#also i think i’ve been too absent today from the dash but i am working hard on entangled

[gojoest]

satoai ♡︎ this is how satoru looks at ai

[nyrandrea]

Setting The Stage

My hyperfixation is set back on fnaf again in anticipation for Security Breach, so I’ve decided to write my own interpretation on how the game might begin! 

Summary: Gregory had always dreamed of going to Freddy Faxbear’s Mega Pizza Plex and meeting his heroes. But he somehow ends up getting more than he bargained for, and dreams start to turn into nightmares.

Originally planned as a oneshot but had to split it into two parts.Link to next chapter is down below! Also available to read on AO3 here!

Enjoy!

Walking into Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex for the first time was something that every kid in the world should experience, at least according to Gregory’s logic. 

And it was that logic – and a lot of puppy dog looks – that just about managed to work on his mom. Because here he was, finally standing in front of the colorful neon sign with his favorite animal mascots welcoming him in.  

It had taken a lot of begging and guilt-tripping but he wasn’t ashamed one bit, though his mother might have disagreed, especially when it came to the snivelling part. But hey, it wasn’t his fault she had worked late on his birthday, so she owed him. Big time. 

He vaguely recalled her grumbling about having to dip into her savings for this trip. 

So that meant that he only had today, and he had to make every second count. 

“So...” a voice spoke up from behind him. “Am I finally forgiven?” 

Gregory looked up to see his mom giving him ‘the look’, and to that he nodded profusely.  

“Good. After today you can finally leave me in peace,” she said, giving his hair a playful ruffle as they walked through the large sliding doors and into the mall. 

He decided to push it just a little bit further. 

“Can I get a Freddy plushie?” 

The little boy swore he could hear a vein pop. 

“I already bought tickets for the meet and greet. Do you know how much those cost me?” 

He shrugged. 

“A lot, and it’s coming out of your college fund.” 

“What if I don’t wanna go to college?” 

“Maybe you won’t get to after today,” she replied, rubbing at her temples. “Fine. I’ll give you ten dollars and you can buy yourself something at the store when we’re done, alright?” 

That was enough to cover a pencil, maybe an eraser as well if he haggled. But he didn’t argue.  

Both Gregory and his mom were suddenly blinded when they entered into the main part of the building as bright neon lights bounced off of the high glass ceiling and right into their retinas. Only once they were able to adjust their eyes could they really absorb the true grandeur of the place. 

Everywhere you looked there were people: from tired-eyed parents trying to find the next thing to distract their kids to enthusiastic parents who wanted to get involved in everything their kids were doing while filming it on their phone for their blogs. Then there were the snot-nosed teens who were bunking off school and several professional shopping guides with forced smiles wider than Moondrop and Sunrise’s combined. Everyone seemed to move in unison as the hall was filled with the sound of shoes squeaking against the polished checkered floors. 

Topping it all off was a massive gleaming golden statue of Glamrock Freddy proudly posed right in the center, singing silently into the microphone as soft music and wacky adverts played in the background. 

Suddenly Gregory felt very small. 

“It sure is...big, isn’t it?” His mother said, not sounding so confident herself. 

He merely nodded in agreement. 

Her son-o-meter seemed to be finely tuned as ever as she gently grasped Gregory’s shoulder and gave him a light but reassuring shake. 

“C’mon now,” she tenderly prodded. “We’ve got all day to enjoy the place so let’s make the most of it, huh? It’s not every day we get to go to Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex.” 

This was true. Coming here had once been only but a dream. Now he was here, staring up at a brilliantly shining statue of Glamrock Freddy. And pretty soon he was going to be meeting the bear himself. 

His hand absently went to towards his back-pocket before he made a fist as determination washed over him. Looking up at his mom, he nodded. 

“And if I’m remembering right, I think I know the first thing on your to-do list.”  

The boy had already grabbed her hand as he made a beeline for their first activity. 

“To Fazer Blast!” 

 xxx

Trying to imitate the pose of the Roxanne cut-out that was behind the reception desk, Gregory pointed his laser blaster at his mom as she attempted to fit on his vest. 

“Could you stop fidgeting?” 

“But I’m practicing-” 

“Stop. Fidgeting.” 

He pouted before she struck him with that look again, which he pretended not to notice as he gazed up towards the lady at the reception desk. She looked about in her twenties and was using one hand to push back her long sleek black locks away from her face every five seconds while her other hand typed lazily on a screen. 

“So...do I just join a team or...?” 

It took her a moment to even register that he was talking to her before she flicked her hair back again just to glare down at him. 

“Sure, like, do what you want. It’s your game, you make the rules.” 

She seemed to pause for a moment. 

“You do, like, know the rules, right?” 

Gregory wasn’t sure how to respond to that.  

“Uh...sure?” 

“Fantastic,” she drawled as she focused her attention back to her tablet. “Your session ends in fifteen minutes.” 

His mother rolled her eyes and muttered something about, “kids these days”, but soon smiled and took Gregory’s shoulder as she walked him in. 

“Just remember to have fun, alright? Screw the rules.” 

“Really?” Gregory asked, his toothy grin twisting into something sinister as he got into the Roxanne pose again.  

“Just...don’t run and remember to stay within the walls,” she added on quickly. “Can’t have my little space man getting lost now, can I?” 

Gregory made a sound of disgust as he was pulled in for a kiss before she finally let him loose into the brightly colored arena. He couldn’t help but take a moment to stare up in awe as spotlights of purple, green and red shone upon the various props and fixtures that decorated the place. 

 In the center was a giant space rocket that was surrounded by planets with neon rings glowing around them. The cut-outs from reception were scattered about too, though now they were humongous. Gregory almost couldn’t help but salute the towering Freddy as he walked past. 

He also noticed a room near the back walls. It was raised up to overlook the whole arena and was surrounded by green-lit pillars. It fit in with the theme of the room but also...jarringly stood out. Maybe it was a place for parents to watch their kids play, or perhaps the employees? 

“Hey Grogery!”  

That voice. That name struck fear into his chest as he swirled around to face a group of boys that had aimed their blasters right at him. 

“Never thought we’d see you here,” the biggest one said with a smirk. “You sneak in through the gutters or something?” 

“Hey... Bob,” Gregory casually greeted. Though it was hard to act so suave when he was trembling. 

“It’s Rob.” 

“Rob! Yeah...cool to see you too.” 

Learning the names of his bullies from class had never been at the top of Gregory’s to-do list, but then again it hadn’t been at the top of theirs either, clearly. But God, why did they have to be here of all places? Of all days, even? 

“Nah, his mom probably got him in here with all that hooker money she earns!” The skinny one snorted, making them all burst out into laughter. 

“She works at the hospital,” Gregory weakly argued. 

“Not what my dad said!” Rob hollered, still rubbing tears from his eyes. 

“So, what, is your dad cheating on your mom?” He sniped back with a sneer of his own. 

His grin soon disappeared though when they all suddenly stopped laughing and a beat of silence followed, save for the distant laser blasts sounding off around them. 

“The hell did you just say to me?” Rob asked, his voice dangerously quiet. If his brows knitted together any tighter then those pimples on the bridge of his nose might pop at any given moment. Gregory grimaced at the very thought. 

“N-nothing! Um...I mean- it's technically not cheating if your parents are divorced, right?” 

Rob positioned the blaster in his hand not so much as to aim it, but rather throw it. 

“Like I said, my mom wouldn’t even do that!” 

The pimples popped. 

With that, Gregory legged it before the gun could smack him in the face. He dashed between the walls as the angry voices behind him grew distant, he almost felt bad as he climbed through the holes and bumped past people, but hey it was like his mom said, screw the rules, right? 

However, it looked like the rules were starting to screw him when he smacked into a dead end. The black wall was too high for him to jump over and the only way out would be to re-trace his steps, which meant... 

“C’mon Grogery!” Rob’s voice taunted through the luminous hall. “Let’s see how many knocks to the head you can take before you bleed.”  

The boy swallowed a hard lump down his throat as he backed himself up against the wall and looked up at the Roxanne cut-out that towered above him, aiming her blaster with such confidence and attitude. With a deep breath and a firm nod, he did the same with the hope that getting them disqualified might save him. 

If not, at least his mom was a first-aider. 

“Hey...” A soft, almost girlie voice laced with a mechanical tone called out. “In here.”  

Gregory’s head snapped to the right as a hand – or was it a paw? – beckoned him into a dark corner. 

“Hurry up...!” The voice urged, and before Gregory could question anything, he saw four shadows creep around as the sound of footsteps thundered towards him, forcing him to make a snap decision and dive into the darkness, getting caught by a pair of skinny, furred arms. 

“Shit, where did he go?” Rob shouted as the group gathered where Gregory had been standing just seconds before.  

“Looks like he dropped his blaster,” one of them said as he picked it up. “Maybe he climbed the wall?” 

There was a sudden yelp as Rob smacked him upside the head. 

“Don’t be so fucking stupid, he’s tiny. No way in hell he’d be able to scale that.” 

Gregory stiffened as Rob suddenly turned in his direction, but he felt the stranger put a hand on his head, and strangely enough, it calmed him down. 

“...C’mon, he’s gotta be around here somewhere,” Rob finally said, pulling the group away. “He can’t hide forever.” 

After a few moments of waiting, Gregory let out a breath he didn’t even know he’d been holding. 

“Bullies are just the worst, huh?” 

Almost jumping out of his skin at the sudden chipper voice cutting through the tense atmosphere like a knife, he glanced up with wide eyes as the figure gave him a little pat on the head.  

This was obviously a girl but with the shadows enveloping her it was hard to tell exactly...what she was.  

He could make out a pair of tall ears so...a rabbit? Gregory couldn’t remember any animatronics other than Freddy, Chica, Monty and Roxanne, as well as Moondrop and Sunrise. Was this a new character? 

But what kind of bunny would have such piercing red eyes? 

“My name’s Vanny,” she greeted. “What’s yours?” 

Feeling slightly relieved that she had finally let him go, he cautiously stepped out and looked around to make sure he was in the clear before turning to face her.  

“...Gregory,” the boy timidly answered, still feeling a bit unnerved.  

“What a swell name! It’s nice to meet’cha,” she said with a small bow, which unveiled a few more features like a bright blue bow tied around her neck, and an unnaturally wide toothy grin plastered on her patched face.  

What’s more, she didn’t exactly move like a robot, despite sounding like one. 

“Are you new?” Gregory asked, causing Vanny to tilt her head. 

“Huh?” 

“I’ve never seen you in the show before and...” he paused, knowing his words had already gotten him in trouble today. 

“And what?” she prodded. 

“Well...you don’t really look like an animatronic.” 

“That’s because I’m not!”  

Gregory flinched at her overly cheerful tone and stepped back as she kneeled down to his level. 

“Can I let ya in on a little secret?” Vanny asked, cupping her hand to her mouth in a poorly disguised whisper. 

“Sure...?” 

“I wanna be in the show. Like, I really really wanna be in the show. That’s why I made this,” the rabbit gestured to herself in an overly dramatic way; caressing her ears and cupping her face. “But I gotta prove myself first.” 

“Prove yourself?” 

“Yup!” 

Gregory raised an eyebrow when she didn’t elaborate further, but decided to put it to rest as he really wanted to get out before Rob and his goons came back. 

“I know a shortcut outta here,” Vanny offered with a tilt of the head, as if reading his mind. “Just take a couple of rights and a left and you’ll be as right as rain! Want me to show you?”  

“T-that’s okay, I should be good,” Gregory replied with a smile, though it slowly turned into a frown when she didn’t answer back, choosing instead to just...stare at him, her head still tilted, almost as if she were deep in thought. 

“But...thanks anyway...?” he weakly offered. 

This seemed to snap her out of her trance as she nodded vigorously. 

“No problem! And don’t worry, if those bullies come back, I’ll give ‘em a dose of Moondrop’s sleepy candy. That oughta slow ‘em down!”  

He had heard of that stuff, but couldn’t for the life of him understand why kids would want candy that would put them to sleep. Nevertheless, he nodded and thanked her again before turning, and hurrying away, a soft giggle echoing behind him. 

 xxx

“Where on earth have you been? It’s been thirty minutes!” 

Gregory was still a little shaken up by the time he had reached the exit, so much so that he had forgotten that he had been on a time limit. 

“Sorry, mom...” Gregory muttered sheepishly as she looked him over. 

“You didn’t answer my question.” 

Glancing back towards the arena, he tried to see if he could spot Rob’s gang still wandering about in there. 

“Did you see a group of guys come out by any chance? Older than me. Kinda ugly...” 

“Now you’re answering my question with a question,” his mother said with a sigh. “But no. Why? Did something happen?” 

“No!” he blurted out, making her give him that look again. “We were just...having so much fun but then I uh...I lost them. Just wondering if they left without me or something.” 

Her expression softened a little. He hated when she did that. 

“No, sweetie...but I’m sure they won’t be far, should we go look for them?” 

Gregory grabbed her hand and started pulling her away. “It’s fine! The show’ll be starting soon, right? We can’t miss it!” 

“Okay, okay...!” she chuckled as he dragged her. “But first we need to hand your blaster in.” 

He stopped then, inwardly cursing at himself before smiling sheepishly up at his mom as she narrowed her eyes at him. 

“You lost it, didn’t you.”  

Her tone suggested that it wasn’t a question. 

“Yep.” 

He yelped when she was suddenly the one dragging him away. 

“Well, we best make ourselves scarce then, besides we can’t miss your big show, right?” 

Gregory grinned. “Screw the rules?” 

She smiled back. “Screw the rules.” 

 xxx

They had made it to the main stage before the show began, but there were already big crowds congregating near the front to get the best view, and Gregory was having none of it. 

His mom kept apologizing to the angry faces and pointed looks as he towed her through the mass of people to get to the front, ignoring her when she grumbled about having to teach him some social skills. 

Gregory drowned everything else in the auditorium out as his wide brown eyes focused on the stage, even trying to balance up on the tips of his toes to get any kind of glimpse of brown, green, pink or purple. He had waited so long for this moment, and nothing more mattered than the next hour. 

Gregory wasn’t ashamed to admit that he squealed a little when the lights died down, it was just as well that every other kid in the auditorium screamed too, resulting in the kind of high-pitched noise that would make a banshee cringe. 

“Hello ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls!” A mechanical voice greeted over the speakers. “Welcome to Freddy Fazbear’s Mega Pizza Plex! Are you all having a fantabulous time?”  

The crowds erupted once more. 

“Rockin’!” Gregory gasped as a rough female voice took over. "Y’all ready to get your glam on?!”  

“Oh Roxanne...” a more feminine tone scolded. “Now you’ve given us away. Again.”  

Gregory’s smile grew wider, he knew this whole skit, next up would be- 

"I think we’ve kept ‘em waiting long enough, gals,” a graveled voice boomed out from the speakers. "Whaddya say, Freddy? Should we give the kids what they want?”  

The little boy almost couldn’t contain himself at this point. 

“I say let’s rock out!”  

The curtains suddenly swung open to reveal the animatronics in all their shiny, glittering glory.  

They were all 80’s themed, of course, to fit in with the aesthetic of the mall. Glamrock Chica had the typical pink leotard with green leopard print leg warmers; very popular with the girls. Roxanne Wolf was more unconventional with a striking red outfit, piercings and the mascot for the mall’s race course; she appealed to quite a wide range of people. Montgomery Gator was more for the chads as he had a rough and tough attitude with a love of golf, but Gregory did admire his red mohawk and star-shaped shades. 

Then there was Glamrock Freddy. The mascot of the Pizza Plex. He didn’t really have a gimmick as such but was incredibly popular just for how great he was with the children. The other animatronics were good with kids but Freddy was the one who seemed to pay the most attention to them, whether it be sitting down and listening to a kid’s story, accepting gifts from them to even giving them gifts of his own free will – mostly a plushie of himself. 

Management were irked by this odd behavior at first but when they saw how much cash he was raking in from meet and greets alone, they decided to leave it. Why fix it if it ain’t broke, right? 

As they burst into their first song, with Freddy singing into his mic stand and the other three playing keytars, Gregory didn’t even notice when his mother shook his shoulder and told him that she would have to take a phone call but would be back as soon as she could. There were some instructions on where to meet if she didn’t make it back by the time the show was finished but the words fell on deaf ears as he bounced and sang along to the lyrics he had spent so painstakingly long to learn. 

By the fourth or fifth song, the crowds had started to dissipate as parents took their children away to browse some more shops or to go to the food court for lunch, but Gregory stayed until the very end, cheering and whooping when the animatronics did their final encore and bowed as the curtains were drawn to a close. 

Fearing his chest might explode from excitement, the boy took a few moments to breathe as he tried to calm down from the buzz of electricity that was jolting through his body. The past hour had gone and went so fast that he could hardly process any of it, all he knew was that it had been the happiest moment of his life.  

With a huge grin, he watched as the robots were escorted off stage by staff and taken to their individual show rooms for their meet and greet sessions. Lines were already starting to grow long. 

It was only then that Gregory realized that his mother was gone. He looked around with a frown, she had said something about a phone call but...that had been half an hour ago now. 

‘She must be waiting at the show room for me,’ Gregory concluded, beaming at the thought of finally meeting his hero in the flesh. Or...plastic. 

Shaking his head, he made a beeline past Chica’s room, where mostly little kids were sitting on the floor watching the animatronic as she played them a song while others had started a food fight with the leftover pizza and soda cans that had been lying around the room, making the parents and staff grimace as they tried to break it up. 

Monty’s room was a little more organized and catered more towards older children as the gator showed them how to get a hole in one with a little golf stand while others played on the arcade machine. This reminded Gregory that the golf course was next on his list. 

Roxanne’s room was very high energy as the wolf raced around with the other kids with driving wheels in their hands while making engine noises. Though when one tripped up, she immediately halted and gently picked the child up, reassuring him that “Even the most rockin’ superstars get hurt sometimes!” and carried him into the back area to where the medical staff resided with a worried mother in tow. 

Stopping to catch his breath, Gregory finally made it to Freddy’s room, gaping slightly when he saw the queue nearly reaching the end of the walkway. He couldn’t even see inside due to the mass of people gathered at the curtains, forcing him to back up a bit and climb up on a bench just to be able to get a look in. 

The room was painted red and blue to fit in with Freddy’s color scheme and decorated with bright lightning bolts and portraits of the bear himself. It was also the least cluttered as there were only a few bowling bowls, party hats and – of course – plenty of plushies to give away. But what caught Gregory’s eyes were the assortment of colorful drawings that had been halfhazardly pinned to the wall next to the make-up mirror. 

It was true then; he really did collect kids' drawings! 

Reaching into his own back-pocket, Gregory pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and opened it up, smiling a little when he looked upon his own masterpiece. All the animatronics were singing on a stage on top of the whole world, with Freddy towering over them wearing a crown and rainbow cape because why not?  

It had taken him hours and an absurd number of crayons that he had ‘taken’ from his classroom, so a selfish part of him hoped that Freddy would pin it above the rest. 

A flurry of movement in the crowd suddenly caught Gregory’s attention as the stewards moved them aside to let the animatronic move in. He felt himself get giddy when the bear greeted everyone and gave them a sign of the horns with his clawed hand, to which all the kids mimicked, including Gregory from all the way in the back. 

As the queue started to move along, Gregory couldn’t help but start to feel impatient. Where was his mom? He thought she knew how important this was to him. 

Forgiveness was suddenly starting to come in very short supply. 

With a cross of the arms and a small pout, he watched as Glamrock Freddy took photographs, played with kids and even recognized a regular and accepted a drawing from her, praising her for becoming more talented every day. 

Gregory’s chest tightened up a little at that. 

Frowning down at his own scribbles, he didn’t even notice the tall figure hiding behind the golden statue of Roxanne that was trying to get his attention. 

“Hey...! Hey Gregory!” A familiar voice hissed. 

Startled, he turned to see that tall rabbit lady from earlier waving and beckoning him over. Blinking, he took a moment to look around to see if anybody else had seen her, half-wondering if she was some kind of hallucination at this point. When she beckoned again, he tentatively walked over. 

Once again, she was hidden in the shadows, but the overhead lights made it a little easier to see more details of the suit, like the stitches that barely held the mismatched creams and beiges together along with a few patches of crosshatched red. It was like the whole thing had just been thrown together. 

“Uh...hey...”  

It took him a moment. 

“Vanny?” 

She gasped and gleefully put her hands up to her grinning mouth. 

“You remembered!”  

He forced a grin, trying to ignore the bristling hairs on the back of his neck. 

“Sure.” 

She paused and knelt down. 

“What’s wrong? You look a bit down.” 

This caught him by surprise. 

“Huh? No, I’m fine. Just...waiting.” 

Glancing back, he could see the crowds starting to dwindle as time went on, but still no sign of his mother. 

“Ooh! What’s that?” 

He looked down to where she was pointing and held up the piece of paper that he had been clutching a little too hard. 

“It’s...um...just a drawing I made...for...Freddy,” he meekly replied, his cheeks heating up. 

“Oh wow! Can I see?” 

The very question he was afraid of. But she was already holding out her hand, so he couldn’t just say no. 

She seemed to study it very closely when Gregory handed it over. He started to wonder if she was having to squint through the costume’s red eyes just to be able to see it. 

“This is so good, Gregory!” She gushed, holding it up as if to show it off to everybody else in the mall. “You’re super talented! Are you gonna be an artist when you grow up?” 

He looked down in embarrassment but couldn’t help but smile at the compliment. Despite how weird this lady was, she actually seemed pretty nice.  

“Um...I dunno. I like drawing so...maybe.” 

“You should definitely show it to Freddy, I bet he’d love it!” 

Gregory perked up at that, but frowned again as he looked back over to the show room. 

“I want to but I can’t yet.” 

“Why not?” Vanny asked. “Ya nervous?” 

That was true but he wasn’t about to admit it.  

“My mom has the ticket for the meet and greet but...she had to take some kinda phone call and hasn’t come back yet.” 

“Hasn’t...come back,” she repeated. 

As Gregory watched kids and parents come and go, he hadn’t noticed that Vanny was staring right at him until the silence between them grew uncomfortably long. But as he turned back to look at her, she stood up and offered her hand. 

“I know a way you can give it to him.” 

A little perturbed by her sudden shift in tone; he looked at her hand but didn’t take it. 

“Uh...how?” 

“The VIP room, silly!” She said, her chirpy voice returning once more. “You know that one up at Fazer Tag? I saw you looking at it earlier.” 

The one that was high up, he remembered. But... had she been watching him that whole time? 

“That’s where Freddy and the others go for the secret meet and greets, where they give you their undivided attention.” 

Gregory raised an eyebrow. 

“I... didn’t even know that was a thing.” 

“That’s cuz it’s secret!” 

Okay, well that made sense. 

“Usually only the rich kids get to go there but I think you’re much more deserving, Gregory,” she said, holding out her hand once again. “You only get today, right?” 

The boy looked over once more. Freddy was waving goodbye to the last of the children as the stewards drew the curtains. He had missed his chance. 

He looked back up at Vanny. 

“What about my mom?” 

The rabbit tilted her head. “I’ll notify the staff so they can let her know, then she’ll come pick you up when you’re ready, okay?” 

There was a moment of hesitation but he knew she was right. He only had today and nothing was going to stop him from getting what he wanted. 

Screw the rules.  

With a nod, Gregory took her hand and let her lead him away to the Fazer Tag arena, not noticing that his drawing had slipped from her grip and she had let it fall into a crumpled ball as they walked away. 

xxx

So let me know what y’all think! Would you like to see a part 2? :D

Edit: Part 2 is now available here!

[lannister-slings-and-arrows]

Its Too Hot in this Five Star Hell Hole (Javier Peña x OC)

hey all, back again! This time with a Javi fic, and the first smut i’ve written in weeeell over a decade lol. hope you all like it, lemme know what you think!

Pairing: Javier  Peña x OC Warnings: thigh riding (i am shameless), sex in a car (v. uncomfortable, i have stories), daddy kink, fingering, abuse of Oreos Rating: damn, i guess mild M? Word Count: 6046 Summary: There’s a generational gap when it comes to work attire, and Oreo cookies, and she is determined to not find the asshole sitting next to her attractive. She fails miserably.

“Murphy was right you know,” Peña remarked, legs stretched out before him, one arm hanging out of the window of his Jeep, the other draped over his lap. His fingers kept drumming rhythmically on the inside of his thigh and the action had drawn the attention of his companion for the past hour and a half. She was frustrated and wished he would stop.

“What was he right about?” she asked, deliberately looking away from the hand that had again moved closer to his crotch. She looked down at the canvas bag on the floor at her feet and shifted in her seat, trying to find a comfortable position for what felt like the hundredth time since this stakeout had started. She saw her partner’s head turn languidly to face her out of the corner of her eye, his eyes still hidden behind those aviators that he thought were just so cool. She would never tell him that she secretly agreed. His ego was large enough already.

“You look like a college coed on spring break right now.” Peña remarked, mustache twitching up in a tiny smirk. She scowled at her beat up Converse. “I hope we don’t have to actually arrest anyone today- they’ll never believe for a second that you’re DEA.”

“Yeah, well,” she bent down to open her bag and dig around in it. “This is what happens when you call me in to an ‘emergency meeting’ on my day off.” With a quiet noise of triumph she pulled out her prize and shoved her bag further into the foot-well, before kicking her feet (with their beat up black high tops) onto the dash. Peña, still looking at his partner, was torn between staring at her mostly bare legs, now on display before him like some sort of divine offering, or staring at the package she was picking up again.

“Those are incredibly short shorts, Vic,” he finally settled on, eyes bouncing back and forth between legs that had only recently lost their northern, fish belly white color and her lap where she was eagerly tearing open familiar blue foil. “Gotta say, I’m a little surprised- now wait a minute. I have to ask. Did you seriously manage to bring a package of Oreos to this stakeout but not your work clothes?” Vic looked up at him with a grin, hand in the package of chocolate cookies and shrugged.

“Number one: I was already dressed for the day when you and Murphy called me in. This is how I dress normally. This is me. On my days off. It’s literally five thousand degrees here, you’re lucky I even put on shorts THIS long. And I managed to grab a shirt so quit your whining. Jeez, never figured you, of all people, for a prude.” Peña was about to protest multiple things that had just been tossed in his direction when she held up a hand and continued, “And number two: I had just grabbed my mail when you called, so I already had these in my bag. I didn’t make a separate stop.”

Peña blinked at her, digesting this as she pulled out a cookie.

“You got cookies in the mail?”

Vic stared intently at the Oreo in her hand as she slowly, painstakingly, twisted the two chocolate wafers in opposite directions, pulling them apart gently as she did so. Peña watched as the cookies started to come apart before the bottom one shattered and crumbled into four pieces in Vic’s hand. She swore quietly and shoved the mess she had made of it into her mouth and pulled out another one. She examined it closely, twisting and turning it, looking for any cracks or blemishes in the wafer as she chewed quickly. Swallowing, she replied,

“You can sometimes, and I mean rarely, find Oreos down here. They’re normally stale and broken and they generally cost about as much as Escobar makes in a day.” She held a cookie in the palm of her hand and turned to face her partner, offering it to him. He raised an eyebrow at it and took it slowly. She grabbed another from the package and repeated her examination as she continued, “But you can NEVER find the double stuffed ones. So my brother ships them to me. These are mana from heaven, better than any coke, better than any sex you’ve ever had. Honestly, if given the choice between most cocks in the world and a couple double stuffed Oreos, I would take the Oreos no question.” Peña snorted and both eyebrows shot up this time.

“Oh really?”

She smiled at the cookie in her hand, having found no weaknesses that might hinder her mission.

“A dick can be replaced by quite a few things. A real life, fresh, Oreo cookie is one of a kind.” Peña shook his head at her, cookie still in between his fingers.

“Clearly you haven’t met the right cocks.” Vic attempted to pull apart the cookie the same way she had before, with the same results. With an annoyed huff she ate it whole again.

“Wha,” she mumbled around the cookie in her mouth, searching the package for a likely candidate. “You offawin’?” He smiled, twirling his cookie around.

“Maybe after you swallow that thing.” Vic flipped him off. “And that’s my shirt, just to be fair, not yours.” He gestured with the Oreo at the overly large blue button down Vic wore, tails tied at her waist, sleeves rolled up, to hide how comically big it was on her. She looked away from the cookies and down at herself, plucking at the front of it.

“The shirt I have under it is mine.”

“And also especially inappropriate for a meeting with the American ambassador to Columbia.”

Vic rolled her eyes and returned to her mission.

“Whatever. Again, it’s a million degrees here, and the humidity is twelve thousand percent, I’m ripping the sleeves off of every tee shirt I own, Springsteen or no.” Peña was about to take a bite out of the cookie he had taken from her when she gasped, horrified, and yanked his hand away from his mouth. He startled, looking around at the street they were supposed to be watching. He didn’t see anything and was about to tell her so when he turned and saw her glaring at him, holding the cookie up and shaking it at his face accusingly.

