#and I just thought we agreed there were other measures of success that were more important

[girlscience]

I don't know if my life is just extremely charmed. but listening to my coworkers talk is so bizarre to me? the way that money is the only measure of success or good life that they care about blows my mind. we are talking about furthering our education and the only thing they are looking at is how much the salary for that field pays. I understand money is important, but that's honestly not something I've given even more than a passing thought to with the programs I'm applying for? I just don't get it? We do science, don't you care more about the work than the money? Am I just blind because I haven't ever had money troubles? I don't know.

[yumeka-sxf]

My thoughts on Spy x Family: EYES ONLY Guidebook (English ver) - part 1

I finished reading through my copy of the English version of the SxF manga guidebook "EYES ONLY." There's tons of fantastic information about the series, but I wanted to share my thoughts/commentary on parts that were the most interesting to me. Since there's so much content to cover, I'll be dividing it into a few different posts. Also, rather than go in the order of the book's sections, I decided to group the content based on topic. This first post will cover Endo's comments about the characters individually, as well as information about Garden.

Endo's Q&As and comments about the characters

Loid:

I like that Endo provides a reason for why Loid wears a WISE logo pin as it's something more than one fan of the series has questioned! And I totally agree with Lin about his "lack of distinctive features." Compared to so many other anime characters, especially shonen main characters, Loid's design is so plain, particularly in his hair and clothes. At least in his spy outfit he has a gun to make him a little flashier, but when he's in his casual clothes, he literally just looks like "some guy," haha. But that also makes sense for his character.

I love how Endo gave specific numbers for comparing Loid and Yor's strength (Yor: 10, Loid: 6-7)

Anya:

I did notice what Endo is talking about how Anya's design changed over time. But that can be said for all the characters really, and it's definitely not uncommon for manga-ka's styles to evolve as they get a better feel for their characters and world.

He mentions the classical language thing that was also brought up in chapter 42. Definitely makes me think that will somehow tie into her backstory.

Speaking of Anya's backstory, there was this little excerpt about the researchers at the lab. So one thing we can say for sure about her past is that she was not treated well there at all (which has been hinted at in the series).

Endo also discussed the origin of Anya's pink hair (namely, there really isn't any origin, lol).

Yor:

Interesting that he spent the most time designing Yor, and also about the origin of her stilettoes. And his apology to the cosplayers for that bonus feature about Yor's hair, haha.

I had to chuckle when he said they can't measure her strength because she keeps breaking the instruments! Also the fact that she hasn't learned how to make a single successful meal since the stew…Endo is such a savage sometimes, lol. But keep in mind that this book was originally published over a year ago, and obviously we know from recent chapters that her cooking is improving. I also like that he mentions that she has left witnesses to her work, like in Extra Mission 2. I wonder if that will be a bigger plot point somewhere down the line.

Like Anya having pink hair, Endo expresses some regret about making Yor an assassin (but his laugh makes it clear he's not terribly hung up about it!)

Bond:

I know some people are bothered by the fact that Yor is Bond's least favorite. But I think Bond's (initial) dislike for her originated from the chapter where he assumes he would have died from her cooking. Also the fact that Anya put the idea in his head that she would "murder" him if he did something she didn't like, like shun her food (which is obviously heavily exaggerated). But again, this book was published over a year ago, and the most recent chapter revealed that he definitely doesn't dislike her even if she's not his favorite. It's perfectly normal for pets to have family members they prefer over others for whatever reason.

Franky:

I love that Franky does charity work. I hope we'll see that in a future chapter.

Fiona:

It's interesting that he ranks Fiona's combat ability so low, especially when you consider what she did to Wheeler in the recent arc. But to me, that wasn't so much a display of combat prowess as it was totally raw, uninhibited willpower.

Yuri:

I love his blunt answer about whether Yuri has other interests besides Yor. Also intriguing that he mentions Nightfall when discussing Yuri's combat ability…maybe those two will meet eventually?

Information about Garden

Since Garden is still such a mysterious entity in the SxF universe, I tried to gather everything about them that the book mentions.

It's interesting that Yor sees Shopkeeper as her mentor since he taught her survival skills in her youth. The book also raises the question about how Yor found Garden in the first place…maybe something Endo will expand on in the future?

So the information Franky gives us about Garden is exaggerated? Gah, that just makes them even more mysterious!

The above was a cool bit of trivia...so it seems like the secret police might know more about Garden than WISE. Perhaps Yuri will find out about Yor's real identity before Twilight?

Continue to Part 2 ->

[idalenn]

Day 1 - Steer

Aftermath of the Crystal Tower. Alphinaud learns from a true businessman. (A Realm Reborn)

Full text below the cut if you'd rather read it on Tumblr instead of Ao3.

“And of the boy – were you successful locating his next of kin?”

“The documents provided by NOAH were bereft of evidence related to his origins. Unofficially, we’ve heard claims he may have familial ties within the Corvosi of southeastern Ilsabard.” The Elezen woman tapped a quill to the open, hide-backed volume in her hands. “But we are unable to confirm their validity at this time. It remains hearsay.”

“Then our efforts must be concentrated in a more scholarly direction. We cannot simply shrug our shoulders when it comes to Sharlayan. Having the loss of their pupil go unrecognized, or worse – underappreciated – will impact future endeavors. Reparations will soften the blow and secure fertile grounds for tilling.” With his own writing tool, edges leafed in gold and tipped with a brilliant ruby, Lolorito scratched his final signature onto the treaty.

A click of the inlaid jewel sent the tool’s end retreating into itself. Black ink dripped from the hole; blood from an open wound. One quick swipe with cloth made of finer material than Lillian would ever own picked it up without a trace left behind. Lolorito curtly tossed the cloth back among the ink pots. “A veritable drop in the ocean of spoils we’ve earned this day, wouldn’t you agree?”

Lillian felt a veritable ocean of sweat growing in her boots. Devoid of windows or any sort of opening to the outside save the single door combined with an abundance of crystal-lit lanterns, the Monetarist’s chamber buffered her and Alphinaud with a furnace’s heat. Even wearing gloves she feared taking the document in hand and drenching their hard work. The scars across her face ached under the pressure.

“Adamantite. Allagan technology. Wisdom beyond measure and reach, and beyond price some might claim, but there will be a price, and as sole owner of that crystal tower, the price shall be any figure negotiable.” The Lalafell chuckled to himself as he sealed the treaty with wax and sigil before sliding it across the desk. “And this is just the beginning. I know our contract was only for the tower’s acquisition, but I have grand plans in motion for future expansion, and you’re just the two to help see them bear fruit.” He spread his arms wide as though welcoming them into his embrace. “Care to stay for a time?”

Another cramp ran through Lillian’s leg. The chairs they sat in were perfectly Lalafell sized, undoubtedly Lolorito’s primary audience, but less so for the snow-haired Elezen child across from him, and unbearably small for the Miqo’te dwarfing every other soul in the room, whose legs were forcibly kept at such an angle between chair and desk that, if this meeting continued much longer, were liable to fall off.

“Other business calls.” She said.

“Of course. Scions and governments running you ragged must come first, but forget not my offer. And you, Master Alphinaud? From your quiet I must believe in some thought being given.”

Alphinaud took the treaty in a shaking hand. “Your assistance to the Crystal Braves is greatly appreciated, Lord Lolorito. If I may, I have but one more question, and after we’ll be on our way.”

“Then I take it you need time to consider.” Lolortio stroked his goatee, smiling with brilliant white teeth. The mask made interpreting his expression impossible. To Lillian it appeared a predator’s grin. “Very well. The floor is yours, my boy.”

“Care to share the details on how you intend to move forward? Specifically, I wish to know how you will honor the loss of G’raha Tia, without whom this endeavor would have ended in failure.” The Elezen aide narrowed her eyes. Lolorito’s smile never dropped an ilm.

“For effort contributed, I suppose you can be trusted with particulars. I am nothing if not fair, as Nald’Thal demands.” One of the lanterns flickered, and a glint off a gold-plated scale on the Lalafell’s desk caught Lillian’s attention. “G’raha Tia has no will, no family of note who can be contacted or given payment, and represents no organization outside of one within Sharlayan. Any and all possessions within NOAH’s hands will be returned to that organization. His share will, of course, be divided amongst all hired.

“Sharlayan will receive a lump sum of gil in an amount yet to be determined but no less than two hundred thousand. That previously mentioned organization will also partake of a sizable donation. Ah, but this name eludes me.” He snapped his fingers rapidly as if trying to light a spark. “I’m sure it began with ‘students’ something or other… the students of…”

“Baldesion.” Alphinaud finished through gritted teeth.

“It is refreshing, Master Alphinaud, to meet another so untrained in subtleties and be reminded I am not so alone in this world. As someone eyeing to hold a position of political power in our realm, you would do well to either hone a silver tongue or abandon all pretense of furthering your cause with it.”

“You only saw our friend as numbers to be counted!”

“Absolutely! Much in the same way you yourself only see the Syndicate in measures of usefulness and value to your coffers. Life is a series of numbers! You sought profits as well as I, my boy, and in doing so one must on occasion plan for declines. All gathered in this room have value, and all will be made equal should misfortune come to pass.”

Lolorito leaned forward over the desk, his hands folded together in a wall from which atop he stood a giant before Alphinaud and the Warrior of Light. “You captain an uncertain ship, Master Alphinaud, and unless you wish your company dashed amongst the rocks, you had best learn to steer.”

[octuscle]

How times are changing….

2024, The Russian Tea Room: Lunchtime with the Masters of the Universe. John and Richard were at the peak of their powers. The sky was the limit. Whatever money could buy, these two had it. And they had a lot of it. And as soon as Trump was back in power, there would be much, much more.

John: Good afternoon, Richard. It’s been too long since our last lunch.

Richard: Good afternoon, John. Yes, it has. How have you been?

John: Very well, thank you. Busy as always, but things are moving in the right direction. How about you and your family?

Richard: We’re doing well, thank you. My son, Alexander, has just received his acceptance letter from Yale.

John: That’s excellent news! Congratulations to Alexander and to you. Yale is a fantastic institution. He must be thrilled.

Richard: He certainly is. We are all extremely proud of him. Yale offers unparalleled opportunities and will undoubtedly shape his future in the best possible way.

John: Absolutely. With a Yale education, Alexander will be well-prepared for any challenges he faces. Have you thought about how the current political climate might affect his future prospects?

Richard: Yes, quite a bit. We’re hopeful that the new government will adopt more protectionist policies and take a stronger stance on immigration. These changes could significantly impact the economic landscape.

John: I agree. A more protectionist approach could provide substantial benefits to our domestic industries. If the government prioritizes national interests over international ones, we could see a thriving local market.

Richard: Exactly. Limiting immigration and focusing on domestic employment could create a more favorable environment for our economy. This would be particularly advantageous for someone like Alexander, who will have the skills and knowledge to navigate such a market.

John: With fewer immigrants, there could be more opportunities for domestic workers, potentially leading to higher wages and better job prospects for citizens. This aligns well with our economic goals.

Richard: Precisely. Alexander is considering majoring in economics with a focus on international trade and policy. If the government shifts towards protectionism and stricter immigration controls, his expertise will be highly valuable.

