique, right, Mike?” I laugh at him knowing that the reason of his beginning to play the guitar was his classmate’s lunchbox with a KISS photo.

“Oh, come on, Ed, who would do that kind of things?” Mike shrugs with a reproving eyeroll awkwardly denying his definitely unhealthy infatuation with the band in question.

“But the moment when everybody realized she wouldn’t be the typical cute girl of the family was on next year’s Christmas Eve.”

“That was the year when…when…?” Karrie cuts her off in tears, chocking of laughter; she must already know the end of the story.

“Yes, it was THAT year.” Judy puts accent on the middle of the sentence. “Imagine the family sitting around the Christmas tree. We’re after the dinner; everybody is dressed to the occasion, especially the little Effie. Blonde curls, blue eyes, blue dress, like a little angel. Granny asks her to sing something for the family – I’ve already fulfilled my duties by playing Christmas songs on the piano –, she agrees and stands next to the Christmas tree. What a perfect idyll, right?” Judy glances around with an excited smile checking our reactions. I never thought that this girl was so good at storytelling... Karrie presses her hands squeaking on her mouth not to spoil the probably hilarious ending.

“And?” we all ask impatiently but the annoying sound of guitar strings breaks the tense silence.

“Stone, stop that fucking strumming!” Jeff yells in his direction. “Judy, don’t tease us, we’re all ears!” he adds in a softer voice turning back to Judy.

“Our little Effie starts singing in a crystal clear voice… “God gave rock and roll to you…” “ she thins her voice to imitate the singing style of small girls. Our little company explodes of laughter what leads to Jeff’s almost falling of the couch. He manages to balance himself on the edge of it and uses the turmoil to sit back a little closer to Judy than before.

“And the coup de grace came in her senior year in high school. She was a valedictorian too, winner of several student competition and one day she stood in front of our parents and said: “Mom, Dad, I’m going to travel all around the world as a rock photographer. I’m going to college, but that’s what I really want to do.”

“And what did they say?”

“Well, they both knew if she decided something nobody could stop her so they looked at each other and sighed… and then Dad asked her to introduce him to Mick Jagger in case she would meet him.”

“I love these stories. You must have a wonderful family.” Beth remarks cautiously. Karrie asked us not to mention or ask a few topics which could be painful for her; so we try to act as discrete as possible.

“Yes, they are fantastic and I miss them already a lot. Effie is basically my best friend.”

“They certainly miss you too. It must be difficult to them and your spouse nowadays.” Beth remarks glancing at Jeff. And here we are. It’s pretty obvious that Jeff is interested in her and she’s a nice person, so why not? But Karrie wasn’t sure there wasn’t anything in progress between Judy and someone she maybe hadn’t mentioned to her yet and we didn’t want to quiz her in a too pushy way either. That’s why Beth came up with the idea about questioning her diplomatically as if it was only about friendly curiosity.

“Oh, there’s, there’s no one else except them.” she responds the question that colored her cheeks with a rose flush. And her answer pulled Jeff’s lips in a wide grin as I can see taking a side glance at him. “I’m in celibacy nowadays, hehe…”

“Hey guys, our birthday boy’s got an idea!” Eric interrupts the conversation pointing at Mike.

“Yes, I saw a bar on the next corner, they have pool tables, pinball machines, darts and all… What if we played a few rounds there, huh?”

“Like the Olympic Games of bar sports?”

“Cool!”

“I’ll beat the shit out of you in darts, ‘Cready!”

“Let’s go then!”

“Hey, I haven’t finished my beer yet!”

We immediately agree unanimously on visiting the place Mike suggested. In the cacophony nobody gives a damn about Stone who’s extending his repertoire with the bluesy cover of Like a Virgin.

[goforwardgreenwriter-blog]

The Worm Reads: Empire of Storms, Ch 58 - 60

 I’m back and ready to dive into hell again

Kaltain Rompier had just turned the tide in this war. Dorian had never been more ashamed of himself. He should have been better. Should have seen better. They all should have.

Many chapters ago I would have defended you... but yeah, no, you’re an asshole Dorito.

There was no Lock. Not in the way that they had expected, not in the way the queen had been promised and instructed to find it.