“You don’t take a bite out of an Oreo! Don’t you know how to eat a fucking cookie?!” He stared at her, blinking slowly.

“What.” Vic rolled her eyes before quickly yanking the two halves of the Oreo apart and holding up the half that had retained most of the cream, pointing at it with her pinky.

“Cream first! Then cookie! God, how old are you.”

She proceeded to demonstrate and Peña felt his mouth go dry and a bead of sweat slip slowly down his back. With one long steady lick, followed by a few quick hard ones, Vic cleaned the cream off of one wafer before moving to its counterpart and repeating the process. She finished with a smile and a loud smack of her lips, twisting her head to clean off the side of her hand where some of it had smeared. She was about to lean back in her seat before her eyes caught on his hand and she grabbed it, yanking it closer to her mouth.

Peña saw clearly what was about to happen and really did try to protest, but before he could get more than a grunt out, Vic had the end of his index finger in her mouth and he felt her tongue wrap around it, sucking gently. He watched, his breath caught in his throat, as she drew back with a quiet popping noise and released his hand, now clean of any evidence of Oreos. He cleared his throat, still staring, as she stuck the two halves back together and popped the whole thing in her mouth.

“Wike tha,” she said, mouth full, hands reaching again for the package on her lap. She offered it to him with a little shake and smiled when he took one. She turned back to the street before them as he continued to watch her, the new cookie held absently on his lap.

Well that was an unfortunate reaction, he thought to himself, a little surprised at how much he had enjoyed watching the younger woman demonstrate how to eat a cookie like a toddler. That was just obscene- he reached down and tried to stretch out the denim over his crotch. No, not obscene, Peña, you’re just a dirty old man who needs to calm down and get back to work. He shook his head and ate the whole cookie before she could take it from him and do that again.

Next to him Victoria Eugenia Flanagan was panicking quietly, staring determinedly out the window, pretending that she had not just done what she had, in fact, just done. We fucking talked about this, Victoria, she berated herself silently, not seeing anything in front of her. He is your partner, and he’s a slut, you can’t ruin that relationship and you don’t want the clap. Vic sighed heavily and bent down to stow the Oreos back in her bag. Hands to yourself. That was the deal you fucking moron.

They sat in silence for a couple minutes, silence that wasn’t exactly awkward, but definitely not in the realm of completely comfortable either. Peña reached behind his seat and pulled an olive green canteen into his lap, unscrewing the top and smacking her arm with it gently. She shot him a brief smile as she took it, grimacing at the warm metal taste of the water and handing it back. She heard him drinking but dug her nails into her own palm to remind herself that turning around to watch his Adam’s Apple bob slowly as he swallowed was counterproductive to her new goal of forgetting that she had ever deeply and passionately desired to ride Javier Peña hard and put him away still dripping. Not as tall as Murphy, smokes too much, drinks too much, flirts too much, breaks too many rules, wears stupid boots, sleeps with too many hookers, Vic tried listing out everything that should be a barrier to her actually leaning over and sticking her hand down her partner’s pants, but the silence was beginning to become oppressive and it was just so hot in this car and this was supposed to be her day off and she hadn’t had any company but her own hands since she came to Columbia five months ago and-

“What do you miss most about the states?” The question was out of her mouth before she even realized it, and she still wasn’t looking at him. “I miss The Golden Girls. Damn that’s a funny show.” She was going to take her gun out of the holster under her arm and shoot herself in the foot when she eventually got back to her apartment. That would be less humiliating then what she just allowed to come spilling out of her dumb mouth.

“Excuse me?” Peña asked after a few moments of silence as Vic contemplated how long it would take her to physically run the distance back to New York City and never have to look him in the eyes ever again.

“You know,” Oh god she was still talking. There were more words coming out of her mouth right this second and she could not seem to make them stop. “The Golden Girls. The TV show?”

“Was that the one with Beatrice Arthur?”

“Yes! That one! With the old ladies and being retired in Miami and stuff?” Vic couldn’t help it anymore. She had to. She couldn’t just sit here and not for however many more hours they were stuck here. She turned back around in her seat, legs twisting on the dash and faced her partner with a smile. Peña made no attempt to hide the fact that his eyes raked over her, from bare legs, all the way up her body to where both her tee shirt and his dress shirt had ridden up with her twisting about, exposing a not insignificant section of soft skin that hadn’t yet lost its paleness. Vic knew where his eyes had gone, his sunglasses were not that opaque, and she knew that the professional, responsible thing to do would be to yank her shirt down and cover her stomach back up. But the sun felt nice on her skin for now, until it started burning, and she liked that he was staring. She liked that he noticed that she was a woman. That just because she shot a gun and swore and drank beer with him and Murphy didn’t mean she wasn’t subject to the same whims and urges as other women. And apparently the deep seated desire to destroy her fucking career over an emotionally unavailable asshole with a great ass. If that isn’t the height of femininity I don’t know what the fuck is. But this is fine. This is still flirting. Kind of. Mostly.

“I uh-“ Peña cleared his throat, eyes roving slowly from exposed stomach, across breasts and up to her face. He smiled that crooked smile that sent the secretaries a-twitter and leaned further back into his seat, fingers scratching at the steering wheel in front of him. “I’ve only caught a few episodes of that. It wasn’t on for very long before I shipped down here from Texas.”

“You’re definitely a Dorothy,” Vic declared, grin widening as one of his eyebrows appeared over his glasses. “Oh you so are. You’re sarcastic, you’re smart, and you so heroically bear the burden of tolerating Steve and I. Even though most of the time you want to strangle your two gringo partners.” Peña made a thoughtful noise, hand that wasn’t at the wheel coming up to scratch at his mustache.

“Alright fine, who’s Murphy then?” Vic drummed her fingers on her stomach, unintentionally drawing his attention this time. This was better, if she had something to occupy her brain and her mouth she was less likely to offer to suck her partner’s cock and ruin her life.

“Rose. Blonde, a little simple, big hearted, and incapable of keeping his mouth shut,” she replied with a grin, and then laughed as she imagined what Steve Murphy would look like if she ever said that to his face. Peña smiled with her.

Vic thought that that might be the end of that and was a little relieved that nothing too terrible had happened as a result of her inability to just sit still and ignore her unfortunate attraction to the asshole next to her. She had kept her hands to herself this time. She hadn’t said anything ridiculous, she hadn’t thrown herself at him, this was fine.

“So does that make you Blanche by default?” Peña asked quietly, smile shifting into an expression she had seen him use to get forms stamped and women of all walks of life to remove their panties faster.

Turns out it was not fine.

“Oh, I don’t know about that,” she tried to hedge, sliding her legs off the dash. “I wouldn’t really call myself a Blanche.”

“I would,” Peña countered.

“You calling me a slut, pal? Because I live directly above you, and I’m not sure I can count high enough to put a number to your bed partners this month,” she tried to tease, hoping to get him off the subject of her and on to the subject of whatever local prostitutes he’d managed to lure in with promises of American visas in exchange for information.

“You jealous, Vic? Cause I can always make room for a friend.” Vic snapped her mouth shut, hard, on the nearly instant assent that wanted to come out. She took a few seconds to breathe before countering,

“You couldn’t afford me, Peña. I expect at least breakfast the next morning; some money from Uncle Sam just wouldn’t cut it.” The grin he favored her with was nearly savage in its intensity and she just knew that this game was going to end  with her on her back if she didn’t regain a little more control over this situation. She was starting to ask herself why she bothered to try and stop such an inevitability. They were adults, weren’t they? This didn’t necessarily have to be bad. Right?

He shifted closer, leaning over the gear shift and she heard him draw a breath to say something.

“Fucking hell, look,” he ordered, all business again. Vic turned her head and looked out the window, not seeing anything other than a few mothers with strollers, an old man shuffling in front of an apartment building, and a group of kids playing soccer in the street.

“I don’t…” she shook her head and looked over her shoulder at him, shrugging.

“Right there, behind those kids. The other kids.” Peña pointed over her shoulder and huffed angrily when she shook her head again. He continued to point as he leaned even further into her space.

This was very much not fine.

He smelled like sweat and cigarettes and cologne and that man smell that she was pretty sure was just him. The smell that used to get under her skin and itch and irritate- a sliver of a smell, she could get used to it if she held perfectly still and thought really hard about something else but the second she lost her concentration and jostled it pain and the knowledge that it was still burrowed under her nail went shooting up her spinal cord and into her brain. She hated that smell. She hated what that smell did to her. She hated that she sometimes caught whifs of individual components of that smell on other people, on the wind, in a room and her eyes started searching for him. She hated that after a shootout that smell smothered her twitching nerves and calmed her down. She hated that after seeing another informant turn up dead, body mangled, that smell soothed her long enough for her to get herself under control again. She hated the smile that smell brought to her lips. She hated the heat that smell sent to her insides, the tingling between her legs, the fluttering of her walls.

She hated that she couldn’t even lie to herself. She loved every single one of those things.

This heat had betrayed her for the very last time. This was the last straw, as soon as they caught Escobar she was requesting a transfer to anywhere where it snowed all year round. They had drugs in Canada, right? She spoke French. Canada would be fine.

She had thrown her long hair into a bun this morning to keep it off her neck and to keep it from suffocating her and she had never regretted any decision she had ever made in her life quite as much as she did that one. If she was being honest with herself, and damn this was becoming a habit that she hoped she never indulged in ever again after today, the only reason she hadn’t melted into a puddle of whimpering, overstimulated DEA agent in front of him as soon as his large, rough hand came into contact with the back of her neck, squeezing almost as hard as she wanted it too, was because his other hand was holding her head up by her chin, tilting her face in the direction he wanted her to look. She had no reservations in her mind that she was in control of most of her body and her body’s reactions any longer. Vic was now completely just along for whatever ride her lady parts decided to take with him pressed up entirely too close behind her. Close enough that every time she breathed her shoulder brushed his chest. Every time he breathed she felt it disturb the strands of hair that had begun to escape the confines of her hair tie.

One of those breaths sent a shiver through her entire body and Vic’s eyes rolled a little back into her head. One fist clenched her knee and the other dug into the grey seat underneath her. Every single one of those reactions was noticed and cataloged behind bronze aviators by two dark brown eyes. And Peña tightened the hold he had on the back of her neck.

“Those kids are watching the street and using that radio to let Escobar know which cops are patrolling where. Just like Murphy said they were,” he said quietly, still not relinquishing his hold on her. Even though they had gotten what they had come here for. They could go back to the embassy and tell Murphy he was right. They could plan how to either get around this new roadblock or work with it.

He still was not letting go. And Vic still was not asking him to.

Fuck. Everything.

He squeezed again, gently, rubbing his fingers over the soft skin at the sides of her neck and Vic gasped, hands spasming from their positions of relative safety.

“Tell me to stop, Victoria,” Peña ordered quietly, voice rumbling through her and flowing over her ears from where his mouth was too close to the side of her head. “Tell me to stop right now and we can pretend this never happened and go back to where we were before.” His other hand left her chin and caressed down the front of her neck to her chest, slipping beneath the buttons of her button down and palming her breast through her tee shirt.

She should say stop. She knew this was a terrible idea, if anyone found out she would lose any respect she may have managed to earn for herself from her male colleagues. He would, too. He would stop and he wouldn’t make a big thing of it, they could leave and she could go home and take care of the problem that was staring to soak her panties by herself, as usual, no harm done.

He managed to find a nipple through both tee shirt and bra and pinched gently and that was that.

“I swear to god, Javier Peña, if you stop right now I will murder you in your sleep.”

He tugged her back into him by the grip he still had on the back of her neck and she looked up at him as he pulled his sunglasses off, tossed them on the dashboard, and leant down to kiss her.

His lips were soft. That surprised her, considering everything about the man screamed hard-ass. His mustache tickled her bottom lip as she continued kissing him from this frankly terrible angle, but she didn’t care that her neck was getting sore or that the gear shift was digging into her lower back. Peña held her in place, one hand on her neck, the other leaving her breasts to first deftly unbutton and then untie her shirt, finally burrowing under her tee shirt. She gasped into his mouth, one hand leaving the seat where she had braced herself to come up to the side of his face as his bare hand settled onto her stomach and petted gently.

He took the opportunity to slip his tongue into her mouth and her other hand left the seat to hang onto the wrist draped across her, feeling the tendons and muscles contract and relax under his skin as he stroked her, before he finally backed off slightly to allow her to catch her breath, his teeth nipping at her lips as he retreated. He met her green eyes with his, their brown depths somehow darker, and he grinned.

“Those really are some fine tasting cookies.” Vic stared up at him, panting gently, for a few seconds before his words made it past her ears and into her brain. She glared up at him and struggled to sit back up, abdominal muscles clenching under the hand that was still under her shirt.

“You’re an asshole. And you taste like cigarettes.” He was still smiling as she turned all the way around in her seat to face him fully, his hands slipping off of her and landing in her lap where he wasted no time in wrapping them around her waist.

“Good thing I've noticed you like my cigarettes.” She sniffed and looked over his shoulder.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Vic yelped suddenly, grabbing his arms as he took the opportunity to drag her across the car, hindered briefly by both of her legs and the gear shift, getting a knee to the stomach, and finally into his lap. And what a mighty fine lap it was. Vic settled herself onto his thigh, legs folded along side his own, and watched his chest as he breathed, mostly bared thanks to his habit of only buttoning about half of his shirt buttons. She reached up to run her fingers over his neck like she had dreamed of doing pretty much since she had met him.

Or rather, she tried to reach him. She felt the now loose tail of her button down get caught between her seat and the shifter, preventing her from wrapping her arms around his neck. She yanked a few times, before slumping back onto his leg.

“A little help here?”

Peña slid his hands up her back under the shirt and tugged, freeing the pale blue fabric before helping her out of it completely, tossing it onto the back seat behind them. Vic, finally liberated, dove for his lips again, one hand at the side of his long neck, the other tangling in his dark hair. Peña groaned into the kiss, his hands on her ass, squeezing and trying to shift her closer to his body. Vic complied, moving her lips across his face to his ear, and moaning softly when her shuffling put her clit in direct contact with what had to be an uncomfortable erection in Javi’s very very tight jeans. She rutted against him, enjoying his hands on her ass, moving her steadily, his quiet grunts in her ear as she did so, and most of all the feeling of his cock rubbing against her, warm and large through his pants.

“Javi, baby, please,” she gasped, nose tuning into his cheek as he thrust up against her as he brought her down against him. “Javi-” she was sweating in this monster of a truck, and she could feel him breathing hard under her. Vic tried to sit up and slide further back on his leg only to find her back pressed against the steering wheel. She wriggled around, elbow knocking into the car door, trying to find a more comfortable way to seat herself.

“This is a terrible fucking place-” she gasped as he flexed the thigh under her. “To do this, Javi.” Peña’s hands halted her squirming and he asked,

“You want to stop?” She shivered as he rocked her harder onto his leg, her back still pressed against the leather and metal of the steering column.

“That is definitely not what I was getting at.” He ‘hmmed’ and she leant back down for another taste of the cigarettes he had chain smoked during their search for Escobar’s juvenile informants.

She broke away from him and stilled, looking down at his disheveled hair and flushed cheeks. She began unbuttoning the rest of his buttons and Peña watched her, hands still holding on, rubbing and caressing her through her shorts as she worked. Finally able to open his shirt all the way, she dragged her hands down from his pecs down his sternum, and down to his stomach. She kneaded the slight paunch she had uncovered, leaning down again to kiss him, getting used to the scratchy brush of his mustache. She loved the evidence of his older, slower metabolism too often exposed to too much beer and tequila. It softened him up a little, fueled her dreams of cuddling with him on her couch after he had fucked the living daylights out of her. Mostly she just loved the soft skin contrasting with the coarse dark hair that started below his belly button and trailed down beyond the waistband of his pants.

Javi grumbled into the kiss as she grabbed a gentle handful of his tummy fat and rocked herself forward on his thigh. Her movements stuttered as the seam of her shorts rubbed directly over her clit and she cried out softly.

“Fuck girl, that’s it, just like that,” Peña encouraged, hands still guiding her movements, back and forth, head thrown back as her fingers kept digging into his stomach. He pulled her closer so he could lean his forehead against hers and one of his hands made its way to the front of her pants. He kissed her roughly as she stopped moving entirely, distracted, trying to undo his belt without looking. His fingers were deft however, and made quick work of both the button and zipper of her cutoffs, sliding into her panties, and finding their way to her now soaking slit.

Vic whined as he traced two fingers up and down her folds, never stopping long enough anywhere to be truly satisfying.

“What’s wrong, honey?” Peña asked softly, voice low, eyes dark. “What do you need?” Vic shifted her hips, bumping into the shifter, chasing his fingers, trying to get them back to literally anywhere at this point. “All you have to do is ask, I’m right here, ready and willing.” His lips found hers again as his fingers continued to stroke, and she felt like she was going to pass out, trying to breathe through both sensations.

“Javi, please, you have to,” she broke off to try and grab his hand to move it where she wanted it. He resisted. “Javi, please! More!”

“More what?” Her eyes found his and she shouldn't have been turned on by the hard look in them but damn, she loved in control Javier Peña, she didn’t care what that said about any latent kinks she might need to explore later.

“Daddy, please, I’ve gotta cum before we go back to base, you have to- '' her voice failed her as her brain caught up with the words tumbling out of her, that was not supposed to pop out of her mouth, that was supposed to stay buried in the fantasies she used to get herself off, alone, where the man thus addressed would never find out about them. Peña’s eyes widened and she felt his cock twitch under her and she moaned as he finally shoved two fingers into her and curled them slightly, the heel of his hand applying steady pressure to her clit.

Vic keened quietly at the sudden intrusion and stretch, her muscles not accustomed to feeling fingers not her own slipping in and out of her, and her head fell forward to his shoulder. The steering wheel dug into her back, and she turned her face into his neck and inhaled that smell she hated to love. Her hands kept massaging his soft stomach as he ordered, lips against her ear,

“Go on, girl, right now. On daddy’s fingers, I know you’ve thought about it before.” Vic gasped and reached one hand down and held his wrist in a vice grip, holding it steady, his fingers deep inside her cunt, and she rocked her clit down hard onto his hand. She felt more than heard his groan as she sighed,

“Javi,” and came over his hand, walls spasming tight around thick digits. She let go of his wrist and he thrust his fingers in and out again a few more times, riding out her orgasm with her before pulling them out completely, smiling fiercely at the whimper that made its way past her clenched teeth.

“There now,” Peña said, panting, removing his hand from her shorts and making his way to his belt that she had only managed to loosen slightly. “That wasn’t so bad. What have we been waiting for?” Vic watched as he slid the zipper of his jeans down and was about to reach for his cock when the radio on the dash crackled to life.

“Peña? Flanagan? You guys there?” Murphy’s voice floated into their humid world, breaking Vic’s concentration on her partner’s dick inches from her greedy hands, and eliciting a groan from Peña that was far from any of the more pleasant ones he’d loosed in the past few minutes. His head dropped onto her shoulder and he bit down gently.

“If we don’t answer him, he’ll assume we’ve been shot and come looking,” Vic pointed out, out of breath and still aroused, leaning her elbow on the window next to her. Peña’s nibbling teeth did nothing to help the little shocks that still shot down between her legs. “I don’t know about you,” she gasped as he moved from shirt to her bare neck, mustache rubbing where spit and teeth had been seconds previously. “But I would rather not look like you just had your hands down my pants when that happens.”

Javi sighed, mouth still attached to her neck, clearly contemplating how long it would take to fuck her in this car and how far away Murphy and Carillo were from their current position. Deciding that he didn't like the odds, he released the bit of skin he had been hanging on to and kissed the red mark gently. He sat up a bit and reached around her, grabbing the radio, pulling her closer to him and grinding up into her while he asked,

“Whats up, Murphy?” Vic stifled a gasp into his chest as the hard ridge of his cock rubbed against her still sensitive clit, bracing herself against the door and the hard wheel behind her, one hand going to the roof of the truck.

“You guys get anything?” Peña continued to thrust against her and hummed noncommittally.

“Yeah, same thing you thought, with the kids and everything- fuck.” He broke off and hissed as one of Vic’s hands left his belly and dug, nails first, into his side.

“What?” Murphy asked over the line. Peña took a second before answering.

“Nothing.” He halted Vic’s movements, slipping a hand into her back pocket and pulling her back along his lap. “We’re coming back to base now.”

“Alright guys, see you in a few.” Peña tossed the radio back on the dash and stared at Vic, capturing her gaze and bringing his hand up to tangle into the hair that was coming loose from her bun.

“We’re finishing this as soon as we make our reports. I’m taking you back to my place and I am going to fill up that tight cunt till the only thing you can remember is my cock, alright?” Vic swallowed, aware again of waves of arousal making their way through her insides, and the smell of sex in the truck. She nodded, eyes never leaving his impossibly dark ones. Well, you’ve already broken nearly all of your rules regarding this man, whats a little more sex between friends, she thought, eyes flicking down to his lips before meeting his again. She watched his tongue wet his lips slowly, before losing all semblance of willpower and leaning down to kiss him again, already getting used to the scratch of hair on her face.

“I think that's a really good plan, daddy,” she agreed, coming back up for air and lifting off his lap completely, half climbing, half crab walking over the gear shift and back to the passenger seat. She refastened her shorts and looked over to see his cock still straining the denim of his jeans, button undone and zipper almost all the way down. “Might want to do something about that though, Agent Tight Pants.” She gestured at his problem with a slightly smug smile. “Unless you’re planning on giving Murphy a show.” Javi snorted, reaching down to zip and button his pants.

“He wishes.”

[fanfictiondreamscape]

Where the Hell am I? (pt. 1)

Title: Where the Hell am I? (pt. 1) 

Genre: comedy, lil floofy (if you squint, I promise), and a lil dramatic - mostly comedic, though. 

Pairing: Aizawa Shota x Reader

Notes: This is, yet again, an idea that was pitched to me by one of my friends over Snapchat. I did take some liberties, contrary to their idea, but I read it and I just HAD to do it. 

Frankly, it made me so happy! I thought that I’d split this, maybe not, but if you want another character (or characters) for this prompt - please let me know!

Some warnings, though; there will be plenty of swearing, so proceed with caution! The reader is also aged up, 21+ purely for the comfort of the writer. I imagine them to be around 24-25, but go about it however you like! 

Below the cut! 

“You really need to stop watching that childish garbage, y’know. You’re too old for that.”

“Grow up already! People your age don’t watch shit like that!” 

“None of that will help you get by in life; stop watching that and get your life together already!”

AKA, things I, (Y/n) (L/n) hear on a daily basis. 

Hello, dear reader! I’m (Y/n), as you’ve already presumed, and according to my family and friends, I waste my time watching what they call ‘immature junk’. I like to call it anime, but whatever floats their boat. 

I have graduated from college, but I still live with a couple of roommates. My diploma has been sitting on the stack of boxes in the corner of my junk, and no matter how hard I’ve tried, the degree has never seemed to win over anybody in the field.

I’ve struggled with a job hunt for a while now, and I’m getting tired of trying to find something that can tie me over for a little while. I know that the job wouldn’t last, something that has followed me around for the longest time no matter how well I completed any given tasks, but I need something to pitch to the split rent. 

I like to think that my roommates haven’t thought of kicking me to the curb as well, but frankly, they’ve probably found a way to do that or leave my ass sat on the empty apartment floor. Whatever the case, things haven’t been working out well for me at all. 

I’ve been broke on and off as of late, and the only things I have managed to keep consistent was my laptop ownership, my phone ownership, and my clothing and personal items. I’ve been making sure that I have cut back on using many things, but it was starting to bite me now. 

Today, of all days, was the one day that everything was seemingly coming to a head. My roommates were both at each other’s throats and took their frustration out on me (for no reason, honestly - I had already paid my portion of the utilities for the the month and had stayed quiet), my mom had just been admitted to the hospital, and my sibling has been taunting me from her fancy-schmancy upscale home by calling me a loser, deadbeat, etc. - all in all, a shitty day. 

Normally, things like this wouldn’t bother me that much (aside from the pandemic confirmation), but this has been a long time coming and I was at my breaking point. 

That night, I had just let everything be. Not a good thing considering the note that they were left on, but I can’t deal with the presence of people that are immature assholes that haven’t been taught to face your issues head-first, and I am too tired to put up with it anymore. 

I grabbed my laptop and opened up my Funimation account. If I could trust no one in the physical world, then I could trust someone in the fictional world instead. 

I had scrolled through, but when I saw that I had watched everything I planned to, I made the final decision to rewatch one - that anime being Boku No Hero Academia, I was pretty content to watch these teenagers grow in a way that I was unable to - nostalgic value in the anime can be spotted, but you have to look closely. 

The opening narration by Deku had started, and as the episodes continued, I got tired. I don’t remember when this happened, but I think I actually fell asleep around episode 5. No matter, things started to blur and I slept. 

...

Everything felt warm and windy, my clothes were brushing against my hands, and I felt extremely groggy. Nothing seemed out of the ordinary. Well, except for the fact that I felt like I was sleeping on a literal rock, and it was seemingly moving. 

The rocking of whatever it was I was laying on was what woke me up completely, all the sleep forgotten in favor of figuring out what the object was. Looking down, it seemed to be a sheet of metal, and my god - did it stink. ‘Am I laying down in a dumpster?’

After looking down, I did indeed find out that I was sleeping near one. Or in one. Whatever fits, I guess. 

Everything about this situation seemed like I had, somehow, fallen into a blackout drunk stupor. The likelihood of that happening, though, is very low - I have actively avoided any alcohol intake following my 21st birthday. And I had apparently decided to become an emotional drunk when I did reach that point, so that was even more unlikely. 

With that knowledge, this seemed especially fishy. I had to get to the bottom of it. 

I had slipped out of the area slowly, making sure to not accidentally cut my leg or arm on a raw metallic edge, and tread down the alley that I had been sleeping in. 

I didn’t recognize the buildings around me, everything seemed to be a lot more colorful and definitely an extremely far departure from the decrepit, run-down shithole that I had to call a ‘house’. The sky was also so much bluer than what I was used to. 

My parents and other family lived in better areas than I did, but that sky wasn’t what got me - it was the commotion that was coming from around the corner. The sound was so familiar, and I just couldn’t help but assume something crazy: did I land in the world of My Hero? 

‘No, no, no - that’s not possible. That can’t be possible. Your roommates have just lost their shit and threw you out on the street.’ That had to be it, it had to be. There was no other possible situation, though they would have just thrown my ass to the curb and not a dumpster in a generally clean city. 

Yeah, they couldn’t have done that. Or, maybe they did want to kick me out but realized that throwing me out in the dumpster would warrant some legal claims against them, so they decided to inform a family member that actually gave a damn. Then again, the one that was closest lived over two states away, so that also wouldn’t happen so quick. 

“Ugh, my head hurts...”

A crash sounded through the alleyway, and I had made the conclusion that if I don’t leave now, I would get crushed under debris. That being decided, I made a mad dash out of said alley to the opposite end of the sound.

As soon as I left, the obnoxious technicolor of it all made me do a double take. What the hell is with this color palette?

“Are you lost?” 

I jumped from the question. It wasn’t until I turned around that something hit me: yeah, this is most definitely N O T my world. 

The person that had inquired my direction status had a huge spike sticking out of either hand. Their head was shaped normally, their eyes were a dark blue color, and they had short hair. I couldn’t tell if they were male or female, or even non-binary, but I was too freaked out to care. Best bet for this situation, though, was to go with the flow no matter what happens. I refuse to risk my safety any further. 

“I, uh...um, yeah. Yeah, I am lost - but may I ask who wants to know?”

They breathed a sigh of relief, and their hands transformed into regular ones. The only explanation for this was that I was going crazy, or that I really landed in the world of My Hero. “Oh, thank god. I thought you were a villain for a second. Follow me before you get hit,” they said before they directed me further away from the soon-to-be-destroyed building. 

We had made some small talk - if you could even call it that - as we evacuated, and I found out that their name was Dylan. They were apparently an off-duty hero, though that could be left up to debate considering no hero would voluntarily reveal their identity to someone on the street. Though they could have also assumed that I was a regular citizen, as well. 

Didn’t help that I was still completely and utterly fucked on the front of knowledge - still confused, for a shorter explanation. 

The commotion was still very prevalent as I continued walking with Dylan, and when we finally reached the town, the volume was so much more deafening. The sight was as well. 

Two people were fighting in mid-air, one with a dark jacket and leather pants. Gloves were on their hands, but the big kicker was their mouth - it was almost warped into a joker smile, cuts and all, but it was full of teeth. Their eyes, from what I could see from my spot  on the ground, were very large and red. I wish I could have seen more, though. 

The other one was wearing some garb that mimicked Deadpool, though it was very obviously not him since there were some very obvious legs that were protruding from each side of their body. If I was observing them correctly, too, there were eight legs and multiple eyes. A spider hero? Like, a literal spider hero? 