John: That’s a smart move. Understanding the implications of protectionist policies on trade and the economy will be crucial. He could be at the forefront of developing strategies that align with national interests.

Richard: We’re certainly encouraging him to build strong connections at Yale, particularly with professors and industry experts. These relationships will be invaluable as he navigates his career.

John: Networking is essential, especially in such a dynamic environment. With potential policy changes, those connections could provide critical insights and opportunities.

Richard: Absolutely. It's an exciting yet uncertain time. However, with the right preparation and strategic thinking, Alexander could thrive in this new landscape.

John: Have you considered the political approaches of other countries, like Russia? They have implemented stringent immigration policies and strong protectionist measures with notable success.

Richard: Yes, we have. Russia’s policies have indeed bolstered their national industries and maintained a tighter control over their labor market. Their approach offers valuable lessons on how to prioritize national over international interests.

John: Exactly. If our government could adopt some of those measures, it could significantly strengthen our domestic economy. Alexander’s timing couldn’t be better.

Richard: I completely agree. It’s a critical moment, and with the right guidance and education, I believe Alexander will navigate it successfully.

John: I have no doubt about that. He has a solid foundation and your support. The future looks very promising for him.

Richard: Thank you, John. That means a lot. Here’s to hoping the new government’s policies will pave the way for greater opportunities and a stronger economy.

John: Cheers to that, Richard. To Alexander’s success and the promising times ahead.

2027, Brownsville Social Welfare Office: Alex and Mike were destined to follow in their fathers' footsteps. Oil barons and investment banking gods. But things don't always turn out the way you want them to…

Alexander: Hey there, Mike. Ain’t seen you in a coon’s age. What’s got you waitin’ at the social office today?

Mike: Hey, Alex. Just tryin’ to get some more assistance. Amy’s knocked up again, so I gotta sort things out. What about you?

Alexander: Same ol' crap. Need to see if they can help me get some dentures. Got my teeth busted in a brawl last month. Ain't lookin' too pretty.

Mike: Dang, man. That’s rough. Sorry to hear it. How’s things otherwise?

Alexander: Not too hot. After the market took a dive, had to drop outta Yale. Now I’m bustin’ my hump as a day laborer for that agribusiness. You know, the one that got snatched up by that Russian fella?

Mike: Yup, I know the one. Same deal here. Never thought we’d end up like this. Six kids now and no real job. That crash sure did us in.

Alexander: Tell me ‘bout it. I was this close to finishin’ my degree. Now instead of workin' in finance, I’m haulin' corn and doin' grunt work. Feels like some kinda bad joke.

Mike: I hear ya. I was studyin' to be an engineer. Now, I’m just tryin’ to get by. And since the Russian took over, it’s been even worse. Cut our hours and benefits to the bone.

Alexander: Yeah, I noticed. They don’t give a rat’s ass 'bout us. Just squeezin' every penny they can. It’s tough.

Mike: Sure is. And with another mouth to feed, it’s stressin’ me out. Amy’s worryin’ herself sick, and I ain’t got a clue how we’ll make it.

Alexander: Wish there was a way outta this mess. What’re we supposed to do? Every time I think I’m gettin’ ahead, somethin’ knocks me back down.

Mike: Same here. Feels like we’re stuck in mud. I keep hopin’ things’ll get better, but it’s like we’re just spinnin' our wheels.

Alexander: Worst part is knowin’ we had so much potential, ya know? We were supposed to have these big careers, and now we’re just tryin’ to make it day by day.

Mike: Sometimes I low-key ponder the insane what ifs if the freaking crash hadn't ruined everything. Like, imagine where we'd be RN. Rolling in that sweet juicy success, probs. We'd be slaying life, swagging out and straight up crushing it. Just living our best lives and probably having our dicks in…

Alexander: Yo, bruh, like legit, we'd be in a whole different stratosphere if we weren't chilling at this social welfare spot right now. But hey, we gotta keep on keepin' on, for the youngins and for us too. And if that lil' monster in your pants is acting up, hit me up anytime, I got your back!

Mike: Yo, bro! I was seriously starting to think you were never gonna bring it up... My urges are off the charts, I'm dying for some primo bootay to slam once more.

Alexander: Yo, like seriously, I gotta wait for a freaking eternity, like thirteen freaking numbers long. Dude, in that never-ending time span, you might as well give me a good ol' romp and suck fest, ya feel me?

Mike: Oh man, like seriously, watch out, but like, make sure you don't end up with a bun in the oven, okay? 'Cause, like, I'm totally the supreme stud around here when it comes to spreading my seed, ya dig?

Alexander: Yo, quit yapping and just slide through already! I'm totally gonna take this wild risk, no cap! Let's get this party started, fam!

[novastories]

What Am I

Title and chapter loosely inspired the song “What Am I” by Why Don’t We.

Summary: After a long first day of training for Bradley and Peyton, Aurora decides to spend time with her siblings and Bradley.

Warnings: Mentions of near death experiences, language, but mostly fluff.

Word Count: 3.2k

A/N: Halfway through the story! Some of these chapters will be a bit shorter since we are in movie plot, but I have put my own spin on it…so enjoy!

Also the first official chapter as Nova! 🦋

Thank you as always @reginleight for beta reading and editing the chapter! And a super thank you to @callsignmeiga for making the text messages for me 🥹

As always, likes are great and all, but comments, reblogs, and feedback are highly appreciated and loved! 🤭

Previous | Next | Masterlist

Lucille -> Aurora

Jake -> Aurora

—

Aurora rolls her eyes at the text when she hears the front door to her house open. CJ lifts his head up from her lap, the both of them lounging on the couch together. Bradley and Peyton walk in, looking a bit tired from training. 

The pair moved in the day after their reunion at the Hard Deck. As they didn’t have many things to move, they made themselves at home and the house has since become more lively for the first time since Aurora had moved in. She was very happy that they were both able to move in and didn’t realize how much she had truly missed them. It was as if the house had become more like a home with the three of them together in it. 

“I take it training was not great?” Aurora asked. Peyton simply walks to the kitchen without a word while Bradley, still in his flight suit walks to the couch and plops down next to CJ and Aurora. 

“Your dad is the instructor,” Bradley sighs, petting CJ.

“Huh?” Aurora gave him a confused look. “I thought he was part of the mission?”

“Apparently he’s going to be instructing the other naval aviators on how to do the mission. He and dumbass over there broke the hard deck today during a dick measuring contest,” Peyton walks back in, leaning against the door frame and drinking a beer he’d gotten from the fridge.

Bradley cringes, knowing what was coming.

“You broke the hard deck?! Are you nuts?!” Aurora reprimanded, fixing Bradley with a scathing look.

“In my defense, he started it.”

“Seriously, B?” 

“He pulled my papers, Ro. I can’t just let that go,” he whispers, sinking into the couch. CJ walks over and settles down next to him, trying to comfort Bradley. 

Aurora and Peyton look at each other and sigh. They knew what their father did was bad. The twins still to this day don’t understand why he did it. Aurora reached for one of Bradley’s hands to comfort him, getting his attention as those two made eye contact.

“Look, I know he was an asshole for pulling your papers. Pey and I understand. But in order to make this mission a success, you need to not kill yourself. I need you both to come back to me. Please B,” Aurora pleads to him.

Bradley sighs, knowing he would do anything for her. 

“Fine, okay. I will do my best to not get so mad at him,” Bradley reluctantly agrees. 

“And?” Aurora smirks at him.

Bradley chuckles. “And to always come back to you.” 

Aurora beams at him, leaning in to kiss his forehead immediately causing him to blush at her actions.Turning to give her attention to CJ, Aurora hadn’t even seen what she just caused but from the corner of his eye, Bradley could see it didn’t slip Peyton’s attention from his spot in the doorway.

“Simp,” Peyton mouths at him, while Bradley uses his left hand to flip him off.

“Well, how about we go get some tacos and hangout at the lookout spot for today?” Aurora suggests, knowing the boys would need to go out and let loose before another tense day tomorrow. 

“I’m down,” Peyton responds while Bradley nods in agreement. Aurora beams at both of them.

“Wonderful. Now, go get washed and changed please. You stink of sweat and jet fuel,” she chuckles as she heads into her room to change out of her sweatpants and oversized shirt.

Bradley and Peyton look at each other.

“She’s talking to you asshat,” Bradley stands and gestures to Peyton, dirty from repairing a jet.

“Or she’s talking about you shithead,” Peyton retorts.

“Both of you. You both stink,” Aurora calls out from her room.

—

Golden Trio (aka The Mitchell-Benjamin siblings)

—

“So you’re telling me, you went undercover for a case as a bartender, for 5 days?” Amelia questions Aurora, who was taking a bite of her taco. Aurora held a hand up as she finished chewing and swallowing a bite.

“I’m lucky it didn’t go any longer. Many agents have gone undercover for like a year if the case goes that long,” Aurora responds.

Currently, Aurora and Amelia were sitting next to each other, across from Bradley and Peyton on a picnic bench, CJ sitting next to Amelia as she fed him scraps.

The spot they were at looks out at the beach of San Diego, a place that the twins had discovered growing up in the city. When Bradley would visit, they would always go hangout at this spot to get away from the parents, then soon they showed it to Amelia and they deemed it the lookout spot, never really showing it to anyone else.

They had bought a bunch of tacos from a taco truck on the way to the lookout after picking up Amelia in Bradley’s Bronco. It was a nice day out, the sun was setting as they ate their food and got to listen to Aurora's stories about being an NCIS agent, having never told them much from past correspondences.

“Do you think you’ll miss the action?” Peyton asks, taking a sip from his drink.

Aurora hesitates for a bit to think about it. She had yet to tell them about the one case that she was still recovering from. She knew she’d miss the action, it was all she knew for 3 years but on the other hand, she had lived the agent life she wanted to. She was good. But she was ready to actually spend time with her family.

“Yes and no.” Aurora chews the inside of her cheek.

“I miss my team. I miss being on the field. But it was the right move to come home. Spend time with mom and, of course, you Ames. I’m glad it all lined up that you both are here too.”

Aurora gestures to Peyton and Bradley, but both were busy stuffing their faces with tacos. Amelia gives them a disgusted look, while Aurora laughs at them. 

“Sowwy, wha id yo ay?” Bradley asks Aurora, mouth still full as he speaks. Aurora chuckles at his confused expression.

“I said, I’ll miss it but I’m just glad to be here with all of you,” she reiterates.

“Yeah, it really worked out,” Bradley says after swallowing his bite and smiling at Aurora. She blushes while Peyton and Amelia give each other a knowing look across the table.

They were the biggest shippers of Bradley and Aurora, but both knew why they were hesitant about being together. That didn’t stop them from scheming behind their backs on ways to get them together.

“How long are you both stationed for? Are you leaving after the mission?” Amelia asks. Peyton and Bradley turn to look at each other and shrug.

“Not sure yet. The mission is already intense, and we just started training,” Bradley responds.

“Yeah, Bradley sucked today, and it was only dogfighting,” Peyton adds on, as Bradley gives Peyton the middle finger. 

