#and i want to get into academic editing which has way more opportunities if you have a STEM background than humanities

[thisstableground]

so i'm going to be applying to do another degree next year, part time online so that i can still work around it. and it is so hard to remember the "work around it" and "next year" parts and not just. leave my job and somehow do the entire degree this afternoon before i've even applied for my tuition loan or anything

[if-whats-new]

What's New In IF? Issue 29 (2024)

By Aj, Dion, Briar, Jen and Peter

Now Available!

Itch.io - Keep Reading below

If you read the zine, consider liking the post: it helps us see how many people see it! And sharing is caring! <3

~ EDITORIAL ~

Small Talk... is back!

As you might have read in our last Issue, the Small Talk... section is back due to our amazing interviewers! Continue reading and check out their short debut interview with Leia Talon!

If there’s someone else you’d like to see them interview, don’t hesitate to let us know!

We want some feedback!

As we’re starting to get a hand of things, we would love some feedback from you guys! What you enjoy, want more or less off, how we could improve... Anything goes! We even have a nifty form.

We hope you enjoy this new issue!

AJ, DION, BRIAR, JEN AND PETER

~ BE A PART OF THE ZINE ~

THIS ZINE ONLY HAPPENS WITH YOU!

Want to write 1-2 pages about a neat topic, or deep-dive into a game and review it in details? Share personal experiences or get all academic?

WRITE FOR THE COLUMN!

Prefer to be more low-key but still have something to share? Send us a Zine Letter or share a game title for Highlight on…!

WE WANT TO HEAR FROM YOU!

Came across something interesting? Know a release or an update announced? Saw an event happening? Whether it's a game, an article, a podcast… Add any IF-related content to our mini-database!

EVERY LITTLE BIT COUNTS!

Contact us through Tumblr asks, Forum DMs, or even by email! And thank you for your help!!

~ ENDED ~

The 7th edition of inkJam is over and you can check out the result here.

You can now check out all 58 entries for the Monstrous Desires 2024 Visual Novel Jam.

The October Bitsy Jam has also ended. There were only two entries, so be sure to show them some love.

~ ONGOING (VOTING) ~

The voting for ECTOCOMP 2024 has officially started! To vote and participate as a jury, you must do so by giving between 1 to 5 stars on each entry page of the jam. The voting period ends on November 30.

~ ONGOING (SUBMITTING) ~

Disabled Rep VN Jam has a very simple premise but a very important message.

Once upon a time, a game jam was held to create stories around the theme of fairy tales… and that game jam is the Once Upon A Time VN Jam. It’s running from October 1st to January 31st.

Concours de Fiction Interactive Francophone 2025 is for all French-speaking enthusiasts. Submissions are accepted March 3rd 2025.

Are you perhaps a fan of more somber, melancholic themes? Then check out the Dying Year - Visual Novel Jam! You have until the end of the year to participate.

The Black Visual Novel Jam is all about working with creative professional developers who work in visual novels to bring more Black stories to life. The goal is to create a space where Black creators can show their unique storytelling through visual novels.

~ OTHER ~

Jams are a great way to find new games! Don’t be afraid to check out submissions from previous years as well. There might be some gems hiding between them!

~ SMALL TALK… ~

> WITH LEIA TALON @leiatalon

Joining us today is a fantasy romance writer Leia Talon! ~ Author of the newly released “Ink and Intrigue”, “Their majesties’ Pleasure” and and The World Tree Chronicles book series.

⟶ Hello, Leia! Welcome to Small Talk. We are absolutely thrilled to have you here with us!

Thanks for giving me a chance to chat with you!

⟶ Before we begin, would you mind sharing with us a bit about yourself and how you got into IF writing?

A few years ago I was looking for writing opportunities that were outside the box, so to speak. I’ve gone the self-publishing route and tried my hand at getting a traditional publishing deal as a novelist, and was hoping there were other avenues to earn a bit of money doing what I love, which is writing fantasy romance.

At that time I’d written a dozen novel manuscripts and dabbled in screenwriting, then stumbled upon Choice of Games and Heart’s Choice, which piqued my interest in a big way! I thought I’d try my hand at interactive fiction. Many of my manuscripts aren’t published, so I thought I’d be able to pull source material from stories I’d already created. What actually happened is I made up a completely new world for Their Majesties’ Pleasure, my first game with Heart’s Choice, then built on that and pulled from one of my unpublished stories for Ink and Intrigue.

⟶ Now, onto the questions! Would you ever try different mediums when it comes to IF? (i.e Ren'Py, Twine)

I’m not opposed to it, but I’m a storyteller more than a gamer, so it would really depend on how well I could use each medium to tell a story.

⟶ What are the similarities and differences between writing a “simple” novel and an interactive fiction one?

So many! How about some bullet points?

Similarities:

Both need strong characters,

A strong plot,

Vivid worldbuilding,

And plenty of motivation and conflict for characters.

Differences:

Outlining is a must! You can write a novel on vibes and figure out the plot as you go. You can’t do that with IF, at least I don’t think it can be done well, or at least it would prove extremely difficult for the author to pull off. Having a plan helps figure out pacing, scope-creep, and gives you a definite outcome (or outcomes, as the case may be) to work towards. Planning is helpful for novels, too, but essential for IF.

With novel writing there’s the phrase “K!ll your darlings,” meaning you cut any scenes, sentences, or words that don’t advance the plot or add something vital to the story. In IF, all your darlings can come out to play! If someone isn’t interested, they can skip that choice, or if they are interested, they can enjoy the side-quest or conversation or glimmer of information that would otherwise be omitted in a novel.

Writing IF adds coding, obviously, and a lot more details and complications to a story, keeping all the variables in play and making sure to wrap up all threads at the end. You have to do a certain extent of wrapping up plotlines with novels, but nowhere near the extent required by an IF.

A novel is typically 90,000 words or so, whereas an IF can be far longer (or shorter, if the author prefers). I’m honestly still blown away that Ink and Intrigue ended up being over 300,000 words! A playthrough obviously isn’t that long, but that’s like writing three novels.

I’m sure I could keep going with other similarities and differences, but these are some big ones.

⟶ What made you come up with this idea for an IF?

Ink and Intrigue is based on one of my unpublished manuscripts, though it’s vastly different in myriad ways. I took some of the worldbuilding from that story and meshed it with the world in Their Majesties’ Pleasure, and then made up an entirely new cast of characters.

⟶ What is your biggest source of inspiration? A lot of people say music, but we are interested to know what yours is.

Fantasy books, nature, and the characters who come to life in my head.

⟶ It's normal for creators of all kinds to encounter writer's block. What do you do when this formidable foe appears between you and your will to write?

I stick to my outline and keep writing, or take a break if that’s what I need. Going for a walk works wonders.

⟶ Tattoos have power in this IF; could you describe what that feeling is like? Is it like a burning sensation across your skin or more akin to releasing a breath you didn’t know you held?

The actual tattooing process is painful in this story as the dragon ink is painted on, but after the tattoos heal there’s no pain involved. It’s more like a rush of power or a tingling of awareness, depending on the strength needed. I think different mages would feel it in different ways, depending on how long they’ve been using dragon runes. The sensations might be strange to an initiate, but second nature to a master.

⟶ Tell us about your favorite ROs and why you feel drawn to them. When you were writing this character were you including traits you find ideal in partners?

I love all the ROs, but Kai is special. Partially because he’s the only character I brought over from my manuscript, and also because he’s this delicious blend of stoic, funny, driven, kind, and constantly working to better himself. I think those are ideal traits in partners. He also has other traits I enjoy in fictional characters, like a dark past and a dash of vengeance.

⟶ What’s the most important thing you consider when designing ROs?

I aim to write distinct characters who are genuinely good people, even if some are also morally gray. Otherwise, the characters basically form in my head and tell me who they are as I’m writing. I do a basic sketch when I outline, just a short description of each character, then see how they develop as the story progresses.

The characters are in charge. I’m just along for the ride.

⟶ Which RO do you think is the hardest to write and which one is the easiest?

I don’t think any were harder or easier. I had previous material for Kai, so that helped, but each character was fun and offered up plenty of dialogue and personality as I got into the story. Rae is feisty, Thea is quiet but playful, Teo is a compassionate artist, and Kai is humble and at the same time he’s one the most powerful mages on the island.

⟶ Which characters from your previous IF would get along with the cast of Ink and Intrigue?

All the main characters would get along, though there would definitely be some sparring on the training field to see who was the best fighter and blow off steam. It would be a wild party if you brought the cast from Their Majesties Pleasure together with the characters in Ink and Intrigue. That would be fun!

⟶ Could you give us an idea of the future your choices hold for Kitherin?

I don’t know how to answer this without spoilers. lol! Suffice it to say you can help the Kitherin in many different ways, including protecting from otherworldly threats and traitors within.

⟶ How do you manage the branching in your story?

The outline helps, but it still gets out of control. I write notes in future chapters as I go about how I’m going to pull each thread through to be sure I don’t drop any branching plots along the way. Editing and getting feedback is key. Beta testers to the rescue!

⟶ Was a scene exceptionally challenging to write?

It’s not like a single scene jumps out at me, but there are always places in the story where I just don’t want to write what needs to be written because I want to go on to something else that I’m excited about. There’s definitely a degree of discipline required.

⟶ Some people find it difficult to write spicy scenes. Do you have a certain mindset when writing these?

Honestly, spicy scenes are some of the hardest to write. My mindset is I’m trying to write something that has heart to it, as well as physical tension—where you can get to know the characters in a more intimate way. It can be hard to balance the art I want to bring into it with the choices and variables, as coding all those can complicate a scene that I really want to flow well. I also work hard to ensure there’s a range of spice, sweetness, and options that don’t involve physical intimacy at all, but that still feel fulfilling and special.

⟶ Would you like to give some advice to people who want to get into IF writing?

OUTLINE! Seriously. Know where you’re going and what endings you’re aiming for. Things will change, but at least you’ll have a road map. Otherwise, keep at it. Consistent practice really does pay off. Just keep going and have fun with it!

⟶ Thank you for sitting with us here today! It was lovely to have you, Leia.

My pleasure! If any of your readers are into magic tattoos and legendary love, you can play the demo of Ink and Intrigue for free!

> ONCE AGAIN HUGE THANKS TO LEIA TALON FOR SITTING WITH US AND ANSWERING OUR QUESTIONS!

~ NEW RELEASE ~

Sacred Veins is an 18+ game collective with a classic art aesthetic, creating games with focuses on narrative. They just released their first game collection: Righteous. Check out Apistis Sophia, Disiecta Membra, Heaven For A Heathen and Svipul. @sacredveinscollective

Werewolves 3: Evolution’s End (CScript) is the third installment of Jeffrey Dean’s acclaimed “Claw, Shadow, and Sage” series. After years of conspiracies, secrets, and escalation, the fight has finally come out into the open.

A (self-proclaimed) heartwarming visual novel about spending the days with your dog. Mugi-chan was abandoned at the shrine; now it's time to take him home! You can now play the un-official English release of I Can't Be Human (TyranoScript).

Légumes de saison (Decker) is a compilation of two games - 1 Duck, 2 Ducks and 33 // Apocalypse : Le Banquet.

You wake up in an unknown room with no memories of your past. With nothing, you must research, find and choose to find the way out from here in Silent Perception (Ren’Py).

Protect Mina from haters and find the recipe for the most delicious secret dish in Mina’s Cooking.

As always, don't forget to check out the submitted entries to the events mentioned in the previous pages. They deserve some love too!

~ NEW RELEASE (WIP) ~

Kassja is ill, and being too weak her village throws her into the forest. Yet, as she is dying under the scorching sun that trespasses the greenery, the spirit patron hears her hateful prayer of death for those who used to be her folk. Check out The Rerooting of an Asphodel (Ren’Py)! @thebreezyslothstudios

In The Chronicles of Salt and Iron (CScript) you’re trapped on an Iron prisoner ship after incurring the Triad’s wrath. Your future seems bleak, until a freak disaster grants you a new chance at freedom…and a glimpse of a deadly secret that could topple the entire regime.

In Fortune Forsaken (CScript) ancient shackles bind you to the mortal realm, a soul severed from a home lost to the sands of time. A curse on you, a blessing for those who take command; Who wouldn't like to own a God? @fortuneforsaken-if

The Lost Bride (CScript) is a reimagining of Bram Stoker’s iconic novel, Dracula. Play as Mina and shape her fate as she visits her childhood friend Lucy, who’s seeking her company and counsel with an urgent matter concerning her very own future.

King Arthur: Living Again (CScript) - After being badly injured by Mordred, King Arthur finds himself as his 15-year-old, inexperienced self.

As you learn the ways of the criminal underground you reconnect with people you never met. Reforge bonds that you've never made. And recall memories you've never had. You were a god once upon a time, can you become one again in God Syndicate (CScript)? @god-syndicate-if

~ UPDATES ~

Blackwood Manor (CScript) released Chapter 2 Part 1. @ang3lwithapen

The Sunhold Coven (CScript) released Chapter 3. @the-sunhold-coven

Vanguard (Twine) updated Chapter 1. @vanguard-if

A Shriek of Ash and Fire (CScript) released update no. 5. @krogpile

Haunted (Twine) updated a final part of a rewrite.

Honor Amongst Thieves (CScript) added extra content to their Patreon demo. @leoneliterary

Hubris (Twine) updated Chapter Two- Luminary Fever. @hubris-the-if-game

Reincarnation Of The Archdemon (CScript) released Chapter 2.

Sanguine Sky (CScript) added new content to their Patreon demo. @sanguinesky-if

The In-Between (CScript) released Chapter 11 for early access. @dalekowrites

Thicker Than (CScript) released their monthly update. @barbwritesstuff

Viatica (Twine) released Chapter 11. @fir-fireweed

Universal Constants (Twine) released Episode 3.

Keeper of Life and Death (CScript) updated their demo. @keeperofthesunandmoon

Fallen Hero: Revelations (CScript) updated their demo.

Weeping Gods (CScript) added new content to Chapter 2. @jcollinswrites

Tri City Monsters (Ren’Py) released Amir Chapter 3. @tricitymonsters

~ OTHER ~

A collection of high resolution artworks from the game Chronicles of Taldun: The Remainder is here.

The VNture podcast is back with episode #124.

~

As always, we apologize in advance for missing any update or release from the past week. We are only volunteers using their limited free time to find as much as we can - but sometimes things pass through the cracks.

If you think something should have been included in this week's zine but did not appear, please shoot us a message! We'll do our best to add it next week! And if you know oncoming news, add it here!

~ MAYBE YOU NEXT? ~

We did not get a submission this week. But if you have an idea for a short essay, or would like a special space to share your thoughts about IF and the community...

Shoot us an email!

~ HIGHLIGHT ON ~

A couple of games that we thought were cool.

Dominion of Darkness by Adeptus7 (Twine)

"Dominion of Darkness” is a strategy text game in which the player takes on the role of a Sauron-style Lord of Darkness with the goal of conquering the world.

Vendetta by @vendetta-if (CScript)

*drum rolls* for the game highlight!!!!! Vendetta by @ vendetta-if !!! THIS IF IS FANTASTIC! DESERVES SO MUCH MORE LOVE 💖👏

//submitted by anon//

Apistis Sophia by @sacredveinscollective (???)

Whew, this one is an experience and I loved everything about it!

A big thank you to the anon who brought our attention to Sacred Veins and their work!

//recommended by Dion [Team]//

Your favourite game here?

Do you have a favourite game that deserves some highlighting?

An old or recent game that wowed you so much you spam it to everyone?

Tell us about it! And it might appear here!

WE LOVE TO HEAR FROM YOU ALL! WHETHER IT'S GOOD OR BAD, OR EVERYTHING IN BETWEEN...