So yeah, no cigar. Given there’s still quite a few chapters left, I didn’t expect it to be this easy.

Instead of a Lock, inside there is instead a witch mirror, which are very powerful, Manon explains.

Finally, the witch said, “They’ve been making towers. Enormous, yet capable of being hauled across battlefields, lined with those mirrors. For Erawan to use with his powers—to incinerate your armies in a few blasts.”

HAHAHAHAHAHAHA ARE YOU SHITTING ME

ERAWAN’S SECRET ULTIMATE WEAPON IS SOME WALKING TOWERS WITH FUCKING MIRRORS ON THEM

HAHAHAHAHA THIS IS ALMOST AS FUNNY AS THE BATHTUB CAULDRON FROM AC0WAR KDHAFJKHKJFHKHKD YOU'RE KILLING ME SJM

[Aelin’s] magic was exhausted. For the first time in days, that pit of magic now slumbered. She could sleep for a week. A month.

Maybe you shouldn’t have been a dumbass and wasted it all on showing off and shitting glitter out your ass then, Alien.

Anyways some ships and a small army roll up to the marshes. Everyone understandably freaks out but Alien seems weirdly calm?

The soldiers were in heavy, worn gray armor, their faces rough and scarred, sizing them up as they hit the sand. Fenrys snarled at one of them, and the man averted his eyes. But the cloaked woman removed her hood as she approached with feline grace, halting perhaps ten feet away. Aelin knew every detail about her.

Huh, weird, she kinda sounds like-

That full mouth slanted into a half grin as Ansel of Briarcliff, Queen of the Wastes, drawled, “Who gave you permission to use my name in pit fights, Aelin?”

Wait......... what the fuck.

Ansel. As in, Ansel from the prequel novella. As in, a character who was not in the main series is now playing a major role in this series plot.

I’m..... tired. Not gonna complain. Just know it’s dumb and I hate it, because not everyone has read the short stories and I shouldn’t have to pay extra to understand your main plot, SJM!

Next chapter establishes that Ansel is indeed a queen. Fuckin’ great, because nobody can not be royalty in this godforsaken series.

No sign of Abraxos. Manon scanned the skies, the fleet, the seas. Not a scale to be found.

SJM, ABRAXOS BETTER BE OKAY I SWEAR TO GOD

Ansel is here because Alien used her name in the fighting pits in the previous novel.

Dorian staggered forward a step at Ansel’s words, and the Queen of the Wastes gave him a look that said she’d like to pillage him.

Yuck. Can you assholes not be horny for once in your life.

Aedion didn’t know who to be more furious with: Aelin, for not telling him about Ansel of Briarcliff and the gods-damned army she’d quietly ordered to sack Melisande and seize its fleet, or himself, for not trusting her.

Jesus fucking christ, I can’t believe I’m about to defend Assdion, but you have no reason to trust Alien! She schemes and plans behinds everyone’s backs and doesn’t tell you of her plans so she can rub it in your faces after you yell at her! Alien is the embodiment of all my pet peeves in people jkdhjkshfja

[Aedion] tried not to bristle. He was [Aelin’s] general-prince. Rowan was her consort —or close enough to it. And yet she had not entrusted them with this.

I think SJM wants us to see Assdion as unreasonable, but he’s right! They’re Alien’s fucking court and she won’t trust any of them with her plans but oh, since it works out in the end it turns out she’s the best queen evah!!!11 Fucking eat my ass SJM.

Lysandra ran a finger down the smooth wood of the railing. “I thought … It all seemed a grand adventure. Even when the danger was so horrible, it was still new, and I was no longer caged in dresses and bedrooms. But that day in Skull’s Bay, it stopped being any of that. It started being … survival. And some of us might not make it.”

>implying SJM would ever dare to kill one of her darling main characters

Assdion and Lysandra talk about loss and dying or something then they talk about whatever their relationship is.

Lysandra indeed went on the defensive and showed her hand. “I know my history is … unappealing.” “I’m going to stop you right there,” Aedion said, daring a step closer. “And I’m going to tell you that there is nothing unappealing about you. Nothing. I’ve been with just as many people. Women, men … I’ve seen and tried it all.”

ok but like.. Lysandra is talking about being a courtesan, Assdion is talking about being bisexual. Those two are... completely different things. Why would Assdion compare his bisexuality to being a courtesan...... maybe I’m reading too much into this but I’m bisexual and this kinda makes me uncomfortable....