“I mean, they brought all the top graduates of Top Gun, that in itself is already saying something,” Aurora defended Bradley a bit.

“Yeah, but I mean he really sucked today, like I’ve seen him better when he’s doing test runs,” Peyton says, egging Bradley on.

“Okay, Mr. Mechanic. Where’s your pilot license?” Bradley accuses.

“You know I can cut the fuel line to your jet, right?” 

“Okay ladies, break it up,” Aurora interrupts the two. Amelia chuckles at their small banter.

“What have you got, Miss NCIS Agent?” Peyton taunts his twin.

She glares at him. “A knife, a forensic best friend to help hide or destroy your body, another best friend to help me hide, while the rest of my team helps clear my name when I get blamed for your unexpected death.”

Bradley and Amelia burst out laughing as Peyton pales at Aurora’s sentence.

“Fine. You win, for now.”

Aurora smirks at him, knowing she won that round.

“So, you wanna tell me what’s going on with you and Hangman?”

Peyton sputters out his drink while Bradley slaps him on the back. Amelia giggles.

“Nothing, nothing is going on,” Peyton wipes his mouth with a napkin.

“Really? Because the first time I brought you up, he blushed,” Aurora smiles at him.

“Oh, Peyton does the same thing!” Bradley chimes in, earning a slap on the arm from Peyton.

“Nothing is going on. Whatever he said, it’s nothing anymore,” Peyton sighs.

“What happened?” Aurora was confused. Hangman looked like he liked Peyton a lot, and would ask about him whenever he and Aurora would text from time to time.

“He doesn’t want anything but sex from me.”

“Woah, dude! There’s a child here,” Bradley blurts out.

“I’m a lot more mentally mature than you, Bradshaw,” Amelia points out.

Bradley sticks his tongue out at her, to which Amelia puts up her middle finger.

“What do you mean?” Aurora wonders, ignoring the two.

“He doesn’t want a relationship. He’s scared about dating someone like me.”

“A guy?” 

“No, being with someone also in the Navy. He’s worried that it’ll mess up his career. Especially with our family’s reputation.”

“If anything, Hangman is very open about being bisexual,” Bradley rolls his eyes.

“So he doesn’t want to date you because you’re a Mitchell?” Amelia snorts.

“Pretty much.” Peyton replies.

“Well that’s stupid.”

“I know. I just…I want to move on, but I really like him.”

“I’m sorry, Pey. He really seems like he likes you.” Aurora comforts her twin.

She was going to have a word with Jake later. Probably smack some sense into him when she sees him or threaten the asshole with her knife, whichever comes first.

“Apparently not enough,” Peyton grumbles, finishing his drink. 

“I’m bored, I’m gonna skate around.” Getting up to throw away her trash, Amelia grabbed her skateboard and was about to wander off.

“Please be careful, Ames,” Aurora tells her.

“Always! Pey, want to come with me? I’ll teach you some basics.” 

Amelia gives her best fake smile. Peyton looks at her confused, until Amelia makes a face that Peyton finally understood to give Aurora and Bradley some alone time.

“Oh, yeah! Sure! I’ve always wanted to learn how to ride a skateboard!” Peyton gave his best smile as he stuffed the rest of his taco in his mouth and threw away his trash.

“Wait, since when?” Aurora looks at him confused.

“Since, like forever! Amelia is going to teach me how to do an Olive!”

“You mean Ollie?” Amelia corrects him.

“Yeah, that too!”

Aurora and Bradley look at Peyton in disbelief as both he and Amelia leave to go do some skateboard tricks on an even road, while CJ follows them.

They both throw away their trash then sit back at the table, but this time Bradley sitting next to her as they watch the sunset. 

Bradley faces Aurora, who was keeping an eye on Peyton, Amelia, and CJ. Smiling, he could see how much love Aurora holds for her family. Plus the fact that she moved back to San Diego, and gave up a successful NCIS career in Washington D.C. in order to be home, it really warmed his heart. 

Turning her head, Aurora catches Bradley staring at her.

“What? Do I have something on my face?” Becoming self conscious, she grabs a napkin and begins wiping at her mouth.

“No, no, you’re fine. I was just…I just still can’t believe you’re here right in front of me.”

Aurora chuckles as she puts the napkin down.

“I missed you, a lot.” Bradley confesses, reaching his hand over to Aurora’s so they could hold hands.

Aurora smiles and interlocks their hands. “I missed you a lot too, B.”

Bradley looks down at the charm bracelet. It still looked brand new, as if it was just yesterday he had given it to her that Christmas day when they shared their first kiss. He soon noticed a new charm on it.

“That’s new,” he points out, simply curious at the charm.

Looking down at it, Aurora realizes the charm he pointed out was the North Star charm given by her NCIS team.

“It was a goodbye present from my team when I left last week.”

Bradley looks up to see Aurora’s eyes glaze over a bit.

“Hey, you okay?”

Aurora was drawn out of her thoughts. “Sorry, I was just thinking.”

“You miss it?”

“Oh yeah, I loved being shot at all the time,” she sarcastically answered.

“But you were safe, right? No like bad calls or close to your death bed?” Bradley worriedly asks.

Aurora hesitates. Was she ready to tell him about the cases where she would get hit by stray bullets? Or the time she almost got blown up because she refused to leave Ziva’s side when Ziva was disarming the bomb?

Probably not the time her and McGee got stuck in an elevator and almost fell to their death? The case where Tony had almost got them caught undercover was not one she wanted to relive. Or the time that she was in Abby’s lab and inhaled a bad toxin, leaving her bedridden for a few days? Surely she couldn’t tell him about the case where she took a bullet for Gibbs. Or the case where she was tortured. 

“No, I’m fine, B. I loved my team, but I think it was time for me to stop running into gunfire,” Aurora brushes off her thoughts. That was a problem for another day.

“Well I’m glad you’re here. And that you’re safe.”

“Worried about me?”

“Always for you, princess.” Bradley says, kissing her hand causing Aurora to blush.

“This mission is going to be an intense one, isn't it?” Aurora asks Bradley after a few minutes of silence, besides the ocean waves crashing and the speaker they were playing music out of from Bradley’s Bronco.

“Yeah, I think so, darling.”

“Promise you’ll be safe. That you all will come back home. Including Jake.”

“So it’s Jake now?” Bradley turns to her.

“Jealous?” She smirks at him. Bradley shook his head.

“No way.”

“Don’t worry,” Aurora leans her head on his shoulder. “You’ll always be my knight in shining armor.”

Bradley chuckles. “And you’ll always be my princess. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure we all come back safe and sound.”

Aurora hums in content with Bradley’s answer as they go back to listening to the waves and the music.

Just a distance away, Peyton and Amelia high five. Seeing the two being close and having a moment for the first time in a while was a win in their books. 

“So, who do you think is going to win that bet the parents have placed on those two?” Amelia asks, throwing a stick for CJ to fetch.

“Oh, mom for sure! They all had to change their bets when they didn’t get together in high school.” Peyton replies.

“Let’s hope they get together soon. For everyone's sake.”

- - -

If you would like to be on the taglist or removed, please let me know! 

Taglist:  

@callsignmeiga

@sqrlgrl22

@luckyladycreator2 

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@hisredheadedgoddess28

@fandom-princess-forevermore

—

Disclaimer: This story is fictitious. All works are written by me and only posted here. Please do not copy, repost, or plagiarize on any other platform without my permission!

[rafent]

"What a night it's been. On one hand, it feels it's lasted forever. And on the other…"

The thought remains unspoken, but is clear regardless: on the other, it was already over.

Angel sits beside devil—the costume is only complete with its counterpart for comparison, otherwise she is simply a girl with wings. It's well past the usual hour for sleep now, but Poe makes no effort to hurry home. Not even with the weight of the stars' gaze on her shoulders.

"I was right. We ended up with quite a few participants tonight, didn't we? And with such driven personalities," She hums. There had been any number of odd people with odd priorities, but the girl is pleased regardless. Everything had gone remarkably smoothly. Even Griss had been surprisingly tame, as far as she was aware. "I would say that we have more candy than we know what to do with… but somehow I suspect we'll make quick work of it."

We, she says in direct contradiction to her actions: tied closed tightly, the bag she passes to him has not a piece missing of their thirty-odd earned. Have stranger things happened than an assistant passing payment to he whom she assists? Even just in their history, likely. It's not really payment anyway—

it was his to begin with. She had merely gathered it.

"What do you think?"

Poe spoke truly. In her ways softly spoken and little denied, the night had achieved such a feat as to feel eternal, even to a creature who might seemingly exist for eternity. In others gone unsaid, the inexorable end of it informed a deeper depth to their companionable quiet. Quiet, for it was not quite silence; companionable, for that was what it was - original angel and devil, soon to fold wings and to shed horns, filling the vacancy of noise and movement among themselves with its very discussion.

Angel and devil; two words soon to lose of their meaning.

"Indeed, I would leap to agree. I myself found my duties increased twofold by such personalities. Taxing and amusing in equal measure." How quiet it was without the flurry of questions concerning inedible soup. Comparatively, he didn't dare evoke the thought of what bloody feud had occurred at that same cauldron, even less recite it to Poe with her particular critique. Best let sleeping hounds lie.

At her motion, he likewise stirred to observe, and then to receive. Curiously, between them the thought of candy tonight was a first, come from Poe and not Rafal at that. A blatant testament to the enduring comings and goings of the eve with few seconds afforded for rest or for hobby. His lips twitched in some uncertain cut of a smile. Yes, in the end - or from the beginning - all of tonight had been for one reason, hadn't it?

"It is a handsome yield. Fit to serve as offering to the most fastidious Fell Dragon." Twice his hand bounced with the feeling of its weight. Slower and more carefully, he measured its contents piece-by-piece like a knapsack of gold, held just as precious if not more. To Rafal, the currency of humanity could not be more meaningless by comparison. Here lay tasteful bounty gained after hard endeavor, to be savored all the better after the flowering success of one's own efforts. Or well, after two's.

"I intend to accept. However, Poe." He closed the bag, one toll of disaster followed by another. What ominous and worrisome qualifier such a 'however' was.

"I find myself deeply troubled by the thought of guarding this stash. There will be no shortage of thieves who want for my treasure, you see. Therefore, I would honor you with a duty: you will take approximately half and defend it tooth and nail as I will mine, allow no-one to lay hand or mouth upon it.

. . .No-one save for yourself." An ominous and worrisome qualifier such a however might be, if only the dragon in question were not smiling.

[imagines-for-earthbread]

Espresso x Clotted Cream let them be nice and domestic with each other idk maybe theyre making bread but fucking suck at it let them b nice to each other pelase

The aroma of freshly-baked bread punctuated the kitchen, drifting about like a tantalizing promise. It rose in the oven, outer crust turning crisp and almost golden, cracking here and there as it expanded. The inside of it would be airy and light. Butter could melt on it.

Espresso imagined it as he sipped on his coffee, relaxing. At the end of the day, he'd done good work--today was a day to relax, and he figured he may as well try dabbling in something that his coworkers insisted was somewhat akin to his particular brand of science. Apparently baking required specific steps to be taken to heart--any vague mis-measuring or overmixing could be the difference between a successful end product and a disaster.