Have something to say? Send us a message titled: Zine Letter!

As we end this issue, we would like to thank:

our awesome anon!

For sending us their game Highlight!

As always, huge thanks to all you readers who liked, shared, and commented on the last issue!

What might be tiny actions are huge support and motivators to us!

Thank you for cheering us on this journey

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Would you like to know more about the Team? Check out our new Meet the Team post!

And see you again next week!

AJ, DION, BRIAR, JEN AND PETER

WHAT'S NEW IN IF? 2024-ISSUE 29

[moldspace]

new year new news

hey everyone! wow! 2022 is over! what a year! i made a lot of art, had some cool opportunities (painting a mural!!!) and some challenging transitions (quitting my job, switching academic programs!) but i think, overall, i’m glad to put this one in the rear view mirror. 

now, to get out of the rear view mirror and look forwards into the metaphorical windshield - my resolution this year is to MAKE MORE ART and to GET OUTSIDE OF MY COMFORT ZONE and with that in mind, my first actionable goal for 2023 was...

to start a patreon!

not gonna lie, i’ve been just as nervous as i’ve been busy setting this up the past few weeks (and the imposter syndrome has kicked in HARD), but hey, doing new things is always scary and awkward. and i really wanted a good excuse to put some time and energy into behind-the-scenes stories, progress shots, sketchbook pages that aren’t pretty enough to post on their own, and rambling talks about the winding path my own art tends to follow. so maybe check it out and throw some money my way, if you’ve got extra and are curious!

currently i’ve just got one $3 tier up, but i’m sure that will change and evolve as i figure out what i’m doing. but what can i access with three dollars, i hear you ask? well...

full digital copies of all of my zines! with transcripts, and personal commentary!

polls! maybe i'm making new stickers and don't know which design to go with, maybe i'm amassing work for an update and don't know if i should make some more selkies or some more sphinxes - these polls will help ME decide what to make more of, and help YOU ALL see more of what you want from me. win-win!

behind the scenes posts and videos! i have to admit that i harbor a secret love for video editing, but I have so far had no real outlet for it (aside from the AMVs that i occasionally make in a fugue state and NO i’m never showing them to a soul) - but i've just filmed and edited the first full start-to-finish process video for patreon! watch me make a ceramic beasty from sketch to glaze firing, with full voiceover commentary (my voice was once described by a child as “why do you sound like that? you sound like you’re going to cry” so look forward to that!) i have plans in the future for tutorial posts and videos, more process timelapses, and full behind the scenes zine-making retrospectives, from writing to illustrating to binding.

this month (january 2023) only, sign up as a patron and i will personally send a little doodle to your house! yes, like in the mail. feel free to send me a prompt with your pledge, otherwise it’ll probably be some sort of creature with a human face and stars on it. maybe it will still be that, even if you give me a prompt.

finally, you will get my eternal gratitude! i truly cannot thank you all enough for the support and love over the years. it's been such an amazing honor to find other people who like the wacky little critters i make, and whether you've purchased art from me, follow me, or are even just someone who's seen and liked a piece of mine, i am forever grateful to be able to connect across space and time, with you, over art. 

whether or not you decide to pledge, from the bottom of my heart, thank you! i am so lucky to have this space on tumblr to share my work - every kind comment means the world to me, and i just hope my work can be enriching to your worlds in some small way, too! i know making it enriches mine :^)

[gender-trash]

hi!

not to be abrupt or vaguely out of the blue, but do you have any fun recent book/music recs? you seem like you like cool stuff and my to read/ to listen list is looking sad. or film/tv recs anything goes.

yeah absolutely, i am basically always delighted to rec books/music!!

books (fiction):

the goblin emperor: i read this for the first time recently and was just completely charmed by it. recommended if you like plotty court intrigue fantasy with a good-sized pinch of conlang. me @ maia (the protagonist/pov character):

the scholomance trilogy: not exactly a deep cut, at least among tumblr users who read fantasy, but on the off chance you haven't read it: it's good.

a tale for the time being: okay so i don't normally into litfic but once in a blue moon i'll pick some up and it'll obliterate me. alternates between the pov of a japanese teenage girl's diary and the middle-aged author-insert character in british columbia who finds the diary after the girl tosses it into the pacific ocean; plays with time in a fun way. subtle magical realism my beloved.

(and there's no such thing as an easy job has a similar subtle magical realism vibe, but is overall much less of a tearjerker. highly recommend.)

several people are typing: a guy gets isekai'd into his work slack; the story is told entirely via slack messages. this is a super quick read, and very funny. especially if you have a job that involves using slack.

the machineries of empire series: aauauahahahahgggh i need one of those mspaint drawings of a stick figure covered in blood to describe my feelings on this one. fucked-up science fiction (you... COULD call it lesbian space atrocities, i suppose!) that drops you in on the deep end trying to figure out what all these words mean and then you slowly figure out that it's technical terminology describing the torment nexus that powers society. killer shit.

song for the basilisk: admittedly i did not read this particularly recently but i will take any opportunity to rec it. patricia a. mckillip writes really good high fantasy (check out how many times she shows up in the mythopoeic awards list!) and, of all the books of hers that i've read, this is my favorite.

danmei (chinese boys-love novels) in english translation is like half of what i've been reading lately -- my all time favorite is the scum villain's self-saving system, which has eaten my entire brain (it's good in itself; it's great for chewing on in the form of meta and fan activity), but i also recommend guardian (the third and final volume of the official english translation is the book i most recently finished reading) and devil venerable also wants to know (no official translation but this fan TL is quite decent; i bound myself a physical edition, so i also have a typeset PDF i'd be happy to DM you if you're interested.)

books (nonfiction):

(going to be briefer here, since you specifically asked for "fun" books and my nonfiction taste is a little unhinged.)

one of my current reads is michael szonyi's the art of being governed -- this is an academic monograph about how military families in the ming dynasty handled their obligations to the state. during the ming dynasty, it was possible for families to designate themselves "military families", which was a tax-advantaged status but obligated them to provide one (1) man to serve in the army at all times (so if he dies or deserts, eventually the family back home would have to cough up another one). (and, by "serve in the army", often what is meant is "you are employed by the military to farm, which is more or less what you would have done back home anyway.")

if you're the kind of guy who reads patio11's bits about money or enjoys ssc book reviews, you will likely also enjoy dan davies' the unaccountability machine, which is a brief exploration for a popular audience of the (dysfunctional) system dynamics of large institutions like corporations and governments. very accessible and nontechnical, but with pointers to the Deep Lore if you subsequently want to seek it out.

the world of the shining prince: this is a book about what it was like, culturally, to be an aristocrat in the heian period. since i have never in my life come within either 1,000 miles or 1,000 years of being a heian period aristocrat i find this deeply fascinating. however, my friends and family have started laughing at me whenever i bring up information about the heian period. read at your own risk.

sei shōnagon's pillow book: sei shōnagon was a heian period aristocrat! she seems to have enjoyed it, but it is something of a shame that she died approximately a thousand years too early to make a tumblr account, because otherwise i feel she would have LOVED blogging. i'm reading the penguin edition (trans. meredith mckinney) and it is, fortunately, quite thoroughly footnoted, but i haven't read any other translations so i don't know if there is a better one out there.

music:

today what i was listening to on loop was the chainsaw man ost, which is a mixture of, like, the usual sort of j-rock you find in a shōnen soundtrack and slow-paced atmospheric stuff, and somehow it works really well together. recently i've also been listening to this playlist a lot because it's the playlist i made for a fic i'm currently writing.

other songs i've been listening to this summer, in no particular order:

sungazer is music theory youtuber adam neely's jazz band; lately they've been experimenting with hypertuplets and i'm super into it.

sometimes i find electric six's vocalist really irritating and sometimes it's exactly the juice my brain needed, and i have no idea what controls this. possibly the phase of the moon.

spotify recommended me this song and i listened to it on loop for like an entire work day and then clicked on the artist name to learn more, which i didn't. googled the song just now while making this post and apparently it was in a video game? the more you know.

i've been listening to irontom a lot this summer (and, um, a lot of similar music that i eventually stuffed in a playlist entitled "music with blown-out audio channels"). it's just, you know, the vibe.

(if that's not enough, here's my "summer 2024" spotify playlist. go ham!)

film/tv:

somehow, "watching things" is a skill it is possible to be bad at, and baby i'm winning last place.

the one tv show i've managed to watch in i think the past four months is chainsaw man, mentioned above. personally i really like well-animated shōnen with a cool soundtrack and i don't care that much about its other qualities; however, the protagonist is a dipshit teenage boy whose greatest life ambition is to touch a boob, so if this frustrates you you probably won't enjoy it very much.

i really really wish more people would watch legend of hei, a chinese animated film in the same corner of concept-space as studio ghibli. it's cuteeeeeee <3333

maybe someday i'll finally finish watching oh my general, a cdrama (free on youtube!) about a female general (ye zhao) who for reasons gets in an arranged marriage with the emperor's dipshit nephew (zhao yujin). this is peak fucking content because ye zhao is constantly saying gay shit by accident and swanning about being cute/badass in probably-historically-dubious armor. also as with all cdramas the costuming is completely off the shits.

[wraithdance]

Hi Calvary. Sorry if this goes against house rules and/or isn’t helpful to your current mood but would you share tips on improving one’s reading comprehension?

Hi babes! It’s okay this is broad enough that I’m okay to point you in the right direction! my warning was for the trauma dumping/‘please absolve me of my guilt’ asks I got before that were not in very good faith and didn’t really consider my well being in the narrative. This is probs gonna be a ramble so I’m so sorry, I have an inability to makes things brief to save my life 😔

Overall my tips are to be open to unpacking your own understanding of the world without assigning shame or personal failings to yourself when you get it wrong.

Whether you want to comprehend fiction/nonfiction or media as a whole, that to me is the first part of reading comprehension because if you run into something that feels like a personal attack you have to lean back and think objectively about the content and not the tone.

Uh following educators and people who have made it a career to critically observe social frameworks has helped me learn and dissect things that raise my brow when I run into it.

Starting small with reading about information that you feel like is hard for you to grasp works wonders. If you’re embarrassed to ask a potentially dumb question then Google is your best friend and has saved me from looking like an asshole often

Engage in media for fun times as much as you can and as often as you seek out opportunities for further learning. (This one I’m so bad at because I’m unfortunately very all in about my beliefs and once I’ve learned a concept I love to yap and explain it to everyone as an act of love/information sharing lmfao)

Ask yourself what the point was of whatever you just read/consumed. I’m so serious. Act like you’re in third grade and your teacher is asking you to write a summary of huckleberry Finn, what did you gather from what you just engaged with? What do you think was the authors purpose? Was this something you liked?

There’s really no wrong answer to that previous question because we as humans are so diverse we will of course have varying perceptions. The problem lies when you walk away with nothing to show for it because most likely when you run into it again or hear someone who engaged differently ask a question, you’re like… wtf?

(Wait edit: I’m not Gandhi btw I do believe there is a way to have a bad take and that’s generally not believing in things like racism, homophobia, gender violence and the like. But those are baselines and it’s important to have some awareness of that in media)

No one likes feeling stupid so in general just try to be open and pursue a follow up for anything you don’t get!! It’s also helpful to remember every body has had a dumb ass moment (especially me which I wanna make clear because please the way I am often loud and wrong should be studied lmao)

If you have any specific questions I’m more than happy to point you in a direction, I really do love engaging in these topics because I want to be a professor/life long academic

(I’ll just hard stop if I feel like it’s not purposeful or helpful to me emotionally, so please I swear it’s not personal if that happens)

[the-dalseum-duet]

I’m going insane

@svwhssftr late night kohlsposting meets queer girlie music taste tag

oh God. oh god KILL ME

bags… i’m not like the biggest Clairo fan ever but i really liked her in middle school and now that bags is blowing up I’m reminded of just how baller her music is. she’s just so airy and cutesy and nostalgic and it makes me want to gut myself. i actually have insane cuteness aggression. i see something cute and i resort to extreme forms of violence. can’t have anything good around here without getting it a lil bloody

(the first time i heard this song was in a rory x paris edit and they’re my one and only comfort ship. they’re so. grrrrr I love them dearly like it physically hurts me that both are “””straight””” BITCH THEY KISSED anyway this is not about the most goated gilmore girls ship. those academic rivals are LESBIANS!!! the writers are SO WRONG)

but i keep seeing posts like “men who listen to Clairo are the most manipulative people of all time” and it’s funny in theory. but. ideas. IDEAS. GRAHHHH

so. this leads me to noeul. Naturally. Manipulative man ever. But noeul does indeed have a soul buried deep down inside him. He is naturally inclined to do things that bring him genuine joy. He is a hopeless romantic bitch HE IS I’M SO SORRY. NATURALLY. HE IS. HE WAS NOT BORN INTO A POSITION WHERE HE COULD FEASIBLY BE ONE. BUT HE IS REGARDLESS. AND HE DOESN’T KNOW HOW TO HANDLE THIS

like he obviously has a strong romantic attraction to Charlie. he stays in dirty motels to see her and blindly trusts her multiple times. he proposes to her. that’s a massive fucking deal coming from him. Living in Eden Grove gave him a sliver of life as a normal human being, and he fell head over heels as soon as he had the opportunity. Charlie made him feel safe. But like. In the way that you feel it’s wrong. It’s very queer even though he’s a man. And she is a woman. They are the gayest straight couple ever. It’s a hard phenomenon to describe but it’s so strong and it’s so conflicting but it’s so warm and hopeful and. ughhh. tl;dr Noeul has emotions he knows he should have but knows he can’t have 

but he suppresses these HARD once he returns to Dalseum. he has to be cutthroat again and maintain the image he had with the Council. this only worsens once his father dies. this is why he cheats on Charlie with Sonnet because he feels like he should be with Sonnet. Sonnet is a prominent community member who will blindly agree with him. Charlie is this nobody who opposes his authority. So he freaks out and just throws her in prison so he doesn’t have to think about what could have been. Sonnet is who he realistically should end up with. He cannot afford to do what makes him happy and, in turn, a better fucking human. 

Oh yeah. He absolutely has a breakdown once he learns about the existence of Crow. Also why he actually realizes that there is room for kindness inside of him. Crow’s existence as their child. But that’s neither here nor there rn i just love torturing this man. 

But. Here’s where we torture him more. Kai. Kai fits this into a way that makes me want to bash my head into a wall even more. 

Noeul sleeps around in a feigned attempt to crush his romantic tendencies. He’s not supposed to be sappy. He’s supposed to be cold and all exchanges with others must be neutral, if not beneficial to only him. Which is how he meets Kai. This was established previously. At one of Gale’s shows. 

And. Throwing this out there. Just to toxic-ify this yaoi even further. Noeul actually really fucking likes him. Like he gets flustered occasionally around him. Kai is a dumbass (affectionate) and doesn’t pick up on this but Sara absolutely does and picks at Noeul for this. But Noeul definitely picks up on Kai not actually caring for him so Noeul acts like he doesn’t care either. But ohh hohohoho he does!! This little whore DOES care so much!! He WANTS romantic dates out on the town and he wouldn’t trade the mornings they wake up next to each other for ANYTHING!! HE LOVES HIS STUPID BITS AND THE WAY HE SMILES AND THE WAY HE PERFECTLY FITS INSIDE HIS ARMS!!!! HE LOVES THAT DAMN SHARK BOY!! But Kai’s just oblivious. He’s just like “eh he sleeps around with Everyone. he just wants to have some fun and I’m cool with that. he’s just like that” BUT HE’S ACTUALLY NOT LIKE THAT. THAT’S WHAT HE WANTS EVERYONE TO THINK. THAT’S WHAT HE WANTS EVERYONE BUT KAI TO THINK!!

that’s it. that’s all. 

just. picturing Sara walking in on Noeul violently sobbing face planted onto his bed with Bags by Clairo playing on repeat in the background 

“…are you okay?”