“(Y/n), I’m sure that you’re curious and a little freaked out, but I’m going to ask that you stay here with the crowd,” Dylan said. They laid their hand on my shoulder as I stared at the view in front of me. I absently nodded, muttering a small and measly, “Got it,” as the realization of everything sunk in. 

I really am in the My Hero world. I really landed in a fictional world. 

Holy shit, I’m completely and totally screwed. 

There are so many things that could go wrong, so many things that would warrant a worry. Besides that, though, the thing that’s just hit me now that I know that I’m in their world is the most worrying. 

Whose quirk got so screwed that I got transported here? Do I have to find that person to return to my world? Even then, was this done on purpose? In that case, would they want to send me back? What if it’s a villain and they want something? So many things can go so severely wrong. 

I couldn’t leave my head now. I could, quite literally, die here and no one would notice. 

My blank stare didn’t go unnoticed by certain citizens around me, but their attention was soon diverted - as was mine - at the newest occurrence on the scene. The spider hero was dropping lower, the (supposed) villain was falling quickly to the floor, and another hero stood above the two on top of a nearby building. Cheers erupted through the crowd as the commotion was met with flashing lights, news reporters, and gossip writers. 

It took a second for me to notice, but the other hero on the building was Kamui Woods. Though I would later find this out, too, Mt. Lady was taking care of the runaway villain - she blew up larger with said villain in her hands a bit away from the scene with a triumphant smirk. 

Though there was some slight commotion from the shaken media reporters, they quickly fell back into their goals and started to plow through the crowd. People were being pushed left, right, and forward.

Through this chaos, though, I noticed Dylan pushing against the people looking winded. Eventually, they made it to me while panting. “Okay, so,” they began, “We should probably leave now, but I want to ask you some questions.”

I shrugged, taking a deep breath. “You need to ask, fire away. I need some answers anyway.”

We settled on a nearby restaurant, Dylan offering to pay for whatever food I ordered, and got down to the questions. 

“I noticed that you were stiff when you saw the fight. It wasn’t the normal kind of stiff, either.” 

Dylan’s words seemed off. How could they see a difference in shock between me and the citizens? A villain attack is a villain attack, right? 

“It was more...upset, for lack of a better word. What’s going on with that?” they inquired, making me stiffen. I didn’t realize that I was that odd in the crowd.

I wasn’t sure how to phrase my answer, but I had to say something. Unless I said it straight out, this would probably be a failure to explain. And people may look at me like I’ve lost it. 

“Well...I...”

Dammit.

I’ve just gotta say it. 

“I think I’ve been transported between realities. This one isn’t mine, I fell asleep in a dingy apartment, woke up here, and I’m-”

“Okay, I think I have an idea of what’s going on. I could help you, but it may take some time. Until then, let’s find a way to make sure that you don’t get screwed while you’re here, sound good?”

I breathed a sigh of relief, thankful. Then the thought hit me.

“Wait, how would you know? How can I trust you? Prove that you’re a hero, and then I’ll think about that offer.”

They chuckled a little, seemingly nonplussed, and reached for their hero license. After taking a look at it, I determined that this was a real license. You can’t get one unless you passed the exam, and even then, there are very few circumstances in which you can get one and not be a hero. 

“Getting closer, but still not there. I need more proof.”

Nodding again, they grabbed their cell and opened their messages in front of me. Their phone screen was face up, and they turned it to face me. I saw messages between Kamui and Dylan. I scrolled through the messages to make sure that they weren’t faked, and the image moved. 

“One more thing. If that’s the case, then tell me what your quirk is.”

“Well, my quirk is body morphing, or shape shifting. I can’t shift into anything that’s living, though - and I can’t keep up form for too long of a time. That enough for you?”

I paused, weighing the options - they’ve shown enough awareness, and they do have proof for what I provided, but how can I be sure that this isn’t just a ploy to trap a citizen and get the attention of the heroes? 

“Okay, here’s what I am gonna do - I’m going to trust you. I have nowhere else to go, nor do I have any idea as to why I’m here, and I can’t go about life here without some help,” I uttered, urgency (and possibly a little fear) in my tone of voice. 

With a nod, their bouncy curls following the action. They seemed satisfied, and I had finally found some sense of stability.

I can now figure this shit out. 

[merelliahallewell]

An Order of Embers Roleplay Primer

Hello, friends. A while back I wrote a not-so-brief guide to Order of Embers roleplay that seemed to help a few people. MG’s Kul Tiras community has been growing lately and I’ve also founded a new guild and RP project set in Drustvar, and so I figured I would update this for clarity and ease of reading. In other words? I... am back on my bullshit.

This primer will be headcanon/fanon free, and only reference quest text or other information that can be found in-game in Drustvar. If headcanons are your thing, I’ll be releasing an in-character guide to Kul Tiras’s monsters and dark magic soon. I hope. It is the endless writing project. 

Drustvar’s Woes

On Kul Tiras’ western side lies the mountainous region of Drustvar. It provides most of the island kingdom’s ore, some food, and some of their strongest warriors.

In recent times, a civil war raged across Kul Tiras. A secessionist, N’zoth-aligned faction run by Lord Stormsong in the north and an attempted coup led by Lady Ashvane in Boralus itself nearly toppled the Proudmoore Admiralty, but were stopped by brave souls. Drustvar was strangely absent from these conflicts, and many refugees spilled out into the rest of Kul Tiras telling frightening tales of “wooden demons” who had driven them from their homes.

Most of the land west of the mountains had fallen to a group of terrifying magic-users who enslaved the minds of all they came into contact with... if they didn’t kill them for sport or use them as reagent for foul and perverse rituals. The land east of the mountains was on the brink, as well. Corrupted wildlife roamed the woods freely and witches practiced their dark spellcraft freely, driving the remaining desperate souls into worship of the wickermen or into frenzied attempts to prosecute innocents for the crimes of the terrifying Heartsbane Coven. All of this happens before the player even arrives in Drustvar.

The Order of Embers

During the zone’s storyline, the player and Lucille Waycrest discover that the magic being used against the people of Drustvar is that of the ancient Drust, who were defeated thousands of years earlier by a group known as the Order of Embers. The Drust were a seafaring clan of Vrykul that eventually settled on Kul Tiras sometime after the Sundering. They developed druidic ways that brought them in tune with the land and even earned them the blessing of nature spirits, but those ways were perverted by a sorcerer-king who set the Drust upon the path of death and domination.

The old Order were comprised of those who took up arms against their far more powerful foes, exploiting weaknesses in Drust magic uncovered by scholars. The Waycrests were members of the ancient order, and it was Arom Waycrest himself who led the charge to defeat the Drust king Gorak Tul. In the cavern Gol Var, once a Drust stronghold, they recover an ancient tome known as the Tome of Silver and Ash, a treatise which contained all the old Order’s knowledge on combatting their magic.

In the town of Arom’s Stand, some of the Waycrest Guard’s finest remaining soldiers were recruited to become the reborn Order’s first Inquisitors. The newly-anointed inquisitors brought the fight to the Heartsbane from there.

The Order’s battles with the Heartsbane Coven play out over the latter half of the Drustvar questing experience and also the zone’s world quests. They add new members to their ranks, create new weapons for use against the Coven, and push back against them on all sides. Eventually, they storm Waycrest Manor, cutting off the head of the snake and defeating the Coven’s leadership. Gorak Tul was forced back into the death-realm of Thros, prevented from returning for the time being. (Tul was later killed in Thros during the Pride of Kul Tiras questline.)

It’s unclear how long it took to purge the Heartsbane from Drustvar- if the task was truly completed at all. Blizzard rarely addresses zone stories after the fact, which means the plot thread has been left hanging and was not addressed in any subsequent patches in BfA. The Order of Embers also assisted with the fight against the Horde during the Drustvar invasion.

It may be a reasonable inference that Drustvar is being repaired and de-cursed in the aftermath of the war, but that is not an easy task.

Who leads the Order of Embers? Does it have a hierarchy?

Lucille Waycrest- now the ruling Lady of Drustvar, and the last of her house, is in charge of the Order. All inquisitors are raised to their stations by the authority of House Waycrest. Other important figures are the remaining original inquisitors (Sterntide, Mace, Notley, and Yorrick), the quartermaster Alcorn, and Marshal Joan Cleardawn, a former inquisitor that was given new leadership over the Waycrest Guard.

The Order seems to lack much of a formal hierarchy- most of the named NPCs are simply titled with inquisitor, working together as a team rather than issuing commands to one another. They also seem to be adept at handling missions alone and on their own or with the aid of local allies. 

Can I roleplay an inquisitor or other member of the Order of Embers? Is it lore-abiding to do so?

Sure! The Order didn’t stop at five inquisitors- a world quest boss for the Horde during the invasions has them facing off against a new Inquisitor named Erik. They also have a quartermaster and a cleric, which means there may be support staff involved that do not bear the big title but are still part of the group. The Order is probably not handing out inquisitor garb like candy, but there’s no reason to assume that a worthy and trusted individual wouldn’t be made an inquisitor.

However, it is worth mentioning that the Order of Embers might not be too trusting of those wielding or even infused with darker powers, given the devastation of their homeland by spellcasters wielding terrifying magic. That is just a guess on my part, but an educated one. Drustvar as a whole has a very low-magic culture.

Could a non-human join the order?

I don’t see why not, but there are no non-human methods ingame. I would never say that it is lore-breaking to roleplay a nonhuman as an Inquisitor, just that there’s no real in-game basis to make this judgement on either way. If you want to roleplay an inquisitor that’s not human and you think you have solid IC reasoning: go for it!

Obviously, the Order of Embers may be more hesitant to accept, say, a void-infused elf with tentacle hair or a worgen warlock as an inquisitor than a race they’re more familiar with such as a sturdy dwarf or genius gnome. Ability to serve House Waycrest and being of aid against the Heartsbane are likely strong factors in joining up- they may not make a person an inquisitor if they’re a night elf sorcerer that’s been in Kul Tiras for two weeks and hasn’t ever seen a witch in his life.

Initiation Ceremony

To become a member of the Order of Embers, the initiate undergoes a short ritual where they are presented with their garb.

Brothers and Sisters, today you become the searing fire that burns away the darkness.

Today you become the shining blade that cuts through the wicked.

Today you become the beacon of hope against the endless foe.

By the authority of House Waycrest, I name you inquisitors of the Order of Embers!

Clothing and Armor

Upon being appointed to their new stations, inquisitors are offered a set of garb inspired by drawings in the Tome of Silver and Ash of what the ancient inquisitors wore. This armor seems to be dark brown leather gear and also has a feathered cap involved- though only one of the inquisitors seems to have chosen to wear that accessory. The specific in-game set is the “Armor of the Dashing Scoundrel,” which comes from Antorus. It drops from the heroic difficulty of the raid. It should be noted you don’t need the whole set- each inquisitor wears different pieces of it and matches them with other clothing or armor pieces. The hat also has a chance to drop from the Commodore Calhoun rare in Vol’dun. Not sure if it would drop for non leather users, so be careful.

Don’t feel like you have to be a rogue to play an Inquisitor- going for tones of brown with some silver or grey mixed in will likely net you a pretty good-looking set. There are Kul Tiran questing and dungeon plate sets that look fantastic and are worn by Waycrest Guard/Marshal NPCs that would work great as an inquisitor’s battle armor.

The Order also has a tabard, which is worn by the quartermaster who sells it. While no inquisitors actually seem to wear it, it’s one of the better-looking tabards added that expansion and has a distinctive look. It matches well with just about any gear that has brown or tones of silver/grey.

If you’re looking for some transmog ideas, this is a link to the Order of Embers mogs on /r/transmogrification. There is a super sweet plate set OoE set on there that actually won Best Dressed of 2018 for that armor class.

If you’re looking for a great Order of Embers-type transmog, the Leather PvP set from Shadowlands’ first season really hits those vibes. It has a very witch hunter theme to it, is colored largely brown, and the belt has fucking potions and silver spikes on it for use on... enemies. I cannot understate how badass this set is. The best part? It is not class locked, meaning that this armor is available to anybody that can wear leather gear, if you toggle the vendor pane to show “all classes.” However, it does cost Conquest points (and a lot of them), so you may want to be picky with what you grab unless you don’t intend to gear through PVP this season. We don’t know if it will be available after the season ends, so you may want to pick that up soon if it’s your thing. Also, it’s just a nice-looking coat and we don’t have a lot of those in-game. 

Weaponry

The inquisitors of the Order of Embers wield a number of different weapons, taken from their prior occupation as members of the Waycrest Guard. Everything from two-handed swords to crossbows are used by them- and that’s just primary weapons. Their armor features throwing knives as well. Inquisitor Mace even carries a trio of daggers sheathed at her belt- it seems they have no shortage of tools for dispatching foes with.

Players who have completed the zone’s Bleak Hills Mine quests also have a buff called Silvered Weapons. Silver can disrupt the magics of the Drust, and stun abberations, elementals, and undead in the zone. This is an inference, but it may be because all of those monster types in Drustvar are powered by this magic. The silver recovered from one of the region’s mines was used to begin producing weapons for the Order such as the silver-plated hand cannon Witchrend, which seems to shoot silver shrapnel to great effect against the Heartsbane.

It should be pointed out that silver is a shitty metal to make a weapon out of. It is not half as strong as steel or whatever else they make weapons out of in Azeroth. The original Order of Embers got around this fact by making weapons with a steel core and covering them with a layer of pure silver- you find one of their long-abandoned knives out in the world.

Other universes have done similar things with silver weapons- D&D has a ruling about silvered weapons, and The Witcher series has a whole class of silver swords created with special forging techniques. It may be wise to take a page from the latter universe, as Witchers face the same issue regarding silver’s weakness as a weapon. They get around that by carrying two swords- one for men, the other for monsters. I’m not telling you that you should roleplay a Witcher but I am saying that’s kind of half the reason we’re here, so it might be okay to borrow that idea since they face that very legitimate problem with a smart solution.

Storm Silver is a metal found abundantly in Kul Tiras, and is used for building ships, making armor light enough to swim in, and consecrating for various uses by Tidesages. It is likely not the same as pure silver, but we don’t have explicit confirmation either way.

Alchemical fire is also a potent weapon against witches and Drust alike, crafted by Master Ashton. The original text specifically says it was used to “burn away the Drust.” This concoction is tricky to make, requiring the reagents Heartbloom, Saltpeter, volatile sap, and Sulfur. The fire is carried in a reinforced flask that is made to withstand the test of time, able to hold the volatile components without igniting. Inquisitors use alchemical fire to pour over dangerous objects or to shift into more breakable containers for throwing. This is seen in the Gorak Tul fight, when alchemical fire is put into flasks which are shattered over the corpses of his minions to prevent them from rising again. 

It isn’t addressed whether magical fire has the same effect as this alchemical concoction. A fire mage, destruction warlock, or priest wielding holy fire might be a neat character concept to bring to the table for an order that doesn’t have a lot of magic.

Rowan wood is also useful against Drust magic. However, it is not specified how exactly it is helpful. Rowan trees don’t grow in Kul Tiras, so an inquisitor seeking that wood would need to travel overseas for such a reagent. It could, however, be extremely helpful and far cheaper than making a silver weapon. 

Non-inquisitor Roles

If you find the Order of Embers cool, but don’t think you like the idea of hunting witches all day, they have more than just inquisitors. The witch hunters rely on specialists to help them get the tools they need to beat back the Heartsbane, and even simply through the questing experience they gather new allies. The blacksmith Angus Ballaster and the alchemist Master Ashton both are essentials. As mentioned before, they are also joined by a cleric, Loriette. A skilled smith or alchemist could find work alongside the Order of Embers, perhaps helping to craft more weapons for them or concocting potions for use in the field.

Allies

The witch hunters are not the only ones out to defend their homes- they are joined by a plethora of others trying to protect the region. Whether you believe the Coven is still an active threat or not, these are still the most common friends an Inquisitor may find in the field.

Waycrest Guard - The Waycrest Guard are Drustvar’s chief protectors, but lost many of their members to the mind-enslaving curse of the Heartsbane. They work alongside the Order of Embers in the Drustvar quests. The original inquisitors are all drawn from the Waycrest Guard, so the Order has deep ties with them. It appears largely as if the Guard protect the settlements, and the inquisitors are the ones striking deep into enemy territory. They could be called to do heavier lifting when the Order alone cannot do the job.

Town Militia - With much of the Waycrest Guard falling under the control of the Coven, the towns of Drustvar were forced to look to their own defenses, such as in Falconhurst and Fletcher’s Hollow. Ordinary citizens have bravely taken up arms in defense of their homes, and the aid of a skilled inquisitor would likely be welcomed. Even with the witches defeated, it’s likely some militia still protect their towns.

Thornspeakers - The Thornspeakers are a faction of Drust and human druids that live out in Drustvar’s woods and mountains. They are led by Ulfar, the last living Drust and the leader of the faction that sided with the humans against their own kind. The Thornspeakers seem to congregate at Ulfar’s Den along the eastern side of the mountains, but watch over all of Drustvar and Tiragarde. They work hard to maintain the balance in nature, and have allies in the mysterious pair of stags that roam the forests...

Drustvar Rangers - Though they only appeared in a few brief quests supporting the Thornspeakers, Drustvar seems to have a number of woodsmen trying to do their part to protect their home. They do not seem to be magical or anything, just some normal folks 

Notes, RP hooks, Excess Lore, etc

The Order of Embers is based out of Arom’s Stand in central Drustvar. The building Lucille occupies is possibly their headquarters. They also may use Gol Koval as a base of operations. 

Onions seem to be anathema to the witches and their servants. 

Witches have been observed to call upon Drust magic without the Coven’s assent- once by a rejected witch in Drustvar, and again in Tiragarde at the Algerson Yard. This could open up the possibility of inquisitors venturing outside Drustvar to battle new threats. Additionally, it seems as if there may be some witches left as of the Shadowlands quests that take you back to Drustvar, so the hunt may not be over.

The Drust themselves have invaded Ardenweald from Thros. Whether it’s Drust artifacts/contraband making their way into Azeroth of the Drust themselves trying a full-on invasion through the yawning portal into Thros that was left unresolved in BfA, there’s a ton of possible plot threads that can be picked up related to them. A journey into the afterlife wouldn’t even be out of the question, since common citizens make it to Oribos and there is talk of mortals being able to join covenants. The Night Fae would be in dire need of a bold soul bearing flame and silver to drive back their foes and protect the cycle of life and death.

The Holy Light may be used by some members of the Order of Embers. Inquisitor Erik uses holy spells for his attacks when engaged by Horde players, and Cleric Loriette casts a fiery blessing on players who have unlocked her, a spell type usually reserved for priests. She’s also a cleric which usually implies the Light in this universe. A Light-wielding inquisitor is not out of the question, it seems, especially since Drustvar seems to have some ties to the Light if you look into it. 

Despite the possibility of Drustvari Light-wielding inquisitors, this is not the same situation as the Scarlet Crusade. The Order of Embers is not a holy or religious order. It owes allegiance to House Waycrest. Religious zealotry is not on their menu. Per the faction description, the Order of Embers fights with knowledge guiding their blades. 

It’s unlikely the Order would be suspicious of magic-users such as druids or shamans, given that they share a continent with Thornspeakers, Tidesages, and even mages (even if those are offscreen). They would have to be a pretty poor inquisitor to confuse the magics of their allies with that of Drust magic, so don’t go inquisitioning random magic users. 

This isn’t really anything to do with canon, but please don’t use the Order of Embers to live out really fringe stuff with purging ‘heretics’ or being racist at elves or what have you. The community has a history with seeing that sort of stuff in inquisitor characters and it is unlikely to earn you a super great reception if you choose to roleplay that. 

Further Reading (Fanon and out-of-WoW information)

This blog post goes over some potential processes for silvering and what happens when these weapons are used on creatures averse to silver.

Matt Mercer has created an interesting Dungeons & Dragons class called the Blood Hunter (which used to be called Witch Hunter.) It provides some interesting ideas that could be brought into an inquisitor character, especially one that might be interested in wielding darker magics to counter evil powers. You can view the class on D&D Beyond, or read the old Witch Hunter PDF which is a prior draft.

I recently did a huge series of writeups on the Drust, the Order of Embers’ perennial foe. If you’re wanting something to face off against or just want to know your lore, you can give these a read!

The Drust Background  - -  The Drust in BfA  - -  The Drust in Ardenweald

Night Fae Campaign (1)  - - Night Fae Campaign (2)

- - - - - -

I hope this post was helpful to anybody who’s feeling like trying out this sort of roleplay! It’s terribly long-winded but I wanted to do my best to cover all of the information out there. If you’d like to reach out to me about this topic or roleplay with an inquisitor, I play the character “Inquisitrix” mainly on both Moon Guard and sometimes “Merciella” on Wyrmrest Accord. 

If you’re looking for Order of Embers-themed roleplay and you play on Moon Guard, the guild <Silver and Ash> might be what you’re looking for, as they roleplay a group of inquisitors! On Wyrmrest Accord, there is a small interguild community called the Hex Hunter’s Society that I believe may be active still. If you’re looking for other Kul Tiran-type roleplay or want to put an inquisitor in a different environment, there are a few other guilds out there that utilize Kul Tiras on both Wyrmrest and Moon Guard. Happy hunting!

[monstersandmaw]

Embers - male dragon shifter x reader) Part One (sfw)

This fourteen-part, fluffy ‘x reader’ romance story released on a weekly basis up on Patreon between August and October 2019, and now it’s time to put it up on Tumblr! Starting today (Friday 3rd January 2020), it will go up once a week on my page until it’s over :). Each chapter is deliberately a little shorter than my usual stories, but not all of them are!! haha.

Any warnings that pop up in the series will be put at the start of any chapter, but as with all my stuff, it's mostly just ridiculously fluffy... It's set in a larger town than Starfall Springs called Old Trollbridge, though it’s in the same universe. That means super quaint names, monsters are part of society (though attitudes vary from place to place), and it's modern fantasy.

When the reader runs into someone in a coffee shop who might be able to teach their niece the flute, they’re not about to let the opportunity pass. However, he’s prickly and terse, and seemingly reluctant to help out. He agrees to pass on the reader’s number to his friend who teaches the flute. Thinking he’s perhaps a tiefling, with his beautiful, ruby-red horns and reptilian eyes, the reader is immediately drawn to him, and as the reader takes little Cecelia to her lessons - held at his family mansion as a favour to his friend - they run into Mikaeïl again. As the weeks go by, his steely exterior crumbles, and the two begin to grow a little closer…

Stickybeak Cafe, on the corner of a quiet backstreet in the university town of Old Trollbridge was, as far as you were concerned, the perfect cafe. Run by a hummingbird avian who was the tiniest and friendliest person you had ever met, with iridescent green plumage and a gorgeously pink dash of colour at her throat, the quaint little place had become a regular stop on your morning route to work.

As you stood in line on a morning very much like any other, though you were running horrendously late, Lidaë was chatting with a customer whom you’d not seen before. At first you took him for a tiefling, with his six-foot-something height, elegant physique, and curved, ruby-red horns flecked with gold, but his skin wasn’t the grey, blue or red of many tieflings. He also didn’t appear to have a tail. He had long red hair with golden highlights that was tied up in a neat bun at the nape of his neck, just brushing the collar of his crisp white shirt.

You rather liked the smart waistcoat he had on, and admired anyone who could keep their trousers so immaculately pressed. Both of these last points gave you the immediate impression that he was a professor at the ancient university. In his left hand, however, was not a briefcase or a stack of papers, but a navy blue, leather music case, and in the same hand he also carried what looked like a flute case.

Your eyes widened when you saw it. It was like a sign from the gods. Your young niece was desperate to start flute lessons, and even if this guy didn’t teach it himself, he might know of a good teacher in the area.

Taking a deep breath, you waited for Lidaë to go and collect his coffee from her colleague and then you stepped forward to tap him on the arm.

“Hi,” you said awkwardly as he turned, a frown on an astonishingly handsome, finely featured face. His gaze was extraordinary, and confirmed for you that he was not a tiefling, though exactly what he was you weren’t sure. Piercing eyes of what looked like liquid gold with a reptilian pupil bored into you from behind perfectly round, gold spectacles.

“Yes?” he said in a smooth, rich, if perhaps a little clipped and terse, voice.

“I’m sorry to bother you, but I couldn’t help noticing that you’re a musician…?”

“I am…” he said warily, clearly wondering where this was going.

The fact that he didn’t seem very keen to linger and chat was painfully obvious to you but you tried not to babble. “My young niece is looking to start flute lessons,” you began but he cut you off curtly.

“I’m not a music teacher.”

“Ok, but do you know of any you could recommend? I don’t know the first thing about music and I don’t want to set her up with someone rubbish…”

He sighed and said, “Yes. I’m in a quintet with a faun who also teaches flute.”

Your shoulders dropped with relief and you grinned. “Can I give you my number and ask your friend to get in touch if they’ve got room for a new pupil? She’s earnest and well behaved. I don’t think she’d be any bother…”

He glanced at the clock on the wall and nodded. “Fine.”

“Thank you!” you gushed, scrabbling for a paper napkin, and as Lidaë reached over the counter and handed you a pen, you realised that the cafe had been aptly named. The owner was every bit as nosy and interested by the lives of her customers as her cafe name suggested. You handed it to him and he looked at it a bit like it was a dirty dishcloth, before folding it one-handed and sliding it into his waistcoat pocket.

He nodded a silent farewell, horns glinting in the spotlights in the cafe’s ceiling like semi-precious stones, collected his double espresso, and then he was gone.

You stared after him for a long while before Lidaë cleared her throat and buzzed her delicate wings at you in what could only be a little avian smile, and then she twitched her shoulders and leaned over the counter to hiss conspiratorially, “Well, that’s more than I’ve ever got out of him, and he’s been coming here for over a year now!”

“Who is he?” you asked as you stepped up to your spot at the counter and then placed your order. “I’ve never seen him before.”

“You’re running late, that’s why!” she laughed. “He’s a lecturer at the university I think,” she added as she took the coins you handed her and fished out your change.

“Music?”

She shook her head. “No, I don’t think so. Though he comes in here with a group of friends every now and again. I think they must be that quintet he mentioned. Adorable bunch. Particularly the goblin. He’s a sweetheart. Anyway,” she chirped. “Here’s your coffee. You have a good day now!”

“You too, and thanks.”

With that, you headed back out into the day outside, hoping that he wouldn’t be the ‘absent minded professor’ sort and forget all about the napkin in his pocket with your number on…

Part Two

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[writingismyhappytime]

Marry Me (Part 10)

Ricky Horror X Reader

Warnings: Language

"Daddy! (Y/N)!"

Ricky jerks awake, and you stir, lifting your head sleepily.

"What is it, baby?" Ricky asks groggily, rubbing his eyes as he tries to straighten, only to realize you're holding him down. You must have fallen asleep on the sofa, no wonder he feels so stiff and achy.

"I'm hungry." Chloe peers at the two of you from the arm of the couch, her arms crossed over her chest as she looks back and forth. "I couldn't find any pancakes."

Pancakes?

You rub your eyes as you sit up, still feeling tired but not absolutely terrible like you did yesterday. Apparently your stomach bug was just a 24 hour thing, for which you're grateful. Chloe seems fine too if she's asking for pancakes, which does sound good to you. Do you have any mix? You'd have to google how to put it together if you don't.

"I'll make you some," Ricky clears his throat, getting to his feet slowly and rubbing his lower back. He's never slept on your couch before, but in that position, it's definitely not good for his posture. He offers you his hand, helping pull you up, Chloe grabbing your blanket as it falls to the floor and tossing it back onto the sofa. "What time is it?"

"Around six thirty," you yawn, eyeballing the bathroom. You didn't even set an alarm, you could have been late opening the shop! You're relieved Chloe woke you up when she did.

Did Chloe sleep the entire night? Why didn't she wake either of you up if she didn't? How long has she been up? You can't believe you fell asleep on Ricky, that wasn't your intention, although you did snooze pretty well honestly. More than likely because you were sick and dying, not because he's warm and comfortable.

"I wanna help," Chloe follows Ricky towards the kitchen, who hastily remembers to move his sneakers under the coffee table so you don't trip over them in a few minutes. He lets her get the mixing bowl and utensils out as he finds the pancake mix, wondering if the strawberries are still decent enough to put on top of the food. Where's the syrup?

He's still so tired he doesn't think he remembers how to make anything. He brushes his black hair behind his ears, glancing down at the little girl concentrating on pouring the white powder out of the blue box, letting way too much fall into the bowl. She hasn't brushed her hair yet, he can tell by the way it's laying, and is she wearing his house shoes?

He glances at the bathroom door as he hears the shower turn on, sighing before he turns his attention back to breakfast. He manages to get just enough pancakes made for Chloe to sit down and eat before you call for him.

Huh?

"What?" He hesitates, turning off the stove and trying to listen to what you said.

"Where are the towels?"

Oh!