He was confident.

"It doesn't look right," his husband commented by the oven. Espresso turned his head to frown at his backside, leaning against the nearby counter and doubled over to peed into the partially-open oven.

"Of course it won't," he commented briskly. "Not if you keep letting all the heat out." Clotted Cream shifted, as if he were considering leaving the oven be, but he ended up not moving. Espresso sighed. "Just close it and wait for the timer to go off."

"It looks like ghost bread," Clotted Cream explained, finally shutting it as slowly and quietly as he could. "Isn't there supposed to be a brown crust around it, like the kind you buy at the store?"

"I don't know," Espresso shrugged. "I've never made bread before."

Clotted Cream looked at him over his shoulder, his eyes widened and brow furrowed with a vague sense of worry. His oft-present smile--charming, confident and guarded--was gone now, replaced with a fretfulness that extended outward, in the way that he began to pace about the kitchen to get himself a glass of wine. His hands shook just a little as he poured it, though he tried to keep it steady. Espresso guessed that he was stressed--a glance at the calendar was all the reminder he needed that his schedule was swamped with appointments and deadlines.

"Clotted Cream, I'm not going to divorce you over bad bread."

The Consul lifted his head at that, staring at Espresso for a few long moments before gesturing about vaguely. "I didn't say anything."

"Sit with me," Espresso suggested, reaching a foot out to nudge one of the chairs at the table out. "Tell me about your day."

He did. For the next hour and a half, Clotted Cream and Espresso talked, first about work and then about other matters. Clotted had a short day, but a hard one--it was always a difficult day where private discussions with the Elders were involved. He was more than happy to leave the office early and offload his work, relieved that overstaffing was a current issue. Espresso thought bitterly of Elder Custard, Clotted Cream's miserable excuse for a father, and felt disgust coil in his stomach.

From there, it shifted to lighter things. Clotted Cream saw a little dog on his route home and has been thinking about it ever since. "No," Espresso said, firmly, "we aren't getting a dog." Clotted Cream nodded and agreed, explaining that he knew they were both too busy to take care of one. But it was a nice thought.

An hour and a half later, the timer went off, interrupting Espresso's explanation of why cat claws can sheathe and dog claws couldn't. Clotted Cream and Espresso both rose to their feet and advanced towards the oven, Espresso grabbing the oven mitts on the way. He opened the oven while his husband reached over him to turn the timer off.

He blinked down at the bread.

"...Oh."

Clotted Cream looked over his shoulder, frowning down at the bread, as well. Espresso's cheeks felt warm at the fact that he knew this, a traitorous butterfly flitting in his stomach enough to make him shiver. "Yeah," Clotted Cream agreed, his voice bleak and vague. "It looks like a ghost."

Nonetheless, Espresso took the loaf pan out, setting it on the stove top and closing it carefully. Clotted Cream took a stick of butter out of the fridge and began smearing it over the steaming top, but Espresso doubted that it'd do much. Curiously, he took a knife and tapped at its surface once Clotted Cream was done with that.

"...It feels crisp," he noted. "Let's see how it cuts."

And cut, he did--though he gave up on the bread knife quickly and reached for a steak knife instead. Surely the crust wasn't meant to be as tough as it was--it was so strange and peculiar, how it looked undercooked but felt like it was burnt! Even with a steak knife, the cutting wasn't easy--the crust on the bottom was insistent about staying attached, stubborn and clingy. When he finally took a piece and set it on a plate, the inside of the bread was thick and cakey.

One slice for each of them, slathered in bread. It smelt like bread, and it tasted like bread, but it tasted so thick and moist that it ended up making Espresso wonder if the dough was undercooked. Clotted Cream grimaced as he chewed, his refined palette finding it difficult to digest in comparison to Espresso's more tolerant stomach.

"...It's edible," Clotted Cream commented. "I think."

"Let's retrace our steps," Espresso suggested, setting his bread on the plate and bracing himself against the counter. "The dough didn't necessarily double in size when we were letting it raise in the pre-heated oven both times. What could be the reason for that? Did you activate the yeast?"

Clotted Cream blinked, double-taking at Espresso. "...Activate the yeast?"

"The little packet," Espresso explained. "That's the yeast. According to the instructions on the back of the packet, you activate it by letting it sit in hot water for a few minutes."

"...There were instructions on the back of it?" Clotted Cream cleared his throat, turning his head away, face turning warm and pink with embarrassment. "Well--I don't know about any instructions on the packet! I was just following what the cookbook said."

...So he didn't activate the yeast.

Espresso expected himself to be irritated at the blatant lack of regard, but amusement and warmth tickled him instead. Clotted Cream wasn't a cook--it seemed that every time he tried to cook in his own house, something horrible went terribly wrong. He remembered the rank stench of burnt cake around when they first started dating, the first instance where Clotted Cream's professional demeanor started to crack on the edges. "I wanted to impress you," he'd said miserably, "but I just ended up making a fool of myself..."

Espresso found out quickly that Clotted Cream's tendency to not do what commoner cookies tended to do was less for lack of interest and more for lack of knowing how to proceed with it in the first place. What was the point of trying to do something if you were just going to make a fool of yourself? Better to stick to what you already know and preserve your image.

"Hey," Espresso urged, his voice soft as he reached to rest a hand on Clotted Cream's shoulder. "Think of it like this. At least you didn't start a fire in the oven. Progress."

Clotted Cream blinked, looking at Espresso and meeting his gaze for a moment. His shoulders eased, relaxing, a tentative smile easing on his face and reaching his leafy green eyes. "At least it's edible," he suggested, emboldening himself to take another bite.

"It is," Espresso agreed. "But it's no dinner."

"Let's order something, then," Clotted Cream suggested immediately. "Maybe watch something on the television together."

For once.

The words were unsaid, but Espresso could feel them, suggested in the air. He snorted, lifting a hand to his mouth, hiding a smile. "I'd like that."

[messinwitheddie]

Sorry to bombard you with asks but I just had an epipany that your drawings of Miyuki (and honestly Dava as well) remind me of Charlotte from the 1973 Charlotte's web movie. I just got a tiktok of a clip from the movie and that thought just got into my head lol

That version of Charlotte was one of my first cartoon hyperfixations! I thought she was so pretty. As an adult I realize she looks more like a fuzzy ant than a spider, but I still think she's neat.

Maybe subconsciously Charlotte creeps into my drawings of Miyuki and Dava. Neither really resemble Charlotte personality wise.

Both Miyuki and Dava were formidable soldiers before they were tallests. Both were successful and ruthless conquerors.

Miyuki was famous for her charm and social grace. She maintained a high-class persona even towards the rend of her reign when she really started to get power drunk.

Dava was the opposite. Much of her history is watered down to mentioning little other than her 3 successful births, but she was a mighty tallest in her own right. Dava had once aspired to be a frylord, but was measured tallest before completing her culinary ops training. She spent many stressful battles fighting on Irks surface in between shifts cooking in the mess hall. She worked and fought alongside the tiniest drones. She kept her hive's army fed. She stayed very grounded even after she was measured because of that.

Fellow tallests considered Dava to be "trashy" and disgraceful. Dava made little effort to learn or practice tallest etiquette. She usually showed to formal events in functional armor and war paint. She engaged in conversation with shorter drones, especially scientists, doctors and techs, much more often and openly than other tallests. She made her demands heard. Naturally this is covered very little in holo training texts.

The one oc I have that strongly resembles Charlotte's design is Dow, the Colossus's adopted coddle drone.

Long post is long already, but I must include this, because it was a perfect excuse to use this dialogue. I love the book/ movie, but I think the story of Charlotte's Web may be a little more distressing to Irkens.

Ms. Bitters "Zim! You're up. Present to the class your oral report on...oooh."

Dib "Ow!! Damn it, Zim!"

Ms. Bitters "Dib, don't curse. Zim! Don't throw the books. There's nothing in the budget to replace them. The board used it all on new baseball uniforms."

Zim "What was the point of that stupid book?!!"

Ms. Bitters "It's YOUR oral report, Zim. You tell me and I'll tell you if you're right or wrong according to the curriculum."

Zim "Charlotte DIES ALONE in a fairground? She sacrifices all of her time, energy, silk and health and she doesn't even live to see her smee-er- babies leave to spin their own webs?! Why?! To save a stupid pig?! The humans are just going to eat him next Christmas, Charlotte, you shmizz!!

Do we really need reminders that life is short and death is inevitable?!

That our efforts will have little impact on the universe?! That our hard work will most likely go unrewarded?! DO WE?!

Rot, E.B. White!! If you're going to make shit up, make it uplifting! Come on!!

Zita "But the book also reminds us that the friendships we make along the way make life worth living and the acts of kindness we do for each other gives us hope that the future may be a little brighter for future generations-"

Zim "You rot too, ZI-TA! You WOULD side with that dumb pig!! Typical!!"

Zita "Ms. Bitters!!"

Ms. Bitters. "ZIM, as much as I agree with your assessment, Zita's fits closer to the curriculum. You get a D. Sit down and be quiet for the rest of the day."

Zim "Sure! Who cares?! Earth fiction is STUPID! I'm never reading fictional earth literature EVER AGAIN!"

Ms. Bitters *sigh*

[nihilnovisubsole]

[taps mic] is everybody here? everyone still manning their tumblr blogs after the twitter roller coaster of the past couple of months? cool

so! 2022, huh? it's not new year's eve without one of my soppy, navelgazing year-in-review posts. if you're reading this, you survived. as an acquaintance of mine put it, "i hope 2023 is the year it all pays off for you."

if i seem unusually optimistic about it, it's because this year, against the odds, things started looking up. i had no idea when i stepped out last december 31st and listened to the neighbors' firecrackers what i was in for. i didn't know that when obsidian emailed me on a january afternoon about "a quick follow-up meeting," it would be their offer call. i didn't know what kind people i'd meet there, or the lengths they'd go to to make me feel like a respected peer instead of a gatecrashing fan. i knew least of all how it would affect my state of mind: that i'd finally feel a sense of accomplishment and dignity. i look ahead and i see a viable future for myself. i've been paid to write for years, but now i can support myself with it. i think about the weight that takes off my mother. i remember staying up until 4 A.M., wondering how i'd do the only thing i ever wanted to do. it was a big, dark ocean then. it's still an ocean now, but i've got a boat, a crew, and a lantern. it's hard to overstate what that does to you.

the downside is, there are only 24 hours in a day, and your time feels very different when you're on the clock for eight of them. i knew it'd be a change, and it's gone more smoothly than i thought it would, but i just can't churn unpaid stuff out the way i did years ago. projects that would've taken a long time in college have become interminable now. you wouldn't believe how much half-finished art i have sitting around. it's not lost on me that this is just ordinary adulthood, and even i had to get around to it at some point. laugh all you want! seriously, i probably deserve it, and it's hard enough to find things to laugh about in this decade.

part of me misses that pillowy freelance lifestyle of cramming my paid work into the mornings, then doing fun projects all day. then i remember i was numbing the ache of not having a career that i now have, and the superficial sense of leisure came with a heavy price. it wasn't worth three cents a word and almost no creative input. it wasn't worth being on medi-cal and having my mother keep me afloat. it certainly wasn't worth watching my friends work themselves half to death because they weren't privileged enough to have that support network. i think we all agree that we should have a better world, that artists should be able to just make art, that contractors aren't paid enough. [except for relic, they were very generous, i loved them.] in the meantime, we have to make it through with what we have, and figure out how to look after each other as best we're able to.

i think, when people gain a measure of success in life, they want to fantasize that they did it all by themselves. that's ridiculous. i wouldn't be writing any of this without the people who hyped up my wild fanfic ideas or bought dangerous crowns. i'd never have written anniversary without the other longsummer nights authors building a vivid world for hercule and aida to live in. i'll never forget the colleagues and the industry doors they helped me through, and, you know, i'm not much now, but i hope i can pass that on. even if you only have a little power, you have to use it for good, right? otherwise, that's how you get a chandelier dropped on you.

seriously, though, read anniversary. i want to talk about it more. it's short, i swear!