“WHY DO I FEEL LIKE THIS”

“hungover?”

“worse.”

“kai?”

“NO”

“you’re in love, sang. I’ve never seen you act like that before. stay in denial all you want”

“fuck off sara”

“I’m just saying. It’s better if you figure it out yourself. I’m just pushing you in the right direction”

“there is no right direction here.”

“is that fucking pheobe bridgers?”

“NO!”

“oh-“

“it’s Clairo”

“oh my bad?”

[catscratching]

Tagged: Altitis Edition

Favorite | Seda Ballard This was actually a difficult choice, as I have two characters that will forever be near and dear to my heart.   But Seda is who I spend the most time thinking about and writing for, so she edges out to the front.

Oldest | Veriinya Irenellar Veri was born in 2007? 2008? She was my first… ‘actually roleplay in an MMO’ character.  I had stories written about previous characters, but never did ‘live’ RP with them.  She’s mostly retired these days, although I still write her in an AU setting with a friend.  (I love her to pieces, and she’ll always be very very special to me - and it was through Veri that I met @valdiis!  She was always intrigued by one of Val’s characters and wanted to know him better, but we never had the opportunity. :D)

Newest | Rucio Corcoran I needed an antagonistic character I could use as a foil and part of my XIV roleplay, so Rucio was born.  I had a number of sources of inspiration for him, and I’m not entirely cemented in who he is as a person.

Meanest | Rucio Ambitious, obsessive, amoral and cruel, Cio is one of those characters I have to be in the right headspace to write.  His casual derision and abuse doesn’t come easily, and I’ve got a long list of notes about the characters that inspired him to keep me on track. 

Softest | Anisai Swiftwater Ani is one of those ‘outwardly aloof, but a big softie inside’ types.  He also originated in another MMO, and it seemed natural to me to bring him to XIV.   He’s devoted his life to healing and supporting the people around him - which can sometimes lead to tunnel vision, obscuring larger social problems in the world around him.  

Most Aloof/Standoffish | Seriol Irenellar Veriinya’s father, Seriol is an academic researcher and mindhealer.  Before I quasi-retired him in 2015, he was working with priests of the Dead (who had direct contact with the spirit/souls of the departed) and his research revolved around the things you could do using the pure energy of those ghosts.  … He is not a terribly nice person, and I have considered bringing him into XIV as a second antagonist.

Dumbest (Affectionate) | Keialaar Irenellar Veriinya’s younger sister (I do have a habit of giving my characters connections, although this was the first time I wrote a nearly complete family), Kei isn’t actually dumb exactly, as I just don’t find that dynamic enjoyable, but she’s a very low WIS character.

Dumbest (Derogatory) | Keialaar See above.  She’s the living embodiment of ‘YOLO’ foolishness. :D

Smartest | Seriol Absolutely brilliant, he has very little patience for people that cannot keep up with his intellect.

Horniest | Seda Physical intimacy is one of the easiest way to feel connected - not just to a romantic partner, but to people in a more general sense.  Seda doesn’t conflate sex with love - she’s had enough physical encounters where love did not enter the equation to have a very firm understanding that they are separate.  But sex, even if it’s a solo activity, helps her relax, and now that she has a partner that she’s absolutely crazy about, intimacy with him makes her feel closer to him on an emotional level.

Character You’d Bang | … (Can I say Fakhri here?) - Probably Seda I think she’d understand that sometimes you just want to be naked in someone’s arms, feeling that connection, and sometimes you want to crawl into comfy PJs and just cuddle.  Her feelings wouldn’t be hurt by the latter, and given that she has many of the same emotional hangups I do, we’d understand one another.   (Or there would be horrible misunderstandings and we’d both be miserable. :D )

Also have you seen her freckles?  Goddess.     [She’s not a consolation prize, don’t get me wrong - I just adore Fakhri that much. :3 ]

Character You’d Be RL Besties With |  Seda or Veriinya Both ladies are generous, compassionate, and insightful.  They have their differences - Veri is very much Lawful Good and Seda is Chaotic all the way, but they’re definitely the type you can call at 2am because you’re lonely and can’t sleep, and either of them would show up with tubs of ice cream and horrible movies when you need a friend.

Tagging: @valdiis, have you done this yet?  Consider yourself tagged!  Also @briar-ffxiv

[starglitterz]

to all the boys i've loved before.

─── KAZUHA ! // the cute senior in your cheerleading team.

─ a short series based on my own personal experiences with love and crushes. a sort of messy goodbye to all the boys i've loved before.

warning(s) ; brief mention of injuries, description of cheer stunts, links are all to youtube vids of the stunts mentioned in case u were curious ^_^

a/n ; hihi! this is a quick edit from me even tho i'm on hiatus, i checked my notifs and i saw that a few of u acc wanna be tagged for this series?!?! i didn't mention a taglist in the masterlist bc i didn't think anyone would want to be tagged :sob: , but now i'll make one!! send me an ask if you'd like to be tagged in the remaining posts of this series mwahhhh :)

series masterlist.

it's the start of a brand new academic year! this year, you're ready to give it your all for your cheerleading to secure a win, as you're no longer the newbie flyer; you'd like to consider yourself one of the pros now after two years of stunting. when you arrive at the practice area, you wave at a few familiar faces, and notice quite a few new people too. but the person who really captures your attention is the boy opposite you, and the first thought that runs through your mind when you see him is 'holy shit, he's so pretty!' he's got snowy white hair streaked with red in a tuft that falls in front of his eye, and surprising red eyes. you don't get an opportunity to speak with him though, because just then the cheer captain, ayaka, calls for you all to start your warm-up before starting to learn the actual routine.

thankfully, fate seems to be smiling upon you, as it turns out one of your regular bases, aloy, has opted not to join cheer this year, and ayaka wants beidou, who's more experienced with basing, to help fischl get used to flying. so, with luck on your side, you're partnered with the pretty boy from earlier and his best friend, gorou. "hi, i'm y/n!" you introduce yourself, eager to know his name. "i'm kaedehara kazuha," he smiles, "and i'm going to be honest, i know nothing about this." "same!" gorou pipes up, and you laugh, "no problem! i don't mind falling a few times." kazuha quickly shakes his head, "no way! i don't want you to get hurt, so we'll figure it out with venti stunting first." oh no. he's caring to someone he just met too?! archons, you're a goner.

after a few trial runs, gorou signals to you that they're ready to try it with you. this is a rather significant moment, because the three of you will be working together all term and are paired for the routine, so you've got to click with your bases to ace the stunts and gain your team some extra points. thankfully, you land a perfect stunt the first try, and the three of you are so happy you all start jumping around and cheering. the excitement in the air is practically tangible, and you're certain this will be a year to remember.

-

over the days of practice, you and kazuha gradually get closer, and you learn that he's just a year above you in school, which explains why you didn't know him prior to this. he's always very sweet to you and quiet, although he does tend to be a little bit of a tease sometimes. but really, some of the most memorable moments for the two of you occur while practicing stunts.

the first happens when you're practicing a cradle, which you three [idiotically] decide to attempt without a back support while riding on the high of your recent successful stunts. however, without lumine hoisting you up like she usually does, you're unused to the lack of extra force and end up tilting backwards when you should be leaning forwards to balance yourself. unsurprisingly, you end up falling, and somehow you land on your arm, which you suppose is better than landing on your head. kazuha disagrees. even though he's unsteady after the failed stunt too, he's instantly beside you, moving your arm up and down while gently tracing your wrist, "does it hurt?" "a little," you swallow, unable to meet his piercing gaze, "but i'll be fine." his fingers linger on your skin a little longer than they should, but in the end all he mumbles is, "it'll bruise a bit, make sure to put some ice onto it." when gorou tentatively suggests trying it again, kazuha shuts him down without hesitating, "no. what if y/n falls worse and gets injured? we can just wait for lumine to come back." your heart is beating way too fast for its own good from his protectiveness, and even though you just fell, you can't help but smile.

one day, kazuha is basing fischl for a pendulum together with beidou, just as an experiment to test which base would be able to handle such a difficult stunt, especially since ayaka wants fischl to fall both backwards and forwards instead of in just one direction. unfortunately, fischl ends up falling onto the safety mattress when she doesn't gain enough momentum to stand up again, and everyone is visibly shaken by what a sudden fall it was. the fact that the mat was there is the only reason she didn't break anything after the impact, and the reality of how dangerous stunting can be hits all of you, because one wrong move now could lead to a lifelong injury and that's no laughing matter. kazuha excuses himself, but you notice the expression on his face and follow after him - you don't think he should be alone right now. "'zuha, are you okay?" you ask in a whisper, using the affectionate nickname you had coined for him after declaring his six-letter name was too long. "no. she could have broken her fucking neck," kazuha says, leaning his head against his arm on the wall, scrunching his eyes shut as if to forget what happened, "and it would have been my fault for not being good enough." "it's okay, 'zuha," you move closer, "it wasn't your fault. we all make mistakes, and the main thing is that fischl wasn't hurt." "but she could have been." "kazuha-" "what if it had been you? what if i had fucking dropped you?" he finally looks at you, and his crimson irises swirl with emotion as he steps closer, "i need to practice more. if anything happened to you…" his voice breaks and he can't finish his sentence, turning once again to face the wall. you place your hand on his shoulder, rubbing comforting circles onto his skin, "even if you drop me, it's fine. but i know you won't." "how?" the reply is barely audible. "because i trust you." and really, that's the basis of both cheerleading and love, isn't it?

the stunt you truly will never forget is the day you're practicing basket tosses. you're pretty excited because it's a stunt you're known to excel at, and you do enjoy the feeling of almost weightlessness as you're tossed into the air. your bases today are kazuha and rosaria, so you think you'll be fine as both of them are steady bases. however, things don't quite go according to plan. rosaria threw you in a slightly tilted direction, so when you fall, you don't fall in the center for both of them to catch you like you're supposed to; you end up falling right into kazuha's arms. but because of the impact which was meant to be shared by two bases, both of you end up falling onto the ground, his grip around you tightening slightly as you fall. kazuha's on his knees, and due to the position of the catch, you're seated right on his lap. you're safe in his embrace though, and your arms are around his neck from how you latched on and hid your face in his chest. there's so much adrenaline running through your veins right now from the fall that you can barely think straight, and you can barely string together a coherent sentence with your heartbeat thumping in your ears. kazuha's frozen too, and although you don't realise this until later when your head clears, you were practically sitting on kazuha in such an intimate position in front of the entire team… that's embarrassing. but in a minute, kazuha snaps out of it and his first instinct is to check on you, "are you okay? fuck, i'm so sorry, are you okay?" the question spills from his mouth repeatedly like a prayer, a plea, and you nod rapidly before apologising, "yeah… i'm really sorry for falling on you though, i'm the one who should be asking if you're okay." "no, right now i'm worried about whether you're okay or not. does it hurt anywhere?" kazuha doesn't let go of you, but his eyes search yours for any hint of a lie as you reply that you're fine. when he has to let you go, it almost seems hesitant, like staying in his arms could help keep you safe.

-

your friendship extends past cheerleading too! when you all dress up for the casual christmas gala your school has organised, you comment on how good kazuha looks with the black cap he's wearing backwards when he pops by your class to visit you. he just laughs and takes it off before putting it on your head with a beam, "i think you wear it better."

texting kazuha always leaves you grinning at your phone like an utter idiot. he's so funny, always cracking jokes in the most calm tone. he could absolutely destroy someone while speaking in the most angelic tone with a sweet smile, and it's the most hilarious thing ever to you how he rips into teachers through text but is the perfect prefect in class.

the night before your debate competition, you text kazuha at midnight asking him to help you decide which dress to wear. he picks the one you were leaning towards all the while, and while you pretend to yourself that it's destiny, you realise something worse the next second; you don't have a blazer! how are you supposed to live out your professional lawyer daydreams without one?! for some reason, you decide to tell kazuha about this dilemma, but you don't expect his reply at all. he casually says, 'ill lend you mine tmrw' and you thank your lucky stars that it's only through text, because if you had heard him say that out loud you swear your heart might actually have stopped. the next day, kazuha passes the blazer to you in the morning and wishes you luck, assuring you that you're going to ace it. when you put it on, you're comforted by the fact that it smells like him, though you'd never say that out loud. he laughs when he sees how much it swamps you, and the sound makes you smile too, chasing all your nerves away. perhaps that was his plan all along.

for one of the events your school has, the two of you take a picture together 'for memories', as is the famous excuse just to get a picture with the person you're head over heels for. however, your smile almost comes across as a shocked face when kazuha slips his hand around your waist, tugging you ever so slightly closer. emboldened by his actions, you do the same to him, and his smile only widens as he voices no complaint. when you're chatting with your friends later, hu tao, who knows all about your little crush, grins mischievously like she has a huge secret to tell you. once the two of you are alone, she beams, "guess what? i did some digging, and you're the only one whose waist kazuha held." "what?! how do you know?!" you ask, heat springing to your cheeks at the mere thought of hu tao's strange notion. "because i'm such an oh-so-helpful friend, i helped everyone take their pictures today!" she winks conspiratorially, and you can barely formulate a reply, especially when she grins, "the two of you are totally perfect for each other!"

-

finally, your sports day dawns, and today's the day you're going to be performing the cheer routine. before you run onstage with your pompoms waving madly in the air, you whisper, "good luck," to kazuha and he grins, "i don't think we'll need it." it's almost like he can predict the future, because the performance is a smashing success that lands your team the win. everyone erupts into cheers, yelling, screaming and crying as ayaka is handed the trophy. you're so overjoyed that you keep jumping around, and you end up impulsively hugging kazuha way too many times to count. it's embarrassing in hindsight, but you don't regret it at all, especially when he reciprocates each and every one.

a/n ; omfg the pilot post of my series... no idk what hcs are don't ask. also i was srsly nervous abt posting this bc idk if these are even cute to other ppl or if it was just me bc i was a nervous stupid girl in love LMAO

© starglitterz 2022. do not repost or modify in any way.

[inkwolvesandcoffee]

Ink & Rum Raisins (Alfie Solomons x Reader, Modern AU)

(Credits for the images in the moodboard go to their respective owners. The absolutely gnarly Anubis is by @/dugagau (IG))

Genre: Romance, Humour, Modern AU

Pairing: Tattoo Artist!Alfie Solomons x Dutch Fem!Reader

Word Count: 12.3K

Warnings: a lot of swearing, Alfie being a gentleman, size kink, unrequited crush/love/lust (or is it? Also, I’m sorry, but the reader, like me, has a thing for older men), allusion to smoking/vaping, allusion to past violence

Summary: Prequel to Mokum Part 1.

Alfie

There was once a little dove, yeah, who found herself in a shithole of a place called Birmingham. Little brave thing that she was, she flew over the wolves living in it, looking for the one she had business with. Now, this wolf, right, was already an older chap, greying and with a bloody bad leg. He was, no, is the King of Camden. Anyways, the little dove found him and the wolf and her agreed upon a contract, according to which he provided his services. He soon found himself rather charmed by her, perhaps because he reminded her of days gone or because she awakened something in him, a reminder of a fantasy he hadn’t dare to fancy in a long time. And that’s why he coaxed the little thing into a deal.

Because he’s a selfish, in her words, bastard.

Caught between vice and virtue, unsure which of the two she is.