Well, as far as he knows, they should be in the bathroom, but he'll check the linen closet. He keeps an eye on Chloe as he leaves, seeing her legs swinging back and forth at the kitchen table as she eats, humming to herself. He'll have to make sure she brushes her teeth after he brushes her hair so she doesn't look like she just crawled out of a hole, and get her dressed for the day. He guesses he'll just be taking her to work with him when she gets out of school, the guys don't usually mind since she just likes coloring at the table and the producer always gives her candy when she thinks Ricky isn't looking.

"Here's some," Ricky nudges the bathroom door open, offering the towel without looking as steam starts to billow through the opening. He can't wait until you're out and he can run through, he hates he's still wearing yesterdays clothes and for some reason smells like Chinese food.

"Ricky, I'm in the shower, you can just bring it in. Sit it on the sink," you sigh, the hot water still running against your tired body. It's kind of embarrassing, but you hadn't noticed the suspiciously missing towels until you were already in the shower, but at least Ricky has good enough hearing to bring you some. You know you just restocked it last night, but maybe you only thought you did? You were delirious after all.

Ricky sighs, his eyes nervously flicking to the flowered shower curtain before he drops the towels by the sink. Are you two getting comfortable enough around each other where this isn't going to be awkward? He kind of likes that, you don't seem bothered by him walking in at all.  "Anything else?"

"A back massage and some rose petals to walk over, thanks."

Ricky snorts. "Right on that."

"Were there not towels in here last night?" You ask after a moment, frowning. You know you put some in there. "Like, I'm not crazy, am I? I know I put some new ones on the shelf."

"Uh, I didn't look." Ricky has no idea, he never pays attention. He glances at the fogged mirror above the sink, absently drawing a little smiley face in the corner through the water. "I'll ask Chloe."

"Did we have pancake mix?"

"Yeah, I found some. There's plenty for everyone." And half the band, since most of the bag is in the bowl. "Are you working today?"

"Might as well, I don't feel like I'm dying now."

"I'm going to take Chloe with me to work, she's usually just fine. Do you need anything or want us to get something?" He asks, hearing his phone ring. He ignores it, he doesn't want to talk to anyone this early. He has plans on taking a shower, getting Chloe ready, and then driving to work; if it's one of the guys, he'll talk to them then.

"I should be good, thanks."

"Hello, thanks for calling Daddy's phone, this is Chloe."

Ricky hesitates, turning to look out the half-open door as he hears his daughter answer the phone. She sounds chipper, not at all plagued by a stomach bug or thinking she's going to die anymore. He's relieved you're both feeling better and he isn't going to have to contend with that at the same time, he's not sure he's mentally prepared for that chaos.

"Oh, hi, Chris!" she brightens a little bit. "Daddy? Oh, he's helping (Y/N) take a shower, I can tell him you called."

"CHLOE!" Ricky gasps, able to hear your laughter start from behind the curtain as he makes a mad dash out of the bathroom, nabbing the phone from his daughter and urging her back to the kitchen table, ignoring her confused expression.

He's going to have to talk to her about being too honest.

Also he was not helping you take a shower.

"Hey," he mutters as he lifts the phone to his ears, his face hot. He can't believe Chloe just said that. Of all the times for her to answer his phone! Thank god it wasn't her mother, he can only imagine how downhill that would have went.

"Hey, did you cut the shower short?" Chris sounds amused as if he's trying not to laugh, and his guitarist sighs heavily.

"I was just giving her a towel." he grumbles, shooting his child a look as he skulks towards your bedroom, shutting the bathroom door as an afterthought so it's not wide open. You're still chuckling to yourself, you probably think it's hilarious.

"Ahuh. So we have a meeting at twelve, I've emailed you the lyrics for the next song, we can begin writing the music for it now. Ryan's supposed to meet us there, but Devin is out for the day."

"That's fine," Ricky runs his fingers down his face. "I'll have to bring Chloe, she's staying with me for the week."

"She feeling better?"

"She's happily eating pancakes, no sight of sickness." Ricky assures, knowing how Chris is. The man can't stand for someone to even cough or sneeze around him without liberally spraying Lysol he magicks out of thin air.  "She'll just color like usual. Or play on my phone."

"Sounds good. See you at twelve."

"See you." Ricky clicks the end button, cutting his eyes at his daughter's back but deciding not to say anything right now. She's just now finishing up her pancakes, smearing what's left of her syrup on them. "Chloe, you're going to work with me after school today, alright? When you get done, we'll get ready."

"Okay."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Daddy?"

"Yeah?" Ricky focuses on the road in front of him, his fingers curled loosely around the steering wheel. He has his hair brushed behind his ears, tired blue eyes staring forward as they wait on the light to turn. He feels like he's been sitting here for fifteen minutes, Chloe impatiently asking if they're there yet for the last ten.

She's going to be late for school if this damned light doesn't change! He hates having to walk her inside the school, he wants to just drop her off during the designated time frame where the teachers are out there to make sure they get in there safely.

"Are you and (Y/N) going to have a baby?"

"What? No." Ricky hesitates, his eyes flicking in the rearview mirror. He tried to get her hair in order, but eventually you'd come to the rescue when she started whining five minutes in. She was good for you, letting you run the pink brush through her black strands, clipping the pastel bow as you drew the front of her hair back so it wouldn't fall in her face.

Ricky thinks Chloe is out to get him today, but you'd just rolled your eyes at him and told him to not be so stupid. Still, she's giving him... attitude, or something, he can't explain it. Answering his phone like that, getting all fussy when he tried to get her ready, not wanting to finish taking her medicine like the doctor said because it tastes bad. He doesn't get it, she's never like this.

Also why does she always want to ask him these leading questions when they're in the car and not when he can really look at her and focus?

"We're not going to have a baby." he says firmly, knowing that without doubt. Not unless there's some kind of immaculate conception. "Why? Do you want a little brother or sister?"

"Well..." Chloe hesitates, then shakes her head. "No. I don't want to have to share you."

Oh.

Ricky's cheeks flush, and he doesn't immediately respond. Why did her words have to hit such a special spot? She doesn't want to have to share him, that's precious. All he wants to do suddenly is squeeze her in a hug.

"You don't have to share me with anyone, don't worry. It's us against the world, kid."

"Mommy was talking to Sam," her mom's stupid ass boyfriend, "and she said if you had a new baby you might not want me to come over anymore."

He sighs. Her mother, she's out to get him, there's no peace.

"Why would she say something like that?"

"She's worried that you won't keep me sometimes when she has to go to the doctor and Sam is busy."

"Does Mommy go to the doctor often?" Ricky asks carefully, knowing last time he tried to get Chloe to tell him anything about it she stubbed up and wouldn't. It makes his chest pinch with worry.

"More now. She gets upset and stays in the bathroom a lot." Chloe frowns, her brows furrowing. "She doesn't like Sam, he makes her cry."

"How does he make her cry? Is he mean to her?" Ricky shifts uncomfortably in his seat, tightening his grip on the wheel. What's her boyfriend doing that's making her cry? Ricky will not tolerate that! He might not get along with the mother of his child, but he's not going to let someone bully or hurt her either, that's unacceptable!

"They fight a lot." Chloe shrugs her tiny shoulders. "He told her she would have to get daycare if you and (Y/N) had a baby, because he wouldn't watch me. I told Mommy I can watch myself but it just made her cry more."

Fucker.

Ricky hates Sam.

"We're never going to have a baby, you're the only one I'll ever have." he replies, and reaches back, feeling her fingers curl through his immediately. He gives them a gentle squeeze, lightly applying his foot to the gas as the light finally changes.

"Daddy, you can't have babies," Chloe reminds. "You're a boy."

Okay, she has him there.

"Okay, true," he represses a smile. "But you know what I mean. I won't have a baby with anyone else."

"What if it's an accident?"

"It's very unlikely."

Chloe doesn't seem convinced, but she's barely six. She doesn't understand how all of that works yet --- nor is Ricky comfortable with her ever finding out about it.

"Daddy, was I an accident?"

"You were... a surprise," he replies, deciding this conversation is going downhill quickly. "Are you excited to see your uncles?"

"Is Ryan gonna be there?"

"Yes."

"Then yes!"

Ricky chuckles, relaxing a little in his seat. It bothers him that something is terribly wrong with Claire now, that you're right about it. What's this about her boyfriend being mean to her? What's going on with the two of them? If he needs to step in --- he knows it's none of his business, that there's boundaries, but he can't stand the thought of Chloe having to witness an abusive relationship or anything that would traumatize her.

He had a rough youth, made some bad decisions as a teenager, he never wants Chloe to feel like he did, to go to lengths to want it all to end. He wants her happy and to have a good life, and he wants to be there to witness her growing up and being successful.

He's going to have to talk to you about this tonight.

~~~~~~~~~

"She really said that?" You gasp in surprise where you sit on the edge of your tub, slowly applying your lotion to your hands as you stare at his reflection in the mirror above your sink. "That this guy is mean to her mom?"

"She said that he makes her cry," Ricky scowls, slowly brushing his teeth and doing his best to speak around the toothbrush. Chloe has been asleep for a few hours, and the two of you are getting ready for bed. Ricky has found the two of you are getting into a routine when Chloe is there, going to bed at the same time, but usually talking softly for an hour or so before one of you falls asleep. "But that she has to go to the doctor a lot. And Chloe worries that if we have a baby, she won't be able to come over as much."

"Well that's silly." You sigh, rubbing the scented lotion onto your wrist. You have to wash your hands and arms constantly so the grease and other liquids you deal with don't stain your skin, and you don't want it to dry either. You religiously apply it, and hope Ricky doesn't mind you doing so while he's also getting ready for bed. "Even if we did, that wouldn't change anything. There would just be more screaming."

"Exactly! And that stupid fuck is freaking her out," Ricky scowls as he spits, turning on the sink to let water run over the blue toothbrush before he washes his mouth. "She's worried we won't want her, and that's not the case! She's too young for anxiety!"

"Do you think everything is okay with Claire? Should you talk to her?" You worry, leaning down to push more lotion in your hands, slowly massaging it into your legs.

Ricky's eyes flick to your reflection, watching absently. "I tried to talk to her about it the other day, but she told me it was none of my business, in much less nice terms."

"Well, if you were already fighting, I'm not surprised. Maybe try again," you say, running your fingers across your thighs. You always wear those shorts to bed, although it ranges from ridiculous basketball shorts to the typical ones women seem to wear, with...

"Is that my shirt?" Ricky asks after a moment, noticing the black t shirt with the symbols on the sleeves. He was wondering where that went, he couldn't find it the other day.

"Oh, is it?" You ask lightly, shrugging your shoulders. "Must have gotten mixed in the laundry."

"So you're stealing my clothes now?" Ricky asks in amusement as he turns to look at you, seeing you rubbing your hands together. You send him a look, the scent of brown sugar hitting his nose as you finish up.

"Well, not intentionally, but I guess so." You hope he doesn't mind, you really didn't think anything about it as you grabbed the shirt and tossed it on to sleep in. It looked just plain to you.

"It's fine, looks better on you anyway." Ricky shrugs, absently tugging at the hem where it comes to the middle of your thigh. "I don't have the curves for it."

"Don't be silly, you have wonderful curves," you tease, distinctly aware of his fingers brushing against the bare skin of your thigh, goosebumps left in his wake. You avert your gaze from him as you put your lotion up, clearing your throat. "You're coming to bed, right?"

"Yeah," Ricky waits for you to leave before flipping the light off. He checks on Chloe before making sure the door is locked and everything is good before heading to bed. He sighs as he nudges the bedroom door halfway closed, crawling in bed beside you and curling his arms around his pillow. "God today has been long."

"At least you're done now," you squirm beneath the sheets, finding that it's a little warmer tonight and you don't really want them. "We can rest, and do it all over again tomorrow."

"Oh, don't remind me. Chloe wouldn't settle down today in the studio, she like to drove me crazy. I don't know what her problem is today."

"She's a kid, and she thinks that she'll be replaced. Just give her some time," you say, your eyes adjusting to the darkness. You lay on your side, gazing at him in the darkness, seeing he has his face pushed down into the pillowcase. You reach forward to squeeze his shoulder, seeing him slowly move to look at you. "She has too much to think about. Why don't we do something fun tomorrow? I can take off early, we can take her mini-golfing or something, let her not think about it."

"Really?" Ricky's surprised.

"Yeah. I mean, I'm terrible at golf, so maybe a movie? Just something that would keep her occupied." You say, figuring it would be fun for Chloe to spend some quality time with her dad. "You have court Friday anyway, so when Chloe gets out of school tomorrow we'll have a day with her. Or you can, if you think it would be better if it's just the two of you."

"No, we can all go," Ricky likes the idea. "Chloe would ask constantly why you weren't there if you didn't come. I'll treat you girls to a night out."

"I can ---."

"If I don't pay, it'll look weird, we're married, remember?" Ricky says, the wedding ring heavy on his finger. It's black with silver designs, and he finds he twists and plays with it constantly. It doesn't feel as weird to wear anymore, and he's not uncomfortable, thinking everyone is staring at it and knows what a sham his marriage is. "You and Chloe can wear matching outfits and everything."

You snort. "I don't think I could pull off those little dresses she wears all the time, I wouldn't be as cute."

"I dunno, you have great legs, you can wear whatever you want." Ricky yawns, unaware of how bright your cheeks suddenly are.

Does he think your legs are great?

"Are you worried about Friday?" you ask after a moment, knowing you've been thinking about it. Friday is the big day, the entire reason you got married. You're anxious about it really, worried that it still won't go in Ricky's favor --- courts never seem to favor the father in these situations.

"Yeah. What if they still don't let me get her more often?"

"Then you keep working for it. Just show it's something you really want," you absently brush your fingers through his thick hair, tucking it behind his ear. "They'll see you're serious about it and not just doing it to be an ass."

"This is the second time I've tried for it, they should know I am." he mumbles, his eyes closing as you caress your fingers through his hair. It feels nice, it's soothing. "I'm not sure if Claire is going to be so adamant against it this time or not."

"How old was Chloe then?"

"Around three."

"Probably not so much, she's not a little baby anymore. She has her own mind about her."

That she does. "Attitude, too."

"She's just worried, don't hold it against her. I'm sure tomorrow will be better."

"Mmm." Ricky hopes so, she wore him out. He doesn't like getting onto her constantly, and finally he had to grab her arm and pull her to the side, tell her if she doesn't settle down he was going to send her to you and make her work on cars.

She didn't like that idea, and definitely calmed down, if not sulked a little.

Chris thought it was hilarious, said that you were going to make Chloe into the next little mechanic and she could take over the shop from you. Ricky doesn't care if Chloe does learn to work on cars, but she's definitely a little young for it just yet, especially since she hasn't been raised around them. He worries about her even just darting through the garage.

Maybe tomorrow will be better, like you said.

~~~~~~~~

"Are you sure this carnival is a good idea?" Ricky mumbles uneasily, Chloe's hand held tightly in his as you all three stand at the ticket booth. He doesn't like such a large crowd, what if he can't see his daughter at all times? What if someone nabs her? Some of these rides look sketchy, what if they break?

"It'll be fun, it's alright," you reply, seeing how excited his daughter is. "You can't keep her in a bubble all the time, plus I've always gone to the carnival, it's fun. Cotton candy, the lights, kissing boys behind the tents and sneaking away from parents." You tease, seeing the uncomfortable look on Ricky's face.

He gives a pained sigh, urging her to stand between the two of you as he goes to pay for the overpriced tickets. Chloe shifts her weight excitedly, barely holding onto your hand as she looks around at all the sights. Everything smells like popcorn and cakes, and she likes the way people are dressing in all the bright colors and tutus!

"I want a tutu like that," she says, looking at all the sparkles. "Daddy, can I have a tutu?"

"Maybe later," he slips a red bracelet around her wrist. "Let's go explore. Do you want popcorn or anything?"

"Yes, please! It smells good!" Chloe says excitedly, loosely holding onto you. You tighten your grip on her as you follow Ricky under the large arch decorated with balloons and onto the fairground.

It looks like any other fair, games set up all around that you can win prizes of stuffed animals, a dunktank, the staff dressed up in all sorts of outfits or walking on stilts. Chloe's eyes are huge as she looks around, taking in all the sights from the bright colors to the food vendors. Her fingers keeping flexing in yours, and honestly you're a little nervous you'll lose your grip on her.

You understand why people want to constantly carry their toddlers.

"A photo booth!" Chloe tugs forcefully on your hand, making you veer to your right instead of towards the vendor offering popcorn for a dollar at his little stand, wearing a red and striped hat and matching shirt. Ricky hastily follows the two of you, seeing as his daughter is suddenly intent on having her photo taken in one of those random photo booths with the curtain. "Let's get our pictures taken!"

"Ah --- what about the popcorn?" You don't want your photo taken! You're dressed nicely enough, but just normal, not picture-worthy. You're not wearing the right makeup, plus the booth looks really small, so maybe Ricky and Chloe should just get some cute ones together and leave you out of it. When you make the suggestion, Chloe looks completely against it, arguing that you need a photo of all of you instead.

You give Ricky an apologetic look as you slip into the small booth, barely enough room for you and him to both sit. He has no choice but to slip his arm around your shoulder as he draws the curtain, Chloe sitting on your laps in the middle, impatiently waiting for you to slip your quarters into the machine so you can get started.

You haven't been in one of these cheap booths in years, the black curtain a little ratty, the seat hard and uncomfortable, especially since you're squished together. You glance at the dim screen as Chloe goes through picking a design for the frame of the strip, and you realize you may have put too many quarters in with how many photos you're getting.

"Our first family photo," Ricky says after a moment, giving your shoulders a light squeeze as you roll your eyes. only to cringe as there's a flash to let you know that's probably the first picture captured. Great, your first photo together and you're rolling your eyes at your husband, you suppose it's really showing how your marriage is going.

"Smile!" Chloe says with a huff when it starts counting down on the screen again, which you hadn't noticed before. You want to squirm, your leg is falling asleep, the booth is just too small! You're not too fond of enclosed spaces, but, well, you force a smile anyway, leaning into Ricky.

Okay, that turned out cute.

"How many photos are there?" Ricky grumbles after the fourth one and yet the booth keeps going, shifting uncomfortably. His fingers absently draw circles along your arm, and you shift a little at his warm touch.

"You get two strips for as many quarters as I put in," you reply sheepishly, giving him an apologetic shrug. "Let's make faces, we have enough good ones."

You and Chloe make faces, while Ricky purses his lips and doesn't look impressed. You pinch him lightly, and he sends you a look before he makes a face like what you want. It'll be cute, everyone is supposed to have funny pictures together! You grin as you look at him, pleased.

Chloe giggles as it shows a preview of the photo, liking all of your expressions. You turn to look at Ricky, amused; you had no idea his tongue was so long, or that he could nearly touch his nose with it while his eyes crossed, impressive.

He quirks a black brow at you, and you smile at him, just... looking at him for a moment. You have to admit he's cute, with his black hair framing his face and his pale skin. His beanie is drawn down a little low, but you like it on him, he always looks good.

You're kind of glad you married him, honestly. He sets a high standard for anyone else you're ever with. He's actually thoughtful, he makes you breakfast if he gets up before you, which is every time Chloe is over since she's an early riser. You two have sort of got a system down with living in the apartment, it seems normal and natural now. It's like having a roommate who just sometimes has to sleep in the same bed as you.

Sometimes, though, it would be nice to have more than a roommate. The thought has crossed your mind several times, but you're not sure if it's really something you want to go for. Plus, what if you make a move and he turns you down? You're really good friends, and have only kissed because you have to under the circumstances. What if he's not into you? What if you embarrass yourself instead, you'll never live it down!

You're not even sure why you want to complicate the situation like that, you know it's going to be over eventually. There's no point in becoming fuck buddies when inevitably your marriage will end, and what if you get even more attached? You're sort of getting used to being part of a trio, Chloe has become a constant in your life and you're going to miss her when she's not around --- with the court date being tomorrow where Ricky starts the process for full custody, you're not sure what's going to happen.

It's not going to be something that's just immediate, you're sure it's going to take some time as they have to go through processes; you're not up to date on how it works, but it's not... well, you kind of like how everything is going right now.

Except maybe you'd like to add a little more to it?

You do it on impulse, leaning forward to kiss him, you're not even sure why you do since you know it's a bad idea. Your wedding crosses your mind, how he kissed you that day, like he really meant it. You don't think anyone has ever kissed you so passionately before, as corny as that sounds.

Ricky is surprised, you can tell it by how he goes still, but then he's kissing you back, his soft lips melding against yours. You can feel your heartbeat escalate at the gentle way he responds to you, and it's such a simple kiss, not demanding, not leading to anything else --- just... good. You sort of melt, holding your breath and finding you're enjoying this much more than you expected.

"Ew! Enough moushy-moush!" Chloe gasps indignantly, curling her nose in disgust when she glances behind her, the pictures finally complete and no longer holding her attention. "Don't be gross!"

Ricky chuckles against your lips, reluctantly leaning away to look down at his daughter. His lips are tingling from yours, and he knows his cheeks are hot, especially with where his thoughts were going. He didn't expect you to kiss him, there wasn't a reason too, unless you were just doing it for the photos? He doesn't think you've kissed since your wedding, and that suddenly seems like it was years ago.

"Sorry. Still want that popcorn?"

"After we look at photos!" Chloe slips out of his lap, throwing the curtain open and grabbing the two strips out of the dispenser on the booth. You and Ricky crawl out of the small space, and you stretch your arms above your head with a yawn; working all day wore you out, even though you did take off early.

You watch as Chloe grabs the photos, peering down at them with a pleased face. You look over her shoulder, biting your lip at the stupid faces you're both making in them, and then the one where Ricky finally did too. Yep, totally caught you rolling your eyes at him, and --- oh. It caught you kissing.

Well.

"You're adorable," Ricky says, lifting one strip of photos up, the first round you took. He likes them, you actually look like a little family together like that. He has maybe a few photos where it's him and Claire with their daughter, but that was in the beginning.

"Can we get popcorn now?" Chloe is looking at the vendor like it wasn't her idea to sidetrack first. "Daddy?"

"Yeah, go ahead," Ricky nods as he tugs his wallet from his back pocket and hands her a dollar. His eyes stay riveted on her as she darts the few feet away to the man giving out popcorn, and you slip your arm through his, following her. It seems like such a natural thing to do, to curl your arm through his or hold his hand, your wedding ring sparkling in the lights around you; you figure it's just because it's still new to you even wearing it, and so pretty and sparkly and he really did a good job picking it.

Chloe turns happily with her bag of popcorn, offering the two of you some before taking handfuls and trying to eat much more than she can at once. You chuckle as you watch her, Ricky keeping up with her easily, not letting her get too far away from him or making her hold his hand in the most crowded areas.

"I wanna get my face painted!" she gasps as she sees the table set up, a few artists painting on kids faces with brushes. Your eyes flick across them, seeing their tattooed arms and piercings, their faces all painted Day of the Dead style. Chloe heads straight for the woman in the sparkly tutu she saw earlier, and Ricky actually sighs as he follows her.

"Oh, cheer up, now we can eat her popcorn," you say as she carelessly gives it to you, looking excited as she stands in line. You noticed one of the guys dressed as a skeleton keeps glancing up, his eyes focusing on Ricky before he returns to the task of his painting. "I think you've been spotted, Mr. Horror."

Ricky's eyes flick to the skeleton guy before away, pretending he doesn't notice. He gets it sometimes, being in a rather popular metal band, people staring at him like they know him from somewhere or outright recognizing him. He usually tries to ignore it unless they approach him, and tonight he really just wants to enjoy his time with you and Chloe.

"Hey, kiddo, what kind of picture do you want?" the lady asks as Chloe sits down on the stool in front of her, eyeballing all the different designs she can choose. Ricky reluctantly puts two dollars in the jar with the price, wondering if he's going to have enough cash before the night is over. He figured Chloe would go more for the rides and the games than this stuff.

"This one," Chloe points at the black and white butterfly design, and you raise a brow, surprised she didn't go for the sparkly purple one, you would have... but you also like glitter.

"Alright," the artist dips her brush in the paint, brushing blonde hairs out of her black painted eyes as she starts drawing on the little girls face slowly. Her hair is in pig tails, and you have to commend their attention to details with their outfits, you're surprised the kids aren't afraid of them.

You lean into Ricky, his arm slipping around your shoulder as you wait on Chloe. Your eyes trail around you, washing over the crowd and the staff, all the excited children running around. You can hear the music from the rides and the games, and you purse your lips, seeing the game with the darts and the balloons.

You used to be really good at that one, you wonder if you can win Chloe a prize... or just embarrass yourself.

You cross your arms, watching as the butterfly starts forming, the long wings turning out around her eyes. It's really pretty, especially when the lady draws the silver bits out, really giving it some depth.

"Hey, uh, excuse me."

Ricky glances over, his blue eyes flicking to the skeleton who'd been eyeballing him earlier stepping up. He's about Ricky's height, dressed in full costume with black and white face paint, a brush still held in his paint-stained fingers.

"Sorry to bother you when you're with your family, but I'm a big fan of your music," the skeleton says, sounding nervous and managing to look sheepish beneath his makeup. "You guys are badass. Could I get a selfie with you?"

You're trying so hard not to smile but oh my gosh. Ricky is having a famous moment, he can't say no. You'll even take the photo, this is great. You find it funny no one really cares about signatures anymore, photos do make it more clear you met someone.

"Uh," Ricky shifts slightly, but you squeeze his hand where it dangles off your shoulder before stepping away.

"I can take the picture," you offer, the skeleton perking up. Ricky sends you a look, but you ignore him as you take the guys phone, Chloe still preoccupied with her face painting to care about anything else. You take a few steps back, the skeleton beaming where he stands beside his favorite guitarist as you take their photo. "There ya go."

"Great thanks!"

"No problem," Ricky says, shrugging his shoulders. You like that he's a little embarrassed, but shouldn't he be used to it by now? You're sure depending on where they go, they have to get recognized a lot. "Glad you like our music."

"Daddy, Mommy, look!" Chloe suddenly demands, and you both look at her, seeing a pretty black and silver butterfly design around her eyes. "What do you think?"

"It looks pretty," you reply, giving her a strained smile; oh shit, did she mean to say mommy? She's never called you that before, and oh god if Claire ever heard that she would absolutely die. There would be another world war, she would crucify you, you can only imagine how many voodoo dolls with your likeness would pop up. You're definitely not ready to be called mommy. Did Ricky hear her?

"Very nice," Ricky agrees, returning his attention to the skeleton, shaking his hand for a moment before the man returns to painting faces. You give the lady a smile who painted Chloe's as you help her off the stool, her hand clamping in yours happily as she admires the design in the dinky mirror sitting on the table.

"Why don't we play some games, hmm? Or get on some rides?" Ricky suggests as he returns to his family, Chloe's hand finding his so that she holds onto both of you as you start walking. "There's some teacups over there I think."

They don't spin fast, right? He doesn't want her getting sick, not when she's just really starting to feel better. His eyes flick to you, but you're not really saying anything, still holding onto the half-full bag of popcorn.

"Okay!" Chloe excitedly starts forward, dragging both of you along with her. Ricky isn't sure who's going to be exhausted by the time the night is over, him or Chloe. He's hoping running around and doing everything will make her sleep good tonight, considering he has court tomorrow and then her mom is picking her up from school.

He just wants everything to go well, he wants to be able to do more with her, watch her grow up. It's not so much to ask! He kind of likes doing stuff like this, little family things he can't do with her mother. He would be miserable if she was there, constantly bitching about something, they would end up fighting it and ruin the moment for Chloe.