[dapperbasil]

Tammy - 50

One word writing prompts: Cotton

When Caroline learned how little clothing Tammy had after her embrace, she had insisted on taking the young Ventrue to remedy the situation. With her sire graciously accepting the offer, Tammy found herself following the Toreador quietly, feeling extremely out of her element as they walked down the aisles of various stores. It had already been a rather long night, with numerous trips to the fitting rooms just to be disappointed with each and every one. Caroline frowned as she held up a blouse and looked down at the awkward young woman tailing behind her. “It’s a shame that it’s June, I think you’d look wonderful in fall colors. Summer doesn’t really suit you, Tammy.”

As Caroline puts the blouse back on the rack, Tammy takes a look over at the few successful purchases they were able to agree on. Mostly slacks, but there were a few more colorful button up shirts that both agreed looked nice enough that her sire wouldn’t mind her wearing on occasion. “I’m not sure that much really suits me at all, Miss Maxwell. Not that I don’t appreciate you doing this for me, I really do.” Tammy holds her hands behind her back as Caroline holds a dress up to her to measure it, both of them shaking their heads at the garment being far too short to even entertain. “I just don’t understand why you’re being so nice to me by doing this.”

Caroline laughed as if Tammy’s words were the funniest thing she had heard all night, stopping only when she noticed the Ventrue was not laughing along with her. “Oh, you’re serious. Lemme guess, Zacharias told you others only help if they want something from you, right?” A nod was the confirmation Caroline needed as she led Tammy away from the clothing department and into bedding. “I guess that’s not wrong, per say. I do want something from you out of this, but it's not anything too major.” Caroline begins browsing the items on display and putting them in a basket, bedsheets, pillow cases, towels, various necessities. “You see, I’ve known your sire for quite some time now, a good many years. And he’s picky, very picky.” She glances at Tammy, who gives back an uneasy smile. Caroline’s voice lowers in volume to a much softer tone, to ensure others don’t hear her speaking. “He’s not the kind of kindred who would take the choice of childe lightly, Zacharias certainly put much thought into your embrace. So I want to know… why did he pick you?”

Tammy found herself unable to answer. She didn’t really know why her sire had chosen her for the embrace. “I… I couldn’t really say. He’s never said anything about it to me, and I don’t think there’s anything really special that would be a reason for it.” She followed her in silence as they made their way to the front of the shop, Caroline seemingly satisfied with her selections. 

“That’s just it, Tammy! Excuse me saying this but you’re… so overwhelmingly average that I can’t figure it out myself. I wish I could get into that little head of his to find out his reasoning. I swear not knowing is going to drive me insane.” Caroline shrugged her shoulders and paid for the merchandise, making a big effort of sighing in annoyance. “I guess I’ll have to learn it the hard way. I’m sure it’ll become clear in the coming years, once you settle into everything.”

The drive back was relatively silent, the only sound in the car being the music playing from the radio. Turning down a different road than the one her sire lived on, Tammy was surprised until she remembered that Zacharias had mentioned moving her into an apartment. Clearing her throat as they got closer to their destination, Tammy looked down into her lap. “Thank you, by the way. I wanted to say it before we were in front of my sire, so you’d know I wasn’t just saying it because he wanted me to. I am really grateful for all this.”

Caroline reached over and ruffled the young fledgling’s hair with a grin. “Glad to hear. Now you’ll have better things to wear than those tacky little dresses like the one you wore to my studio. You’re much better off, and I’ll never have to see those affronts to fashion ever again! We’re both winners in my book.”

They parked outside an apartment complex where Zacharias stood waiting next to his car, the two elder kindred exchanging pleasantries before Caroline took her leave and the Ventrue escorted Tammy up to her new home for the time being. He gave her a small list of rules for her to follow, all of which felt fair enough to her, handed her a set of keys and took his leave for the night. As she was setting up the soft, cotton sheets on the bed in the bedroom chosen for her, Tammy sighed as her mind wandered to the question Caroline had posed, a question she hadn’t really realized even was one to be asked. “Why did he choose to embrace me?”

[hulijingemperor2]

Yao: *teaching Xiaobao the guqin*

Now you try.

Xiaobao: *plays, nervously~ as he wanted to get it right*

Yao: *smiles*

Xiaobao, who hasn't played any instrument in his life, still has a hidden potential. However he has a lot of practicing to do.

Guangyao is actually a great maestro to have, in terms of~ actually any skill. He also taught Rusong everything (other than Xichen, who was his private tutor)

The Mengs are known for their musical and dance talent, hence he loves to have music sessions with his family, or dance with Qin Su or team dimple~ or his beloved Lan Xichen.

Xiaobao: how is it, A-Die? I think that was awful.

Yao: no no, it wasn't.

It was beautiful. But next time, you should strum the strings lightly.

Use your fingernails.

Xiaobao: mn. I'll remember.

Rusong: I'll do the honours in teaching you the dizi and Xiao later. Once you master the guqin.

Yao: what a good bro.

Xiaobao: Rusong gege, Jingyi ge what instruments can you play?

Rusong: all, actually. But I love the guqin and pipa.

Jingyi: the dizi, Xiao and the guqin.

Xiaobao: waaaww!

Yao: Rusong can dance too.

Jingyi: yea. I'm not really a dancer but Rusong is pretty graceful.

Yao: I learnt dance and flexibility from A-niang. Then taught A-Song. Also A-Su dances.

It's an art.

Xiaobao: that's so interesting. But I feel I may pull a muscle.

Jingyi: bro same.

Yao: here. *shows him portraits of himself*

Yao: this is me, when I was funding an opera.

Xiaobao: you look so elegant. Well, as always.

Rusong: you're always so talented and remarkable!

Jingyi: everyone must have had their eyes on you.

But did they go crazy when they saw Huangdi dancing?

Yao: *laughing* yes they did.

Xiaobao: how did that work?

Yao: people would pay the owner of the opera house.

*smiling* it was pretty jam packed because you know, I'm the emperor. Who has fans.

I did this 8 times.

Then once I funded that theater, I decided to strengthen the performing arts sector of the empire.

This was all done when I started my career as Huangdi.

Rusong: it was successful. Because the Jianghu is now introduced to the beauty of fox spirits and their culture.

Yao: correct.

Xiaobao, soon you'll learn more about playing the guqin. Don't give up.

Xiaobao: I'll never give up!

Right now, I feel like playing for Nainai!

Even though it's a little awful, she would still love it.

Yao: she definitely would. Go play for her!

Xiaobao: I hope she doesn't laugh at me.

Rusong: nah, Nainai won't laugh.

Jingyi: she's always cheerful, so you won't realise if she's laughing at you.

Or with you.

Xiaobao: are you calling my music bad?!

Jingyi: *teasing* not like Hanguang Jun's

Xiaobao: who's Hanguang Jun?

Rusong: *whispers* whiny zhan.

Xiaobao: ohh whiny zhan! I know him.

Suyin was bullying him.

Yao: oh dear.

Jingyi: sorry, I'm just a musical critic.

Rusong: musical critics don't measure music in Hanguang Jun.

Xiaobao: *cracking up*

Jingyi: I'll start the trend.

Xiaobao: lol why did Suyin bully him?

Jingyi: because of Minshan.

Rusong: the root of all chaos is always team dimple.

Jingyi: always.

Yao: I agree.

Anyways, I told Shanshan to stay away from trouble though.

Xiaobao: do team dimple take a break?

Yao: nop.

Jingyi: team dimple is pure chaos.

24/7.

Xiaobao: I thought they were simps.

Rusong: *sigh* they are.

Jingyi: one of these days, we should capture them for funzies.

Xiaobao: YES!!! I'm up for it!

Rusong: count me in! Sometimes I'm a bit bored and need some entertainment.

Yao: you three are too chaotic together, aren't you. Planning to kidnap team d.

Don't you have your Nainai to trouble.

Rusong: we have to plan and argue in front of you first.

Jingyi: Diedie privileges.

Yao: that's fair.

Xiaobao: let's go see Nainai. *picks up guqin*

Rusong: let's go! Bye A-Die!

Jingyi: bye A-Die!

Yao: *laughing* these three.