Y/N

I had heard the stories about the eccentric Alfie Solomons, owner of King of Camden Ink in London. However, when he announced he’d fulfill a guestspot at Shelby Tattoo Company in Birmingham, there was no way I could pass up the rare opportunity to be tattooed by one of the biggest (though infamous) names in the industry and get myself one of his gnarly yet gorgeous pieces.

In hindsight, if I had to do anything differently, I would have picked any other spot on my body but my thigh, simply to save myself from transforming into a bumbling fool. However, I would happily relive the whole experience even though it was quite... turbulent, to say the least. And, I’ll be honest, Alfie’s a bit of a bastard. Nevertheless, I’d do it all over again.

I wonder if butterflies see the potential danger in roses. The thorns, I imagine, could rip their wings if they come too close. Fancy could be their downfall. Then again, they never live long, do they? 

Author’s Note: Oh my days, it’s at last, the first segment in the behemoth this Alfie Solomons romance has become. This particular story started out as a one-shot, but gradually grew longer and longer up to the point I now have at least enough of a story to write a novella. 

Bloody hell, anyways, I made the reader Dutch because I’ve never seen anyone do that before (mind, I’m willfully ignoring the Dutch fanfiction I’ve come across because it was... not good, and that’s putting it politely) and since I’m Dutch myself and this tale is based upon actual events and conversations, I thought, ‘‘Well, why the hell not?’’

Also, this is the first thing I’ve written and edited since my thesis, so if it sounds rather formal or even academic in places, it might be because of that. I’ve yet to get accustomed to writing fiction again.

But, without further ado, kick back, relax, and enjoy the story.

Monster Masterlist / TH Masterlist

Having jolts of electricity shooting throughout your body and making your hands a bit jittery while your stomach seems to tie itself into a permanent knot is only natural when something exciting is about to happen. And as long as there is coffee nearby, the nerves can be fairly contained. In my personal opinion, that is.

However, when getting tattooed it’s better to not drink coffee before the appointment and let your emotions run wild. Now, I can only confirm for the former it helps the tattooing process because you do not want to start bleeding more than might be the case in a non-caffeinated scenario. The latter, on the other hand, is perhaps worse than a caffeine overdose. What also does not help my current case is entrusting part of my body to a man, regardless of his talent.

Another unhelpful detail is that I am about to go to a shop where practically only men work. Although, if I’m lucky, the two resident female artists have an appointment today too. We don’t have to have a conversation, interact at all, but it would make the environment more pleasant if I’m not the sole feminine presence.

Then again, I suppose I brought this down on myself. When I saw that Alfie Solomons would have a guest spot at Shelby Tattoo Company, I knew I had to get an appointment somehow. A holiday to Birmingham and getting a tattoo by a brilliant artist? Two birds with one stone, count me in.

Alfie has become somewhat of a celebrity in the tattoo community thanks to his art, inspired by various religions around the globe, specifically focusing on its monsters, demons, and other animal symbolism. The designs are gnarly yet awe-inspiring, the blacks stark and each element easily discernible despite the dark ink. For this specific guest spot he noted he’d only do flash and wanna-dos. Fortunately for the both of us, I’m obsessed enough with ancient Egypt to dedicate a part of my skin to the god of its Underworld and the dead.

The skin of my right thigh, to be precise.

And that’s where the problem lies. 

For my other tattoos, I went to a women-run tattoo studio because I’m more comfortable with having a woman tattoo me. That is, of course, not to say all male tattoo artists aren’t to be trusted, because there are genuine sweethearts out there, and that women can’t be predators or walking red flags themselves. I, myself, have simply heard one too many tales of a woman being mistreated by a male tattoo artist to entrust them with the intimacy that comes with getting a tattoo.

Quite a contradiction, innit, considering the fact I’m about to let Alfie, a bear of a man, tattoo my thigh? Let’s call it a leap of faith, spurred on by incredible talent no one else possesses.

A sacrifice of principles in the name of art.

Sounds rather poetic when I put it like that. Better than ‘I want new ink and that Anubis looks fucking awesome. I want it. I’m gonna get it. Don’t care if I’m gonna have to travel.’

Yes, a sacrifice for art. We’ll keep it at that. 

The bus stops on Victoria Street, a small straightforward walk away from Shelby Tattoo Company in Small Heath. Red brick worker’s houses line the wide cobblestone street, the occasional old storefront among them hinting at what the edifice was used as in days past. Stone steps inlaid in a patch of grass lead up to the main street, an older couple descending them. The woman holds firmly onto her husband, her arm looped in his. He, in turn, clutches the railing for dear life. Nonetheless, it’s a sweet sight, an affirmation Love and Romance still exist.

‘‘The destination is on your right. Shelby Tattoo Company.’’

I turn off the navigation and tuck my phone into the back pocket of my jeans. For a second I remain unmoving, merely looking at the handle of the door. 

Breathe in… breathe out. It’s gonna be fine. It’s gonna be okay. Alright, let’s go!

The mental prep has done little to still the tremble in my fingers, but my racing mind becomes eerily clear when I push the front door open. 

The single step across the threshold must have been noisy or his hearing is like a bat’s because my entrance rouses the bulking figure in the corner of the shop. He’s clad in a white shirt and jeans, his long brown hair tousled and haphazardly slicked back as best as possible. 

The man spins around on his stool, the movement languid and wary. A brief silence settles in, a moment in which we look at each other quizzically. In fact, it might even be safe to say we’re trying to estimate each other, guessing at how much danger hangs in the air.

“Can I help you, miss?” he asks, a note of caution in his Cockney accent as he strokes his beard. 

“I- I have an appointment. W- With Mr Solomons,” I stammer, feeling like a child caught red-handed trying to steal a cookie.

And that immediately shows how much of an actual threat I am

“Ah, Y/N! Shalom!” Alfie rises to his feet and swaggers over, precariously balancing his weight to hide his limp as best as possible. His broad shoulders block out the light as he comes to a halt, a polite distance between us. I tilt my head to look up, mentally cursing my genes for making me a head shorter than him and myself for the flutters of a butterfly storm in my stomach, caused by the height difference. “Welcome.”

He tilts his head and huffs, strangely amused. “I see you’re wearing new pants.”

“How- How’d you know they’re new?”

This is already getting sus. Maybe I should turn tail and run.

“I follow you on Instagram,” he says matter-of-fact and shrugs. “I saw you had a new Story, one about buying pants to get tattooed in.”

“You,” I point at him and then at me, still not registering his words, “follow me? On Instagram?”

“I do,” Alfie casually confirms. “If you don’t believe it, go see for yourself.”

He gestures for me to grab my phone.  “Go on, check.”

My face pales when the follow button turns a light blue and states follow back. 

Oh God, he’s seen my Stories. Seen my cat Stories. All the bullshit I posted.

Alfie leans in, the light providing extra definition to his toned arms, crossed firmly over his chest. “I don’t think you looked like shit. Those jeans look good on you.” The glee of being proven right melts into a curious pondering. “Boyfriend jeans, was it? Yeah… They look good on you.”

What does he mean by that? Is he flirting? Or is he being himself? I mean, I’ve heard he’s a bit eccentric, but what do I do?

Apparently nothing, because my feet are rooted to the spot, my mind erupted into pure chaos with not a single coherent thought thinking of walking out the door. So I remain where I am, still like a statue.

Until Alfie claps his hands. “Right! I won’t lie and say I’m not ecstatic about you picking the Anubis design.” 

He turns around and walks to his station to grab something. After a quick search, he returns with two pieces of paper and his tablet. An expression like water has been poured over him to wake him from a dream passes over his face. A funny contrast with the warm gesture towards the worn leather sofa.“Where are my manners? Please, sit down. Tea? Coffee?”

“Ah, no, thanks. I’ve already had two cups of coffee and I don’t want to turn into a bouncy ball.”

“Water, then?”

“Yeah, sure.”

“I printed the design in two sizes, the original and a smaller one. I think both will work fine, but I’ll leave the decision up to you. Also, I’d like my clients to fill in a form. It’s kind of a dossier, right, only accessible to me of course. It’s due to the new regulations on ink, you know how fond the authorities are of control and paperwork, and to document which ones I used in case you get a reaction. It’s also nice to know, in general, I have your consent to place the tattoo. All you need to do is put your signature on the line at the bottom.” He puts the pieces of paper on the coffee table and carefully hands the tablet and stylus over.

I look over the form, fill in the missing details, and sign the form. In the meanwhile, Alfie pours a glass of water, judging by the sound of an opening and closing fridge from a bottle rather than the tap. 

“Piece of lemon?”

“Pardon?”

“Lemon? Would you like a slice in your water?’’ he patiently repeats, adding playfully, ‘‘It’s wonderfully refreshing.”

“My, what luxury!” I exclaim in a terrible imitation of a posh accent.

“I only want the best for my clients,” he says, though it’s unclear whether he’s serious or playing along. All the same, with a bit of a show, he grabs a cutting board, a knife, and a lemon from the net sitting in the corner of the counter. Sonorously, he hums along with the jazz song that plays over the speaker as he slices the fruit and adds two slices of it to the glass of water.

After washing his hands, he holds out the glass like a butler would. “Here you are, madam.”

“Thank you,” I say, cheeks warm. “Let’s trade. Here’s your tablet back.”

“What’s your email?” he asks after looking over the form. “I’ll send a copy to you. It’s always good to have a backup of important documents like this, innit?”

A brief flash of confusion passes over his face when I tell him the part of my email which contains my last name. Unable to suppress a giggle, I resort to spelling it out to not subject him any further to the difficulties of the Dutch language.

“Hold on, slow down.’’ He mumbles the letters to himself, the stylus making soft tick tick tick sounds. ‘‘Alright, carry on.’’

The last bit is evidently easier to keep up with. Everything noted, he turns the screen to me for a final check. ‘‘That correct?’’

I nod in confirmation

‘‘Alright. Now let me just… there. Sent.’’ The furrow in his brow smoothes out now the paperwork is done. Alfie puts the tablet on the coffee table, sits down and leans back in the chair across from me, thick fingers entwined. ‘‘So that’s how you pronounce your last name?” 

‘‘Yep, but I do admit I anglicised it. In Dutch it sounds like this.’’ With a little mental effort, I temporarily suppress the innate tendency to use English. An effort well-spent since it earns me the joy of the look of utter befuddlement anyone who is not acquainted with my native tongue gets once they hear it.

“Okay, now, see, I did not expect such a last name after hearing you talk.”

  I tilt my head, puzzled. “How’d you mean?”

“Your accent and last name don’t add up. Unless you’re married, but you’re not, are you?”

I shift in my seat, uncomfortable with the mention of marriage. “Where’d you think I’m from?”

“Either Dublin and Belfast, but now I’m leaning more towards the latter.” A mischievous though well-meaning grin tugs at the corners of his lips. “You have a tendency to go down with your intonation and your speech almost has a slight underlying growl like they have in the north. Do you have family there?”

“None. I have no ties to Ireland aside from my travels.”

“Do you mean Ireland as one country or do you make the distinction between the north and south?”

It’s the Republic and the north, but I’ll let it slide.

“Are you asking my opinion on the border?” I ask, a wary tone in my voice.

“I think I already have my answer.” Like a pleased cat, he entwines his fingers only to individually crack them a moment later. “Anyways, let’s not talk about politics. It’s all the same, toffs unable to agree on what they think is a matter of the common people like you and me but is essentially a bureaucratic quarrel that’s nothing to do with the public whatsoever. Sharks eat fish smaller than themselves to survive. Big fucks small always.”

He clears his throat and leans forward. “Have you decided yet?”

“Well…” I start, overwhelmed with thoughts of the various outcomes and permanency of the matter. 

Before I can make an attempt at a proper answer, Alfie picks up on my indecisiveness. “If you want, you can try both. We’ll tape both sizes to your leg and you can tell me which size you prefer.”

“Sounds good,’’ I say, letting out a small sigh of relief. ‘‘First, though, let me put my shorts on. Where’s the restroom?”

He points to somewhere behind me. “Behind the door with the chrysanthemums.”

I stand up, grab the pants from my backpack, and slip into the restroom. It only takes a minute or two to change, but nevertheless I find myself unable to go back out into the studio right away.

I bought these especially for today. Shit, he saw that Story too, didn’t he? And what if other men walk in, be it clients or tattoo artists? What will their first thought be?

A gentle knock on the door violently jolts me back into reality. On the other side, a familiar baritone voice calls out, concern evident in the simple question. “Y/N, you alright?”

“Yeah,” I answer, opening the door a crack and slipping through it, “I’m fine.”

Alfie takes me in, gaze unwavering and expression unreadable. His body also shows no hints eluding to his train of thought. The peculiar investigation ends with a low hum.

What was that? Does- Can he read me like an open book? Is that what he just did?

Without knowing whether he did and hesitant to ask, I let the matter rest. 

We move over to the large mirror covering the wall nearby his station. The tattoo artist makes a brief detour to his station to put on a pair of black latex gloves before sauntering over to kneel down. For a second I wonder what it would be like to cup his cheek, how his beard would feel against my palm as I’d turn his face to make him look up at me.

Part of the fantasy comes true, because he lifts his head. “May I?”

More than a second passes before I register what he means. Then I notice his hands a few centimetres from my thigh, ready to place the first design, the one with the original size. Instead of an answer, too afraid of what might come out of my mouth, I swallow and nod.

With precision, he sticks the piece of paper to my skin, smoothing it out to display its full potential. Smiling proudly, showing his slightly crooked teeth, Alfie rises to his feet and puts his hands on his hips. “What do you think? We could also mirror the design, but that would make Anubis face your…” he vaguely gestures, struggling to find the words that are polite enough. Evidently, he can’t find them, settling for “you know.”

I model the design, twisting my leg this way and that, all the while trying to ignore Alfie standing with his arms crossed in the background. However, there is only so long I can close him out so eventually I search for and meet his eyes via the mirror, furiously trying to hide my nerves under only a half-feigned expression of exhilaration. “Let’s do it.”

“Are you sure? You don’t want to try the other size?”

I turn around, forcing myself to maintain his gaze. “I’m a fairly small person, so I think the size is just right.”

“No mirroring?”

“Nah, let’s keep it classy.”

The low chuckle rising from the depths of his throat ignites a pleasant warmth that spreads throughout my body. “If the lady says so. I’ll get everything ready, so sit back with a snack or, if you want, there’s plenty of time to go outside for a smoke.”

“I don’t smoke, so I’ll go with the former,” I say as I plop down on the worn leather couch.

“That’s likely the better option of the two. Nicotine and tobacco are vices, ones I’m only too guilty of indulging in. Although, I’ve recently switched to vaping. Less stank, less laundry, better for the environment and clients.”

“I don’t mind the smell of cigarettes too much, but I do admit I prefer the smoke of vaping above that of regular smoking. Sometimes it smells quite good, actually. Kinda sweet.”

“Depends on the cartridge. See, like whiskey, yeah, the flavour is dependent on the environment, the way it is brewed. I prefer rum myself, though.”

“I’ve never tried it.”

Alfie turns away from the printer busily cranking out the stencil. “You never had rum?”

I shake my head. “I generally don’t drink, but if I do, I tend to stick to my favourites. Licor quarenta y très, amaretto, limoncello, Guinness, whiskey.”

“Irish or Scottish?”

“Generally Irish.”

“Of bloody course,” he chuckles. “My family has a rum distillery, based near London, but we sell the stuff throughout the country in shops run by family members, of course. There’s one in Birmingham, so if you tell them I sent you, I’ll make sure there’s a bottle ready for you. Free of charge, of course, because it’s the least I can do to save you from that sin.”

“The sin of not knowing the taste of rum?”

“Exactly! When are you leaving England?”

“Tomorrow. And, unfortunately, I only have hand luggage, so there is no way I could take the bottle with me.”