Some people just aren't meant to be together.

~~~~~~~

"She's completely wore out," Ricky yawns as he closes the bedroom door behind him, seeing you're on the sofa in your pajamas already, flipping through the photos you took on your phone earlier in the night. "I couldn't get her to wash that butterfly off her face so it's going to be a mess in the morning."

"I'm sure it'll be alright," you reply, glancing up at him. You move your legs so he can sit down beside you, propping his feet up on the coffee table. "I got some cute photos of her on the spinning teacups, you two looked adorable."

"I could barely fit in it."

"That's the best part," you chuckle, shifting so that he can look through the pictures with you. You have a ton of Chloe just... well, being Chloe and doing stuff, playing games, having fun on rides, carrying around the stuffed dinosaur you won her at the balloon game; you were extremely proud of yourself, you've never been so pleased to give someone your prize before. Chloe absolutely loved it, and Ricky even looked impressed.

"Look at her eating popcorn," you chuckle, Ricky leaning against your shoulder to look. "She had it everywhere in the car."

"She doesn't mind if its stale or not." Ricky smiles, seeing her asleep in her carseat, head tilted to the side. "She could barely stay awake after the first hour or so, I had to carry her to the car and then she asked where we were going next."

"As long as she had fun, that's what matters." You say, trying to stifle your own yawn. "I thought she'd like it."

"She had a blast." Ricky glances at you. He wants to ask about the kiss from earlier, find out what that was about. Was it just for aesthetic purposes, do you want him to post the photos? That's what people typically do, right? Post them everywhere to show how cute their family is. "Did you... enjoy yourself?"

"It was fun. I can't believe I did so good at that balloon game, I haven't done that in years." You say, pleased. "I used to be great at it when I was a teenager."

"When you snuck off from your parents and kissed boys?"

Your cheeks heat, and you send him a look. "I was joking. I was too awkward of a teenager, I didn't really go on dates."

"I didn't either." Ricky doesn't have a lot of fond memories of his youth, he was awkward and uncomfortable in his own skin back then. He's dreading when Chloe becomes a teenager and he has to figure that out.

"So we were both losers," you say wryly, earning a roll of his eyes. "No wonder we match up so well."

"I like to think we're just that good of friends."

"Maybe." Friends, right, yeah that.

You finish going through your photos, sending him all the really good ones before tossing your phone down and stretching. "I'm exhausted, I'm probably going to bed too. You coming?"

"Later, I have to get my stuff together for court tomorrow." Ricky grimaces. "I have to make sure everything is good to go."

"Just don't stay up too late," you say, thoughtlessly patting his thigh before getting to your feet. "Being tired won't do you any favors."

"I know. Night."

"Night."

Ricky watches you walk away, sinking down lower on the sofa.

You haven't said anything about the kiss, so..?

So why did you do it? It was such a good kiss, just simple, not leading to anything. No one could see you, so you didn't have to do it. He was surprised, he didn't expect it, and maybe he shouldn't have kissed you back like that, but he couldn't help himself.

There's just something about you.

Then there's also the issue of Chloe calling you mommy. He heard, he just ignored it, not sure what he was supposed to do. The look on your face told him you didn't miss it either, but he's unsure of how you feel about it.

If Claire ever hears her daughter call you mommy, she would destroy half the planet in rage. She couldn't ban you from seeing Chloe, but she would definitely make his life hell. He doesn't want her to think you're trying to replace her or take her daughter away, that's not either of your intentions.

Should he talk to Chloe about it? She might have just slipped up, caught up in the moment. She's only six, it has to be confusing for her, seeing the two of you together. Does she want to have parental figures like that? Is she too young to even care?

He runs his fingers down his face with a soft groan, starting to give himself a headache. He'll talk to you about it tomorrow, see if it bothered you or if you want him to talk to Chloe about it. He thinks it was just a slip up, she was just caught up in the moment, she's just a kid.

He doesn't want to berate her or anything about it, she wouldn't understand.

Man, parenting is complicated.

[yoon-kooks]

Witch Hazel- Pt.4

Pairing: Jungkook x Reader

Genre: FanficWriter!Jungkook, Idol!Reader, College!AU, Angst, Fluff

Summary: There are two students in your art class with a secret: you and the quiet Jeon Jungkook. You’re a problematic idol singer, infamous for your ice cold reputation and perpetual resting bitch face; he’s the artist and author behind the viral comic series based on a certain ice queen idol. After a blowup of destructive rumors, lost motivation and inevitable solitude, you stumble upon Jungkook’s comic and find a new and unexpected light.

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: none

Parts: 1 // 2 // 3 // 4 // 5 // 6 // ?

A/N: my hope is that the idol industry can one day become a safer place for those who have dedicated their lives to making others happy ❤️

-

“Let me guess, you’re the type who needs to feel needed but also pushes people away?”

“How would you know that, Bunny Boy?”

“It’s my power.”

“You have powers too?” Snow blinks her pretty blue eyes. “Can you read minds?”

“I certainly can’t read minds,” Bunny Boy laughs. “But I am pretty good at reading hearts.”

“Oh yeah? What’s my heart feeling right now?”

“Well for starters, you seem to be annoyed by me prying too deep.”

“You are annoying.”

“And you also think I’m kinda cute.”

“I do not!”

You giggle into your phone screen for the hundredth time as you read through the latest Witch Hazel update. With the reveal of another character with secret powers, you wonder what Snow will make out of him. A friend? An ally? Or perhaps just someone who gets her.

Beneath the last comic panel of Snow rolling her eyes at the unofficially named Bunny Boy, you find cute little comments from the author.

“all i hope is for snow to take care of herself during this hiatus”

“even if it’s only a tiny amount, maybe witch hazel can help supplement as new snow content for now;;;;;;”

“ah i didnt mean to sound as if i were anywhere near snow’s level or anything;;;;;;”

“i just hope she knows she doesnt have to carry any burden all on her own”

“she has people on her side”

Your face doesn’t know whether to smile or shed tears, so you do a combination of both. It’s true, you’ve always felt alone. Always. No matter how many staff members it takes to produce an album or how many fans buy that album, you’ve never once felt that people could look beyond your idol music, your icy eyes, your mask.

But that’s exactly why you’re taking a break. You need to separate your worth from the music attached to your name. You need to prove to yourself that you’re more than what the critics and magazines say. And you’re only realizing it now that you can’t do it alone.

If only you had your own jk.seagull in your life. You’re sure the two of you would mesh well together.

-

“Where is that kid?” Taehyung pats the empty seat next to him before class starts. “He never skips class. I remember one time he literally rejected a date with a super cute girl because he ‘had to get to class’. Can you believe that?”

“Knowing Jungkook, I’d believe it,” you shrug. It does feel oddly empty without his presence, though.

“Oh really? You know all there is to know about the mysterious phenomenon that is Jeon Jungkook? It sounds like you guys got real acquainted on that date the other day.”

“It wasn’t a date, Taehyung. It was a meeting for a group project that you didn’t show up to.”

“Well it all evens out since Jungkook didn't show up today. Who knows, maybe you won’t show up tomorrow.”

“I’m sure he has a good reason for being absent. Unlike you.” You have to admit, it does worry you a little. Especially after the hints of doubt Jungkook expressed about his own beautiful art. You wish he knew how amazing of an artist he really is.

“What are you talking about? My reason was valid.”

“Having your cock sucked for five hours straight is not a valid reason, by the way.” You roll your eyes. “Let me guess, today you have a threesome scheduled after class and dinner date at 5?”

“Ouch, you don’t have to be so harsh, Y/N.” Taehyung pretends to be offended, but he doesn’t deny your comment either. “You’re really his type, you know.”

“I’m whose type?”

“Jungkook’s.”

“Where is this coming from all of a sudden?”

“I’ve said this before, but you’re a lot like Snow.”

“How?”

“In how you present yourself,” Taehyung says. “You and her both come across as cold and heartless, but somehow I don’t buy it.” He doesn’t buy what? That you’re just as much of a bitch on the inside too? Ha.

“Jungkook must have weird taste then,” you shrug. Because in your opinion, you’re not exactly an easy person to love.

“But-” Taehyung is cut off by the professor starting class. You don’t know what more he could’ve said to make you change your mind anyway.

“There won’t be any lecture for today’s class.” Your professor is busy typing away at her computer, perhaps trying to get caught up on paperwork and grading old assignments. “Instead, I want you all to take this time to work on your group projects. You may leave the classroom if you must, but remember to stay on task!”

With that, your classmates jam out of the room as if they were just freed from prison. You hear a couple of friends deciding which boba place to try out. Another group, the overachievers of the class, head somewhere outside to actually work on the project. Taehyung, too, looks as if there’s somewhere else he needs to be.

“So I-”

“Go ahead and get laid,” you sigh, shooing the boy away with your hand. “We’ll work next time when all three of us are here.”

“Thanks, Y/N! You get me,” Taehyung waves bye before dashing off.

You wave back as the hall clears out around you. It seems everyone else has found somewhere to go. Everyone except you.

But it’s fine. You’re fine.

Buzz! You jump at the sudden phone notification that seems to echo off the walls of the empty hall. Oh look, it’s a text from your only friend.

10:32AM jinnie❤️ “good morning ^O^// just checking in on you”

10:33AM jinnie❤️ “how are you holding up with everything?”

“I’m fine!” you mumble rather aggressively to yourself, sliding your ass down onto the filthy hallway floor before texting back. Your chunky guitar case sits in your lap like a baby so it doesn’t get dirty.

10:34AM Y/N “i miss seeing you at work everyday :((((”

10:34AM Y/N “lololololol jk”

10:35AM Y/N “fuck work, am i right”

10:36AM jinnie❤️ “Y/N”

10:37AM Y/N “😒”

10:37AM Y/N “im fine”

10:38AM jinnie❤️ “thats exactly what people say when theyre not fine”

But you are fine. You’re completely fine with sitting all alone in an empty hallway, texting your only friend who also happens to be your manager.

10:39AM jinnie❤️ “what are you doing now?”

You pick up your guitar and start walking away. Obviously, you can’t tell him what you were actually doing because it would worry him too much. But you can’t lie to him either.

10:41AM Y/N “if you really must know”

You wait until you arrive at your new location before answering Seokjin’s million-dollar question. You’ve found your place.

10:45AM Y/N “im practicing in the music room before my theory class starts”

He sends you the Surprised Pikachu meme but also a few supportive comments.

10:46AM jinnie❤️ “good luck!”

10:46AM jinnie❤️ “and if you ever need something, please reach out to me!”

10:47AM jinnie❤️ “ill be checking in on you every now and then, but please enjoy your time off~”

10:48AM Y/N “thank you seokjin”

With your manager off your back, you settle into the empty music classroom and pull your trusty guitar out of its case. The flat and out of tune strings remind you of how long it’s been since the last time you touched the guitar. Because despite carrying it around wherever you go, it’s all for show.

In all honesty, you’re too afraid to let others hear, and yet, part of you wants them to know. You want them to know you’re an artist in your own right—without the judgment. But that’s asking for too much from this cruel world. Especially when you know you aren’t there yet.

One by one, you turn the pegs on your guitar, fine tuning each string by ear. That’s always been your secret talent, and maybe that’s how you’ve never been off-key since the moment you said your first words. If there was one thing you had going for you as an idol, it was that.

Once all the strings are tuned, you just sit there, staring at your fingers curved naturally in the C chord position. The muscle memory is still very much ingrained in you, but so are the scars. The last time you actually held your guitar, you were told you weren’t good enough. So you ended up settling for something else.

Today, however, you want to change that. You shouldn’t let several people’s opinions determine what you can or can’t amount to just because they were the professionals of the industry who supposedly “knew” what they were doing. They didn’t know you then, and they certainly don’t know you now. They don’t even know your real name.

But that’s okay. Having a secret identity makes you feel as though you can someday become a true superhero, someone who makes the world a better place from behind the scenes. In that sense, you want to be someone like your current favorite person on the internet, jk.seagull. You don’t know him, nor do you know his real name.

All you know is that his craft makes you happy.

With the funny fanfic boy in mind, you glance up to make sure the coast is clear before taking your first strum. Despite the dullness of your old worn-out strings, what your ears hear is crisp and bright.

-

You aren’t sure how much time has passed since you began singing along to a melody only you know, but you’re suddenly pulled back into reality with a single mention of her from outside the classroom.

“What do you think about the Snow news?”

“It’s honestly sad.”

“With how little she contributes to her music, I really don’t think she deserves a break.”

“She should just keep going. How hard is it to sing a few songs? I hope she knows she’s letting a lot of people down just so she could relax.”

“Or better yet, she should just retire early.”

You set down your guitar on the piano bench. You’ve heard quite enough and you’re ready to slam the door on the noisy group passing by. But by the time you peek your head out from the crack, the group is already at the other end of the hall. You do, however, find a surprise sitting right outside the music room.

The boy who was supposedly too sick to come to class is too busy sketching away to notice you staring at him.

“How long have you been sitting out here?”

The tiny hairs on the back of the boy’s neck stand up as his drawing hand freezes at the sound of your voice. He turns around, looking up at you as if he’d been caught doing something he shouldn’t have been doing.

“Since I started sketching.” Jungkook shows you a simple yet pretty drawing of a flowery spring field. By his art standards, it couldn’t have taken him long to draw that one page.

But it isn’t until you start flipping through the rest of the pages in the sketchbook that you realize he’d been sitting there for quite a while. Each page is similar to the last with only slight differences in between. When you fly through the pages like a flipbook, you see the whole picture.

From the first sketch of spring flowers, snow slowly covers the field until only a single flower remains in a winter wonderland. If you go in reverse, you can watch as the snow melts away until that one flower disappears amongst its brethren.

“What kind of flower is that?” You point to the one that somehow managed to blossom through the thickness of the snow. Maybe if it were colored in, you’d have a better idea.

“A strong one?” Jungkook shrugs as if he’s not the artist who knows the the answer. You hate yourself for cackling along at his lousy joke. He closes his sketchbook as a way to change the subject. “Why aren’t you in class?”

“Funny you should ask. The professor dismissed our class to work on the group projects. And then Tae ditched to go do his usual skirt-chasing shenanigans because somebody in our group didn’t show up.”

“Sorry,” the boy bites his lower lip with a hint of regret. “I didn’t really feel well enough to sit in class today.”

“Then why didn’t you just stay at home?”

“I still had this project to turn in and finish for my other class.” He raises his sketchbook. “And besides, music is the best medicine.”

You feel your cheeks burning up. The last person you expected to catch you messing around with your guitar in the music department was the art student who was supposed to be out sick. “How much did you hear…?”

“All I heard was one song…” He assures you for a slight second before going in for the kill, “…that you kept replaying over and over and over-”

“I get it. You heard a lot,” you hiss. “You better not tell anyone! Not even Tae.”

“I won’t,” he promises, chuckling at your distress. It seems the kid’s gotten comfortable enough around you to start clowning you. “It’s a nice song, by the way.”

“Really?” You want to believe him, but you have a hard time doing so. When all you’ve heard was brutal criticism for the past few years, it’s difficult to accept any compliment without feeling like there’s ill intent behind it. It feels wrong to feel good about yourself.

Besides, maybe he’s just complimenting you out of obligation. Like he’s trying to be nice, even if he doesn’t actually feel that way about your song.

“I’ll burden the pain so you don’t have to,” he says.

“What?”

“That’s a line from the lyrics, right?”

You nod.

“It’s a very Y/N thing to say.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jungkook shrugs and swirls his Sailor Venus keychain around his index finger. “Just take it as a compliment, Y/N.”

If not for his soft teasing smile, your mind would still be filled with doubt. Instead, you accept the compliment and gain a tiny bit of confidence back.

“Come in for a second,” you start walking back inside the music room. “And close the door behind you.”

Jungkook does as he’s told, his eyes glued to your guitar as you pick it up off the piano bench. There, you do something you’ve never practiced but had always hoped to perform as Snow—your own acoustic version of one of your songs.

It doesn’t matter that you’ve never practiced or touched your guitar in years. You know the key, the chords, the strum pattern. And you know how to make it your own. Not Snow’s or anyone else’s.

When you’re done with your mini acoustic performance, the boy can’t help but chuckle. He’s about to clown you again. You can feel it.

“What??”

“It’s nothing.”

“Jungkook.”

“It’s seems like you don’t hate Snow as much as you lead on.”

“I was only trying to show how I would’ve done the song if I were her.”

“Ah, so you criticize Snow so much because you think you can do better?”

“Not necessarily better… just differently.” You hope that answer is enough to satisfy the boy. But it’s not. He only nods with an awfully suspicious smirk. “What now??”

“It’s cool that you want to be a songwriter.”

“I never said that I did,” you say with a slight pout and hmph. You’ve never once mentioned your true dreams to anyone besides maybe some random kid at camp when you were ten. You’d hate to announce your bold aspirations with the utmost confidence, only to flop and fail before achieving anything. You’d rather keep it a secret until you perhaps “pop-off” as the kids say.

“Sure.” He doesn’t believe you.

“Are you always this sassy when you’re sick?”

His long locks flow as he shakes his head. “I’m feeling better now, actually. Thanks to your medicine.”

Maybe the kid was faking his sickness all along. Then again, Taehyung did say Jungkook wasn’t the type to skip class under most circumstances. Perhaps there was something else that was bothering him.

“Wait, you weren’t upset about Snow’s hiatus, right?” You remember the gossip from the noisy group that had passed by earlier. The beating you took from their words still stings.

“To be honest, I was worried about her at first with everything that went on,” Jungkook says. “But I think she probably just needed some time away from all that.”

“Probably,” is all you say, doing your best to downplay the amount of relief his words gave you. He isn’t upset or let down; he just wishes the best for your well-being. And as an idol, that’s all you’ve ever asked for. “You know, you’re the nicest Snow fan I’ve ever met.”

“You know a lot of other Snow fans?” Jungkook tilts his head at your odd statement. Oh right. You’ve only really met other fans as Snow, not as Y/N. Now you sound suspicious.

“Oh yeah, for sure. My friend, Seokjin, reads Snow smut all the time,” you force out a laugh while making a mental apology to your manager. Then you decide it’s best to change the subject before you blow your cover. “Speaking of fanfiction, I need your opinion on Witch Hazel!”

“What about it?”

“The new bunny character.” You whip out your phone for direct reference of the comic. “He’s funny, right?”

“He’s good at teasing Snow,” Jungkook looks at your phone screen of the bunny saying that Snow thinks he’s cute. “I wonder if he’ll make her fall for him.”

“I want him to.” Your eyes light up without knowing. To have Snow fall in love is wishful thinking, but a large part of you craves romance deep down—even if it’s only for the fictional version of yourself. “But at the same time, he’s not Snow’s type.”

“What’s Snow’s type?”

“Huh?” You somehow managed to fuck up again, so you shrink yourself and hope to disappear. “I don’t know… Why would I know what Snow’s type is…? It’s probably not a playboy like the bunny, but I wouldn’t know that…!”

“So you think she’d like someone more… considerate?”

You nod. “Probably just someone who takes the time to get to know her.”

“I guess we’ll see in the upcoming chapters.”

“I’m looking forward to it.” You can’t quite hold back a smile. After all, your day always feels a lot better when it involves your favorite little comic.

Jungkook must’ve noticed your face because he makes a comment. “I am curious, though, as to why you like Witch Hazel so much when you clearly don’t care for Snow herself.”

“For me, it has nothing to do with Snow.” To mask your smile, you make a cute duck face instead. “Reading it just… makes me happy.” As much as you’d hate to admit it, it’s been a long time since anything has given you good vibes the way that one comic does.

“That’s good,” the boy says, gathering his things to head to his next class. “It’s the same for me with Snow’s music… in case you were wondering.” And with that, he leaves you with something to think about.

If Snow’s music is Jungkook’s medicine, Witch Hazel is yours.

-

By the time you get home from school, you’re still smiling like an idiot after what Jungkook had said. Snow’s music makes him happy, and the mere thought of that makes you happy. It’s in (very rare) times like this that you remember why you chose to become an idol in the first place. It’s why you endure the pain.

With your mind clouded in an unfamiliar wave of emotion, you pull out your phone and tap on Jungkook’s contact information. After changing his contact name to something cuter, you start composing a casual message just to say hi.

Jungkook. What if I told you a secret?

Delete. You’ve never deleted a message so quick. You don’t even know which secret you would’ve told the boy. That you’re his crush, Snow? Or that he’s yours? Not that you have a huge crush on him… You swear it’s just a tiny one!

Regardless, you shouldn’t be sharing any of your deepest secrets with him—at least not for now. It’s not that you don’t trust him. It’s just that it’s a tricky situation to be in.

Your eyes move from your guitar, to the stacks of handwritten sheet music beside it, to the album that won you your first award—where the pain all began. Even the most supportive fan could not imagine what you’ve given up to be the idol that you are, to be someone with a name.

The only thing you can do now is take it all back. And only then will you let Jungkook in. But until that time comes, you don’t belong to him or anyone else.

4:44PM Snow “Are you free to talk?”

4:46PM Jimin “Yeah”

[night-filled-mountain]

Putting in a cut before I unload about a bunch of stuff going on in my life right now. See tags for content warnings. I, uh...did my best to hit them all.

Also, I don’t know what it is about the past few weeks, but a lot of people on my dash seem to be having a rough time. I just want to send out waves of strength and compassion to all of you. I really hope I can find the time and energy to send some messages at some point, and I’m sorry I’ve been super absent lately. Hopefully this laundry list of events will help explain why.

So, in the past three weeks, the following things have occurred at my workplace:

A teen came in with a stab wound. He asked me for a Band-Aid. He ended up at the hospital and is doing fine now. The men’s room, lobby, and front door looked like a murder scene. My boss and I stayed 45 minutes overtime so someone from facilities could clean up the blood.

A teen took one of the desktop computers out of the teen room, ran outside, smashed it on the ground, ran back in, grabbed another one, and ran off with that one too, all right in front of my colleagues and me.

A large group of teens started fighting in the library. Police were called, and the whole place was filled with the sounds of cops and teens screaming at each other. We went on semi-lockdown. My kids were scared to leave because they thought the cops would shoot them.

I asked two teens to sign in (which is mandatory), and they gave me a series of fake names. When I called them out on it, they threw several paper balls at me, pulled my chair out from under me, deliberately poured a drink out on the carpet, cursed me out repeatedly, and refused to leave until cops escorted them out, at which point they were still yelling “This bitch needs to mind her own business” over their shoulders.

Despite receiving legal trespass letters, they came back again. Twice. Both occasions were variations on the former scene. I began to have severe anxiety symptoms and flashbacks to some 20-year-old shit I thought I was very much over by now, and for the first time, started very, very seriously considering a change of workplace.

Cops started just...hanging out in the teen room. Constantly. They interrupted a weekly poetry program to intimidate the kids and offend the (awesome) teacher. One teen went off on them and got trespassed for two weeks.

I took one (1) weekend off so Kit, Dragon, and I could go visit Unicorn in New Jersey, kick back, watch a bunch of movies, discuss our D&D campaign, and seriously launch our apartment hunt, because We Are All Moving In Together At The End Of The Summer.

During this, my vacation weekend, the librarian who was covering for me had a horrible, ugly, semi-physical confrontation with a teen who’s been coming to the library since he was six, who I have actively watched turn from Mischievous Computer Nerd to Obviously Traumatized Nightmare Child while flailing with the fruitless desire to Do Something To Help Him. Said teen got an indefinite trespass from all library locations.

My predecessor/mentor/the coolest teen librarian on earth texted me frantically trying to find out what happened, because she saw the trespass letter and was super close with this teen back in the day. I could not tell her what happened, since I was not there.

The librarian involved in the aforementioned incident--who is an incredibly sensitive and delicate soul--seems to have gone AWOL. He was out yesterday, he was out today, he’s out tomorrow. My boss asked me to come in on this, my day off, because we are so short-staffed. I said no to overtime for the second time in my life. (The other was last week.)

I lost three of my work keys. Just...lost them. I have no idea where the hell they went. I’ve been searching home and work frantically for days, and have yet to tell my boss or any but one coworker. The anxiety of this alone has been plaguing me pretty much 24/7.

It’s that time of month, because of course it fucking is, and my endo symptoms have kicked into really high gear, because...of course they have. It’s been almost as bad as it was before I got an IUD. I’ve been getting hit with bouts of crippling abdominal/back/leg pain, waking up around 3 or 4 in the morning, kept awake for hours by this pain, falling asleep again only to have weird, restless dreams and, on one occasion, a horrific nightmare that came for all my real-life anxieties and left me ruined the next morning. My serotonin is practically down to zero. Depression and irritability are coming for me chemically on a daily basis, even apart from everything else that’s going on.

I changed my Thursday hours this week to 12-8 (they’re usually 10-6) so I could supervise a program that I was very proud of having booked. It was super popular with the teens over the summer, and I’ve been trying to bring it back for ages. I’ve been advertising it by every method available, and the kids are all excited for it. ...They just canceled on me last-minute.

My dad--the family member I am closest to by far, whom I love to distraction--called me tonight to say he’s in the hospital. He went to the ER for severe pain, jaundice, nausea, and malaise. Fortunately, it’s just gallstones...probably. But he’s having surgery tomorrow. And I’m going to be thinking about that all day long, while I work in this absolute nightmare of a teen room until 8:00 at night, with no keys, no awesome program, no physical or emotional resources left to even remotely handle any of it.

...After this list, it’s going to sound insane to add that there have also been good things that happened this month, this week, even today. There have been! Truly! I have the world’s most enviable support network of spouse and family and friends-who-are-family. I have done fun things and productive things. But dear gods, it’s been one thing after another after another after another, and tomorrow is starting to feel like some kind of crescendo for all this built-up dread. I’ve rarely made those posts that are like “Please distract me with fun asks” or “Send me cute pictures” or whatever, but, like. If you read all the way to the end of this list of pure unadulterated stress and want to offer any form of encouragement at all, I certainly won’t say no.

[wistfulcynic]

Honeysuckle

Summary: Emma finds herself in a precarious position while trying to return some library books and shy librarian Killian comes to her rescue. He’s sweet and kind and Henry’s bookworm hero but there’s also something about him that she doesn’t know. 

(Something good)

a/n: All the thanks to @shireness-says for letting me borrow the adorable cinnamon roll that is Librarian!Killian, and also for inspiring this fic with her actual life. Librarian!Killian is a bit Deckhand Hook, a bit Lt Jones, which is a version of Killian I’ve never written before. It’s been fun, and not coincidentally this is the only thing I’ve ever written with a G rating. 

(Thanks also to @katie-dub whose beautiful fic Her Happy Beginning inspired me to try a new style of narration.)

@whimsicallyenchantedrose @captainsjedi @kmomof4 @thejollyroger-writer @darkcolinodonorgasm @winterbaby89 @ultraluckycatnd @hollyethecurious @teamhook

Rated: G

On AO3

Honeysuckle: 

Life, as some wise person once said, is just one damned thing after another. It’s full of frustration and elation and misery and comedy and so, so much embarrassment. And sometimes, on those most rare and exquisite of occasions, all of these factors coalesce into one grand, transcendent experience that makes the person living it wish simultaneously to die of humiliation and live in that moment forever. 

Dear Reader, such was the experience of one Emma Swan, medical assistant and single mother, on the third day of the sixth month of the twenty-eighth year of her life. 

The day began as an unremarkable one. Emma dragged herself from bed at the unholy hour of six-thirty am, banged on her son’s bedroom door on her way to the kitchen, and spent the next ten minutes mainlining coffee and forcing herself into full consciousness. When Henry appeared she poured him a bowl of cereal, kissed his forehead, and headed for the shower. So far so ordinary. 

Things didn’t start to go wrong until Emma, showered and dressed and with her still-damp hair pulled into a practical ponytail, took the opportunity of Henry’s regular morning dawdling session to reread the latest letter from her secret pen pal. 

(Secret only because Emma was perhaps overly conscious that having a ‘pen pal’ in this day and at her age might be seen by some as rather ridiculous. Not even Henry knew, although she’d had the pen pal far longer than she’d had the son. Since she was ten years old, in fact, and her fourth grade teacher had arranged a writing exchange with a class in England. For reasons Emma could never fully articulate she had bonded instantly and strongly to the boy across the sea known to her only as ‘K’ —again for ‘reasons’, these best known to themselves, they addressed each other by their initials only— and throughout her life of foster families and failed relationships he remained the only person who had never left her. Virtually anonymous though it may be, it was by far the longest and most stable relationship of Emma’s life and nothing but Henry had ever been more precious to her. But she kept it secret because it was ridiculous. Yep. That’s what she told herself.)   