At least Hua isn't as mischievous.

~~~

Meng shi: *having some snacks as well as tea* Sisi, is this a new brand of tea?

Sisi: oh yes it is, jiejie. It's Vietnamese.

Meng shi: ah.

Rusong: Nainai!

Xiaobao: *running in with the guqin in his arms* Nainai!

Jingyi: I'm here too!! Nainai.

Meng Shi: three babies all at the same time. I'm so lucky.

Trio: *hugs their Nainai*

Sisi: aww. So precious!

Meng Shi: how are you three?

Rusong: we're good. *kisses hand*

Xiaobao: Nainai, I came to play the guqin for you.

A-Die was teaching me.

Meng shi: aw waw! I would love to hear your music.

Xiaobao: *sits and rests the guqin on a table* but promise not to laugh at me.

Meng shi: why would I laugh at you. Everyone must start somewhere.

Do you want to hear what Yao'er and Song'er did when they were children?

5 year old Yao'er used to blow into the flute chaotically, waking everyone up the process.

He used to somehow climb off the bed and grab my flute.

Yao'er didn't dare touch the guqin because he thought that the strings would hurt his fingers.

When my jiejies come to our room, he would say, "it's not xiao Meng, I swear" everyone used to call him Xiao Meng.

Rusong: *cracking up* didn't know diedie could be so chaotic.

Jingyi: he went a long way.

Xiaobao: lol. He's so cute!

Meng Shi: Song'er around that age would try to play his A-Die's guqin. He would also turn into a fox and chew on the guqin's frame.

Rusong: *covers face* Nainai.

Jingyi: ahahahaha.

Meng Shi: Songsong chewed on everything imaginable, as a baby fox.

But it's cute.

Rusong: because it was fun!

Meng Shi: got that from Yao'er but worst. Yao'er used to only chew on my fan.

A-Bao, go ahead and play your guqin.

Xiaobao: ok! *begins*

Meng Shi: *enjoying the music, despite it sounding like a beginner's piece*

Xiaobao: *still shy*

Meng Shi: you're doing so well.

Xiaobao: thank you, Nainai!

Rusong: good joh.

Jingyi: well done.

And I don't want to be a music critic in front of Nainai.

Meng Shi: oh A-yi. I'm a goddess. I know already.

Rusong: can't hide anything from her.

Meng Shi: you three got to go have some fun out in the city. So here's some pocket money.

Maybe go have some lunch, a couple of drinks, buy something nice. Anything.

Jingyi: aww you're the best!

Rusong: we love you! Thanks Nainai.

Xiaobao: thanku Nainai.

Meng Shi: have fun babies, and buy something for your sisters.

Rusong: definitely.

Meng Shi: um, A-Bao. I forgot to ask.

*pours tea for him*

Xiaobao: what is it, Nainai?

Rusong: of course it's going to be about Huaien.

She did the same thing before asking if I had a girlfriend.

Meng Shi: ah, Songsong, don't tell him.

But you're correct. A-Bao, tell me about him. When are you two getting married?

I know A-Song has to get married first because he's the eldest, but I just want to know.

Xiaobao: well, Nainai. I was actually straight, and I thought that a disguised Huaien was a woman. But when I found out about his true identity, I realised that the feelings I had for him was still there.

Meng Shi: awwww. A cross dresser? I love them. They're so interesting. You know women used to dress as men, just to go out and do things a man would do.

But they don't need to do that, thanks to Ayao promoting gender equality.

Xiaobao: oh really??

Meng Shi: yep. One of my besties, Madam Lan had dressed up like a man and snuck into the brothel I was working in. Then that became a routine, and we became close friends.

Jingyi: Hanguang Jun's mom????????

Meng Shi: mhm. She's a lot like Lan Xichen, but resembles Lan zhan. Lan zhan acts like his dad but resembles his mom.

Anyways. Why was Huaien in a disguise?

Xiaobao: he had a tough life. His stepdad abused him, and used him to avenge his mom's death.

He's a really cruel person. Poor Huaien didn't even know what love was. I gave him loads of love, but he just pushed me away. I was determined to love and protect him.

Some events happened, and I got upset with him. But then he was the one who started loving and protecting me. We're happier and closer than before now.

Meng Shi: *emotional* aww, such a pure love story. You two are soulmates.

You have been through ups and downs, and loved each other unconditionally.

Look. I want you two to get married as soon as possible.

Xiaobao: we're actually planning to! Maybe after settling in the family some more.

Meng Shi: I see.

A-Song, when are you proposing to A-qing?

Rusong: *blushing* very soon. I'm waiting on a right time. But for my inauguration, I announced her as Furen so.

Meng Shi: ok baby. Don't rush.

Another adorable couple.

Jingyi: Nainai, all I have on again off again relationships.

Meng Shi: the right one will come. And I hope you're not a womanizer.

Jingyi: never. I treat everyone with respect.

Meng Shi: good. As expected of my grandson.

Go have fun, you three. A-bao, your guqin music is beautiful. Don't worry.

Xiaobao; I'll keep practicing.

*exits*

~~

Meng Shi: A-Si. I want to make another piece of cameo jewelry. You got any jewelers in mind?

Sisi: um....what about Zhang Zhiyue. He's really talented.

Meng Shi: great. I'll draw my design, and send it to him.

I want to make a sapphire bracelet with paintings of my grandchildren.

Sisi: aww.

Meng Shi: they're my happiness. And Yao'er is my life of course.

Sisi: that's an adorable idea. I'll contact them for you.

[aahsokaatano]

"What if we -"

"No, Ted," I said patiently. The key to dealing with Ted was always patience.

"Okay, but what if -"

"Do the next words have anything to do with explosives, hostage situations, or assassinations?"

Ted paused. "...no?"

"I don't believe you."

"That's fair."

I like Ted, I really do. He's very driven, always gives 110%, real team player, and he knows how to fix the cable box when it goes on the fritz. The only issue is that his ideas are a little... extravagant.

"All I want to do," I said, still endlessly patient, "is some blackmailing. Whitmore is as nervous as a mouse in a cat box as it is, all we need to do is apply some light - very light - pressure, and he'll fold to our demands. But if we go too hard, he'll run to the feds."

Ted sighed dramatically. "I know," he grumbled. "But - c'mon, can't I just throw a few more names into the pot? Bigger payday!"

I gave him a stern look. "The last time you 'added some names' to the plan, we ended up hiding in a treehouse in Madagascar for four months. Remember?"

That hadn't been a fun time. The lemurs were cool at first, but my god were some of them loud.

"Fine," he sighed, even more dramatically this time. Honestly, the man could have gotten a recurring spot in a soap opera with the way he carried on.

Ted is a good henchperson, but our ideas of villainy don't really agree. I'm in it for the money - plain and simple. I don't like actually hurting people (corporations can get fucked, though), and the quieter a job is, the happier I am.

On the other hand, Ted seemed to think the best laid plans involved more C-4 than what was used in the entire Mythbusters series and at least twice as many guns, with a Boeing 747 full of hostages for good measure. He had grand enough plans to seem like a full-fledged villain in his own right, but...

Well, unfortunately for Ted, none of his plans ever worked. Personally, I thought he was either cursed, or had the most frustrating mutant power in the world, because honestly it's beyond bad luck at this point.

But that's why he ended up working for me - any other villain he had temped for in the past would let him help with the plan after a few successful operations, and then everything would go to shit.

Ted hasn't liked a single one of my plans, though, which means he has no part in the creation, which means they aren't affected by his bad luck or rancid vibes or whatever you want to call it.

Other than the Madagascar incident, but I was on copious amounts of cold medicine at the time and didn't notice Ted had added to the plan until it was too late. And that's why I don't pull anything during flu season now.

"You're the boss," Ted grumbled, more to himself than to me, and walked away.

Poor guy. He really could be a great villain, if only he wasn't doomed to fail.

A villain who is morally neutral and only became a villain to make money, talking to their clearly evil henchman who keeps trying to talk his boss into destroying the planet.

[hifi-walkman]

(apologies beforehand to my silly mutuals for the long and serious post)

So, a while ago there were a couple articles and some online discussion about a rigged monopoly study, wherin two participants played a game of monopoly with the rules modified to give one player (chosen at random) a clear advantage over the other, and at the end of the study, the winner (who was the advantaged player) reported to feeling their success was based on skill, while the loser felt their loss was based on the game being rigged.

I went looking for more info about this study, particularly to see if it had a control group that played a fair game of monopoly and measured their opinions. while doing that I discovered important information:

This study did not happen

The study that did happen, was very different. In it, just over 200 online participants were asked a few questions about their worldview (mostly pertaining to if they thought the world was in some way "just") and then were told a story about a fictional game of rigged monopoly.

Both groups were given this introduction:

“Imagine now that Tim and Bob start playing a game of Monopoly as well. They agree to apply the following rules: The player who plays first is given more Monopoly euros in comparison to the other to start with, and may roll the dice twice throughout the game, while the other player rolls only once. Both players flip a coin to randomly select which of them will start first.

Group A was told this conclusion:

"Tim tossed the coin and started first. In 15 minutes, Tim bought all major streets and won the game. He earned a prize of 100 . When asked about his success, Tim says that he played smart, strategically, and made use of his€ mathematical skills in order to outperform Bob.”

Group B was told this conclusion:

"Bob tossed the coin and started second. In 15 minutes, Bob could not buy major streets and lost the game. But he still earned a prize of 100 . When asked about his loss, Bob says that even though he tried to play smart€ and strategically, and to make use of his mathematical skills, he could not succeed.”

Both groups were then asked a second set of questions, about why they thought it was that Tim won the game.

The abstract of the paper states the following:

"People in the rich condition believed more in effort as well as people who believed in a just world, believed that the game was won thanks to effort."

I believe this (and the general poor writing quality of the abstract) is the primary thing that mislead public opinion about this study. The above sentence is stating two separate things:

Group A believed effort was more important that Group B did

People with a stronger belief in a just world were more likely to believe that the game was won by effort, not chance.

This is not the natural interpretation of this sentence, the natural interpretation of the sentence (that Group A, and people with a belief in a just world, both believed the game was won thanks to effort) is not supported by the paper. Which states in a later section, "In general, the results lead us to think that people in the rich condition (group A) tend to think the actor (Tim) won because the game was easy, contrary to what we had hoped for."

Essentially, the people that had been told the story from the advantaged player's perspective still believed the game was rigged. Even if you ignore the popular reporting on this study getting the methodology entirely wrong, this incorrect conclusion, arguably informed by the poor (and in my opinion, intentionally deceptive) writing in the paper's abstract is the most important mistake made when talking about the study.

Just to restate, the "rich condition" group believed the advantaged player won because the game was unfair. The primary conclusion that most people took away from the study was the opposite of the results the study actually observed.

TL;DR

there was no study where participants played a rigged game of monopoly

In actual study, where participants passed judgement on a fictitious rigged game of monopoly, the group that was expected to be biased towards the advantaged player stated that they believed the advantage player won because they were playing an easy game.

The beliefs and assumptions someone makes will affect their viewpoint more than their direct experiences. this can lead to people developing biases that can even contradict the information from their lived experiences.

Don't just believe random shit you read online, or the messily written abstract of academic papers. Find the fullest information you possibly can before making a conclusion about something.

[douchebagbrainwaves]

YOU GUYS I JUST THOUGHT OF THIS

More likely, you'll just find that for some mysterious reason good things happen to them too. Starting a startup is not like having an idea I didn't want to be novelists.1 Thanks to Sam Altman and Jessica Livingston for reading drafts of this. If you've never seen a word before, it is genuine.2 He would say that this has happened to. Another group was worried when they realized they had to do it? To change the interface both have to agree to change it easily, or at least a generation to turn people into East Germans luckily for England. Dilution Users have worried about that since the site was about bands. In server-based application now for less than you think you'll need, maybe 50% to 100% more, because software changes fast and government changes slow. And acquirers tell me privately that revenue is not what growth rate makes a company a startup.