“Hm, that’s too short notice…”

“We can make good on this later? I mean, this isn’t the last time I’ll be in England.” I cross and uncross my legs, feeling rather self-conscious. “Or we could meet at a convention? I don’t know whether you’ll be attending one in Holland any time soon, but-’’

“I’ll be attending the Amsterdam Tattoo Festival in September,” he interrupts me, fortunately saving me from having to finish a sentence I don’t know how to continue. “We could meet then, if you’d like? Or are you planning to go to the London Tattoo Show?”

“Unfortunately, I have to skip that one since I don’t think my bank account will allow it. Especially considering I’m planning to quit my job soon and do some travelling around Scotland and Northern Ireland for about a month, which won’t be cheap.” He mumbles something under his breath in response, the words bleeding into each other to form an incoherent mess. However, the disagreeing tone is a hint that he disapproves of something, whatever it might be. “But I’m planning to go to Amsterdam too, so, could we- we could-’’

Stop being such a coward. Just ask already, for God’s sake! 

“I’d like that,” Alfie cuts in as if he’s read my mind. Stencil in hand, he turns back to me, his features soft. “Gives me plenty of time to make good on my promise.”

We return to his station, a polite distance between us. Alfie sits down on the stool and grabs a disposable razor, which he puts down again with a hint of slight surprise after inspecting my leg. “Already shaven, eh?”

I run a hand through my hair while my stomach quivers. “Yeah. I thought it would be polite. Also, I can’t stand my legs being hairy. My arms neither.”

“I wish more people had that mentality. Then again, humans tend to be selfish creatures,’’ he grumbles while pulling on a new pair of gloves.

“Are there really that many clients who don’t shave?”

“More than you think, darling, but it makes me all the more appreciative of clients like you.”

The ‘darling’ means nothing. Stop being a fucking idiot and don’t get your hopes up. He literally just confirmed you’re just a customer, a source of income.

“Right, before we start, would you like to use numbing cream? We could also use nutmeg oil, if you’d like.”

“Nutmeg oil?”

“It’s completely vegan and helps relieve the pain,’’ Alfie explains. ‘‘It has quite a strong scent, though, so I hope you’re not faint of heart. Or, rather, have a sensitive nose.”

For a moment, I contemplate the options, weighing past experiences against each other. Thus far, line work has never been a problem and blackwork hasn’t been either. “D’you know what? Let’s go without.”

“Tough as nails,” he says with a hint of awe and appreciation. “You’re full of surprises, in’t ya?”

“Am I?”

“So far, yes. A young Dutch woman with a misleading Irish accent wants a gnarly scowling Anubis on her thigh whereas her other tattoos are colourful and less gnarly. One can only speculate regarding her story.” He grabs a big pot with the image of a geisha and red lettering on it, unscrews the lid, and scoops out a dollop of the stuff within to put on the side of his gloved hand. “This is Dragon’s Blood. It helps calm the skin and closes pores. It can be used as aftercare too.”

He screws the lid on again and puts the pot back in place. “May I?”

I stare at him blankly. “What do you mean?”

“May I touch your thigh and prep the skin?” he clarifies, his slightly crooked teeth showing.

“Oh, right, right! Yes, of course,” I answer, stumbling over the words and barely refraining from breaking out into a ramble.

Alfie picks up some of the balm with his fingers and leans in to work it into the skin. At first he tries to do it without support, but quickly finds himself struggling a bit. “Is it okay if I place my hand on the back of your thigh?” he asks, looking up with sincere greyish blue eyes. “It’s easier to work it in if there’s a bit of resistance and support.”

Wow, he has really pretty eyes. But then again, even a rose has thorns.

“Y- Yeah, sure.”

“Are you agreeing because you want to or because you’re feeling intimidated?” 

The question catches me off-guard, its thoughtfulness rendering me speechless.

“Y/N,” Alfie sighs, “I have no ill intentions. I’m a man of honour, one who believes a woman should be treated with the utmost respect. So let me ask you again and I want you to look me in the eye, yeah, as you give me an honest answer. Is it okay if I place my hand on the back of your thigh?”

“Yes,” I answer, steady. “Yes, it is.”

He grunts in acknowledgment before placing the palm of his other hand on my skin too. 

Though light in touch, the supporting grip nevertheless feels sturdy and the warmth seeping through the latex of his gloves secure. I can vaguely hear myself hum at the thought of holding his hand as we walk through Amsterdam in summer, the temperature still high enough to feel hot and clammy but with the unmistakable first signs of autumn setting in. Halfway through the month, it will become colder, especially at night if you keep the windows open. Then, to have a grip like that on your body, your skin warmed by the friction as the whiskers of a coarse yet soft beard worship it, and a baritone voice in your ear that occasionally falters with pleasure…

The sensation of cold liquid on my skin snaps me out of my reverie. I snap my head down to see where it comes from, only to discover I apparently zoned out and Alfie has cracked on to the stencil stuff.

“Try to relax your leg,” he gently coaxes while trying to apply the stencil.

I take a deep breath and do as he says, forcing my muscles to lose their tension. Although it doesn’t feel like I’m loosening up, I’m apparently doing something right enough to earn myself an oddly prideful whispered “attagirl”. Fortunately, Alfie is blissfully unaware of the fact I heard him and the storm of butterflies the compliment unleashes in my stomach. Nor does he seem to catch on to how badly the pressure of his hands, finally having found the right placement, makes my mind short circuit.

“Go take a look in the mirror,” he says after meticulously peeling the stencil off.

Even the mere outline of the Egyptian god of death looks menacing. Anubis bares his fangs as sharp as daggers, viciously snarling at the viewer. ‘‘Don’t come near me. Don’t even dare to speak to me lest you want me to feed your heart to Ammit’’ he seems to warn. 

It’s absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous.

‘‘Let’s do it!’’ A skip in my step, I walk back to the massage table, which Alfie has covered with an electric blanket. It has heated to a pleasant temperature, not too low yet not high enough to break out into a sweat. Perhaps the best way to describe it is to say it makes you feel all warm and toasty.

‘‘Well, if the lady truly is ready, then who am I to deny her ink any longer?’’ Alfie says, barely able to suppress his amusement. Nevertheless, it shows in the theatrical attitude in which he continues. ‘‘Before we begin, my lady, may this old chap indeed have the ‘onour of tattooing you?’’

‘‘Yes, indeed you may, mister Solomons.’’

‘‘Marvellous.’’

The bell by the door tinkles as a long-faced, clean shaven young man, in his early to mid-twenties, walks into the studio. His casual step gives away he’s one of the resident artists, lost in thought as he hangs his jacket next to mine on the coat rack. He throws the hood of his black hoodie back to reveal muzzled short brown hair the colour of milk chocolate and runs his hand through it, tousling the locks even further. 

“Why are you so early?” Alfie throws a look over his shoulder at the newcomer. 

The question seems to catch the other man off-guard, the pensive expression on his boyish face fading into surprise. “I have an appointment, half sleeve, Japanese style. It’s going to be a koi pond.”

“Right,” Alfie scoffs. “I hate koi fish. Can’t stand drawing them, right, because it’s always the same composition, the same old story.”

“Is that really your reason?” the other asks as he approaches and comes to a halt a step away from where I’m lying. A whiff of fresh cologne hits my nose, mixed with the indescribable smell of rain.

“Nah, mate. I don’t really have a ‘reason’. Simply hate the fuckers. I prefer things that have a bit more life to them, a higher intellect that prevents them from smacking their lips like eternal gluttons. Gluttony is a sin, you know.” Alfie perks up as if he’s remembered something and shifts his attention back to me. “Right, this here is Michael, a show-off.”

So that’s Michael Gray. Strange, I thought he’d be older and more… tough, rough-looking, instead of a lad I could easily cross paths with at the bookshop. In fact, wait, didn’t I see him at Waterstones yesterday?

“Just because you don’t do Japanese-’’ Michael starts, but Alfie cuts him off.

“And a bloody pacifist.”

“I saw your work on Instagram.” To delay or, rather, hopefully stop a fight from breaking out between the two, I speak up before the two can continue catfighting. “It’s really cool. I’ve started warming up to the Japanese style because of your designs.”

Cheeks flushed, he rubs the back of his neck. “Thank you. You know, if you ever have an idea, send it my way.”

Alfie rolls his eyes, which earns him a venomous glare from Michael. “This is how you hold a proper conversation instead of being a cunt.”

“You see, the problem, right, is that so many people have said I am a cunt I don’t fucking care. Because they were all hypocrites, yeah. So, Michael, who’s the real one here, eh?”

My gaze flits from one man to the other while I tense up, ready to jump off the table and run for the hills if the situation worsens. And it’s likely it will because each man seems more than ready to lash out at the other. 

Although I don’t think he’ll notice, I shake my head at Michael. Among the two, he is the most approachable and likely to listen at the minute, so I mentally cross my heart and pray he notices my silent plea to stop fighting. Although it’s Alfie who started it, I wager Michael is mature enough to walk away. At least for now. Afterwards, both men are free to tear each other to pieces.

Fortunately, he sees me. Lips pulled into a straight line, Michael skulks off to his own station, glowering.

Thank God.

I take a couple of deep breaths to calm my racing heartbeat. That was a close call, too close.

“Bad blood?” I ask, trying to sound nonchalant. ‘‘I don’t mean to pry.’’

“Ah, the boy’s just cross ‘cause Tommy and I haven’t always seen eye to eye. Chap adores him. A little too much, if you ask me, but someone’s got to be the good little soldier, right?” Alfie checks the set-up once more to ensure everything is in place. Now that the threat of imminent conflict has proven false, he, too, relaxes. The tenseness in his muscles fades, his body loosening up. His shoulders lower and he unclenches his jaw, releasing the strain on it.

The last remnant of sharp biting sarcasm has evaporated when he turns back to me, gloved hands in his lap. “Comfy?”

“Incredibly so. I could curl up and take a snooze.”

“That would make my job easier.” He picks up the wireless tattoo machine from the tray, eyes still trained on me, watching out for any withdrawal of consent. “May I?”

I nod, allowing him to touch and stretch the skin. “Okay, let’s first do a line, yeah, to see how it feels. Ready?”

“Yep.” Sheepishly, I give him a thumbs-up.

Alfie shakes his head, chuckles and murmurs something under his breath before he sets to work. 

Every time you get new ink you tend to think you can still remember the feeling of being tattooed and instantly adjust. However, the opposite is true, at least for me. At first, it’s an unpleasant nagging sensation like someone is dragging a sharp-edged though blunt object to and fro over your skin. This only lasts for a few seconds and then gradually fades to an oddly therapeutic feeling that is near impossible to describe. Yes, I’m being poked by multiple needles constantly yet it doesn’t hurt. I wouldn’t say it’s enlightening, but it is calmingly enough to stop the on-going flow of various thoughts which consist of everything at the same time. Tattooing brings order in the chaos and is the best therapy out there. 

“How’s that?” Alfie asks.

“Good. Well, I mean, it’s like my cat has its claws in my thigh and by this time, I’m used to that.” I let out a sheepish giggle, only to mentally slap myself in the face for being awkward.

“What’s its name?”

“I have two, actually. One is called Saul and the other Solomon. Not really names you’d expect for a cat, but they’re big.” I try to indicate the size of them with my hands, my heart skipping a beat as he takes a second to pay attention. “Big lads.”

“Solomon was a prophet according to the Talmud, a man of great wisdom and power. Now, Saul was the first king of Israel. Great man, too, who knew that he who lives by the sword, dies by it. I suppose Anubis knew this too, weighing hearts and deciding who gets to go on a boat trip to the underworld or eaten alive. Well, as alive as a spirit can be.”

“Unfortunately, the boys haven’t a sliver of wisdom between them, unless it concerns the knowledge of being charming enough to earn themselves a treat. However, they’re bloody powerful if the need to cuddle strikes. They’ll literally attempt to take me hostage, regardless of what I’m doing at that very moment. But on a different note, it sounds like you know a lot about religion.”

“I tried theology in university, but that didn’t get me far. Doesn’t help I had a couple fights with some Italian kids, Catholics, who saw themselves above a Jew. The last one that saw me kicked out was perhaps my most brutal.” For a second he seems to continue the story, but thinks better of it at the last minute. Instead, a low grunt rises from his throat. “Yeah, definitely the most brutal, that one was.”

Though he tries to move past the topic, I’m not quite ready to let it go. Being a curious cat isn’t particularly a good thing to be when it comes to people because it can go both ways once they realise you’re after a piece of their story. Nevertheless, my curiosity is peaked and therefore I can't help myself. “I’m glad the fights in the classroom remained at heated debates. But, um, and I don’t mean to pry, but how did that fight go? The final one, I mean.”

If I don’t get an answer, it’s fine. I won’t push. Nevertheless, I eagerly hold out hope to get the story out of the enigmatic mister Solomons.

Alfie.

Don’t blush! Take a sip of water, cool down. My God, is even his name now getting me hot under the collar?

He pauses and sits up. A tentative smile builds on his lips as his brows furrow. 

“Only if you want to, of course.”

“Do you really wanna know? Ladies should be spared the violence of the world.” The lines in his face deepen, the expression changing to a frowning grimace.

“It can’t get any worse than Jack the Ripper.” He blinks a few times, letting my comment sink in. In the meanwhile, I bite my lip, desperate to find a way to redeem myself. “What? Am I weird for being intrigued by the case? I am, aren’t I? You know what, don’t mind me. Guess I’m being rather silly.”

“No, you’re not. I’m simply surprised the little lady harbours a fascination with the obscene,” he answers, his tone devoid of any form of judgement.

“Don’t get a lot of those clients?”

“None who admit it outright.”

“Well, here I am.”

“So you are.” His eyes are fully focused as he gazes at me, which does about as little to lower my racing pulse as the comment that follows. “I wonder what else goes on in that head of yours.”

“It’s chaos, to be honest. I don’t think you actually wanna know. Anyways, the fight.”

“Right,” he murmurs, his eyes still trained on me and trying to imagine what goes on in my head. Needles cleaned and dipped in ink again, he returns to work and tells the story. “I once carried out my own personal form of stigmata on an Italian. I pushed his face up against a trench and shoved a six-inch nail up his fucking-’’ the snarl on his lips vanishes as he throws me an apologetic look. “Sorry, I shouldn’t swear in the company of a lady.”

“I don’t mind. You’re literally saying this to someone who has the mouth of a sailor.”

The remark is a small comfort to him. Alfie visibly relaxes, his posture loses most of its tension and his jaw slackens. “Right, I shoved a six-inch nail up his nose and I hammered it ‘ome with a duckboard.” The corners of his mouth curl into a sly grin. “It was fucking biblical.”

“Fucking hell, yeah, okay, now I’m really glad I only have had to deal with debates. Jesus.” I shake my head, caught between believing the story and finding it too far-fetched. “Why, though?”

“He had it coming. Little fucker was harassing girls of the nearby Jewish community. They mightn’t been part of mine, but it’s never right to mistreat a woman. So, one day, I caught him doing it again and made sure he’d be a wiser man for it.”

“Did you get caught?”

“I got arrested for ‘grievous bodily harm’, but didn’t go to jail considering I was still a young chap. And, to be honest, from a well-connected family.”

“How old were you?”

“Eighteen.”

“Dang.”

“I’m not as violent as I used to be. It’s all behind me now,” he blurts out, pausing again while the words rush to fill a non-existent gap between us. “No more fights, gangs, or firms. Starting tattooing was me turning a new leaf.”

I don’t know what to say, unable to think of anything appropriate while also trying to figure out his intentions. So I merely stare at him, blankly. 

His eyes flit from me to the ink pots and back to me, likely feeling equally as awkward. 