Also of course the only bisexual character in the cast is a slut shaming asshole so I can’t even stan him. Ungh. I hc Manon as lesbian and Darrow is canon gay, so I’m gonna say Gav is bisexual and stan him. SJM can catch these hands.

Aedion shrugged. “I find pleasure in both, depending on my mood and the person.” One of his former lovers still remained one of his closest friends—and most skilled commanders in his Bane.

If Assion wasn’t a dick, I’d ship it. Also, ten bucks says nameless gay Bane commander will die for Assdion’s pain.

Lysandra agrees that they should be honest with each other and Assdion gets a boner at the thought of her mouth then the chapter ends. Riveting. That served no purpose other than to make all the bisexuals reading this squirm uncomfortably.

Next chapter begins with Ansel and Alien drinking and I can already tell there’s gonna be plenty of dumb banter.

“It’d be nice,” Aedion grumbled from down the table, where he and Rowan glared at them, “to be included in just one of these schemes, Aelin.” “But your faces are so wonderful when I get to reveal them,” Aelin crooned. He and Rowan growled. Oh, she knew they were pissed. So pissed that she hadn’t told them about Ansel. But the thought of disappointing them, of failing … She’d wanted to do this on her own.

Does SJM even read the shit she writes? Let’s dissect this.

1. Rowboat and Assdion are portrayed as nosy assholes for wanting to... be involved in their queen’s plans? You know, the queen they’ve sworn to serve? THE QUEEN WHO PUT THEM IN HER COURT.

2. Stop describing them as “pissed” they’re goddamn Fae for god’s sake

3. Oh, so Alien is scared of disappointing them, so it’s okay she lies to her own people and court?? Like how does SJM see this as a woman capable of being a queen? She lies all the goddamn time!!!! A queen is not supposed to hide this important shit from her own goddamn court!!! Just because she feels sorry about it doesn’t make it okay gdi!!!! I want Alien to fucking rot in hell!!!!!

“I want you to find me the lost Crochan witches.” Manon jerked upright. “What.”

Yeah, so now Alien wants to raise a witch army. Manon is understandably like “what the fuck” but of course, she is shot down to raise Alien up. Fuck you, SJM.

“They’re all gone,” Manon cut in again. “We’ve hunted them to near extinction.” Aelin slowly looked over a shoulder. “What if their queen summoned them?” “I am no more their queen than you are.”

Manon says this, but SJM has been parading her around almost this entire novel as a queen despite not having any land, titles, armies, whatever. Also, why does every single species have monarchies? Wouldn’t it make more sense for some of them to have different ruling systems?

“I think Erawan was probably born pissed.”

God Ansel is Alien 2.0 isn’t she...

It was no surprise at all that Ansel had managed to hold on to Hisli, the Asterion mare she’d stolen for herself. But Kasida—oh, Kasida was just as beautiful as Aelin remembered, even more so once she’d been led over a gangway onto the ship. Aelin had brushed the mare down when she’d led her into the cramped, wet stables, and bribed the horse to forgive her with an apple.

Alien can eat my ass but this is cute........ I don’t like or trust horses irl, but I like them in fiction where I don’t have to be next to them. Don’t @ me horse lovers.

Ansel splooges about how Alien didn’t kill her back in the desert and how noble and uhmazing that makes Alien. Deep breaths. Deeeep breaths. I can do this.

“We got a report that Fae soldiers were spied starting them. Firing from ships.” “Maeve,” Gavriel murmured. “But burning isn’t her style.” “It’s mine,” Aelin said. They all looked at her. She let out a humorless laugh.

Alien’s really out here making jokes when innocent country sides have been set on fire because of her, huh..... yeah, I can totally tell the deaths of innocent people are really eating her up, what a sympathetic character!

Later, Alien and Rowboat are going over strategies in private and... oh god. Oh my god. It’s this scene. This one page drained so much life and happiness out of me I think I need more therapy.

Aelin scanned the sprawl of the world, which had once seemed so vast and now, at her feet, seemed so … fragile. So small and breakable. “You could, you know,” Rowan said, his tattoo stark in the lantern light. “Take it for yourself. Take it all. Use Maeve’s bullshit maneuvers against her. Make good on that promise.”