But back to the letter. 

On my way to work yesterday I came across what I think must be some of the first lilacs of the season and I thought of you, it read. I always think of you when I see flowers and I can never decide which one suits you best, which probably makes sense since I have never seen your face. Are you sweet and springlike as lilacs are, or are you more of a full summer flower like a rose? Maybe you are a slim and elegant calla lily, or perhaps a tall and slightly terrifying sunflower? (Don’t laugh, E, sunflowers are scary! Have you ever seen one? They remind me of Triffids (that’s a book reference, love, and before you ask yes there’s a movie as well. Read the book first) and the way they move to follow the sun is creepy.)

(I know you’re laughing at me. Stop it.)  

It is true I regret to say that Emma had laughed the first time she read the letter, also the second time and possibly the third. But this being the sixth or seventh (tenth) reading the words elicited a smile that came less from mirth and more from a sort of sighing wistfulness as she imagined her never-seen dearest friend sniffing lilacs and thinking of her. 

She wished she knew what he looked like. 

She had tried many times to paint his face in her mind, one that fit the beauty of his words, but found she very literally could not imagine it. Emma’s experience with men was one that is sadly not uncommon among beautiful women whose positions in society are tenuous. As a single mother with only a high school diploma Emma had encountered more than her share of creeps and assholes, men who mistook her vulnerability for weakness and attempted to take advantage of her.

It was a mistake they did not make twice, but the sad result was that Emma had soured on men and relationships and all but given up hope that she would ever find someone who loved her. And as for a man so sweet and kind that he stopped to admire lilacs and wondered what kind of flower she might be, well, he was an impossibility in her experience, simply too good to be true.

She knew of course that K was real. Someone had been writing to her for nearly twenty years. She had no desire to meet him, though (she did) for fear of the crushing disappointment if he didn’t live up to the image she had of him in her mind. No, he was much better left to her imagination and the pages of his beautifully written letters. She couldn’t bear to lose those letters.  

She was just indulging in speculation over what sort of flower he might be when Henry’s voice and the thud of the books he dropped on the table in front of her brought her back to reality. 

“Mom, these books are due back today,” he said. 

“What? Why didn’t you take them back yesterday?”

“I forgot them at home. I didn’t even remember they were due until Killian reminded me. But we can return them now, can’t we?”

Emma tried to remember that he wasn’t trying to exasperate her, he was just absent-minded. “Henry, we are already late. Can’t you take them after school today?”

“No, I have D&D after school.” 

“I’m sure you can miss it one time—” 

“No, Mom, we’re in the middle of a campaign and I have to be there.” 

Emma threw up her hands. “Okay, fine, but you’ll have to take the bus to school.” 

“Mo-om!” 

“No, I do not have time to take you to school, then go to the library, then work. I’ll drive you to the bus stop then swing by the library and put your books in the drop. Hurry up now, are you ready?”

“Yeah, just let me grab my backpack.” 

He ran to get it and Emma absently slipped the letter into its envelope and the envelope into one of Henry’s library books before gathering the books in her arms and slinging her tote bag over her shoulder and herding her son out the door and into her car. 

(I wonder if you can spot where this is going yet?)

Ten minutes later Emma pulled into the library parking lot with as close to a squeal of tires as her creaky Bug could manage and grabbed Henry’s books from her passenger seat. Hurrying to the book drop she tipped them in…

And remembered. Far too late. 

“My letter!” she cried, and without thinking of anything beyond recovering the treasured words, Emma dove headfirst into the book drop, trying to catch the book that held her letter before it fell. She was a slender woman and the book drop more sizeable than most, but it was decidedly not designed to accommodate the ingress of any size of human, and so all she accomplished was to wedge her shoulders tightly into the narrow space with one arm stretched out in front of her inside the chute and the other sticking out of the drop’s opening at an odd angle. With the toe of one foot she could just touch the ground while the other one dangled helplessly in the air. She kicked with her leg to try to yank herself free but succeeded only in sending her practical flat shoe flying off her foot and landing with a splash in what she felt certain was a mud puddle, just as the sound of Henry’s books landing in the bin at the bottom of the chute reached her ears. 

Perfect, she thought. Just perfect.  

This, as I’m sure you have deduced my lovely Reader, has been the embarrassment and yes also the comedy portion of our tale. The former feeds the latter until it is fat as we all know from our own lives, and in the years to come Emma would learn to laugh when telling and retelling the story of her predicament. Though it must be said that, as is often the case with embarrassing things, she saw absolutely no humour in it at the time.

The frustration came into play moments later as Emma made further attempts to extricate herself from the drop, only to find that the position of her shoulders and her hands and her legs left her entirely unable to get enough purchase on any solid surface to provide sufficient counterbalancing force to un-wedge her. She was well and truly stuck, profoundly uncomfortable, and by that time almost certainly late for work. 

It was then that the misery kicked in. 

“Fuck,” she shouted, and the word reverberated down the metal chute, echoing back to her in a way she considered almost insultingly on the nose. She closed her eyes and let her head fall against the side of the chute and wondered just what the hell she was going to do now. 

(It will not, I feel certain, have escaped your notice that we have not yet had elation. Fear not, gentle Reader, for it is to come, and far sooner than Emma expects.) 

Fortunately both for Emma and our story a rescuer soon arrived, not on a white charger as in a fairy tale but aboard a practical secondhand Volvo in a rather nice shade of blue. 

Now Killian Jones may well have wished, deep in his heart, in that remote corner where he kept his love of adventure stories and even fancied himself a bit of a rogue, for something sportier, something a touch more dashing. But Killian Jones was a librarian, and the financial realities of our world dictate that librarians do not drive sports cars. So Killian had sighed for what was never to be and bought the Volvo —and adamantly rejected the silver one, he was not a vampire, sparkly or otherwise— and it had to be said that he’d never regretted it. 

All he regretted that morning was the broken shoelace that had made him too late to walk to work and smell the lilacs. 

As he pulled into the parking lot he was surprised to see a yellow Volkswagen Beetle parked haphazardly in the closest spot to the door that wasn’t reserved for the differently abled. It looked very much like the car that he’d frequently seen young Henry running to, the one that would naturally be driven by his mother…

Impulsively Killian pulled into the space next to the yellow car instead of continuing to the employee lot. His heart had begun to pound and his mouth was dry. 

It’s probably not her, he told himself firmly. There have to be other yellow Bugs in the neighbourhood. 

(There definitely weren’t.)

But if it was her he couldn’t pass up the opportunity to stutter a few incoherent words before excusing himself awkwardly and fleeing to a private corner where he might catch his breath, which was what happened every time he tried to talk to Henry’s mother.

Now Killian Jones, as, dearest Reader, you well know, was a handsome man, and one not so caught up in books and fantasy that he was unaware of this fact or of the effect it had on women. He could be smooth enough with the female species when he put his mind to it but something about Henry’s mother —he didn’t even know her name— tied his tongue and stopped his throat and robbed him of every shred of eloquence he may otherwise possess. 

This didn’t stop him from trying, though. The humiliation was worth it to see her smile. 

He got out of the car as quickly as possible, cursing as he caught the strap of his satchel in the door, then hurried to the library’s main entrance, looking around in a way that he hoped didn’t make it too obvious that he was looking around. Where would she be? he wondered. If she was here that is, if it was her. Come to think of it, why would she be here? Why would anyone? Who went to the library an hour before it opened to, what, stand around in front of the door and wait? 

His attention was finally drawn, after a moment or two, to the after-hours book drop when the person stuck inside it began banging and shouting loudly enough for even the most distracted bookworm to notice. 

Wait… the person stuck inside the book drop?

Killian turned to look, mouth gaping open in astonishment, too taken aback to even feel ashamed that he very definitely recognised that arse. 

So that’s where she was. This simultaneously answered several questions and posed a good few more. 

He hurried over, knowing that he ought to do something, but very uncertain as to what that something ought to be. 

“Um, hello?” he ventured. “Excuse me?”

Her voice was muffled but the annoyance came through loud and clear. “Oh thank fuck, I thought you’d gone,” she said.  

“Um. What?”

“I heard your car door slam so I started banging to get your attention, but then no one came and I thought you’d left, or gone in another direction or something.” 

“Ah. Er, no. I’m, uh, I’m here. What, um, what can I do for you?” He winced even as he spoke the words.

(She robbed him of all eloquence, you recall, even when all he could see was her backside. Perhaps especially then.)

She paused just long enough to make her opinion of his question clear. “Get me out of here!” she shouted.

“Aye, of course, lass, but, er, um—” Killian assessed the situation from three different angles just to be sure that there was no other option, that it wasn’t simply his physical attraction to her getting the better of him “—I’ll have to, uh, there’s no other way except to, er, touch you—”

“Yes, yes, I know that’s fine, just get me out!” 

“Aye, all right, um, can you push on the inside of the chute at all?”

“Yes, but I can’t get enough purchase on the ground to counterbalance, so I can’t force my shoulders out.” 

“Ah, yes, I see. All right, well you push and I’ll just, um—” Cautiously he wrapped his arm around her waist and braced his hand against the wall of the library. “I’ll brace you. Are you ready?”

“So ready.” 

“Okay, on three. One… two… three!” 

Killian planted his feet firmly on the ground and he could feel her muscles tense and flex as she pushed on the wall of the chute, and with her body braced against his she was able to un-wedge her shoulders from the narrow space and then with a final heave she freed herself from the drop, the force of it sending her stumbling backwards against Killian, whose other arm automatically wrapped itself around her and held on tight. 

She smelled like honeysuckle, was all he could think.

Too soon she was straightening up and he forced his arms to let her go, and she turned around with a smile that nearly ended him. 

“Thanks,” she said. “I thought I’d be in there at least until the library opened.” 

Emma was trying to be cool but the truth was that even from inside the chute she’d recognised the voice and accent of Henry’s favourite librarian, his hero really, the man who had recommended all his favourite books and who always had time to discuss them with him. Henry talked about him almost nonstop. 

“Ah, it’s Killian, isn’t it?” she said. “We’ve talked a few times before, I’m Henry’s mother.”

Killian swallowed hard and forced himself not to panic. “Aye, I remember. Er— sorry, I don’t know your name.” 

He’s so cute, thought Emma. She’d always thought so, if she was honest, not just his face but the adorable way he couldn’t quite manage to talk to her. It was sweet, and frankly a blessed change from the way men usually acted around her.

“It’s Emma Swan,” she said, and held out her hand. Killian took it gingerly, like he was afraid it might bite him. 

The jolt of sensation that went through both of them at the contact seemed to confirm his fears.  

They both pulled their hands away, laughing nervously, and thorough the haze of his confusion something prickled in Killian’s mind. E. Swan, he thought, just like…

“You must be wondering how I managed to get stuck like that,” said Emma, interrupting his thoughts, attempting to brazen through her own jumpy nerves by talking.

“Well, yes, I confess it did cross my mind.” A complete sentence in her presence, that was a first, he thought. 

“Yeah, it must be a pretty weird thing to encounter first thing in the morning.”

“I assure you, lass, we’ve seen weirder in this library.” Two complete sentences, what had come over him? 

“That’s nice of you to say. Okay, here’s the thing. I kinda… left something really important in one of the books I returned, and… look I’m so grateful to you for rescuing me but would you mind maybe going to see if you could find it?” She kept her face calm but he could sense her anxiety in the way she twisted her hands together. “It’s, well, it’s personal and I don’t want to lose it, or you know have strangers reading it—”

He waved his hand to cut her off. “Say no more, it would be my pleasure to retrieve it for you. Um, what is it?”

Her smile shone relieved and brilliant, and Killian’s powers of speech abandoned him yet again. 

“It’s a letter. In an envelope. I mean, just like a normal envelope. But… open.” 

He nodded, groping desperately for his words. “Letter. Envelope. Got it. I’ll, um, go now. Uh, stay here.” 

“Where else would I go?” she asked his retreating back. 

Killian hurriedly unlocked the main doors and raced down the stairs to the bin at the bottom of the book drop’s chute. He realised he’d forgotten to ask Emma —he felt a small thrill using her name— which book she’d left her letter in, but fortunately he remembered which books Henry had checked out during his last visit. They’d had a long conversation about each, after all. He ruffled through the first one but no letter fell out, the same result for the second. The third, however, produced its treasure, an ordinary, unremarkable white letter envelope. 

One that looked strikingly familiar. 

Killian stared at the letter in his hand, addressed to one E. Swan, in a firm, flowing, elegant script.

A script he recognised. 

Because it was his own. 

Bloody hell. 

(Be honest, now, kind Reader, you aren’t going to tell me you didn’t see this coming?) 

Killian wanted to hyperventilate. (Is it possible to want to hyperventilate?) His favourite patron’s mother, the woman he’d admired (and yes, done a bit of pining for) from afar was also, somehow, the pen pal he’d had since he was ten years old. His dearest friend. 

It was too ridiculous. It was impossible. 

(It was actually just a very strange coincidence, and who among us hasn’t experienced one of those? But Killian was feeling rather dramatic in that moment, so we’ll give him a pass.)

 (Now Reader, you are likely wondering how it is possible that two people who communicate via letter, a medium of communication that requires the knowledge of one’s recipient’s address as a matter of course, could possibly be unaware that they lived in the same neighbourhood of the same small town, mere blocks from one another as it turns out? The simple explanation is this: Both some years ago had arranged P.O. Boxes for their letters to each other, finding it easier (and if we are honest, more securely anonymous) to simply ask the post office to forward their letters as they moved around rather than keep updating each other directly. Killian’s P.O. Box was in Syracuse, NY, where he had gone to library school and his first port of call in the USA while Emma’s was in Tallahassee, FL, where she had stayed for two years after Henry was born.

Could they have saved themselves a fair bit of time and no small amount of loneliness had they just used their real addresses? Or, you know, their actual names? 

Yes. Yes they could. But then we wouldn’t have a story.) 

As Killian reeled from his astounding discovery, Emma was sitting on the hood of her Bug, wincing as her shift supervisor (and friend) laughed, so long and so hard Emma feared she’d give herself an aneurysm. 

After a while she began to hope for an aneurysm. 

“Oh my God,” Ruby gasped, once she was finally able to speak through her mirth. “That is the funniest thing I’ve heard in a long time. Years, probably.”

“Not helpful, Rubes. I only called to tell you that I’ll be in as soon as possible, I can probably get going in about five, ten minutes or so. I’m really sorry.” 

Ruby’s appreciation for a good joke did not affect her empathy for a friend in need. “Look, Ems, we’re not busy today, three patients have already cancelled their appointments. I can cover what’s left. Let’s just call this a sick day for you and if you want you can make up the shift this weekend. Go home and rest. You’ve had a narrow escape after all.” 

Emma groaned. “I hate you.” 

“You love me, and don’t forget I’m covering your shift today so you really shouldn’t be stuck up.”

“I mean, that’s just terrible.” 

 Ruby laughed. “Call me later. I’ll be waiting so don’t think you can wriggle out of it.” 

“You are the worst and I’m hanging up now. Goodbye. And thanks.” 

“Any time, doll.” 

Emma hung up the phone just as Killian came through the doors holding, she was relived to see, her letter. 

And with a very peculiar expression on his face. 

She felt her heart flutter. He looked… intense. It was a good look on him. 

She remembered how his arms had felt around her and the flutter became a gallop. 

He handed her the letter. 

“You’re honeysuckle,” he blurted. 

“I— what?” Emma blinked in surprise. 

“Honeysuckle. Not lilacs or roses, or sunflowers, thank goodness.” 

How could he… no! she thought wildly. He couldn’t, he wouldn’t have. He seemed so nice. 

“Did you read my letter?” she cried, somehow feeling more betrayed than angry.

“No! That is, I sort of did, but—” He ran a hand through his hair, looking distressed. “Oh, I’m doing this all wrong.”

“Just what exactly are you doing?” she snapped. 

He took a deep breath, and looked her in the eye. “Let me introduce myself,” he said. “We really haven’t been properly introduced. My name is Killian Jones. Killian with a K.” 

Emma gasped as the import of his name plus the fact that he knew what was in her letter hit home. K. Jones. 

“You— you’re K?”

“Aye. I mean yes, I am. And you’re E. Who smells of honeysuckle. I’ve always wondered.”

“You wondered what I smelled like?”

“I’ve wondered a lot of things about you, love.” He smiled, not the awkward, shy smile he normally gave her, but a bright and brilliant one full of joy and just a hint of mischief. It made her feel feather-light and ridiculously happy. This man she could definitely picture sniffing lilacs and thinking of her. He was real, and right in front of her, and her imagination had utterly failed to do him justice. 

“Listen,” he said, more confident than she’d ever seen him but with nervousness just creeping in at the edges, rubbing at a spot behind his ear and looking just over her left shoulder, “Would you, um, like to have a drink with me? You probably have to get to work now, but maybe later—” 

“I have the day off.” The words were out before she could stop them. 

Hope lit in his eyes. “You do?”

“As of five minutes ago,” she confirmed. “My boss said I’d clearly been through enough already today and told me to take a sick day. But, I mean, don’t you have to work—”

“I’ll take a sick day too,” he said hurriedly, pulling out his phone. “Just give me a minute.” 

The phone rang only twice before Belle picked up. She was nothing if not efficient. 

“Hi, Belle, it’s, er, Killian.” Of course she knows that you numpty she saw your name come up on the screen, he thought. 

(Killian is a terrible, terrible liar.)

He cleared his throat and continued. “I’m, um, so sorry but I’m not well today.” 

“Not well,” repeated Belle.  

“Er, no, I think I’ll have to stay home.” 

“You sound fine, Killian.” She sounded strict, when she was usually so kind. He forced himself not to panic, and attempted a little cough. “No, I assure you,” he said, “I’m very ill.” 

“Very ill, you say.” 

“Er, aye.” Why is she repeating everything?

“Too ill to come to work.” 

“Um, yes.” 

“Too ill to come to work and not in fact currently standing in the patrons’ car park with Henry’s mother?” 

He gaped. “How do you—”

She laughed, a familiar, warm sound, and Killian felt the knot of tension in his chest begin to melt. “I heard you come in through the main door and I came to see what was going on,” she said. 

Killian felt a stab of guilt. “Belle, I can explain—” 

“You don’t have to. At least, not yet. I’ll be demanding a full explanation tomorrow, when I feel certain you’ll be well enough to come to work.” 

“Of course. Thank you, Belle, you’re a treasure.” 

“Just be sure you actually talk to her this time.” 

“Aye, I think I can manage that.” It was easier now that he knew he’d actually been talking to her for the best part of twenty years. 

He ended the call and turned to smile at Emma who smiled back at him, and now, my darling Reader, we come at long last to the elation. The sheer, shining joy of experiencing something you’ve wondered about for years and finding it surpasses even your most elevated expectations. 

They went for coffee. They walked to the coffee shop, past the lilacs which were just beginning to fade, and they sniffed them together. 

Their conversation flowed with surprising ease, or perhaps not so surprising. In a way of course they had only just met but in another way they had known each other for years, and they were pleased to discover that there was no awkwardness between them other than that which results naturally between two people who are wildly attracted to each other and only just beginning to explore it. 

They explored it eventually. And thoroughly. 

And when the following year they stood in a country garden with Belle and Ruby and a Henry who was almost dancing with excitement and exchanged rings and promises of love and fidelity, the trellis above their heads was heavy and fragrant with honeysuckle in full bloom. And not a sunflower in sight. 

(Ah, I love a happy ending, I hear you sighing, beloved Reader. I do as well but I fear this is not one. It is of course a happy beginning.)

[siiinfvl]

ooc. mic test.   hello.   anybody home ??   is this working ??   

HI !!!   i know, i know. some of you are either going,   ‘ who tf is this potato ?? ’   or    ‘ huh. didn’t know she was still alive. ’   or don’t care at all. but surprise !!!    i am actually still alive. 

i’m aware that it’s been about half a year, or maybe more, since the last time i have properly been here. and considering that i didn’t really post a hiatus notice, it just seems like i dropped off the face of the earth and would never be coming back. but to those who are wondering, bless your souls, you wonderful, caring people. i am still here. i do still lurk around, like some stuff, check out what’s been going on while i was gone. 

basically, like always, i’ve just been very busy with work. nothing new, i know. but recently, in the past two months, i have been missing writing here. don’t get me wrong, i’ve never stopped writing and never really disconnected with my muse. i’ve mostly been on discord, mainly writing with @shewassoferal. and even sometimes opening a word document to write some back stories or simple paragraphs from prompts, all for grant ward. 

but, like i said, i have been missing writing here. or even just being here in general. that being said, i am on the verge of a decision. this blog, as of today, is officially being REVAMPED. now, what happens after the revamp, what you will see after the revamp, i still have not decided yet. and if anyone would put their two cents in, i’d really, really, really appreciate it very much as it would help me make my decision. 

there are three ways this could go, and here they are: 

OPTION 001. i can revamp the page. remodel the theme, revisit my tags, update all the character pages, such as the verses, the biography page and whatnot, all to have a fresh feel to the blog in order to help this restart take off. 

post-revamp will then include rechecking all the memes on my inbox and working on them. i am well aware i have maybe half a hundred various items in my inbox raging from random starters or memes sent by you guys that i owe you. basically, what happens after revamp is that i’ll have to drop the ongoing threads as just thinking about them is already pressuring me a lot. for those who have a running thread with me and would like to continue, please let me know and we can maybe start a new thread along that same timeline and plot line, so we can keep interacting. now all those open starters and memes that i have yet to respond to, i will write those. since i have not posted those before, they still have a pretty solid fresh feel to me, even though they’ve been there for about half a year. again, my apologies on that, you guys. you know i love you and i really appreciate the stuff you write for me. life has just been hard recently. 

bottomline is that option one means i’ll do a sweep of old stuff, keep working on what feels new, and go back to what this blog was half a year ago, before my unannounced hiatus.

OPTION 002. this one entails that the blog will become a database blog. what does that mean ??   it means i’d revamp the whole page, complete all character pages that give information about the muse. update the verses, rules, bio, tag pages. 

and with that completed, my roleplaying will be moved to discord. i’m not sure if you guys still write there, but i do. and if anyone wants to write with me there, we can. does that mean this blog will be dead ??    no.   i would still be posting here. back stories, metas, gifsets and photosets will still be posted here. i will still be posting memes as well, and if we haven’t plotted or interacted before, you’re free to send a meme, so we can check the dynamic between our muses, and we can plot based off of that. and once it’s all fleshed out, i’d probably ask if we could move it over to discord. of course, you can say no. if it’s more advisable for you to be here, i can be here. 

basically, this option just means that there will be less activity here than option one as most activity will be on discord. 

OPTION 003. now, this one is a bit heavier. i do understand that it’s been a long time since i have been here. a lot of the people i used to interact with might have even left already. the muse hasn’t been on the show for three seasons now, and just fyi, i am no longer watching the show. apart from that, i know that there are, at least, a couple of other grant ward blogs that have remained active while i was gone. beautifully-written, beautifully-shaped grant ward muses that i hearteye every time i see on my dash. this means that my heart is at ease in the fact that the character is still getting the love and the understanding he deserves that, sadly enough, the show did not give him. i am at ease in the fact that there are still amazing writers out there that are lending voice to this character that we did not get to hear the real voice of in the show. 

with that said, option three entails that this blog will no longer participate in roleplaying. does this mean this blog will die or be deleted ??    hell, no.   i still love the muse and the character and the actor too much to do that. so what’s gonna happen is that there will be no roleplaying, but any metas, gifsets, photosets will still be posted here. considering that i also still have a lot of ideas in mind that i’d like to write in order to expand on grant’s PHOENIX verse   ( which is his main verse, where he put up his fake hydra to destroy it from the inside and made it his own organization once hydra has been fully destroyed --------- all in the name of his definition of closure. for kara, and himself )   and depending on how things go, i might even put up a separate blog for PHOENIX. you guys have no idea how big that world has become in my head despite not getting to post about it much here. @shewassoferal can, once again, attest to that. you might see some fanfics being posted as well.

so, all in all, while i might say goodbye to the world of roleplaying on this blog, you still will not be saying goodbye to me permanently. awwww. i will still be around, and if you wanna write something together, maybe collab on something, i’m just here, you can let me know, and we’ll work it out.

that’s the dilemma i’m on right now. i have not decided which track this blog is going to take. mainly because while i want to go one way, i’m not sure if it’s even possible because, like i said, i do understand that i have been absent for a long time and people might not even want to write with me anymore. so i need your help in deciding. i need to know where this blog stands, and i need your assistance. 

in case i don’t receive any response, the default will be the third option. but if you still want to write with me, and one of the first two options appeal to you, then you can let me know, and i’ll work on it right away.

each and every one of your opinions matter to me. so if there’s even just one person that chose either one of the first two options, the third one is already out of the running, which means i’ll be back. the decision between options 1 and 2 will then be decided based on how many people are willing to do it with me. 

thank you very much if you’ve reached this part. i appreciate you reading all of it. you are a rockstar !!!

[the-colony-roleplay]

THREAD TRACKING, DMS/ASKS & CONSIDERATE ROLEPLAYING

Hey kiddlies! 

So, I wanted to take this time to address a couple of small things that have been brought to my attention lately. As all of you know, here at the Colony we pride ourselves on our exceptional inclusivity, friendliness and sense of community support. When new members who join the family stay and feel a part of the team, it is thanks to how much we, as an entire unit, prioritize making sure new members know just how enthused we are to have them here, as well as reaching out to help engage them into our ongoing plots and into the verse. 

As an extensive worldbuilding RP with many long-term members, we know that it can be intimidating to get started when you’re new to the verse, so this is a huge factor in why we are still successful today and how we continue to grow and evolve as a unified, loving community. You are also all aware of the kinds of attitudes we don’t condone here, and can sometimes be rampant in the RPC. We believe that the key to forming a unified, safe and long-lasting roleplay is by prioritizing what I sometimes call the ‘rule of the three Cs’: collaboration, communication, and consideration.

Consideration is a big one. Because I can not tell you the amount of RPs I have joined and been disappointed by by the sheer self-involved mentality of individual members—or the amount of times I’ve heard horror stories from all of you. Yes, roleplay is meant to be fun, it is a pastime—but because group RPs are, by nature, an activity of collaboration, they literally only work when you can consider the perspectives, feelings and positions of everyone in it with you. Like a true team. I know... most of you are probably not sports players (lol) but if you can imagine being on a basketball team where no one considered every teammate equally, and put their own egos aside to play as a team, well—they would never win anything. Ever. Also, (and possibly more importantly, because nothing in RP is a competition or about ‘wining’): they would never have any fun.

Now, I’m bringing all this up, not because anyone has done anything wrong or against these practices, but because I want you all to understand why I believe this RP stands out the way it does, why we continue to foster and grow, and why I take the team-player aspect and consideration of others so seriously. Because it is literally the foundation on which this unique community is built on. We are very aware of how problematically inconsiderate so many RPs can be, and how disheartening it is to feel like you are being ignored or excluded, or like people are not interested in writing with you.

SOME CONCERNS & PLATFORM ISSUES

So, with all that said, I’m sure you will all understand why I take any complaints about lack of communication or feeling left out very seriously. Fortunately, we hear almost exclusively positive feedback in terms of communication and members feeling not just included, but all around adored and supported. We could not be prouder of each and every one of you for making this RP the safe place that it is. However, with recent issues and glitches with the tumblr platform certainly not helping matters, there have been a couple of patterns flagged recently and brought to Mod attention, involving the dropping of threads and lack of replying to DMs or asks. 