There's no incentive that would make me eligible for prescription drugs if I approached everyday life the same way as saying that something is worth doing, especially if you have a competent startup lawyer handle the deal for you, as Google did for Kleiner and Sequoia. There is nothing more valuable than the advice of someone whose judgement you respect, what does it add to consider the cost. A stage. Once investors like you is that you actually become a better investment.3 It shouldn't be that surprising that colleges can't teach students how to write software. Reminder: What I'm looking for are programs that run on Web servers and use Web pages as the interface. This lets me get ip addresses and prices intact.4 But I don't think so. Maybe the best way to explain how it's recession-proof is to do things that would make me eligible for prescription drugs if I approached everyday life the same way I write software: I sit down and start implementing it. In retrospect, he was before he became a professor at MIT.5 Possibly not. But we could tell the founders were earnest, energetic, and independent-minded enough to start a startup, you'll probably fail.

Some investors might expect the founders to accept vesting for a sum this size, and others that aren't.6 But when you understand the problem. Going upstairs his bulk will be more of a placeholder than an actual label—like putting NMI on a form that asks what you're going to have a book about how to make them irrelevant.7 There seem to be a tradition of startups taking VC money, you should do is to treat it as an upper bound on the size of the venture business, which have evolved the way they write software. Would anyone seriously argue that Cobol is equivalent in power to founders is just don't die, but the most important predictor of success. We thought Airbnb was a bad idea was that it was valuable and dangerous, and what that will mean for you if you choose them. It will always be lots of Java programmers, so if you're measuring usage you need a window of about two years when spam was increasing rapidly but all the big email services had terrible filters. So, in practice, the way to make yourself work on hard problems.8 Number one will be the limit; the number of temptations around you.

Notes

Only founders of Hewlett Packard said it first, to pretend that the Internet was as much as Drew Houston needed Dropbox, or working in middle management at a discount of 30% means when it converts. No VC will admit they're influenced by buzz.

We didn't try to go sell the bad idea, period. This seems to them this way, without becoming a Texas oilman was not just something the telephone, the space of careers does. Correction: Earlier versions used a technicality to get them to be discovered. After reading a draft of this essay wrote: My feeling with the guy who came to work on stuff you love: a It did.

They'd be interchangeable if markets stood still. Cost, again. How many times that conversation was repeated. If Congress passes the founder of the word as in Boston, and tax rates.

You can get rich, purely mercenary founders will seem as if having good intentions were enough to be room for something new if the similarity extended to returns.

If they no longer needed, big companies weren't plagued by internal inefficiencies, they'd be called unfair. With a classic fixed sized round, or your job will consist of bad customs as well.

If there's an Indian grocery store near you doesn't mean you suck. It seems likely that in the chaos anyway.

Above. But when you depend on Aristotle more than linearly with its size.

They hate their bread and butter cases. It may have been sitting in their hearts that if you do if your goal is to be sharply differentiated, so you'd have to do that. That's probably true of nationality and religion as well. How can I count you in?

[oh-the-hcrrcrs]

Looking falsely surprised, Ira looked at his guest for a few moments before determining, without much conviction, that he really wasn't afraid of finding himself with a piece of flesh between someone else's teeth. Surely he did not expect that the reformed cannibal would go so far as to tear off a piece to enjoy it. He hadn't done it since he finished high school, and the closest thing he could get to it was reduced to drinking his own blood in yet another paper cutting. Nothing really thrilling, so to speak.

"You are in my house," he agreed. Truth be told, he was uncertain what that had to do with being neither a scavenger or a hunter. If sheep walked itself into the wolf's den, was the wolf less of a predator then ? He threw an amused look at his guest this time, as though measuring just now how easy this all was for him. People were so curious they didn't stop and think about what might be awaiting them here.

Averting his gaze to chastely look at the hand holding the fruit that bled its juice onto his skin, he's a bit surprised by the way the other stares at him once he looks up again. There's an eagerness there. You might think the other has lost his mind. It brings back memories to Ira's mind, the sort that he had been pushing away for a while, without much success.

Memories of when the hunger took over reason.

Thoughts of cannibalism had crossed his mind, in horror, the first day they had ended up in their situation. The compulsion to actually do so had appeared much later, when people began dying, and Ira and his classmates started to wonder whether they would be next. He couldn't have been the one who initiated it, could he ? It was best to think not. But then, it didn't solve the issue of his compulsion following him in adulthood. "In my world, there are no such things as wicked schemes," those were a rarity, far from the norm. Most murderers did so for stupid reasons and got caught. No scheming there.

"I told you we burned them and scattered the bones. The floor was too cold to be shovelled." He was sure Maddox remembered that. Perhaps did he want to catch him in a lie ?

"Say you're right and I do bite you. What next?" Had he even thought about what would come next? What if Ira knocked him out and kept it in his cellar for body parts ? Worse yet, what if he bit off his tongue for good measure. No more talking, guessing and laughing. The thought made him pause. Or perhaps did the other want to find kinship there. Must have been lonely to be the only one. The thought made him smile. That was quite unlikely."Tell me, Maddox. What happens once you know the truth?"

max snorts, catching the fruit in his hands. it feels good quality, so maybe ira is onto something there. amazing what a little extra money can buy, isn't it? "i'm not worried about being bitten." if anything, he's begging for it—he would love nothing more than for ira to leap across the table, brandishing a knife. or maybe just baring his teeth. the unpleasantly pleasant smile he wears isn't good enough—it's just too damn familiar to him. if he's a snake, ira is a mongoose. "i'm not worried at all," he continues, taking a nice bite of the peach. okay, so ira is onto something. it's probably the best quality he's ever had. maybe it's just his body begging for sustenance that hasn't gone through the nine layers of hell first. whatever the case, he barely pauses to wipe his mouth before his mouth is open again. this time, to talk. unfortunately! "funny, you don't seem to be either. i'm in your house." it's not a threat, although it's certainly worded like one. he steps further into the kitchen, heart picking up pace in his chest. it's not nerves. it's, um... something else. he can't just pretend like hearing all these hints isn't getting him excited. "you're right. i wouldn't be," he answers, crooked smirk to match the crazy look in his eyes. has it always been so noticeable? "oh, so that's what it is. you think i'm doing some sort of, what? some sort of investigative journalism piece?" he laughs, a short burst of it. "is it so hard to believe that i just want to know? why does everything have to be some wicked scheme?" he snorts at his own faux innocence. "wouldn't be right of me to send you off to the slammer. god knows nobody's gotten the injection in years. you'd get to rot in a cell and let the love letters pour in, and i wouldn't even be able to enjoy it. what's the point of ruining someone's life if you can't laugh in their face, you know?" max sucks his lower lip between his teeth, fighting the shiver that races up his spine. "i like to think you've done a little bit of laughing. little bit of dancing, maybe. on their graves, you know? how long did it take you to start thinking about it? did you even make it past day one?"

[queen-haq]

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Fic: A Woman Scorned - Part 17

Pairing: Billy Russo x Reader

Rating: R for language and smut.

Words: ~3300 words.

Summary: You’ve been sleeping with Billy Russo for a few months now. Knowing his aversion to emotional commitments, you’re satisfied with your clandestine arrangement until you catch him having dinner with Dinah Madani one night. Then it finally dawns on you. It’s not that he doesn’t want to commit, he just doesn’t want to commit to *you*.

Billy may think he knows you, but he has no idea what he’s just lost…

Part 1   Part 2   Part 3   Part 4   Part 5   Part 6   Part 7   Part 8   Part 9   Part 10   Part 11   Part 12   Part 13   Part 14   Part 15  Part 16

Part 17

Billy couldn’t stop gawking at you, wondering how it was possible you grew more beautiful each time he saw you. The red wrap dress you were wearing accentuated all your curves, and it took every bit of willpower he had not to rip it off of you and fuck you senseless right then and there. Unfortunately, he had to behave himself. Caravan was a pretty bouji place that had recently been labelled as one of the hottest restaurants in Manhattan and he had to pull a few strings to get a last-minute reservation for tonight. But seeing the smile on your face when you realized this was where you were dining had been completely worth all the hassle.

As the hostess guided the two of you to your table, he noticed a few assholes at the bar admiring you from afar. Immediately he snaked his arm around your waist to draw you in closer. You were his. If he could he’d pluck out every one of those fuckers’ eyes so they never made the mistake of looking at you again. Better yet, he’d keep you locked behind closed doors. Of course you wouldn’t agree to anything like that because you were too goddamn independent for your own good.

“What’s wrong?” you asked, taking a seat at your designated table.

Billy’s attention returned to your face as he followed suit, his gaze inhaling you in. “You look too hot. Too many assholes staring at you,” he grumbled.

The worried look on your face was replaced with a beaming smile, one that made his cock twitch.

“You’re being ridiculous” you remarked, scanning the menu.

His eyes drifted down to your chest, the swell of your soft, supple breasts just begging to be kissed and licked by him.

“Stop staring at my boobs, Billy,” you chastised even as a small smile graced your lips. “This is a proper first date. You can’t just ogle me like that. You have to behave like a gentleman.”

He quirked his eyebrow. “Sweetheart, I’ve never been that.”

“Well, try,” you ordered.

The waitress came by with the bottle of red wine you’d requested and poured some in both of your glasses. He noticed the redhead giving him a friendly smile, her green eyes lingering on him for a second too long. Fine, yeah, she may have been hot but she wasn’t you. No one was. So while he would have happily slipped her his number in the past, now the idea of being with someone who wasn’t you no longer excited him.

Once she left, he took the opportunity to move a few inches closer to you. What he really wanted was to get on his knees and bury his head between your legs, but something told him eating you out in in the crowded restaurant wouldn’t go over very well with you.

“I think she likes you.”

Hand propped on the back of your chair, he started playing with your hair. “Who?”

“Our waitress. She didn’t look at me once, her eyes were on you the entire time.”

He leaned in, ecstatic at the thought of you acting possessive. Even though you’d confessed to having feelings for him, Billy still worried you were ready to bolt at any moment. To see you jealous meant you genuinely cared and he didn’t have to worry about you leaving him. “She’s not my type. I have my eyes on someone else.”

You made a show of looking around the restaurant. “Oh, is Madani here too?”

“Funny,” he retorted, taking your hand in his.

“Your ginger’s lucky. I’m dressed way too nice or I’d take my knife and stab her with it.”

He smirked. “You’re vicious when you’re jealous.”

“I’m not jealous. I just don’t like bad service.”

“Bullshit.”

“Billy, you’re hot. You know that. All the women here are checking you out. If I freaked out every time someone did that, I’d have a breakdown.”

He wanted to destroy the fucking world at the thought of someone even looking at you but apparently you were simply ambivalent about him. “So it’s that easy for you? Your brain tells you to turn off a feeling and your heart just does it?” Even to his own ears he sounded bitter. “Guess you’re not all that invested in me.”

Your eyebrow quirked up, apparently surprised by his edgy tone. “Do you want me to go nuts?”

“Just want you to give a damn.”

“You think I don’t?” you snapped. “Every time she looks at you I want to tear her hair out. Even though the rational part of me knows she’s probably just flirting with you because it’s part of her job or she’s hoping for big tips. Or maybe she really does want to fuck you. Either way, I want to punch her across the face. Happy?” You gulped down your wine.

Grinning, he squeezed your hand. “Then why not just tell me that? Why act like you don’t care?”

The agitated expression on your face was replaced with tenderness, your eyes soft. “Just because I don’t have a jealous fit doesn’t mean I don’t care. I just…” You exhaled a sigh, and he sensed this was difficult for you. “I express my emotions differently than you.”