“bullshit maneuvers” jhdahfjafh I’d complain about the writing but that is nothing compared to this implication of Alien being a fucking conqueror. If she was supposed to be a villain or morally grey then maybe, but SJM keeps hailing her as the best morally right queen evah, but then has her think about conquering the goddamn world.

“And would you join me if I did? If I turned conqueror?” “You would unify, not pillage and burn. And yes—to whatever end.” “That’s the threat, isn’t it?” she mused.

OHHH, OH OKAY. WELL THAT MAKES IT OKAY THEN.

NO FUCK YOU. Doesn’t matter what your reason is for conquering is, it’s a goddamn bad thing to do!! You’re attacking and invading other countries resulting in thousands of deaths in order to yank control out of their hands like wtf!!!!! ALIEN WAS A SLAVE IN THE SALT MINES SHE SHOULD KNOW BETTER.

This is shit that FASCISTS would say. And Alien is supposed to be the morally sound protagonist that little girls can look up to. Holy fucking shit.

“But if you could … would you?” For a heartbeat, she could see it—see her face, carved into statues in kingdoms so far away they did not even know Terrasen existed.

You know who else did shit like this?

Ozai from ATLA. You know, a fucking Fascist villain who wiped out an entire culture of Airbenders and planned to conquer the whole world to rule with an iron fist.

This is your protagonist, SJM. YOU THINK THIS IS A GOOD THING TO ASPIRE TO BE. How the fuck was this book published I am so goddamn mad.

“Perhaps if being queen bores me … I’ll think about making myself empress. To give my offspring not one kingdom to inherit, but as many as the stars.” There was no harm in saying it, anyway. In thinking about it, stupid and useless as it was. Even if wondering about the possibilities … perhaps it made her no better than Maeve or Erawan.

DFJAKLJFDLKAJFLKAJSKF

1. I love how Alien’s quote is supposed to be ~epic and uhmayzing~ when it’s about her fucking conquering all of the world’s countries to give to her kids, who may very well follow in her footsteps and be fascist assholes as well. I pray to god that Alien or Rowboat kicks the fucking bucket before they can have kids.

2.How could you be bored of being queen.... you know that’s like, a huge responsibility??? SJM literally knows nothing about monarchies and did no research outside of watching old Disney princess movies.

3. “no harm in saying it” OP is a fascist but go off I guess

4. “perhaps it made her no better than Maeve or Erawan” no bitch you’re worse than them at this point holy fucking shit!!!! At least no one is out here stanning them despite them wanting to conquer and kill innocent people like you!! Holy fucking shit this novel!!

Rowan dragged a hand through his hair. “Sometimes I wish I knew every thought in that head, each scheme and plot. Then I remember how much it delights me when you reveal it—usually when it’s most likely to make my heart stop dead in my chest.”

Yeah never mind me defending you because Alien is a dumbass, you’re a fucking awful person too. Both of you can fucking drown for all I care.

Next up is Manon’s POV.

Abraxos should have been here already. [Manon] shut out the coiling dread in her stomach. But instead of wings, footsteps creaked in the hall outside. A heartbeat later, the door opened on near-silent hinges, then shut again. Locked.

Oh, fuck you SJM, teasing me with a Manon and Abraxos reunion only to give me dumb Dorito/Manon shit. Fuck. Yo.

You don’t have chains anymore.” She sat up at that, examining where the irons draped down the wall. “Is it more enticing for you if they’re on?” Sapphire eyes seemed to glow in the dark as he leaned against the shut door. “Sometimes it is.”

Gross. I’ve never been disgusted reading Manon’s POV before, but... it’s starting to rub off on her. Please SJM, don’t taint her, she is one of the few good things I have to cling to in this massive pile of shit.

She let Dorian back her against the wall. Let him hold her gaze while he tugged the top laces of her white shirt free. One. By. One.

This. Writing. Is. Terrible.

But Dorian Havilliard said, “The Bloodhound was lying that night. What she said about your Second. I felt her lie—tasted it.” Some tight part in her chest eased. “I don’t want to talk about that.”