Neither of us initiates further conversation, me partially because I’m starting to doze off. That is, until Alfie stops and throws me a look. “I’m almost done with the linework. You’re still okay?”

“Yeah, no pain at all,” I say, a slight taper in my voice and half asleep. “Nothing I can’t handle.”

“Good,” he replies, a little unsteady as well. “Let’s finish it and ‘ave a little break, yeah?”

“Sounds good to me.”

“It’s good to have something to occupy yourself with outside work.” Alfie saunters over to where I’m sitting on the worn leather couch and puts a plate on the coffee table. On it, golden brown raisin buns are stacked in a charming little heap. “Want one?”

“Wait, you made these?” I put my phone away, conscious to neither cross my legs or rest my arms on my thighs as I lean in. My friends will have to wait a little longer on a tattoo update.

“I did,’’ he says, sitting down where he sat earlier today. ‘‘Learned the baking trade from me mum who learned it from her mother, my babushka.”

“You have Russian heritage?”

“I do. My mother fled to England during the Holocaust. My old man was running a distillery and was willing to take her in. In a sense, they saved each other. She got him off the drink… for a time, and kept the books. He taught her English and gave her a ‘ome.” He leans back in his chair, fingers entwined. “Yeah, funny that, how such horror can bring souls together.’’

“Did they survive the war? Like, no interference from the Nazis or fascists?” I stiffen when it hits me how intrusive the question is. Badly concealing my panic, I hastily add. ‘‘You don’t- You’ve already told me so much, so, uhm, you- you don’t have to tell me anything else.’’

“They did,” he nods sagely, ignoring my anxious outburst. “Though I’m glad they don’t have to deal with current affairs.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Nah, don’t be. They’ve been dead for a while, died in their sleep, two months between them. Regardless of the war and England’s policy towards anyone that isn’t one of them, they’ve lived a good life. It was simply their time to go.” He rests his elbows on his knees and leans forward. “What about you?”

“How’d you mean?”

“How’s your family?”

“Not particularly close. I try to avoid father’s side of the family at all costs because they’re these posh- toffs, I think you call them in English. Though, that’s more my father’s sister. His brother is an alcoholic and divorcee with a midlife crisis that’s bigger than my father’s. On mother’s side of the family, I’m only close with my aunt and grandpa. With my mum I try to connect at times, but it’s more like friendly co-existence.”

“Any siblings?”

“A younger sister. Not particularly close with her either.” I shake my head and take a sip of water. “But I don’t mind. I’ve learned how to be a lone wolf and accepted being one. Working, studying, and travelling help with that too. They’re likely the only things preventing me from going insane.”

“Insanity is a gift only given to few. The greatest minds were lonely even in company, the greatest visionaries those that had seen the world by themselves.” Our eyes lock, the strange but tender sentiment in his adding to the sweet comfort of his conclusion. “I think we’re both mad.”

Alfie nods to the plate with buns. “The raisins have been soaked in rum, family recipe. Try one.”

“Are they poisoned, Solomons?” Michael remarks across the room. Judging by the venom in his tone, he hasn’t moved past the conflict earlier.

They’re really gonna cut each other once I’ve left, aren’t they?

“Unlike you, kid, I actually provide service. People have bonded over food for centuries and God gave me the brilliant idea, yeah, to make these buns to share.”

“You never share food. Not with me, at least.”

“That’s because I don’t want a bond of any sort with you, mate.“ He picks up the plate and holds it out to me. “But I’ll always be glad to share with a peer.’’

“Thank you,” I say, though I can’t prevent myself from saying his name, “Alfie.”

Smiling brightly, he leans back in his chair. “My pleasure. But what is it that kills the time for you?”

“Believe it or not, but I sew,” I say while nibbling on the sweet bun.

“An affinity with needles, eh?”

Unable to suppress it, I give into the uncharacteristic urge to giggle. “You could put it like that, yeah.”

“It’s rather broad, though, ‘sewing’, innit? What am I to envision?”

“I make plushies, really bloody adorable ones.” I grab my phone and look up a picture of my latest project: a whale shark made with white, very fuzzy teddy and Delft Blue-printed cotton. “Don’t tell me that isn’t cute.”

I turn the screen to Alfie. The eager confidence doesn’t last because the tingle travelling through my chest, which seems to be weighed down by a heavy stone, ends in a chill down my spine. With bated breath, I nevertheless wait for a sign of his approval.

What the fuck am I doing? He’s a grown man. What would he care for a stuffed animal?

An ache starts at the back of my throat at the thought that follows.

I did post that picture on an Insta Story. Did he see it, though? What if he did? No, he did, didn’t he? I’m repeating myself. Why am I repeating myself? He’s had enough of a look.

However, as I make to put my phone away again, Alfie speaks up. “It’s well-made, especially for an early attempt at the craft. You can see it’s made with passion.”

Fuck, he definitely saw my sewing shenanigans on Insta.

“You already saw that picture, didn’t you?” I respond, mildly sarcastic regardless of his kindness.

“Well, we already established we follow each other and I like to get to know my clients as best as possible. So, yeah… yeah, I did.”

Gaze averted to the floor, I shut the screen off and continue to stare at my shoes, feeling like a stupid lovesick teenager.

  “But it’s indeed adorable. You’ve got a knack for the trade.” His features soften when I raise my head, though there’s a hint of mischief in the raised eyebrow. “You’re no seamstress, though. Or are you?”

“If you want, I could mend your clothes,” I blurt out, the words spilling forth before I can give them a second thought. “Oh Lord, I- I didn’t mean- I’m so sorry, I should’ve-’’

 Alfie’s hearty laugh cuts through my poor attempt to try and justify my idiotic bravery. “Fucking ‘ell. I had a feeling you’re not the type to beat around the bush, but that was more forward than I thought you’d be.”

“Please ignore what I said.” I stuff the last of the bun into my mouth, lest it should blabber any more nonsense, and wave a dismissive hand.

Only to nearly choke at his response.

“Why? I like it, this honesty. Now, see, Tommy, yeah, he likes to beat around the bush and it’s absolutely doing my nut in. I’ve told him before I’ll shoot him if he doesn’t hurry up and quit his little games. Man really needs to learn how to directly make his point, saves both parties involved a lot of trouble. But not you.” His tone turns pensive, the words clear yet strange. “Curious, that. How a little dove flies over the wolves.”

I remain quiet, because no reaction I come up with seems adequate to respond to his reverie. So we let an oddly comfortable silence settle in, lined with the addicting sweetness of rum raisins.

“These are really bloody good,” I say after a while, pointing at the plate on the coffee table. ‘‘We have buns like this back home too. We call them ‘krentenbollen’, which would roughly translate to ‘currant buns’.’’

‘‘Say that again.’’

‘‘What, ‘krentebollen’?’’ Evidently I hit the nail on its head, judging by Alfie struggling to imitate my pronunciation, silently mouthing the syllables. “Kren.”

“Kren.”

“No, no, ‘ren’. A pronounced, not rolled ‘r’ and short and sharp ‘e’. Like in ‘cigarette’, the final ‘e’ sound. Kren.”

“Kren,” he echoes.

“Ten. ‘En’ is pronounced with a schwa.”

“Ten.”

“Bol. With a clear ‘l’.”

“Bol.”

“Len. Again, a clear ‘l’ and a schwa.”

“Len.’’ Having been given an example of how to pronounce each syllable, Alfie tries out the word again, brow furrowed in concentration. ‘‘Kren. Ten. Bol. Len.”

A warm fuzzy feeling spreads throughout my body while watching him sincerely make an effort to mimic the Dutch sounds despite the struggle it proves to be. However, I do have to give him credit for his attempt because, despite his slightly wonky pronunciation, it’s better than some others I’ve heard. 

‘‘Kren- Krentenbollen.’’

“‘Ey, there ya go!” I clap my hands, smiling in satisfaction. ‘‘That was really good!’’

“Dutch is a funny language. Very strange and harsh.”

“Apparently, it’s the scientifically proven hardest language to learn. I’ll be honest, even the Dutch sometimes don’t know how to speak it. The grammar is whack too, sometimes. Doesn’t make sense.”

“Maybe you can teach me some more next time we meet.” His eyes go from the buns to me, beaming. “I’ll bring you some more krentenbollen.”

‘‘Nah, these are better. In fact, I think I prefer these. Much more exclusive, an English delicacy.’’

Can I get any more lame? What kind of comment was that?

“Help yourself, but be quick about it because we need to get back to work. You’ve been sitting like a rock and I don’t want your adrenaline to run out just yet.”

“I’ll leave it for later then.”

He rises from his seat, throwing an imposing shadow over me as his shoulders block the light. “Before we resume, do you want anything? You still got enough water?”

“I’m good to go, though I wouldn’t say no to another glass.”

“One round of Solomons Lemon Water, coming right up.”

As before, Alfie puts care into the simple act of cutting a lemon and adding a slice of it to plain water. And with the grace of a gentleman, he holds it out to me. “A glass of water for the little lady. It’s on the house.”

Whilst the comment is in jest, a funny thought sets my cheeks ablaze. “Th- Thanks.”

What the fuck was that stutter? By Jaysus, pull yourself together! He’s only joking, playing around. It means nothing. Nothing! Besides, he likely has a wife, good-looking and charming as he is.

Glass in hand, I follow Alfie back to the table and clamber back onto the cosy electric blanket while he completes the last preparations to continue the session.

“Comfy?” he asks once I’ve settled in.

“Extremely.”

“Good.” He restarts his tablet, the screen lighting up with Anubis’s snarling face. A new pair of gloves on, he grabs the black pot with red lettering and scoops up a blob of Dragon’s Blood with his pinky before he sets it back in place. 

“May I?” Alfie asks, hands a few centimetres from my skin.

I nod, giving him the permission to resume working. 

Except, he doesn’t.

He pushes his stool back slightly and purses his lips. “Y/N, I need you to relax, yeah. Tense muscles aren’t particularly tattoo friendly. If I start working now, it’s like tattooing a stone and needles, right, don’t do well with hard surfaces.”

“I’m sorry,” I say, inhaling and exhaling deeply in hopes of unravelling the tightness in my chest. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. What’s on your mind? Something funny?”

“Ah, it’s fine. No worries.”

Don’t mind me. I’m being silly, interpreting things the wrong way. Besides, I’m likely half your age. Unsuitable, undesirable for a man like you.

“You sure?”

“Yeah, it’s okay.” My breath tapers, which I hope he doesn’t pick up on. Then again, Alfie has proven to be a very perceptive man thus far. Nonetheless, a girl can hope. ‘‘I’m okay.’’

Please believe that. At least this once.

He lets out a low displeased grunt, blueish grey eyes dark with lingering worry. “If you say so.” He averts his gaze to the unfinished snarling Anubis, the sternness in his voice blurring into resignation. “Can I?”

I hum in response, giving him the sign he still has my consent.

And to keep up appearances a little longer.

Because when you’re crushing hard on someone you can’t have, it’s okay not to be okay.

It’s not unusual for other tattoo artists to pop by their colleagues to see what they’re working on. Normally I wouldn’t mind it, proud to be a canvas for someone else’s art. Nonetheless, this time, I wish it was someone else other than the resident Japanese style artist sauntering over. Anyone would do. 

Tommy, who came in around two to do a touch-up.

Finn, who’s the youngest in the team and does geometric designs. 

Even Arthur, who Alfie immediately sent away when he felt me tense, genuinely afraid of Cerberus personified, would be better.

Unfortunately, it’s Michael, which means the two might break out into a fight soon. It’s only a matter of time.

“Wow, that looks gnarly.” Maintaining a polite distance, Michael leans in to inspect the fearsome god of the afterlife.

“Oi, don’t you have your own client to look after?” Alfie asks, the first ripples of irritation already noticeable in his voice.

“She’s too busy taking pictures and whatever else she’s doing on her phone.” Michael points over his shoulder at his client and shrugs. I turn my head, doubting how bad the girl’s company can be. She is indeed absorbed in her phone, posing like most girls on Instagram and making all the familiar facial expressions. To keep things polite, let’s say that a tattoo isn’t what she came here for.

I scoff. ‘‘I see she’s one of those.’’

‘‘That’s one way to put it,’’ Michael sighs, but his expression brightens as he changes the topic. “What made you get Anubis?”

“Give the lady some space, treacle. You’re not yet drooling over her like some lovesick puppy. We’re trying to create a bloody masterpiece here, right, and art, yeah, art needs effort, focus, and attention.” A grimace treks over Alfie’s face, foreboding like a black cloud forms the prelude to a storm. “None of which I can muster with you around, mate. So off you go.” He waves a dismissive hand. “Go on, fuck off.”

“The fuck’s your problem, Alfie?” Michael raises his voice.

Oh Lord, here we go.

“My problem?” Fortunately, Alfie turns the machine off and puts it to the side because getting tattooed amidst a fight is the last thing you’d want. Unless you’re a lunatic. “My problem right now, mate, is that I have a massive disturbance in my work environment which prevents me from providing Y/N with splendid service and proper care.”

“‘Proper care?’” the other man echoes, raising an eyebrow. “Now that’s an awfully ambiguous statement, even for you. Proper care… Is that why you didn’t go on your usual vape break?”

“Don’t twist my words, kid. It should be an honour for a tattoo artist that someone is willing to wear their art on their skin. Y/N is doing me that honour so of course I wanna treat her right.”

“Alfie Solomons, the King of Camden,’’ Michael sneers. ‘‘The Jewish gentleman from Margate.” 

“It’s never a bad idea to be a gentleman, kid. Hasn’t your mother taught you how to treat women properly? Then again,” a mean gleam lights up stormy grey eyes, “she did abandon you, didn’t she?”

Michael is positively fuming by now, looking red in the face and fists shaking with an eagerness to throw the first punch.

“Lads! That’s enough!” I bark, propping myself up on my elbows. “Alfie, that’s a fucking low blow and you know it.”

“How do you know it is?”

Is he fucking serious?

“Look at him!” Lips pulled back into a snarl not unlike Anubis’s, I point at Michael. “Obviously that fucking hurt.”

“So the little dove flew down, still not afraid. Although, her wings waver ever so slightly, don’t they?”

I gaze blankly at Alfie, puzzled by the comment, but quickly return to raging. “Shouldn’t you apologise or something? Or is that something men don’t do to each other?”

“Y/N,” I hear Michael mumble next to me, a tone of surprise in his voice.

“Fucking apologise or I’m out, tattoo finished or not.” I look him up and down, barely able to suppress the urge to spit in his face. “I thought I booked a professional, not some… some fucking bastard.”

“I’m a bastard?” he scoffs.

“People who attack others by using their personal lives? Yeah, that’s one of the definitions of ‘bastard’ for me.”

Both men are quiet, startled by my interference. They exchange glances, neither of them helping the other with their confusion. However, Alfie tries to solve his by making an effort to make amends. For the time being, that is.

“Right,” he begins, struggling to sound genuine. “My sincerest apologies, kid.”

“A little more honest,” I grumble.

“I shouldn’t have brought up your mother, kid. Clearly it’s still an open wound and you don’t need salt in it.”

Wouldn’t have phrased it that way, but whatever, it’s Alfie Solomons.

I shift my attention to Michael. “Please accept his apology, at least for now. I don’t want any more fights during my therapy session. You can rip each other to shreds after I’m gone, okay?”

A careful smile tugs on the corners of Michael’s lips. “Then I will, if only to not completely ruin your ink therapy. Seriously, though, Alfie’s not the only one who should apologise. So, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry for my behaviour. A client should never be put in the crossfire of a dispute which doesn’t concern them. Can you accept mine?”

“Afraid of me ripping you to shreds?”