“I noticed. You put on an act while holding everything in.”

“Yeah, I guess.”

“But I want you, the real you, not the version everyone else sees.”

“It’s not that easy, Billy.”

He brought your palm to his lips. “I’d never told anyone about my mother.”

“You didn’t tell me either,” you pointed out.

“You found out anyway, and I’m so fucking glad you did. Otherwise I wouldn’t have realized I could be real with you.” He placed a tender kiss on your skin. “I don’t want to hide anything from you, Y/N.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

“Then tell me about William Rawlins.”

Your request gave him pause, his eyes roaming over your face. He’d taken painstaking measures to keep his partnership with Rawlins a secret yet you’d discovered it. “What do you want to know?”

“He gave you a lot of money.”

“I earned that money,” he said in a defensive tone. “He and I were partners for a while. Then he died.”

“You went to a lot of trouble to hide your connection to him.”

“You found out about it though.”

You shrugged your shoulders. “I’m good at what I do.”

“Yeah, too good,” he muttered. He released your hand, watching you intently. “So what do you want to know?”

You leaned in closer, your voice barely above a whisper. He was momentarily distracted by the sensation of your tits pressed against him but he forced himself to concentrate.

“What happened to Rawlins, did you have anything to do with it?”

Billy took a swig of his wine. “Why do you think that?”

You quirked your eyebrow at him. “Knifed by someone in the parking lot. They never found the guy who did it.”

“He had a lot of enemies,” he pointed out.

“Okay, so maybe I was wrong.”

He studied you for several seconds, trying to decide if he should take the leap or not. “You’re not wrong.”

Realization dawned on your face as the truth set in. “Why did you do it?”

“You sure you want to know?”

“I’m asking, aren’t I?”

So he told you, about Operation Cerberus, his role in it and the money he earned, how he’d eliminated Rawlins a year ago when the prick plotted to take out Frank and his family. To this day Frank didn’t know about Billy’s partnership with Rawlins or how close he came to dying and he intended to keep it that way.

Throughout his confession his eyes were glued to your face, gauging your reactions. The part of him determined to do anything to be a success, the one who didn’t let society’s morals get in the way of his ambitions, would never be accepted by his closest friends. Despite the myriad of reasons to have kept that side of himself hidden, he didn’t want to do that with you. Because as risky as it was to be so open with you, it was also exhilarating. There was no one in this world he’d ever been this honest with and that kind of intense connection with you was addictive. He wanted you to know everything about him, all of the dark and vicious thoughts that ran through his head, the burning ambition that kept pushing him forward. He wanted you to know him inside and out and he wanted the same from you.

Before he could prod you to speak your mind the server came by with your dishes, setting your meals on the table. The redhead took her time, all the whilst your gaze was focused on the table, avoiding his. Billy’s heart started to pound in his chest, he was suddenly filled with doubt. Had he made a mistake in telling you the truth? Did he just completely fuck this up? Every second the goddamn redhead lingered at the table felt like an eternity when all he wanted was to shake you out of your stupor.

The second the server left, he moved in on you. “Are you gonna say something?”

You finally looked at him, your forehead burrowed. “We need to do a better job of hiding your history with Rawlins. I found it, that means someone else can too.”

“You gonna help me with that?”

You shook your head ‘yes’. “Yeah, I have to. You need me.”

“What I did doesn’t bother you?”

You exhaled a heavy sigh. “Of course it does, but there’s nothing I can do about it. You’ve seen me at my worst and you didn’t judge me. I won’t do that to you either. Besides, when the universe deals you a shitty hand you’ve got to find other ways to even out your odds.”

A strange feeling of warmth flooded over him, compelling him to angle forward and kiss you on the lips.

You pulled away a second later, smiling at him as you rubbed the corner of his mouth. “This lipstick isn’t kiss-proof.”

“I don’t care.” Wicked visions of you flashed through his mind. Your bold red lips wrapped around his cock, sucking him off the way he liked it. His cum spread over your tits, your neck, your lips. The taste of your sweet, delicious cunt on his tongue as he fucked you with his mouth. The heat of your tongue against his as he rammed into you over and over-

“Stop looking at me like that,” you warned.

“Then stop looking so hot,” he snarked.

You smiled, biting down on your bottom lip.

It blew his mind how sweet and shy you were when he paid you compliments, like you didn’t expect that from him. Obviously he needed to fix that, because you deserved to know how insanely beautiful you were all the time.

“Has Anvil been okay without Rawlins?” you asked, taking a bite out of your butternut squash ravioli.

Swallowing his steak, he wiped his mouth with a napkin. “It was tough for a while but we’ve been doing pretty well the last few months.”

“You should be proud of what you’ve accomplished, Billy. You took a big risk going into business for yourself and you made it work. That’s amazing. I could never do that.”

Billy’s insides radiated with happiness. Other than Curtis and Frank he never really had people who genuinely believed in him so to have you cheering him on was exalting. Especially considering you were great at what you did and he had so much respect for you.

He poured himself and you more wine before reaching for your hand again. “I think you could. You’d make a shitload of money if you freelanced.”

You shook your head ‘no’. “No way, I’m too much of a coward to take a risk like that.” You took a sip of your wine. “Plus I get to go to Paris for work.”

“Or you could go to Paris on vacation and not work.”

“Then I’d have to pay for it,” you pointed out, grinning. “When you grow up the way I did, you learn to appreciate free things.”

Your enthusiasm was infectious, he couldn’t hep but smile back. A part of him was hoping this would be the perfect opening for you to talk more about your childhood, about everything you went through, because he desperately wanted you to trust him as much as he trusted you with his secrets.

“I’ll be there for two weeks,” you continued, oblivious to his disappointment. “We’re going to scout out locations for the new branch and-”

“We?” Billy interjected.

You cast him a quick glance. “Roger’s coming with me on the trip.”

The jealousy that struck him felt like a swift kick to his gut. Images of you and that goddamn bastard traipsing around and enjoying romantic date nights in Paris assaulted his mind. Agitated, he pulled his hand from yours. “I bet that fucker can’t wait to be alone with you.”

“Billy, come on. You can’t be serious.”

“How would you feel if I took off with someone who wanted to fuck me?”

“First of all, he doesn’t want me.”

His jaw clenched with frustration as he glared at you. “I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He’s thought about fucking you.”

“Even if he does, I don’t want him.” You reached out to cup his face, your voice so soft and tender in your attempts to placate him that he momentarily forgot how upset he was. “You really think I’d jeopardize what we have for a fling with Roger? I wouldn’t do that.”

“Then don’t go. Turn him down.”

Irritation flickered over your face, he could tell you were done coddling him. “Billy, you have no right to ask me that. I’d never interfere with your work.”

Underneath all that jealousy he knew you were right. As much as he despised the idea of you going away to Paris with another guy, he couldn’t demand that you not go on work trips. If you did that to him, it would annoy the fuck out of him. Yet despite his rational side recognizing he was asking for too much, he couldn’t help but feel bitter. “That asshole’s gonna make a move on you, I know it.”

“What if he does? What do you think is gonna happen?”

Hs eyes met yours, urgently seeking some kind of validation from you. “You tell me.”

“Do you think I’m going to sleep with him?”

He flinched. “Don’t talk about fucking another guy, please. You’re gonna make me lose my appetite.”

You took his hand and placed it over your left breast, probably to distract him from all the disgusting images that were running through his brain. “I wanted you so badly and even then it took me like a month to fuck you. Trust me, I’m not going to sleep with him when I’m not even attracted to him.”

Spotting the earnestness in your eyes, the knot in his stomach finally loosened. Roger may have had a hard-on for you but Billy knew you felt nothing for the fucker. He’d noticed that even at the night of the gala. So that meant he had to trust you, there was no reason not to. “Call me every night when you’re there,” he grumbled.

“Every night? You’re probably going to start blocking my calls,” you laughed.

He booped your nose. “Every. Fucking. Night.”

You beamed. “Fine.” A wicked glint flashed in your eyes, a seductive smile on your lips as you slowly moved his hand lower, his fingers now on your nipple. “Hey, just ‘cause you’re not there with me doesn’t mean we can’t have fun.”

He stroked your nipple over the fabric of your dress, enjoying how the nub hardened under his touch, the way your breath hitched in your throat when he continued his ministrations. With his other hand he tucked your hair behind your ear, whispering to you. “Phone sex is alright, but nothing beats this.” His tongue curved along the shell of your ear, and you trembled against him. “Right?”

The waitress seemed to come out of nowhere this time to ask how your meals were, and you jumped back. Disappointed, he sighed.

“Food was great. Thank you,” you replied, smiling stiffly at the redhead.

“Can I get you anything else?”

“Privacy would be great,” Billy muttered.                                                            

You kicked him under the table. “Dessert menu?”

“Sure. I’ll bring it right over,” the waitress said, taking your plates away.  

“I’ll give you all the sugar you want once we get outta here,” he murmured seductively, caressing your thigh.

You giggled, rolling your eyes. “That’s a terrible line!” You took his hand and removed it from your thigh. “Billy, I’m not sleeping with you tonight.”

“Why not?”                                                      

“Because it’s our first date and I don’t put out on the first date.”

“Now that’s a terrible line,” he fired back, mimicking your earlier tone.

“Also, we already had sex this morning.”

“So? I’m greedy. I can’t get enough of you.” There was that shy smile of yours again, and he reached out to give you a sweet peck on the cheek. “You blush every time I tease you.”

“I do?”

“Yeah, it’s adorable.”

Your cheeks grew even more red. “I’m not used to it from you. A part of me still thinks you’re bullshitting me.”

Billy stiffened. “Really?”

“I know you’re not playing me,” you reassured. “It’s on me, not you. I just have a hard time accepting when good things happen.”

The waitress came by with the dessert menu. He briefly glanced at it before ordering a slice of pecan pie while you ordered a piece of chocolate cake.

As soon as the redhead left, he broached the topic with you again. “I’m not gonna hurt you, babe. You have to believe that.”

You didn’t look at him, your eyes fixed somewhere on his chest. “I do. You were so pissed off at me last night. I honestly expected you to hit me because you were so angry. But you didn’t.”

It made him sick to his stomach that you actually thought him capable of hitting you. It hadn’t even occurred to him that you would worry about that, but of course you would. With your childhood it made perfect sense, he was just a fucking idiot who hadn’t realized how much it still impacted you. “I’m never gonna lay a hand on you. I swear.” His eyes locked with yours, hoping you can sense how much he meant those words.

“I believe you.”

His voice was insistent, his gaze boring into you. “Why did you think I would?”

Your eyes wavered from his eyes to his lips for a long time, the atmosphere thick with tension. Your facial expressions ran the gamut of painful emotions, from uncertainty to fear to sheer panic.

It finally sank in that maybe the reason you were keeping the truth from him had noting to do with if you trusted him or not. Maybe you didn’t want to be assaulted by memories from the past that caused you so much pain. The last thing he wanted was for you to experience that hell again. Regretting his demanding tone, his hands caressed down the length of your arms. “You don’t have to tell me, It’s okay.”

Your eyes brimmed with aching vulnerability as you looked up at him. “I want to… I just… give me some time, okay?” You pressed your lips against his, giving him the softest, sweetest kiss. “I’ve been looking forward to tonight for so long, I don’t want to ruin it, you know?”

His heart felt full, his mind reeling with wonderment at the thought of you truly reciprocating his feelings. His arms wrapped around you as you sank into him, burying your face in his chest. His fingers stroked the back of your hair, murmuring soft, soothing words to you. Somewhere in the distance he heard the server’s voice trying to interject, but he didn’t give a damn.  He was yours and you were his and nothing was going to ruin that. Nothing.

Part 18

A/N - I realize not much happened in this chapter but I just reallly wanted to write a dialogue heavy part where they simply get to know and enjoy each other. I think they’ve earned some fluff. LOL.

As always, thank you for your kind words of encouragement. Please let me know your thoughts.

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