What the fuck Dorito, you’re making out with her and then you randomly bring up her possibly dead friends?????? What is this writing????

Again, that dark, edged smile appeared. And when he stepped close once more, his hands replaced those phantom ones. Tracing her hips, her waist, her breasts. Unhurried, indolent circles that she allowed him to make, simply because no one had ever dared.

Oh my god this is a DoritoManon sex scene isn’t it

A chill ran down her body, peaking her breasts. He watched them, then circled a finger around one. Dorian bent, his mouth following the path where that finger had been. Then his tongue. She bit her lip against the groan rising up her throat, her hands sliding into the silken locks of his hair.

OH GOD IT IS PLEASE HELP ME I NEED AN ADULT

Okay so if you want my thoughts on SJM sex scenes in general, go read my ch 38 review. But this is especially shit because Manon and Dorito barely have any chemistry. Plus Dorito is a crusty asshole and I don’t want him anywhere near my Manon baby. Fuck this goddamn shit.

She had never contemplated what it would be like—to yield control. And not have it be weakness, but a freedom.

JFC SJM, I GET IT. I get it, Dorito is the only man Manon would ever be submissive with because he’s so ~manly and dominate~ I FUCKING GET IT, GET THIS SHIT OUT OF MY FACE.

As he freed her pants button by button, then slid them off.

PANTS

This just further proves my theory SJM did no research about the medieval time period and just wanted to write lots of smutty porn.

Manon let him raise her arms over her head, his magic gently pinning her wrists to the mattress as he touched her, first with those wicked hands.

Oh my god the magic foreplay returns to haunt me. It was dumb then, it’s dumb now.

The next paragraph they’re already done and cleaning up, which seems... oddly rushed for SJM. She took numerous pages to describe Rowboat and Alien climaxing but skipped out here? I’m not complaining, believe me, just feels odd for her.

She tugged on her clothes with trained efficiency, and only when she was lacing up her shirt did Dorian say, “We’re not done, you and I.” And it was the purely male promise that made her bare her teeth.

I AM GOING TO GODDAMN LOSE MY MIND MORE THAN I ALREADY HAVE

DORITO ISN’T A MALE FAE. I’VE SEEN PEOPLE EXCUSE THE WEIRD MALE TERRITORIAL FAE SHIT WITH “oh it’s okay because they’re Fae and not human so it’s okay for them to be possessive uwuu” BUT GUESS FUCKING WHAT SWEETHEART! DORITO ISN’T FAE SO Y’ALL HAVE NO GODDAMN EXCUSE FOR HAND WAVING THIS GROSS POSSESSIVE SHIT ASIDE

KHADKFHAFHAJKHFKJAHSFK IM BREAKING

Dorian gave another purely male smile

After Dorito fucks off we go to Lorcan and Elide. Holy fucking shit this chapter is so long. The DoritoManon sex scene could’ve been cut out without any loss to the plot but lbr, fans aren’t here for the supposed fantasy plot, they’re here to read shitty smut.

Even utterly exhausted, Elide barely slept during the long night she and Lorcan swayed in hammocks with the other sailors.

After the shit I just read, this cuteness is welcomed.

Something softened in [Lorcan’s] harsh face as his eyes dipped to where [Elide’s] arm dangled out of her hammock, the skin still a bit sore, but … miraculously healed. She’d thanked Gavriel twice now, but he’d brushed it aside with a gentle nod and shrug.

This is either pure and wholesome or I’m just grasping for anything after that sex scene. Gav is such a good character, let him be a father figure to Elide and take her out for ice cream and they go for fun walks on the beach searching for interesting shells and rocks. Treasure that wholesome mental image.

It was the shout of the watch that jolted them. The one of pure terror. Elide nearly flipped out of her hammock, the sailors rushing past. By the time she shoved her hair from her eyes, Lorcan was already gone.

Oh fucking great, what bullshit do I have to put up with now?

Sailing over the western horizon, another armada headed for them. And Elide knew in her bones it was not one that Aelin had schemed and planned for. Not as Fenrys breathed, suddenly beside her on the steps. “Maeve.”

I’m so sorry I’m leaving you on a cliffhanger, but I need a break after the shit I’ve just witnessed. Like, I might actually die if I don’t stop right now.