“Uhm, maybe?’’ He rubs the back of his neck, cheeks rosy. ‘‘You do get kinda fearsome when you get angry.”

“The thick Irish accent doesn’t help, either,” Alfie chimes in. “If someone’s accent deepens, especially if it’s Irish, you better run.”

“How can you possibly be afraid of me? I’m a head shorter than you. I think you can easily have me.” I search Alfie’s expression for signs he’s lying yet end up empty-handed. The second thereafter, however, a surge of heat spreads through my body as the possible implications of my comment run through my mind. Unconsciously, I rub my wrists while trying to get comfortable again on the rather hot blanket. Or does it merely feel like that because I’m a mess? “Take me on, I mean. Have me is… ehm… It’d be easy to overpower, no, ehm, win? Win against me!”

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Michael says, hardly containing his amusement. Then he turns around and returns to his station. Along the way, he stops to explain the situation to the girl, who miraculously has managed to put her phone away for a second and show worry like a normal human being.  

“I really need to learn to shut the fuck up,” I groan as I lie down again, a bit calmer. “Please forget everything I said.”

“Including your tantrum?” Alfie asks, a lopsided smirk on his lips.

“Just remember the apology part. Maybe the bastard one too.”

“If the lady so wishes.” His hands hover over my thigh, the machine still turned off in his left. “Can I?”

I nod, unwavering in my willingness to give him my consent. Perhaps others would have left, but I choose to remain because of the shallow reason he’s at least good to me.

Even if he’s not for me.

Funny thing, innit, Love?

A silence broken up by the whirring of needles settles in. The only other noise in the studio comes from the Bluetooth speaker, continuously playing jazz tunes. It’s the first time to hear the music genre in a tattoo studio since everywhere I’ve been before they seem to prefer hard rock and soft metal. I wonder whether it has contributed to their reputation as ‘the gentlemen of the Birmingham tattoo industry’ or it is simply because the oldest of the Shelbys are at work today. 

“Y/N?” Alfie wipes off the excess ink and dips his needle in one of the little pots besides him.

“Hm?” I turn my head to face him.

“I’m sorry.” Though lacklustre compared to the apology to Michael, the words are sombre with pure remorse and don’t need reiterating.

“No more fighting, alright?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Good. Hey, by the way, what did he mean with you skipping your Vape-’’

“Tell me more about your cats,” Alfie suddenly demands, tone harsh and his gaze not straying from his project. 

“Wha-’’

“Your cats,’’ he repeats, losing his temper. ‘‘Tell me about them.”

What’s gotten into him? Did I do something?

“Uhm, well,” I haphazardly begin, unsure what to tell him. “They are absolute cuddle bugs. They’ll literally go to any length to make me stop whatever I’m doing and give them attention.”

Don’t panic. Don’t cry. Be brave, just like before. He won’t hurt me… I hope.

Alfie closes his eyes and lets out a deep sigh, forcing himself to calm down. “Men are jealous creatures, especially when a woman is involved.’’

“Was that also the case with the Italian?”

 “No, that was a matter of common decency.”

“The situation just now?”

He lets out a sonorous noncommittal sound, holding the middle between a disagreeing grunt and acknowledging hum. There is no way to know for sure nor is there a chance to ask because he changes the topic, clearly wanting to let the matter rest. “You’re still doing fine?”

“Is there a chance I can get another glass of Solomons Lemon Water?” I ask carefully, the hairs on the back of my neck still raised.

Alfie looks up, eyes warm and a soft smile forming beneath his bushy whiskers. “Always, darling.”

Amidst a storm of butterflies is a prematurely broken heart.

The remainder of the session remains calm, the conversations between us few. In fact, the only time he speaks up is to comment on how astounding it is I’m like a rock whereas people getting tattooed in the same spot might be having a hell of a tougher time. I merely shrug in response and blame it on my high pain tolerance.

Strange, how much more one can bear physically than mentally. 

Although the fight earlier hasn’t affected the amiability between us, we both unanimously agree to settle for the comfortable silence we seem to create together. Occasionally, he sonorously hums along to a song when not glancing up to look for any signs of discomfort. Each time, I give him a drowsy lazy smile, still as tranquil as the minute before.

“Alright,” Alfie turns off the machine and claps his hands. “You’ve got Anubis looking over you from now on.”

I let out an involuntary yawn, quickly clasping my hand over my mouth to hide. “I’m so sorry. I was literally on the verge of taking a nap.”

“That’s better than fainting,” he chuckles. 

“Does that happen a lot?”

“More than you think, darling.” A piece of paper towel in one hand and a blob of foam in the other, Alfie patiently waits for me to give him the green light.

Which I, again for the same vain reason, do. However, this time it’s bittersweet because it means it’s almost time to go, to let the long moment of pure relaxation and fun come to an end.

To say goodbye to yet another man I find myself fascinated by despite better judgement.

His touch is light as he applies the foam on the tattooed skin, his movement slow as he wipes it off with the paper towel.

“Now that’s gnarly, innit?” Alfie beams while disposing of the used towel and his gloves.

“It is,” I agree, bending my leg to get a proper look at the piece. “And I fucking love it.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” He gets up, walks around the table to my right side and holds out his hand. “Can we take a picture for Instagram? If the lady wants to, of course.”

“Of course, Mr Solomons.” He grows still, unmoving like a statue, while an indecipherable expression flashes over his face. I swallow hard, but my mouth remains dry. “Did- Did I say something wrong?”

He clears his throat. “No, not at all. Forgive this old soul. You get tired faster with age.”

“You still look fairly young to me.” I place my hand in his big open palm, the skin rough and calloused. His warm thick fingers easily envelop mine.

Stop dreaming.

“Just wait until you’re in your forties.”

“Hey, I’m twenty-three and already complaining about my back. My colleague and I wager we’ll be needing a walker by the time we’re thirty.”

Alfie lets out a hearty laugh. “Fucking ‘ell, lets hope not.”

We come to a halt in front of a brick wall, surrounded by tall lights. “Now, you stand there, in front of it, and I’ll make sure we get pictures nice enough to put in a frame.”

I lean against the cold bricks as he takes care of the set-up, shooing Finn and Michael out of the way and throwing a warning glance at Arthur even though he’s sitting with his back to us, immersed in designing. The only one allowed to come close is Tommy, whose beautiful icy blue eyes meet mine.

Awkwardly, I shift my weight from one leg to the other only to right myself and clasp my hands behind my back. It does nothing to help escape his scrutinising gaze. If anything, it has only worsened how self-conscious I feel.

What kind of stance is this? Fuck, I’m wearing shorts.

“That’s a nice piece of art, Alfie.” I try my best to resist the urge to flinch as the studio’s owner approaches to admire the piece up close, crouching down a polite distance away from me.

“Yeah, it is, innit?” Alfie agrees, switching on the lights. “Now, if you don’t mind, you’re in the shot, mate.”

Without another word, Tommy gets to his feet and throws me one last pondering look before setting off to his station. 

In the meanwhile, Alfie has lumbered over and crouched down in front of the lights, phone in hand. “Ready?”

“Yep.”

He takes a few shots, gives out a few instructions, and beckons me over to check them afterwards. Slowly he flicks through the images, his thumb slowly swiping over the screen. Had it been any other person, I would have paid attention and helped with deciding which picture looks the best regardless of minor differences. However, the musky scent of oud wood mixed with dark vanilla and the proximity of his large warm body, makes it hard to concentrate on anything but the man next to me.

“… one?”

“Hm? Sorry, what?” As if woken up out of a dream, I blink and look quizzically at the man next to me.

“I asked which photo you think is best,” Alfie calmly explains.

“Oh, uhm, well, the first one? I think that one was already good. Fine. You know what I mean.”

He’s in his forties, maybe twice your age. There’s no chance whatsoever. Don’t be such a bumbling idiot and pull yourself together.

“I’ll send them all to you later so you can look through them again.’’

“You really don’t have to-’’ I begin to protest, but find myself cut off by his determination.

“It’s no trouble. We created a bloody masterpiece, didn’t we?” Alfie’s face lights up. “So I’ll let you do the honours of picking the best representation of what we’ve accomplished.”

“Th- Thank you.”

Our eyes meet for a moment, a few seconds in which he takes me in for a reason I can’t fathom. Nor do I get a chance to think about what it might be since he quickly moves back to the topic of business. “Let’s wrap up your leg, eh?”

We return to his station, where he cuts off two pieces of Second Skin. He carefully layers them onto the tattoo after being granted his silent request for permission to touch me. An image of him grabbing my thigh and placing it over his hip while we’re in the sheets flashes by when he applies pressure to ensure the derma foil properly sticks to the skin.

Get your mind out of the gutter! Gods damn it, what the hell’s wrong with ye?

“Y/N, you alright? You’re looking rather red in the face, darling.”

“Yeah!’’ I blurt out, sounding annoying and loud to my own ears. ‘‘Yeah, I’m fine. Let me, ahm, let me just put my pants back on and we’ll- I’ll- yeah… be right back.”

I hasten to the sofa, grab my jeans out of my backpack and rush into the restroom. Carefully, I wriggle out of my shorts and into the loose-fitting jeans, only to recall his comment about the fit.

Was he imagining me wearing one of his jeans? Nah, he’s a professional, he wouldn’t do that.

My vivid imagination, on the other hand, thinks it’s perfectly fine to conjure up yet another intimate image of Alfie’s defined inked arms firmly wrapped around me, a slow but proud smile on his lips, nose buried in the crook of my neck, and me indeed wearing his jeans.

Snap. Out. Of it!

The mirage fades like sand blown away by the wind. I take a few deep breaths to ground myself and step back into the studio.

Alfie’s sitting in the chair opposite the sofa. As soon as I step out of the restroom, he turns in his seat, eyes futilely searching for mine. It surely isn’t the first time it’s happened he’s had a client fawning over him, considering his looks. Nonetheless, I refuse to acknowledge nor allow myself to show him how he affects me. So, still avoiding his gaze, I plop down across from him on the sofa, tuck the shorts back into my bag and fish out my wallet. 

Fully focused on the notes in it, I lean in. “So, how much do I owe you?”

As a response, thick fingers firmly wrap around my wrist. I flinch at the contact, caught between surprise and alarm since he hasn’t touched me today without asking. Certainly not as forcefully as now.

A fact he acknowledges when he explains himself, retracting his hand. “I know I haven’t asked permission, but I wanted you to look at me and ask if you’re alright. You were in there for a bit.”

“I’m okay, Alfie.”

“Something tells me you’re not, darling.” He tilts his head, brows furrowed whilst he strokes his beard. “Penny for your thoughts?”

“I don’t think it’s appropriate. This topic, at least.”

Especially since I’ve only known you for a day.

“You don’t have to if you don’t fancy it.” The deep sigh he lets out through his nose, however, betrays his disappointment.

“I’d rather not tell. But don’t worry, I’m fine. Not sick or anything. My mind’s just… I guess you could say I was gone with the fairies for a bit.”

“Fortunately, they didn’t whisk you away entirely. I don’t fancy myself a man capable of going to the Otherworld.” Although he tries to be humorous, his smile is wistful. “Doesn’t mean I can’t or won’t try.”

“It’s difficult to come back, once you’ve set foot in Tír na nÓg. Anyways, let’s crack on. What do I owe you again?”

‘‘You don’t have to pay me.’’

‘‘You’re pulling my leg.’’ His expression doesn’t change, remaining warm yet stoic. ‘‘You’re serious?’’

‘‘I am. See it as compensation for having to deal with a hot-headed bastard.’’

‘‘Thank you, but this isn’t right. Like it or not, but I’ll still pay you.’’

“Despite the fight?”

“Despite the fight. So, how much?”

He names his price and I count out the notes. ‘‘Wait, that’s not…’’

‘‘Let me give you a discount if you don’t accept a full restitution.’’

‘‘Alright, fine,’’ I sigh, knowing protest will be futile, and continue to count. “Oh, and here’s another twenty. For the splendid service and, well,” I let out a shy giggle, “proper care.”

He hums and leans forward to collect the money. “In that case, thank you very much, my fair lady.”

My fair lady… my… his.

Though my mind is a million miles away, the rest of my body stiffens in reaction to the pet name. He notices, a note of concern in his question. “Was that too much?”

I wave a frantic dismissive hand. “No! No, not at all. Don’t mind me.”

It’ll pass, this feeling. Butterflies never live long. 

Rubbing his lower lip, he mumbles something under his breath. The only words I can make out are “flustered” and “cute”, which doesn’t help with my mood whatsoever.

Neither does the mischief underlining his normally polite suggestion. “Want another round of Solomons Lemon Water before you go?”

“I’m good. Yeah, I’m- I- I should go.” 

I get up and prepare to leave. Alfie rises to his feet too, falling into pace as we move towards the door. On the way, I grab my jacket off of the coat rack, putting my arm through one sleeve, but clumsily grabbing into nothing in an effort to put my other arm through the other sleeve.

A struggle quickly ended by two sturdy palms which help me ease into it. “There you go.”

“Thanks.” I turn away towards the door, ready to go before I make an even greater fool of myself. Then again, my feet won’t move, refusing to budge the slightest inch. “Such a gentleman, aren’t you?”

“A Jewish gentleman from Margate,” he merrily quips. But the amusement doesn’t last, fading into an indecipherable expression which seems equally as hesitant to end things here alongside something hidden. “Normally, yeah, I meet up with clients for pictures once the tattoo is healed. So let’s make it a date. Appointment,” he quickly corrects himself as a grimace flashes over his face. “An appointment, yeah, right, make an appointment when your leg has healed.”

“I think it will have to be by the time you come to Amsterdam.”

His brow furrows and he purses his lips, displeased. “I don’t think the convention will provide good pictures. The lighting isn’t that great and there’s all these people walking around.’’ The deep lines in his forehead smoothen out, a devilish smile gradually forming. ‘‘But I’ve booked an extended stay so, considering I’m not familiar with the city, we could meet up and you show me around? Unless you think you won’t be able to handle two days with a bastard like me.”

Don’t squeal. Stay calm. Don’t mess up at the last second. Calm and collected.

And unusually bold, apparently. Without wavering, I make a suggestion of my own. “Will you show me around Margate if and when I’m in England again?”

He chuckles. “Fucking ‘ell, negotiating, are we? I thought Tommy was the only one fond of that.” He scrunches his nose as someone else comes to mind. “And that numpty.”

“Hey, be nice. Michael’s a good guy.”

Alfie grumbles something under his breath, not shy to let on he’s annoyed by me siding with his colleague. Then, like he did before, he forces himself to repress the dangerous mixture of irritation and anger bubbling inside. “Tell you what, yeah, you show up in Amsterdam with your leg properly taken care of and I’ll show you around Margate. I’ll even pick you up from the airport.”

“It seems we have a deal,” I extend my hand, “Mr Solomons.”

Instead of a handshake, his warm big palm envelops my fingers and he lifts them to his lips. His beard feels ticklish against my skin, the whiskers rough yet oddly soft at the same time. “So we do, Miss L/N.”

Alfie holds the door open, plush lips curled into a knowing smile, and I step out onto the street.

A king’s promise in my pocket.

Tag list: @buttercup32sstuff @liliac-dreamer @vir-tual​ @potter-solomons @ilovemanypeople @zablife​ @hecatemoon87​​ @alikaheroes

Want to be tagged in the future? Send me a message or leave a comment and I’ll make sure to add ye! 

[giesswrites2]

ೃ ⋆｡˚. JJ X FEM STUDIOUS!READER .ೃ࿔* WARNINGS! — canon typical violence, suggestive content, and mild swearing!

CONTENT — jj x fem studious!kook reader (as in like,,,all around perfect confident student aiming for valedictorian type shit)

SUMMARY — in which jj has a playful relationship with the reader, who he thinks is trying to get with pope. the reader meanwhile is interested in jj but enjoys teasing him a bit.