Now, I do know that this is probably mostly due to the activity notification thing shitting the bed (thanks tumblr), as well as the unreliability (is that a word?) of notifications for DMs and Asks. However, I’m going to address it anyway, mention a few tips that may help us work around the platform’s glitches, and also just be more personally mindful and responsible. 

So, being mindful to check your replies, your messages, your threads—it’s all part of being a considerate and responsible RPer, and someone who is able to function in a team environment. And it’s so, so important to remember that being considerate of others is not a single-lane highway. It doesn’t only apply to not dropping threads and replying to messages—it also applies to being allowed to drop threads if you need to, to being met with understanding if you are feeling overwhelmed, or have fallen behind or lost muse, etc. This is important because we do not want anyone to be afraid to say anything to help themselves because they are too concerned about hurting someone’s feelings. In fact, the most mature and polite thing to do, and the kind of conduct we expect from each and every one of you, is that you treat people with the same respect and understanding you would want to be treated with. And that includes patience, as much as it does communication and consideration. 

Again, I really want to stress how unbelievably proud I am of this community and of everything that you all do to take care of each other. There isn’t a single person here who I think would ever intentionally ignore someone or drop threads or be inconsiderate and I literally have never been in another RP that has felt as kind and warm as you people make this place. So seriously, thank you so much. 

But I’m sure that it also makes sense to you why I absolutely will not tolerate behaviour that is exclusive or inconsiderate of others under any circumstances. If I’m hearing that people’s messages are getting ignored consistently, or that people are skipping or dropping threads consistently without contacting the people they are RPing with about it, then I have cause for concern. 

Fortunately, I know the lot of you well enough that I trust that these few circumstances that have arisen are likely thanks to inconsistent tumblr notifications, at best, and at worst, simple absent mindedness we are all guilty of from time to time! 

So without further adieu... 

THREAD TRACKING TIPS AND TRICKS! WEE!!

So, in terms of threads—if you know you are losing track of things, just be mindful to keep an open dialogue with your fellow RPers, and do not just rely on the notification panel in tumblr. (Dear God, please don’t, it’s the actual worst). A good trick I find useful is to check out your own character blog (or character-exclusive posts but on the dash, if you know what i’m referring to, I never know how to explain that, haha)—take the ten extra seconds to remind yourself who you’ve been RPing with the past couple of weeks, because that’s often how I find accidentally missed threads. This kind of thinking and mindfulness just makes it easier to keep up with things. And remember! Everyone misses stuff sometimes! It happens to the best of us (including your ol’ Papa!Mod) so when it does happen, just be proactive and reach out to whoever you’re RPing with. Or, if it happens to you, don’t be afraid to connect with your fellow RPer and touch base about a thread’s status. 

I have also heard really good things about Rp Thread Tracker, which I know some of you use already. Now, some of you may be worried that it will be too complicated or too much of a hassle to set up, and so you avoid it, (which has been the case/reasoning with myself) but I’ve been assured by several people that although they had the same concerns, the set up is super easy, only takes a few minutes, and is kind of a life safer. It also is actually possible to track multiple threads based off one open starter—once you get the replies it’s just a matter of setting it up to be tracked. 

So, you can find that tool here, if you are interested in using it. But you can also check out this tutorial if you want to get an idea of how it works, or help setting it up for yourself! Of course, this is not by any means mandatory, but it is a really good option for people who might be interested, and something I think a lot of you might want to consider if you have a hard time tracking! 

I think one of the great things about this community is there has never had to be a.... hard rule about replying to threads in order or anything like that. Partly because a) that’s kind of impossible to manage and guarantee and b) we do want to be flexible for muse and time and all kinds of things like that! After all, writing and creativity is not a hard science! But one thing members here have always done really really well, is just being naturally considerate of your RP partners, giving them a head’s up if you’re needing more time to figure out how to reply to their thread, and doing your best to not skip threads consistently. (Skipping threads on a consistent basis in favour of only replying to a select few characters would constitute as bubble RPing, but fortunately, that has never been a problem here.) 

However, we always want to avoid making anyone feel ignored or hurt, by skipping their replies—so please, if you are struggling with muse for certain threads, do not be afraid to be honest with your RP partner about it. They will understand and will feel much better knowing it’s not something personal, or something they did, or like you simply aren’t interested in writing with them. As a member of Colony 22, we will hold you to your ability to be mature and considerate of others. It is by far one of our most important requirements. And since I know you are all the nicest, sweetest people I’ve ever had the pleasure of writing with, I want all of you to pay close attention to occasions or habits that have the potential of being misconstrued as hurtful or negligent. 

DMS AND ASKS: OOC COMMUNICATION

So this is all pretty self explanatory, and verging on repetitive as much of what’s been covered above applies here as well. And just to be even more repetitive (because it’s a thing I do super well apparently), I am so unbelievably impressed with everyone’s attitudes and contribution here, so my bringing this up is more in the interest of calling attention to habits that may have formed that could be interpreted as hurtful by other members, even if that is not the intention!

So, if tumblr notifications with DMs are letting you down, or you know you’re likely liable to forget to reply to things if you see them on your phone, try to be mindful of checking things like that next time you log in. Take responsibility to check messages you might have missed, or forgotten to reply to when you were out and about and busy with life as we know it.

Now, this is coming from a person who can’t stand phone notifications. If you message me while I’m busy or on my phone, I probably will not reply to you because ~anxiety~. And hey, so many of us have it, so we all get it, you know? So not to worry. But that just means that the considerate thing to do in return of being treated with compassion and understanding by others, is to make sure to double check those things when we do have time. Make sure we aren’t leaving anyone hanging. Because another thing I absolutely will not tolerate in this RP is people ignoring messages about threads or plotting requests etc. Just do not do it. This community is your team, your family. This community is my family too, and as a moderator (and Papa!) I am very protective of each and every one of you and your comfort and happiness is of the utmost importance to both Lottie and I. 

So if you know you are likely a bit flakey when it comes to responding to messages (it’s okay! it happens!), please take care to amend that. To do what you can to make up for it when you log in at a more convenient time. Get back to people. Do not ignore people. And if you do feel like you are overwhelmed and you need to drop some older threads or anything like that, this is a safe place to do that! You will have moderator support and community support. We have all been there, so there is no need to be worried or afraid of being judged or letting anyone down. It is not that kind of community! So if that happens, and someone is asking about an older thread, please try to feel comfortable being honest with them, and asking for what you need, be it extra time, or to drop it in the interest of focusing on new future things :) 

And, if you don’t feel comfortable, for any reason, please know that Lottie and I are here to support you! We have had some of our lovely children come to us before feeling nervous or worried about threads getting backed up or falling behind or lack of muse due to extreme anxiety when looking at their drafts.... and we have always helped them through it! There is a solution, we promise you, and we know that sometimes it just takes a little reminder that yes, it is okay to let things go and that you have literally every person’s support here. No matter what you’re going through, we are here for you; as a mods, and as a community, we will do whatever we can to assist in easing some of your stresses and and getting back to the basics of why you enjoy RP in the first place! 

Basically, there is never any excuse to ignore anyone. Be honest, and be mindful, and if you have any trouble, whatever the cause or kind, come to the mods—either individually or to the main, whatever makes you most comfortable. But if I hear of anyone consistently ignoring anyone’s messages it is something I will take seriously as that is not at all being a team player, and I will be forced to have to ask for names and address the issue with that person directly. And no one here wants to call anyone out or throw anyone under the bus or make anyone feel bad, because at the end of day, we all love each other very much—so I’m sure it’s in everyone’s best interest if I don’t have to do that.

IN CLOSING... 

Alright, thank you VERY MUCH for taking the time to tread this really long post. Thank you for your understanding, your team work, your love and commitment, your talent and joy. Thank you to those of you who felt comfortable bringing their concerns to my attention, and thank you to everyone for being the supportive and considerate little nerds ya’ll are. The concerns that were brought to me were pretty aware of it likely being a tumblr notif problem, but the people who did mention it to me were more concerned about other people being upset, than themselves. So I think that’s a really stinkin’ good sign of how sweet ya’ll are, and I want you all to know how deeply Lottie and I appreciate you. You are hands down the best, most considerate and fun group of writers I’ve ever had the pleasure of writing with, and I’m so grateful for you all everyday!

Keep up the fantastic work everybody!! And as always, if anyone has any questions or concerns regarding this post, please do not hesitate to bring them to us. Finally, please be sure to like this post so I know that you’ve read it. Thank you!!

Much love and sparkles!

xxMod!Ro

[niallismymuse]

Chapter 6 (Part 1)

Finals were only a week away and Sadie was more stressed than she had ever been in her life. She wasn’t able to sleep very much; in fact, closing her eyes made her feel guilty, like she needed to be studying at every single moment or she was going to fail.

It really wasn’t very healthy.

She made herself sick, accidentally, and spent one waste of an afternoon throwing up in the bathroom. She wasn’t entirely sure if she was sick from stress, or if the stress had lowered the defenses of her immune system and she had caught something. Possibly a combination of both.

Niall, apparently, pitied her.

A knock sounded from the door that afternoon and Sadie sighed and heaved herself up from the bed. She threw the door open to see Niall standing before her, smiling pleasantly and clutching a brown paper bag. “What are you doing here?” she asked after stumbling back from the door. Niall breezed past her, nose crinkling up a bit at the scent of sour illness that permeated her room.

Sadie sniffed the air and eyed the paper bag Niall carried suspiciously. “Did you make me soup?”

“No,” he replied as he kicked off his shoes, and then toed them over in a neat set to the door, “but the people at Olive Garden did. The hostess I picked it up from told me to tell you she hopes you feel better, and that finals will go better than you think.”

After letting out a quiet snort, Sadie shook her head and strode back to her bed. “Yeah, she must have done super well to be working at Olive Garden.”

Niall let out an affronted gasp. “Sadie! Don’t be so job-ist! She was a very kind older woman. She could have gone to college, earned her degree, became rich, and then gotten bored and decided to work at Olive Garden.”

She stared balefully at him. He sighed and walked closer, setting the paper bag on the end table next to her bed. He took out a plastic container filled with soup, and then poured it into a plastic bowl, topped with a plastic spoon. He grinned at her. “Chicken and gnocchi soup, Madame. Bon Appetit.”

Sadie tried not to think about how rich the soup would be, and merely hoped for the best. She pulled the bowl closer and took a sip, before setting the bowl down on her lap. Niall looked pleased.

“What are you doing here? I’m not much longer for this world. Flee, before you catch my plague and are taken down into the earthy depths with me.” Sadie murmured, leaning back against the headboard.

“Oh, please. You’re not thatsick. And besides,” he replied, sitting down on the bed near her feet, “you’re thrilled to have me for company. You missed me.”

“I saw you yesterday.”

“Plenty of hours between then and now for you to miss me.”

They bantered like that for a few minutes before easing into a comfortable silence – well, semi-comfortable. Niall seemed pretty happy, sitting with his notebook in his lap, but Sadie…she was having some thoughts. Some thoughts she didn’t want to be having with her head stuffy and her stomach rolling.

(She was pretty sure that stupid soup had stirred it up, but oh well.)

Despite the fact that she and Niall were okay, her mind kept going back to the sight of him kissing someone else. And she kept wondering…if it had gone further than kissing. If Niall had evergone further than kissing.

She certainly hadn’t. She hadn’t even kissed anyone before, much less anything beyond it. Sadie had thoughtabout it, definitely, and had seen things on the Internet. She had overhead girls talking about it in school before…but it wasn’t part of her world. It made her cheeks flush to even speculate about. And Niall, with his glasses and his charm and his mega-watt smile…well, he hadto have, didn’t he?

He certainly looked like he knew how to kiss someone well. She had seen him in action.

“You’re acting weird.” Niall narrowed his eyes at her, squinting through the glasses lens. “Are you going to puke? Because if you do, I would much prefer you do it in the bathroom as opposed to here, on your bed.”

“No, no,” Sadie waved her hand absently, “I don’t have to puke…yet. I’m just thinking.” Because, truth be told, her stomach was feeling more than a little discomfort, but not enough for her to dash to the toilet.

“Ah. What are you thinking about?”

Sadie had no good answer for that. And, maybe it was because she wanted to get it off her mind, or because her head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and she couldn’t think, but she blurted out, “I can’t stop wondering if you did anything further than kiss that girl. At the party.”

Dead silence. Sadie briefly considered rushing to the bathroom to fake throwing up – or maybe it would be real because thiswas causing her stomach to churn worse – or throwing herself out the window.

Her cheeks were flaming, but so were Niall’s. “Wow,” he huffed out, and took off his glasses before rubbing at his eyes. “That was not what I was expecting.”

She stayed quiet, pressing her lips together lest any other words attempt to escape.

Niall looked at her then, and it was odd, seeing his eyes without the frames of his glasses surrounding them. They almost appeared blurrier, maybe even smaller, but they were beautiful still. They were his, a crystal blue she had never seen on anyone else.

He shoved his glasses back on, the leg of the left side getting caught in his hair, and it was all Sadie could do not to reach over and fix it for him. She resisted the impulse, tightening her hands into fists until she could feel the bite of her nails in her palm.

“Well, uh…I have never had any…my, uh, sexual endeavors questioned before?” His voice went a little too high at the end, and Niall flushed further, and pushed at his glasses again, although they were still perched high on his nose. A nervous habit. “Or, really, the lack thereof…” he trailed off, and looked away.

Sadie frowned, casting her mind over the words. “You mean…you’ve…you’ve never…?” When he didn’t respond, and instead merely looked at her, she almost screamed. Of coursehe was going to make her say it. She reached a trembling hand up and brushed back her hair from her face, focusing on the firmness of those strands, letting it ground her. “You’ve never had sex before?”

Niall shook his head quickly, vehemently, and comically almost threw his glasses off of his face in the process. They hung askew, near the tip of his nose, but he didn’t seem to care. Instead he stared almost urgently at her. “No, Sadie, I haven’t…I mean, I’ve kissed…multiple girls, and I dated around and I’ve…” he almost seemed to choke on the words. “I’ve gotten a blowie before, but-“

Sadie interrupted him by miming puking, though if this talk continued much more, she would no longer be miming. “Ugh! Do notcall it a blowie! What is wrong with you?!” Her ears were burning, and she wanted desperately to erase the past five minutes. She hadn’t felt such acute embarrassment in years.

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to call it?! Calling it a blow job is just as weird! I suppose, I could just say she sucked my – “

“Nope!” Sadie held up a hand and took a deep breath, squeezing her eyes closed tight enough to almost hurt. “Nope. Nope nope nope. I am not having this conversation with you.”

Niall frowned petulantly and stared at the bedsheet beneath him. “You’re the one who started this conversation, actually.”

“Yes, and I accept that responsibility.”

Another silence fell, with both of them avoiding looking at the other. Sadie felt the words he was holding in before he said them, knew he was working his way up to saying something by the way he kept shifting his weight on the bed.

He blew out another breath and folded his fingers together. “So, no. I’ve never had sex. I just…kissed. There are risks of STI’s and all that, and I never wanted a…a one and done.” Sadie couldn’t exactly discern the look in his eyes, as they met hers. Hopeful, yearning, or was she just imagining that? “I know that doesn’t exactly make me a ‘man’ in today’s society, but, well. It’s who I am.”

Sadie leaned forward and wagged her finger in his face. “Uh uh. This is a toxic masculinity free dorm room. You can leave that shit at the door.” Pulling her hand back and leaning away, she coughed, covering her mouth with her arm. “I will not have that.”

Niall had the grace to look sheepish. “You’re right, I’m sorry.” He twiddled his thumbs and peered closely at her. “Have you ever…done any of that?”

“Had sex?” Sadie asked bluntly back and felt a wave of satisfaction at the blush that flared up on his cheeks. “No. I wasn’t exactly popular, like, ever, remember? I’ve never even kissed anyone.” That last confession was a bit embarrassing, at least to her, and she hadn’t meant to let it slip out. She was letting a lot of things slip out, apparently.

That made Niall’s face brighten in a considerably dangerous way. He grinned, eyebrows lifting. “Well…I know how to kiss. I could teach you, if you like.”

Sadie sputtered, and nearly upset the soup in her lap. She picked the bowl up and set it on the end side table, face flaming. “I am ill.” Which wasn’t exactly a no, she realized immediately after. Maybe…maybe she didn’t want to say no.

“Semantics.” Niall waved his hand, still grinning. He was more than a little thrilled with the turn of the conversation. “Besides, I’m not entirely convinced that you’re sicksick, rather than stressed from your first bout of finals approaching. And I wouldn’t mind teaching you.”

Sadie snorted and rubbed at her red cheeks. “Ah yes, the epitome of attraction. ‘I wouldn’t mind’ is exactly what I want the first person to kiss me to say before he does it.”

Niall squirmed, suddenly shy once more “Well…I mean, I wouldn’t mind, but also, I would…like it.” He coughed awkwardly into his fist. “Only if you would like it though. If not, uh, well, we can pretend I never said anything.”

The air between them had changed, become electrified somehow. Sadie looked at him, at his slightly messy hair and the ruddiness to his pale skin, and then to his lips. They were a tiny bit chapped from the cold, she could see from how close he was. They looked…soft. And pink. And utterly kissable.

Besides, wasn’t this what she had wanted? To be kissed by him, to feel the press of his body against her own?

Before she could think about it much more, she answered. “Yes. You can…you can teach me.”

Niall smiled, a slight curve to those lips she had just intensely studied. “Excellent.” He scooted closer, enough that Sadie could see the rise and fall of his chest as he breathed. She was hot. She could have stripped off all of her clothes and still been sweating. He was so close, she was sure he could feel the heat radiating off of her body.

Sadie couldn’t quite bring herself to look at him, just felt the press of his knee into her shin. Maybe this was a mistake. She should back out, call it off. She was just setting herself up for trouble with this, because while there was something between them, it wasn’t defined yet, and she had pushed it off by declaring them friends…and he had hurt her already. This would just bring it about again, and it would be her fault for letting him back in and not expecting to be disappointed –

All of those thoughts in her head disappeared when Niall’s fingers, sturdy and thick and calloused, brushed against her chin and gently tilted it up. Her eyes met his, and she was gone for him once more.

This was Niall. Yes, he had hurt her, and he had been sorry for it. Very sorry. It didn’t excuse his earlier actions, but it did make it easier for her to forgive him. And she had forgiven him.

She could trust him. She knew that. It was a risk, but she would let him in again, give him the power to hurt her again, and hope for the best.

Very gently and making eye contact with her until the last second – which made her body feel like jelly – Niall pressed his lips against hers. Sadie remained still, and then quickly closed her eyes. For a second, it was just a press of lips upon lips, and then Niall began to move his just slightly against her own, and she panicked. She moved just slightly back, hands pressing into fists.

“I – uh – sorry,” she stammered out, eyes wide. Her hands went to cover her face, feeling the heat of it, but Niall grabbed them quickly and held them in his own. He smiled encouragingly at her.

“That’s okay. It’s new for you. It can…take some getting used to. Just, um, let mekiss youfor a moment and you can try and copy what I’m doing.” For as confident as he sounded, Niall could have been mistaken for a blonde fire engine from how hard he was blushing. His eyes flickered for a second, and he pressed those lips together. “If you want to try again, of course.”

Sadie was on fire. It was in her face, in her veins, and it burned oh so deliciously. She felt…alive. Awake, every nerve in her body waiting for the inevitable. Her tongue darted out to wet her lips, and Niall’s eyes locked there. Her pulse stuttered. “Yes. Yes, I want to try again.”

Niall grinned again, and then leaned forward once more. His lips were on hers, and then they moved, shifting and almost dancing with hers. Sadie felt it, tried to puzzle it out, and then tried to replicate it.

He pulled back, and she felt a spear of panic shoot straight to her heart. Had she done something wrong? Had she bitten him and not realized it? Oh God, how in the hell would that even happen?

But nothing was amiss. “That was good,” he said, smiling. “You just need to practice.”

So, they did. And again. And again. And again, until Sadie’s lips were swollen and all she could think about was kissing Niall until she was blue in the face, until it was all she wanted to do anymore. Finals didn’t matter, and her sickness? It was in the back of her mind.

Niall eventually said goodbye to go sleep in his own dorm, smiling in a secret, shy way at her as he waved and shut the door. It left her feeling warm and happy, content in a way she couldn’t remember ever feeling.

Until Niall texted her the next morning, complaining about how he had thrown up and that he had an upset stomach.

Finals came and went, bringing a lot of anxiety. Not all of it was related to finals, either. Sadie still hadn’t told Niall about the invitation back to her house, and she was leaving tomorrow.

He was a little sad, too. She could sense the world weariness in him, saw how his shoulders were bent with the weight of tests and the lack of anywhere to go. She couldn’t imagine how lonely it would be, to spend the holidays alone.

Well, he did have somewhere to go. He just didn’t know it yet.

Sadie had finally decided that she would tell him he could come home with her – though he needed to be aware that her whole family would be smugly suspicious of him. Of them. She had rarely brought friends back home, much less a boyfriend.

At the word ‘boyfriend’, Sadie stopped in her tracks, nearly slipping on the frozen sidewalk. It was snowing heavily, and she needed to get moving to get to her psychology final, but…boyfriend.

They hadn’t discussed it, and she sure as hell wasn’t going to bring it up after the debacle that was their talk about sex. She was being stupid. A few kisses didn’t make them a couple…did it?

Okay, and, granted, there had been more than a fewkisses. Niall had proved to be a very effective teacher in the few ‘tutoring’ sessions they had had on the subject. It was an interesting role reversal, one Sadie was keen on continuing, but that didn’t mean they were dating. They had to actually talk about dating first.

She really needed to chat with Nellie and get her head straight, figure out what to do and say with this whole Niall session. But, more importantly, she had to get to class to pass this fucking final.

She wasn’t seated near Niall – the desks had all been taken up since she had almostbeen late – but she kept an eye on him. He seemed much more confident about this test compared to their midterm, and was all smiles after everything was over and their papers were turned in.

Sadie had finished before him and waited outside, stomping her shoes to keep her toes from freezing.

“That went amazing,” he gushed as he rushed outside, and before she could do much about it, he leaned down and pecked her lips. Sadie was so stunned she nearly took a step back. “I feel like I knew all the answers! Shit, that usually means you fail it, right? But, damn Sadie, I feel like I absolutely crushed that exam. I feel good.” Niall beamed at her, totally missing the storm whirling inside of her mind. “Want to go do something, or get something to eat? I’m buying!”

Sadie blinked a few times and then shook her head. Seeing the confused, almost hurt look on her face, she stuttered out, “I-I’m sorry, I have plans with…with Nellie. Before we both go home and all. I just wanted to see how you felt about the exam…and maybe we can hang out later?” There was a hopeful, half-desperate note to her voice, and Niall recognized it, knitting his brows before nodding his head slowly. She wondered if he could hear the lie she was spinning.

“Uh, yeah,” he replied, voice a bit rough, “we can do that. I’ll see you around?”

Sadie nodded quickly, and with a goodbye, she excused herself and disappeared around the other side of the building. Her chest was tight, and it was hard to breathe. What the hellwas that? That little peck, full of affection and joy?

Hastily, Sadie dialed Nellie, who answered at just one ring of the phone. “Hellloooo?” She greeted cheerfully. Just hearing her voice was a relief.

“I have a Niall emergency.”

“Ah, Sadie, you never fail to interest me. Meet me outside the book store in ten minutes.”

After meeting up, the pair grabbed coffee and settled in at a booth in the food center. Sadie explained the whole kissing situation – and she flushed the whole time, especially at Nellie’s knowing look – and what had just happened outside of their psychology class.

“Well, you know he likes you. So, what’s the problem?” Nellie asked, toying with the mug in her hands, tracing her fingertip around the lid. Her eyes were intent on Sadie’s.

She didn’t have a good answer. “I…I don’t really know. I like him too, but when we made up, I declared us friends…”

“Honey,” Nellie started, leaning forward and bracing her elbows squarely on the table, “friends don’t kiss each other. Even to teach the other how. Okay?”

“Okay,” Sadie replied slowly, “so we’re in that weird place between friends and something more.”

“Yes.” Nellie agreed. “So…listen, I know Niall is good and all that, but guys can have a habit about dragging out this whole…relationship talk thing. Maybe he will, maybe he won’t, but you should be firm on it. Because you don’t want a casual thing, right?”

“No…” Sadie hesitated a bit before shaking her head firmly. “No, if I’m going to do this, I want to do it right. Properly. Like…actual dates. Holding hands. Kissing in my dorm room is nice and all, but I don’t want to feel like I’m hiding shit.”

“Okay.” Nellie smiled. “Then you know what to do, kiddo. My work here is done.”

Sadie did know what to do. She probably should have done it earlier, but this would have to do. Shewould make do.

After finishing their meal, Nellie excused herself and headed over to Louis’s home, but Sadie continued to sit still. She debated for a little bit and then texted Niall: ‘Hey, what’s your dorm room number?’

She remembered vaguely the hall he had mentioned living in and started to walk in that direction after exiting main campus. He lived on the opposite side from her, of course, so she would have a hell of a long, cold walk to get back to her room.

It was worth it, though. He was worth it.

Niall responded quickly enough, and she arrived at his dorm hall, checked in with her ID, and headed into the elevator. He lived on the third floor, and it gave her too much time to think and worry.

What if he said no? What if he had already made plans? Her mother definitely wouldn’t get a refund on the train ticket at this point. Everything depended on him now, but it had also depended on her fucking invitinghim in the first place.

Steeling her nerves, Sadie strolled out of the elevator and briskly down the hall to the correct dorm room. Niall lived alone, luckily, so she wasn’t about to make a scene in front of anyone besides the intended. She knocked once and waited.

The door swung open within a second, like he had been standing there waiting. Niall was already in pajamas, a sight that made her heart beat faster in her chest. He was wearing thick, blue plaid pajama pants and a tank top, which showed off the muscles on his arms. Niall wasn’t buff, exactly, but he had definition to him that she appreciated.

(Which made her wonder if he appreciated any part of her body. But that was a thought best pushed aside for now.)

“Hey,” he greeted her softly, eyebrows pulled together, “what’s going on?”

“Come home with me.” Sadie blurted out, not even bothering to say hello.

“Um,” was all he responded with, and her heart fell into her stomach.

“You definitely don’t have to,” she said quickly, waving her hands a little too fast. “But, uh, my mom sent me a train ticket for you a while ago, while we were in that bad spot, but then we moved on from it but I was nervous still, and, uh, it’s totally cool if you don’t want to – “

Cool fingers cupped her cheek but gripped there firmly as well. “Sadie,” Niall said gently, his eyes smoldering an almost blue fire, “do you want me to come home with you?”

Sadie swallowed harshly, staring into his freckled face. She wanted to kiss all of the freckles across his cheeks and down his neck, wanted to know where he had been where the sun burned enough to make them appear. And she had the strangest feeling that maybe this trip would be good for them, bond them, and maybe…maybe they would have that talk about whatthey were. One way or another.

Finally, she answered. “Yes.”

Niall smiled that happy, genuine smile she had grown to love (and to miss when she couldn’t see it) and let out a quiet little chuckle. “Alright then. I’ll come back to your home with you.”

Sadie smiled back, eyes flicking with his. “Well. You better start packing then.”

[gdwessel]

Road to New Beginning Tour: KUSHIDA Farewell 1/29 v. Tanahashi, NEVER 6-Man Match 1/30; 3rd New Beginning USA Show Added; NJPW & AEW Not Working Together (For Now), Jericho Joins AEW, Omega Doesn’t (Yet); Romero, Owens Stay; Naito in Costa Rica 3/30

Strong Style Story Podcast Episode 48 on Pro Wrestling Only

Strap in, this is a long one, and the second time I’m typing this out because my stupid laptop rebooted without my say-so during dinner grrrrrr.

The full lineups for the Road to the New Beginning tour have been released. The biggest bit of news here is the scheduling of KUSHIDA’s final match in NJPW. It will take place on 1/29/2019, at Tokyo Korakuen Hall, and his farewell opponent is none other than IWGP Heavyweight Champion Hiroshi Tanahashi. If you’re going to go out, may as well be against the champ. Pity it took this long to get a singles match against a heavyweight, but what can you do.

The next night in Sendai, there is a NEVER Openweight Comedy 6-Man Tag Team title match, as Togi Makabe, Toru Yano & Ryusuke Taguchi make another attempt at taking the belts from Tama Tonga, Tanga Loa & Taiji Ishimori. This show is not listed on NJPWWorld’s schedule, which is a shame as there are also two special singles matches, in which BUSHI & Shingo Takagi face off against El Desperado & Yoshinobu Kanemaru, respectively. It’s only Shingo’s 2nd singles match since signing to NJPW too. Maybe these matches will show up on tape delay.

There’s a lot more news to go so I am going to put the tour lineups at the bottom of the post.

On the English broadcast of WK13, they mentioned that a third show was going to be added to the New Beginning USA shows in late January/early February. That has now happened, with a show on 2/2/2019 at the War Memorial Auditorium in Nashville, TN. Tickets will go on sale for that on 1/15/2019, and you can see the ticket pricing scheme here. NJPW also announced they are adding additional seats to the show at the Globe Theatre on 1/30/2019 in LA, and those will also go on sale 1/15/2019. 

From the onset, NJPW said that wrestlers who would come over are the ones who would not be working The New Beginning in Sapporo. We already know those lineups, and that takes out Tanahashi, Okada, Jay White, Bullet Club, Suzuki-gun and Los Ingobernables. It may seem like much, but going from those lineups, the USA shows will probably feature the IWGP US title match between Juice Robinson v. Trent Beretta, as well as possibly the previously postponed singles rematch with Hirooki Goto v. Jeff Cobb, and perhaps even the Yuji Nagata v. Tomohiro Ishii match teased at New Year Dash!! on Saturday. Stay tuned.

Earlier today, All Elite Wrestling held a press conference / rally in Jacksonville, FL, for their forthcoming debut PPV under the AEW banner, Double or Nothing, in Las Vegas, NV, on 5/25/2019. Since many of the questions about AEW involve NJPW, I’m going to answer what we know about the relationship between the two: 

Not much.

In fact, yesterday there were reports that NJPW was very happy with the current relationship with Ring of Honor. For their part, Matt Jackson at this rally stated they were going to be working with Oriental Wrestling Entertainment, the Chinese promotion that took 2018 by storm, currently run by Dragon Gate co-founder CIMA, and featuring several other DG wrestlers who jumped over. Brandi Rhodes also made vague comments that they have reached out to joshi talents/promotions to work within their womens’ division. So at least in the immediate future, there is no current working relationship between All Elite Wrestling and New Japan.

As for the talents, AEW announced a bevy of them. Including, at the very end, the recently dethroned IWGP Intercontinental champion Chris Jericho. Considering AEW doesn’t start running officially until 5/25/2019, there is no reason I can think of why the rumored IWGP Heavyweight title challenge Jericho wants v. Hiroshi Tanahashi at G1 Supercard in Madison Square Garden can’t still happen. So wait and see on that.

One name noticeably absent from the announcements? Kenny Omega. So despite reports from Tokyo Sports that had more than a bit of kayfabing in it, we still really know nothing about what Kenny Omega’s next move is. It could be NJPW, it could be AEW, it could be WWE, it could be retiring and being a Twitch streamer. We’ll let you know when we do.

As I really have no interest in AEW, unless there is NJPW involvement, I won’t be reporting on them with any regularity. If you want to know more about the rally, check the interwebs as there are plenty of reports on what took place.

Just to flip the script a bit, we’ve been talking a lot about wrestlers who are leaving, maybe leaving, or retiring lately. Two wrestlers who have confirmed they are sticking around are Rocky Romero and Chase Owens. Both men tweeted out yesterday that they have signed new contracts with NJPW, so they will be part of the company for a while yet. Good for them!

An announcement that may have gotten lost in all this: NJPW announced that Tetsuya Naito will be making a rare appearance in Costa Rica on 3/30/2019, at the 5th anniversary show for Costa Rica Wrestling Embassy. CMLL’s Shigeo Okumura will be there as well, although it’s not known if they will be teaming. Naito used to team with Okumura during several of his Mexican excursions, however he also famously turned on Okumura’s “Yellow Wave” to join Los Ingobernables on an episode of CMLL Informa. And the rest is history...

Finally, last post I mentioned that I wasn’t familiar with what character was whom in My Dad Is A Heel Wrestler, in reference to the special match during the 1/21/2019 Fantasticamania show (and it was also after midnight by then). I’ve seen been informed that the match, underneath the masks and costumes, will be Kazuchika Okada & Togi Makabe v. Hiroshi Tanahashi & Ryusuke Taguchi. Should be a hoot.

Tour lineups:

Road to The New Beginning - 1/26/2019, Saitama Wing Hat Kasukabe

Yota Tsuji v. Yuya Uemura

Toa Henare v. Ren Narita

Hiroyoshi Tenzan & Manabu Nakanishi v. Ayato Yoshida [K-DOJO] & Shota Umino

Tomoaki Honma & YOSHI-HASHI [CHAOS] v. Tama Tonga & Tanga Loa [Bullet Club]

Togi Makabe & Toru Yano [CHAOS] v. Yujiro Takahashi & Chase Owens [Bullet Club]

Tetsuya Naito, EVIL, SANADA, BUSHI & Shingo Takagi [Los Ingobernables] v. Minoru Suzuki, Zack Sabre Jr., Taichi, Yoshinobu Kanemaru & El Desperado [SZKG]

Hiroshi Tanahashi, Kazuchika Okada [CHAOS], Ryusuke Taguchi & KUSHIDA v. Jay White, Bad Luck Fale, Taiji Ishimori & Gedo [Bullet Club]

- 1/28/2019, Tokyo Korakuen Hall (NJPWWorld)

Manabu Nakanishi & Ren Narita v. Yota Tsuji & Yuya Uemura

Hiroyoshi Tenzan & Toa Henare v. Ayato Yoshida [K-DOJO] & Shota Umino

Togi Makabe, Toru Yano [CHAOS], Tomoaki Honma & Ryusuke Taguchi v. Tama Tonga, Tanga Loa, Chase Owens & Taiji Ishimori [Bullet Club]

Kazuchika Okada & YOSHI-HASHI [CHAOS] v. Bad Luck Fale & Yujiro Takahashi [Bullet Club]

Hiroshi Tanahashi & KUSHIDA v. Jay White & Gedo [Bullet Club]

Elimination Match: Tetsuya Naito, EVIL, SANADA, BUSHI & Shingo Takagi [Los Ingobernables] v. Minoru Suzuki, Zack Sabre Jr., Taichi, Yoshinobu Kanemaru & El Desperado [SZKG]

- 1/29/2019, Tokyo Korakuen Hall (NJPWWorld)

Ren Narita v. Yuya Uemura

Hiroyoshi Tenzan & Manabu Nakanishi v. Ayato Yoshida [K-DOJO] & Shota Umino

Toa Henare & Ryusuke Taguchi v. Yujiro Takahashi & Taiji Ishimori [Bullet Club]

Togi Makabe, Toru Yano [CHAOS] & Tomoaki Honma v. Tama Tonga, Tanga Loa & Chase Owens [Bullet Club]

Kazuchika Okada & YOSHI-HASHI [CHAOS] v. Jay White & Bad Luck Fale [Bullet Club]

Tetsuya Naito, EVIL, SANADA, BUSHI & Shingo Takagi [Los Ingobernables] v. Minoru Suzuki, Zack Sabre Jr., Taichi, Yoshinobu Kanemaru & El Desperado [SZKG]

KUSHIDA Farewell Match: Hiroshi Tanahashi v. KUSHIDA

- 1/30/2019, Miyagi Sendai Sunplaza Hall

Toa Henare & Yota Tsuji v. Ayato Yoshida [K-DOJO] & Shota Umino 

Hiroyoshi Tenzan & Ren Narita v. Manabu Nakanishi & Tiger Mask IV

Shingo Takagi [Los Ingobernables] v. Yoshinobu Kanemaru [SZKG]

BUSHI [Los Ingobernables] v. El Desperado [SZKG]

Hiroshi Tanahashi, Kazuchika Okada [CHAOS], Tomoaki Honma & YOSHI-HASHI [CHAOS] v. Jay White, Bad Luck Fale, Yujiro Takahashi & Chase Owens

Tetsuya Naito, EVIL & SANADA [Los Ingobernables] v. Minoru Suzuki, Zack Sabre Jr. & Taichi [SZKG]

NEVER Openweight 6-Man Tag Team Championship: Tama Tonga, Tanga Loa & Taiji Ishimori [Bullet Club] (c) v. Togi Makabe, Toru Yano [CHAOS] & Ryusuke Taguchi

- 2/6/2019, Nagano Athletic Park Gymnasium

Shota Umino v. Yuya Uemura

Yota Tsuji v. Ayato Yoshida [K-DOJO]

Hiroyoshi Tenzan & Ren Narita v. Manabu Nakanishi & Tiger Mask IV

Tomoaki Honma & Ryusuke Taguchi v. Chase Owens & Taiji Ishimori [Bullet Club]

Togi Makabe, Toru Yano [CHAOS] & Toa Henare v. Tama Tonga, Tanga Loa & Yujiro Takahashi [Bullet Club]

Tetsuya Naito, EVIL, SANADA, BUSHI & Shingo Takagi [Los Ingobernables] v. Minoru Suzuki, Zack Sabre Jr., Taichi, Yoshinobu Kanemaru & El Desperado [SZKG]

Hiroshi Tanahashi, Kazuchika Okada [CHAOS] & YOSHI-HASHI [CHAOS] v. Jay White, Bad Luck Fale & Gedo [Bullet Club]

- 2/7/2019, Aichi Nagoya Congress Center Event Hall

Ren Narita v. Yota Tsuji

Yuya Uemura v. Ayato Yoshida [K-DOJO]

Hiroyoshi Tenzan & Shota Umino v. Manabu Nakanishi & Tiger Mask IV

Tomoaki Honma & Ryusuke Taguchi v. Yujiro Takahashi & Taiji Ishimori [Bullet Club]

Togi Makabe, Toru Yano [CHAOS] & Toa Henare v. Tama Tonga, Tanga Loa & Chase Owens [Bullet Club]

Tetsuya Naito, EVIL, SANADA, BUSHI & Shingo Takagi [Los Ingobernables] v. Minoru Suzuki, Zack Sabre Jr., Taichi, Yoshinobu Kanemaru & El Desperado [SZKG]

Hiroshi Tanahashi, Kazuchika Okada [CHAOS] & YOSHI-HASHI [CHAOS] v. Jay White, Bad Luck Fale & Gedo [Bullet Club]

- 2/8/2019, Mie Yokkaichi City Green Park Gymnasium #2

Ren Narita v. Yuya Uemura

Shota Umino v. Yota Tsuji

Hiroyoshi Tenzan & Ayato Yoshida [K-DOJO] v. Manabu Nakanishi & Tiger Mask IV

Toa Henare & Ryusuke Taguchi v. Yujiro Takahashi & Taiji Ishimori [Bullet Club]

Togi Makabe, Toru Yano [CHAOS] & Tomoaki Honma v. Tama Tonga, Tanga Loa & Chase Owens [Bullet Club]

Tetsuya Naito, EVIL, SANADA, BUSHI & Shingo Takagi [Los Ingobernables] v. Minoru Suzuki, Zack Sabre Jr., Taichi, Yoshinobu Kanemaru & El Desperado [SZKG]

Hiroshi Tanahashi, Kazuchika Okada [CHAOS] & YOSHI-HASHI [CHAOS] v. Jay White, Bad Luck Fale & Gedo [Bullet Club]

- 2/9/2019, Osaka EDION Arena Subarena

Hiroyoshi Tenzan & Yota Tsuji v. Ayato Yoshida [K-DOJO] & Shota Umino 

YOSHI-HASHI [CHAOS] v. Ren Narita

Tomoaki Honma & Toa Henare v. Yujiro Takahashi & Chase Owens [Bullet Club]

EVIL, SANADA & BUSHI [Los Ingobernables] v. Minoru Suzuki, Yoshinobu Kanemaru & El Desperado [SZKG]

Tetsuya Naito & Shingo Takagi [Los Ingobernables] v. Taichi & TAKA Michinoku [SZKG]

Elimination Match:  Hiroshi Tanahashi, Kazuchika Okada [CHAOS], Togi Makabe, Toru Yano [CHAOS] & Ryusuke Taguchi v.  Jay White, Bad Luck Fale, Tama Tonga, Tanga Loa & Taiji Ishimori [Bullet Club]

Strong Style Story Podcast Episode 48 on Pro Wrestling Only

[badcowboy69]

Feeding Knowledge to a Fever

This was an abandoned WIP of mine.  I found it semi started in my files and thought it’d be nice to modify it and finish it. So, here ya go. Simple and pure fluff between my courier six Travis Blackfox and @zoey-and-dakota‘s sole survivor Riley White.  This story takes place in the early part of their relationship and will be Travis’ first time experiencing the chill of fall in the Commonwealth.  It’s also short compared to what I usually write....it’s five pages.  It’s also very safe for work.  Thanks for reading and as always reblogs, comments, and questions are always welcomed!  Thank you!   Under the read more thing due to length.

The sun had just set on Diamond City allowing the chill of autumn to slowly creep in.  The scent of burning wood billowing from chimneys filled the air as the residents began to settle down for a long evening.  At the dwelling called Home Plate, Riley White and his partner, Travis Blackfox, were prepping for a peaceful night together as well.

Today was game night for the couple and the fun usually lasted until the wee hours of the morning.  After that, if they weren’t too tired or drunk off their rockers, they were prone to find something a bit more physical to do before succumbing to sleep.  While Travis made his way upstairs to get his deck of Caravan cards, Riley began to brew a fresh pot of coffee to not only warm them, but help give their energy a boost.    

“Coffee’s almost done, Travis!” Riley called moments later while he brought out their coffee mugs and the sugar bowl.  He waited for Travis’ typical ‘a’yup” response, but got none.  “Did you hear me?  Coffee’s about ready.”

Still not getting a reply, he set the mugs down on the bar and went to the bottom of the stairs.  He looked up towards their loft bedroom, but saw and heard no movement.  “You ok?” he inquired.  

A soft, pained grunt hit his ears making him arch an eyebrow.  Ascending the wooden stairs, Riley took a quick glance around the dimly lit room and spotted his shirtless lover sitting slumped on the bed.  “Travis..is something wrong?  Are you alright?” he asked with mounting concern as he made his way to Travis’ side.

Travis shrugged and the very act made him groan and lean his elbows heavily on his knees.  “Ain’t right...came on all of a sudden.  Been feeling shitty, but I’ve been fighting it.  Throat hurts...head...feel weak.”

Riley took a seat next to him and gently placed his hand on Travis’ bare shoulder.  He gasped in surprise feeling how hot his partner's flesh was.  “Shit, babe, you're burning up, “ he said in concern while placing the back of his hand against Travis’ brow.  “Possibly got yourself a fever.”

“Thought I was just getting over tired so’s that’s why I ain’t said nothing,” Travis muttered while leaning wearily against Riley.  “I'm sorry.”

“Sorry?  You've done nothing wrong.  Listen, let's get you tucked in.  I'll get you some aspirin and bring up our coffee.  We'll stay snuggled and warm here the rest of the night.  How does that sound?  Would you like that?”

Travis slowly nodded and flopped onto his side with a grunt while he squirmed to get under the covers.  Riley stood and and helped cover his partner with the quilt.  He pulled it up over Travis’ shoulders and tucked it around him comfortably.  Inclining his head forward, Riley gently pressed his lips against Travis’ warm brow.  “Try and relax.  I won't be long.”

Heading downstairs, Riley sought out the small medical bag he kept behind the bar.  Digging through it he found the pill bottle and shoved it in his pocket. Getting an idea he grabbed a flask off the counter and filled it with some whiskey.  Not only would alcohol help Travis wash the meds down, but it would help relax and further warm him.  Taking a quick swig from the flask, Riley stuffed it in his other pocket then went to prepare their coffee.

After sugaring it how Travis liked, Riley added a dollop of cazador honey (brought back from his visit to New Vegas) to help soothe Travis’ throat. Carefully gathering the steaming mugs he next made his way upstairs to his ill partner.  “I’m really sorry you aren’t feeling well.  I’m sure this northern weather isn’t exactly something you’re used to right yet,” Riley commented as he placed a mug on the little table next to where Travis lay.  “Hopefully these aspirins will help.  My experience in doctoring isn’t exactly too high up there, but I most certainly won’t cause your demise.”

Travis twitched his moustache and grimaced over Riley’s attempt at a little joke.  “That’s mighty kind of you,” he rasped while taking the aspirins and flask from him.  Travis popped the pills in his mouth then took a few deep swallows from the flask before he handed it back to Riley.

Taking a mouthful of alcohol himself, Riley went to his side of the bed and set his mug down on the nightstand.  “The best thing for you now is to rest and let those meds work on you.  Getting something warm inside of you should help even more.”

“Like you?” Travis jested and wished he hadn't as he began coughing.

“Glad to see you haven't lost your sense of humor,” Riley smirked as he stripped down to his boxers.  Flipping back the covers he crawled into bed and gathered up his coffee, gently blowing on it before taking a sip.  “I think I’m going to catch up with my journal entries.  I am a little behind with that.  Is there anything else I can do for you before I start, or are you set?” Riley asked while reaching for his book and pencil.

"Well... I'd love hearing a pre-war story...love hearing your voice...relaxes me," Travis said as he gingerly sipped his coffee.

"A story?  Travis, you need rest, not listen to my ramblings," Riley replied as he reached over and absently began stroking Travis' hair, letting the black strands sift through his fingers.  Travis shifted his position and gazed up at Riley, his blue eyes shining eagerly.  Riley sighed and gave a soft chuckle.  He could never quite tell Travis no, especially when it came to talking about some pre-war topic.  "Fine.  What is it you'd like to hear about?"

The ends of Travis' moustache lifted to a weary grin which quickly disappeared as he began to cough.  "The old west," he grunted while taking a mouthful of coffee.  "Cowboys mostly...I wanna know about all that stuff.”

Riley inwardly groaned.  Even though history was right up his alley, cowboys wasn't a topic he was totally savvy with.  Hopefully the limited knowledge he did have would be more than enough to satisfy his own cowboy.  "Well," he began slowly, not exactly sure how to start this pre-war history lesson.  "The word cowboy comes from the Spanish word vaquero as I’m sure you might know.  Buckaroo, from what I gather, is English speaking people back in the day not knowing how to say vaquero correctly.”

Taking a sip of his coffee, Riley took a moment to ponder what information he could even tell Travis that would be new.   Travis had a decent knowledge of the pre-war west thanks to his vaquero ghoul friend Raul.  There was also a small assortment of books dealing with colonizing the west up in the penthouse that he knew Travis read countless times.  For that matter, Mister House no doubt had plenty of discussions with the courier about such things.

Furrowing his brow, Riley considered asking if there was a more generalized topic Travis was interested in.  The western subject was rather vast and varied and Riley honestly had no clue where to start.  Fortunately, Travis unwittingly helped the situation.  “How's about the cowboys in movies?  Was the west much different in how it's portrayed on holotapes?”

“Movies?  Ummm...oh!  Hell yes!  Western movies hardly came close to accurately depicting the true life of cowboys.  In fact movies had it where basically anyone wearing a Stetson was considered a cowboy.  White hats were the good guys while black hats were the bad.”

“Reckon I'm a bad cowboy, huh?”

Riley smirked and took a swallow of his coffee before reaching for his flask.  “Not even close,” he grinned as he poured the whiskey into his mug.  Seeing Travis had his mug held out to him, Riley poured the remainder of the alcohol into it then settled back comfortably against the covers.

“Anyway,” he continued.  “Cowboy life was almost always shown as a glamorous one.  Huge herds of prime cattle, champion horses, the finest gear.  Real cowboys were usually poor men simply trying to make a buck or two.  Movie cowboys were also portrayed as dashing, clean cut white men.  In reality most cowboys were people of color and that included Native Americans.  Speaking of Indians, they weren't even portrayed by Natives in movies or television shows, but rather they were mostly Italians.”

Travis snorted, “That's mighty stupid.  Why'd they go and do that for?”

“Mighty stupid as you said, but it's a story for another time.”  Riley paused from his banter to finish the last of his drink.  Glancing to his left he noticed Travis looking as if he were finally fading from the waking world.  As Riley placed his empty mug on the nightstand he asked, “How are you feeling, Travis?  Do you still want me to continue?”

Travis nodded while staring at the remainder of his drink.  He swirled the contents around before downing it.  “S-sure,” he said behind his hand as he tried to stifle a yawn.  

Riley smirked and took Travis’ mug before he ended up dropping it.  Gathering his ill cowboy in his arms and making him comfortable, Riley continued with his unusual history lesson.  “One interesting fact about the life of a cowboy is there were a lot of gays joining the roundups.  Back in those days folks had to hide their sexuality.  No one cared what people did out on the range as long as the job got done.  Many gay men knew it was the one way they could be themselves without being judged.”

Snuggling down against Riley’s chest, a soft sound escaped Travis’ throat making Riley wonder if he had fallen asleep at last.  A few moments passed and Riley was about to reach for his journal again when the dozing Travis suddenly started to caress over his arm.  “Y’all finished?” he drawled.

“I could be if you’d like me to be,” Riley chimed as he tightened his arms around his lover.  Travis shook his head no and voiced his interest in hearing more of what Riley has to offer.  “Don’t force yourself to listen to me ramble.  You need rest.”

“Ain’t forcing nothing...one more story, then I’ll go to sleep.”

“Very well.”  Riley began to sift his fingers through Travis’ hair while trying to think of a random tidbit of information on the Hollywood version of cowboys. “Here’s a little bit of trivia.  The reason cowboys used to sing sad, lonely songs was mostly for soothing the skittish cattle they watched over.  I’m wanting to bet that style of songs was where country music came from eventually.  In Hollywood the singing bled into a lot of the shows and almost every actor was now a country singer or vice-versa.  Gene Autry is one such actor.  Roy Rogers and Dale Evans were a very popular duo and…”

“They're from that song!” Travis excitedly interrupted.

“What song?”

“Let's ride into the sunset together!  Part that goes something like I'll be your Dale.  I'll be your Roy.  I know you heard it back in Vegas.”

Riley thought about it for a moment and suddenly recalled the sweet little country song.  “I seem to remember you most certainly did like it.  You blasted it and Big Iron every time they played.”

Travis nodded against him when his entire body suddenly relaxed.  The minor burst of energy gone thanks to his pending illness.  “Y-yeah...I like that song.  Riley...can I...can I be your Dale and you be my Roy?”

Chuckling, Riley rested his chin on Travis’ head.  I’d love that, but you do know the Dale they’re referring to was a woman, right?”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Uh-huh!  Husband and wife team...very popular and beloved.  They had a big ranch named the Double R Bar and were in plenty of films...even had their own television show.”

“Dale’s a dumb name for a girl,” Travis grunted as he began lightly caressing his hand over Riley’s arm.

Riley felt Travis’ touch falter every few seconds showing the cowboy’s fight to stay awake was finally coming to an end.  “How about you forget about the name thing.  Let’s keep the song as I’ll be your Riley and you’ll be my Travis.  Does that sound good?  Would you like that better?”

A series of unintelligible sounds came from Travis before he lifted his hand up to wave off the conversation.  “S’ok...I’ll be Dale...ain’t...uhhh...ain’t shavin’ and...and ain’t wearin’ no dress, though.”

Riley blinked behind his glasses and couldn’t help but chuckle and shake his head at the odd reply.  Apparently Travis was suffering from a mild bout of delirium brought on by either the fever, exhaustion, or the bit of alcohol he consumed with his coffee.  Maybe it was a combo of all three.  “Fine.  No dress.  You haven’t the legs for one anyway,” Riley jested while bowing his head down to give Travis a tender kiss on top of his head.

He waited for a response, but got none.  It was then he felt the steady breathing and weight on his chest indicating that his partner finally passed out.  Smiling to himself and hugging Travis to him, Riley said quietly, “Sleep well and get well fast my little buckaroo.”

Fin~

[blowmiakisscolin]

FF: The Unofficially Official Most Handsome Man in Storybrooke

So, the prompt for this fic came about during a conversation with my dear friend @xemmaloveskillianx​ last night. We were talking football, specifically about how the commentators of the 49ers-Texans game were very openly swooning over the hotness of our new quarterback for the 49ers (former NE Patriot Jimmy Garoppolo). They repeatedly brought it up throughout the game, even going so far as to do a “Handsome-Off” between him and Tom Brady. E-Network-style comparison clips of them running out of their respective tunnels and dreamy-soft-lit-close-ups of their faces included. It was borderline ridiculous and I loved it.

K and I were highly amused by the swooning NFL commentators verbally drooling over Jimmy G. And then she had to go and plant the seed of: “Yo, why did I just picture Leroy and the dwarves staging a Handsome-Off for David and Killian?”

And so this happened. And I regret nothing. (I’m also very proud because I managed to write a SHORT oneshot, instead of one that got way out of hand and ended up owning my ass at 10K words.) (This one is 1.5K. Hurrah!)

P.s. it’s canon-compliant aside from the mention of Henry’s whereabouts. I fixed that to what it should have been. You’re welcome.

Title: The Unofficially Official Most Handsome Man in Storybrooke. Rating: K Genre: Humor; Fluff Pairings: Captain Swan, Snowing, Captain Charming friendship. Words: 1.5K Links: AO3

They should have known Leroy was up to something. It had been conspicuously quiet in town for well over a week, without the usual ruckus he liked to cause. If he wasn’t mouthing off in the Rabbit Hole and instigating a bar fight, he’d probably be found staging some kind of protest over the grocery store charging for plastic bags or the bakery changing its flour supplier. If the town wasn’t in the midst of a curse, Leroy seemed to be more than willing to keep things lively week-to-week.

Which was why a week without any protests or bar fights had warning bells ringing for the current and former Deputy Sheriffs. With Emma now in her third trimester and under strict doctor’s orders not to over-exert herself (by jumping in to break up bar fights or disperse riotous, protesting dwarves, for example), David had stepped up to help Killian man the fort at the station.

The two men would often meet their wives for lunch at Granny’s, and catch them up on all the goings-on in town, but today they’d opted for a mid-morning coffee break as well, seeing as work truly was that slow.

Walking into Granny’s, the two immediately picked up on the sudden beat of silence that descended, all eyes on them, before someone cleared their throat and the low buzz of conversations began again. Leroy, huddled over a piece of paper on the countertop with a gaggle of dwarves around him as they’d entered, was suddenly sat bolt upright and wore a decidedly uneasy expression.

Killian and David exchanged glances and then both approached the counter, causing the dwarves to immediately disperse, leaving their red-faced leader to attempt nonchalance (and fail miserably).

“Leroy,” David greeted him, eyeing him with suspicion, “Everything alright here?”

“Fine! Just fine, y’Highness.”

He replied, much too quickly. But with his focus on David, he had failed to notice David’s pirate companion stealthily approaching on his other side, and before he even had chance to protest, Killian had snatched the piece of paper he’d been attempting to shield from them.

“Hmm. I believe it’s bad form to run a contest such as this without informing the participants, Dwarf.”

David narrowed his eyes in confusion, and Killian passed him the paper, chuckling as he watched a thunderous expression darken David’s features when his eyes scanned the words.

“A ‘Handsome-Off’. It was inevitable, don’t you think, boys?”

Granny piped up, appraising them over her glasses with a smirk on her lips and a sparkle in her eyes. David spluttered with indignation, apparently scandalized at the idea that Granny would be enabling (and even encouraging) such a contest.

“You can’t be serious.”

He grumbled, hands on his hips and the thunderous expression softening at the edges to one of weary bemusement.

“It’s a harmless contest. You’re only pissed because you’re trailing by three points, David.”

Ruby called out, smirking over her shoulder at them as she attempted to fix the eternally-broken coffee machine. Leroy choked on a laugh, but smothered it and tried to pass it off as a cough under David’s withering glare.

“Aye, mate,” Killian chuckled, “It’s harmless. And it would be interesting to see who the residents of Storybrooke deem to be the most dashing enforcer of the law...don’t you think?”

David’s glare was turned on Killian momentarily, until he rolled his eyes and sighed.

“Well, it’s not like you’re going to take any notice of me if I attempt to shut it down. And it’s apparently reducing the number of bar fights and pointless protests we have to break up each week...so fine. Do your silly contest, Leroy.”

The dwarf was clearly about to argue that the town protests were not pointless (though the grocery store was still charging for plastic bags, so the success of that protest was negligible) but he seemed to decide against it and at least had the decency to look chastened at the fact that his underhanded contest had been exposed.

David handed the paper back to him and he scarpered, his gaggle following close behind.

“You’re only letting this charade continue because you intend to win it, don’t you, Dave?”

Killian eyed his father-in-law and best-mate with amusement as he slid into the seat at the counter Leroy had vacated. David took the seat next to him, barely containing his smirk as he met Killian’s gaze.

“Oh, I am going to win it, pirate.”

// CS //

“You can’t use the fact that you saved the lass’ cat from a tree to garner a vote for your face, mate.”

“You would have done exactly the same thing if you’d taken that call, and you know it.”

“At least I don’t have my wife reminding the women at her Mother & Toddler classes to vote for her husband!”

“Oh, don’t you think I didn’t catch Emma bargaining with Regina for her to vote for you!”

The bickering went on and on for well over a week. Emma and Snow took it all in good humor, until they too became quite invested in the contest. Apparently, they all had competitive streaks a mile wide, despite repeatedly reminded one another that they didn’t actually win anything at the end of it all (‘Except bragging rights for the rest of forever,’ Emma had jokingly pointed out).

It was a Friday evening and, as per tradition, the Charming-Swan-Jones-Mills clan had assembled at Granny’s for dinner. It had become a tradition ever since things had quietened down in the town curse-wise, and it was something they all looked forward to each week now. Henry had moved to Boston for college the year before, but he often expressed how much he missed their Friday Family Nights, and in return they assured him his presence was most definitely missed too. But he visited during the holidays and those little family traditions became even more treasured then.

This particular Friday, the ‘Handsome-Off’ was, of course, the main topic of conversation. Regina repeatedly rolled her eyes at the whole debacle, and Granny promptly informed them that Leroy had managed to get every Storybrooke resident to vote now, and he and the dwarves were hard at work counting the votes. Regina rolled her eyes so hard that Emma warned her they’d probably roll right out of her head if she carried on. She rolled her eyes again.

David grinned smugly at Killian (or, as he’d taken to calling him, his arch-rival) across the table as he cut up his young son’s food, and Killian simply shook his head on a chuckle.

“I’ll admit I’ve enjoyed our rivalry this past week, but you should know that the only people I truly care for the opinion of on my dashing good looks is my beautiful wife and this wee pirate princess.”

With an arm around the back of Emma’s chair, Killian reached over and placed his hand on her belly, rubbing with gentle pressure that had their unborn daughter kicking in response. Emma smiled up at him with a small scoff, muttering something that sounded like ‘such a sap’ and he simply grinned, pressing a tender kiss to her temple.

“Oh, please. You’re only saying that because you know I’ve clinched this thing.”

David snorted, and Snow elbowed him none-too-subtly in the ribs.

Their back-and-forth was brought to a halt when Leroy burst through the door of the diner in his trademark manner, voice two decibels above what was required for a small room. Or any room, really.

“The results are in!”

He boomed, waving an envelope above his head with gusto. Regina rolled her eyes.

“Well, come on then, Leroy. Put us all out of our misery.”

Granny called as she came out from behind the counter, wiping her hands on her apron and folding her arms. Expectant eyes were glued on Leroy then as he tore open the envelope with a little more fervor than was strictly necessarily. Emma bit back a laugh and rubbed her bump absently, while David held his breath and Killian leaned back in his chair with a serene expression of mild amusement.

“And the winner is…”

Leroy eyeballed each person in the room, silent seconds ticking by, and Snow covered her mouth to stifle a giggle at the ridiculousness of the build-up.

“Oh, for heaven’s sake. Give me that.”

Regina snapped, standing and grabbed the envelope from Leroy’s hands as he made an outraged sound of protest. Killian wondered if he’d be picketing outside the diner over this the next day.

“Killian won. There. Can we please go back to being adults again now?”

David’s mouth dropped open and he gawped at Regina as though she’d just told him Granny had run out of lasagna. Emma was beaming, clearly thrilled that her husband was the Unofficially Official Most Handsome Man In Storybrooke. Snow initially clapped, until a scandalized glare from her husband had her smiling sheepishly and shrugging.

“I guess you might want to try and save more cats next time, mate.”

Killian chuckled, grinning smugly and quirking an eyebrow at his (probably former) best mate. David turned, red-faced, to Leroy.

“I want a recount!”

Fin.