A/N — feel like my headcanons get too long and wordy so i sucked up my fear and wrote a little imagine. uh,,,hope you enjoy it, sorry asf if it sucks, it’s 3am and i have work tomorrow but i wanted to post, i’ll edit it soon!!!

YOU ONLY KNEW JJ MAYBANK BECAUSE OF SCHOOL. well, you didn’t know him, per say, but you’d interacted with him enough to know you were friends. the two of you never had too many opportunities to interact seeing as you were in ap after ap, while jj was…not. however, electives existed, and fortunately, you managed to share two of them with jj maybank.

jj was funny, cute, and had this weird way of always knowing exactly how to brighten your day. granted, he was rarely ever at school, so he didn’t brighten your day all that often, but despite that fact you still managed to harbor a silly little crush on the infamous jj maybank. could anyone really blame you though? with those eyes, that hair, and that laugh, it was practically inevitable.

luckily for you, jj had actually decided to show up at school today. you had seen him walk in alongside his crew just before the bell rang. you had decided against approaching him in front of the others since you weren’t sure if he had ever mentioned your friendship (if you could even call it that) to them. you did know, however, that the group took the whole “kooks vs pogues” fued very seriously and you weren’t exactly in any rush to start petty drama because you crossed some imaginary line.

and sure, while you found the war between the kooks and the pogues relatively stupid, you still found it strangely endearing how they always ran around causing trouble together and having one another’s back. it was something you could say you envied, seeing as you didn’t really socialize outside of school.

it wasn’t until the end of the school day that you saw jj again, leaning against a wall as he scrolled through his phone, most liking waiting for his friends. you watched him curiously, mentally debating whether or not to approach him. you knew you’d do something stupid if you did and it wasn’t exactly smart to get involved with jj, even platonically. he was the sort of distraction you couldn’t really afford.

which is exactly why you held your head high and made your way towards him. what the hell am i doing? “i must be dreaming. is that really you, jj?”

jj’s head shot up at his name, smiling and pushing himself off the wall at the sight of the smartest girls in his grade making her way towards him. of course, his opinion was biased but no body had to know that. back when the two of you were still in the same academic league (elementary school, if we’re being exact), he remembered you’d slide him answers whenever there was a quiz he was noticeably struggling on, and he never even had to ask. that was about six years ago, and now those fond little elementary school memories are partially what’s stopped him from immediately scowling at the sight of you, a kook, throughout those same six years.

you hadn’t done anything to him to fuel that hatred except have everything: a good family, brains, friends, money. he knew it was unfair to despise you for a life you were born into but he didn’t really care, it was kooks vs pogue’s after all. except, he couldn’t despise you. not one bit. and everyday that became an ounce more obvious.

once you got close enough to him, jj held out his arms. “there’s my favorite answer sheet.”

“shut up,” you laughed, throwing your arms around his shoulders and pulling him down into a tight hug. “i haven’t seen you in forever, where the hell have you been!”

why’d you have to make it so incredibly hard for jj to hate you? even in the few electives you shared, you were always so helpful and kind to him. you’d listen to him talk about anything with big, kind, enthusiastic eyes and he’d have to refrain from kissing your pretty face every time. whenever he didn’t understand work or wasn’t listening to instructions, you’d huff with a gorgeous smile and help him out with whatever it was he needed. you always expressed your concern when he was absent for a little too long, he really didn’t know how to take it.

it almost let jj forget that you were a kook and he was just another pogue, unable to provide for you in the way a partner should.

“what can i say, i’m a busy man.” jj hugged you back, relishing in the cool feel of your skin against his. pulling away, he shoved his hands in his pockets, “let me guess, you’re looking for pope?”

the question threw you off a bit, because initially sure, you had been looking for pope. you couldn’t help the pride you felt when you heard pope was aiming to receive a scholarship, and a generous one at that. which is why you had been looking for him, to try and convince him to take part in the student government in hopes that maybe it would up his chances of impressing those at the scholarship interview.

“uhm, yes, actually?” you quirked an eyebrow, mildly surprised. “do you know where he is?”

“uh, no but i’ll ask him.” jj said as he started typing on his phone.

eyeing him as he sent a message, your lips quirked into a small smile, “you look nice today, jay, d’you finally decide to take a shower?”

“funny,” jj smiled, shaking his head with a small chuckle before looking up from his phone. “pope’s caught up talking to a teacher. need me to pass a message?”

“that’s okay, i was hoping to ask him myself.”

jj figured that much based on your body language; you were most likely going to confess to pope, probably even ask him out. while his predictions have been known to fall a bit short sometimes, this made sense because the two of you actually seemed compatible. jj wouldn’t admit he was mildy jealous of the attention you gave pope since the two of you shared more classes together, but it was always there, sitting in an ugly pile in his chest.

jj nodded in understanding, tucking his phone back into his pocket. seeing as you looked a bit on edge, he decided to try and ease your nerves a bit. “hey relax, i’m sure he’ll say yeah.”

you squinted your eyes slightly, how the hell does he know? but you couldn’t hold back the smile forming on your lips at the news that pope would accept the offer. “and you’re sure about that?”

“i mean, why wouldn’t he?” jj shrugged, trying to wave off the mild hurt. “you’re smart, he’s smart, you guys are like two smart peas in a little educated pod. it’s uh, perfect.”

your smile dropped as you realized the miscommunication that had occurred. “oh no, no no, i’m not asking pope out.”

“oh,”

“yeah, no, i’m just asking him to consider being vp.” you laughed softly as you pulled the folded flier out of your pocket and handed it to him. “the spot’s been empty since sherry transferred and i think pope would be great for the position.”

“right,” jj exhaled with a smile. “my fault.”

“no, it’s okay.” you hummed, and against your better judgement, you attempted to shoot your shot with jj maybank. “don’t get me wrong, pope is great but i’ve kind of got my eyes on this other guy.”

“yeah?”

“mhm, he’s funny and sweet, and incredible at surfing. you wouldn’t happen to know who i’m talking about by any chance?”

“you think he’s an incredible surfer?” jj’s lips quirked up into a smirk.

“oh is that the only part that stuck?”

“maybe,”

“then yeah, i think he’s an incredible surfer. i’m pretty sure everyone here knows he’s an incredible surfer.” you scoffed before looking down at your notebooks and clearing your throat. “do you think i, uh, stand a chance?”

jj’s smirk faltered as he watched you await his answer. “you don’t think you stand a chance?”

you shrugged, “i don’t know, he’s kind of out of my lea—”

“no, hey, you definitely stand a chance, alright?” jj quickly dismissed your concern. “i’ll take you out any day of the week, just name a time and place.”

furrowing your eyebrows, you purse your lips. “jj, i was talking about john b.”

jj’s eyebrows raise and before he could even fully react, you burst out in a laugh and quickly shake your head, “i’m kidding, i’m kidding! i am talking about you, jay, i’m sorry!”

“oh so you’re just in a funny mood, huh?” jj glared at you, tossing an arm around your shoulder and pulling you closer as the two of you began walking towards the student parking lot.

“you should’ve seen your face!” you laughed, poking at his side. “that was the funniest thing i’ve witnessed in weeks.”

“yeah, yeah, you got me.” jj shook his head as he walked you to your car.

“so about that date?” you asked as the two of you reached your car. leaning against it, you looked up at jj as you spoke. “did you mean it?”

“i meant what i said,” jj assured, “name a time and place.”

“how about—“

“nope, sorry, i’m actually super busy that day.” jj fake winced, “don’t worry though, i’m sure i have a free day somewhere in there.”

you narrowed your eyes at him, “hmmm, i think i’ve changed my mind.”

“hey now,” jj laughed, taking your hand in his. “let’s not get ahead of ourselves. how about tomorrow? is tomorrow good?”

“you want to take me out on a tuesday?” you snort, adoring the way his nose crinkled with his smile.

“hell yeah, we can ditch school. i know this super good breakfast joint just a couple blocks down.“ he suggested, thumb rubbing small circles on the back of your hand.

“jay, i can’t skip school, it’ll ruin my—“

“your perfect attendance, how could i forget.” jj teased with a playful roll of his eyes.

you laughed, “tomorrow after school works, except you can pick what we’re doing, because i’ll just make you help me study.”

“i’d be okay with that,” jj scoffed, “you strip every time you get one wrong and i’ll strip every time you get one right.”

“that’s cute, but only one of us would be left naked.” you laughed as you detached your hand from his to open your car door, “and it wouldn’t be me.”

jj was left grinning like an idiot as you got in your car, and he tapped on the glass to make you roll down the window. when you finally rolled it down, he pursed his lips and shrugged a shoulder, “see, i’m not entirely opposed to that though.”

“ha, ha, jj.” you hum as you gently pushed his face away. “i’ll see you tomorrow, yeah? and hey, if you need a ride home, i don’t mind driving you.”

“nah, that’s okay.”

“i’m serious, jj, i don’t mind.”

“yeah i know, i know, but it’s cool, i’ve got john b.” jj assured, biting back a smile.

“wipe that stupid grin off your face, jay.”

“sorry, sorry, you just sound really cute trying to take me home with you.”

“oh fuck off!”

[summercreolefanfictioner]

Kitagawa Daiichi headcanon that Oikawa had to deal with Kageyama’s poor grades

I’ve actually written this on my fanfic as a bonus chapter. It just occurred to me one day like, “hey, what if Oikawa and the others already knew about his low grades” or “Oikawa must be really proud to know that Kageyama is not an academic genius.

The excerpt’s for fun only, guys. Please enjoy and be aware of OOCness~

At Kitagawa Daiichi Middle School...

For some reason, their coaches have lost their backbone to admit that their talented recruit, the genius setter Kageyama Tobio, is not entirely a genius after all. Oikawa held the clipboard and looked blankly at the scores. They were all below 40, with some under the 10s and 20s.

He sighed, turning his attention to their other volleyball teammates. He was annoyed that the coaches passed on to him their responsibility. But this could also mean another opportunity to tease the hell out of his cute kouhai. Might as well, right?

"As per our coaches, exams are coming up," he informed. "And as such, the team won't tolerate members having grades lower than 40. You're all aware of that, right?"

Suddenly, the air grew cold, and the members were silent. While Iwaizumi was only waiting for what Oikawa would say next, Kindaichi and Kunimi tensed up, aware of who Oikawa was referring.

The pair glanced briefly at Kageyama, who suddenly lost his soul and the power to live at this point.

"I know our practices can be tough," Oikawa started, "but if you don't know how to balance your studies and club duties, then you won't be able to participate in the next volleyball tournament."

Afraid that Kageyama would 'die' due to lack of volleyball, Kindaichi and Kunimi decided to help the poor guy with his studies. Unfortunately, Kageyama was a tough one and the two have already lost their patience with him.

"Oikawa-san, you're the only one who can teach him," Kunimi pointed out, with Kindaichi almost begging him.

"Why should I? I'm a busy person too, you know." Oikawa was annoyed. For starters, he can ace an exam without reviewing that much. However, with his captain activities and uncle duties at home, he'll probably get stressed out trying to do everything.

"Well, think of it this way," Iwaizumi said, seeming to help the two freshmen. "You can shove it in Kageyama's face that you excel more at studies than him."

"Eh? But I want to see him suffer a bit more," Oikawa whined.

Kindaichi and Kunimi had a blank expression. Oikawa-san is really insufferable.

Well, Iwaizumi managed to persuade Oikawa, hence why the captain was pressuring his precious kouhai to answer the tests properly—and in the Kageyama residence, nonetheless.

"Do you really use your brain or what?" Oikawa asked, emitting a dark aura that could rival Iwaizumi's. "It says here to find the answer in the paragraph, not make up your own opinion about it."

Kageyama scrunched his face in annoyance and embarrassment. To think his friends would sacrifice him to a 'demon.' He mumbled something under his breath, which did not go unnoticed.

"Ha? You saying something now?"

"Why do I have to learn this, anyway? It has nothing to do with volleyball."

Oikawa's mouth twitched in anger. Ah, I see why Kindaichi and Kunimi sought my help.

He closed the textbook and said enthusiastically, "Oh? Then let your grades drop and forget about volleyball. Hm?"

The tension was intense between the two, to a point that Iwaizumi didn't lecture Oikawa for bullying Kageyama.

~~~

And that’s it, folks! Have a great day ahead.

~~~

EDIT: In the end, Kageyama had to endure a spartan Oikawa.

[spideyspeaches]

Vibrations per minute ↬ P.P

AN: Based on this post ehehe. (Also 223 followers?! I’m not crying you are ಥ‿ಥ Beta read by my baby sis @parkerpeter24​ <3<3

➳ Pairing: Peter Parker x Stark!Reader

➳ Warnings: smut (semi public), vibrator, minors dni

➳ WC: 1.8k +

➳ Masterlist || Taglist

Peter Parker was not who he looked to be. He was the kind of guy who impressed parents with his bambi eyes and A+ academic performances, but at the same time, he could be a little shit and tease the fuck out of you. For example-

Bets were a naturally occurring event in the Avengers compound, whether it was between Sam and Bucky about who could eat the most number of marshmallows in one go or between Tony and Peter on who could digest more amount of coffee in the least amount of time (both of which landed them in the medbay). 

So maybe placing a bet with your boyfriend may not have been your most intelligent choice. You were a smart woman, you should have known better than to place a bet with Spider-Man, especially if the bet included cardio. 

And now you were facing the consequences. 

You were sitting in the post mission debriefing room, thighs clenched as you saw your boyfriend trying (and failing) to hide his shit eating smirk. You felt the vibrations inside you once again, a little faster than before. Suppressing a moan, you tried to glare murder at him without letting the others know. 

Puffing your cheeks, you slid down the chair, hands folded on your chest. You were pretty sure your cheeks were blood red with the amount of heat you felt.

"Y/N are you sure you're alright? You look a little flushed." Steve asked, shifting to look at you from where he was besides You. He looked concerned.

"Uh- yeah- yeah I'm good. Just exhausted." You stuttered a response. Huffing, you tried to discreetly rub your stomach from clenching. A little whimper escaped your throat, which you quickly suppressed by picking up the glass of water and chugging down some.

Sam looked at you weirdly, the others not paying attention as Nick Fury asked them questions. 

"Miss Stark if you think you're going to get out of debriefing because your little boyfriend and father are sitting here, you're wrong. Please pay attention" Fury said, looking at you with his pirate eye, before turning around and muttering, "I swear sometimes they behave like school children."

You gave Bucky and Sam a glare as they snickered. 

"I'm sorry, I'll- uhh- I'll pay more attention. I'm just, my tummy hurts." You whimpered, flushing when you realised you had said "tummy" in front of the Avengers. 

"Well you better take care of the tummy ache. Don't want you to poo all over here." Peter smirked, your jaw dropping at how rude the little shit was. How unfortunate would it be when he finds out someone had burnt his Kylo Ren special edition figurine? 

"Fuck you asshat." You seethe, your glare intensifying when he increased the rate of vibrations using the phone app he was holding under the desk.

"Y/N, Peter, enough of this, now listen to what Pirate here has to say before he asks you to skedaddle back to your nursery." Your dad says, rolling his eyes at your childish banter.

You wanted to get out of there. Right away, because you couldn't take the shudders in between your legs anymore, or you would orgasm right there, in front of everyone. 

So to get back at them, you raised your hand like you were in elementary school, asking the teacher for permission, "May I go to the washroom? I wanna poo." You ask innocently, smirking when Fury widened his eyes.

Averting your eyes to your boyfriend, you silently conveyed your message, hoping that he got what you were up to. 

Ignoring the laughter of the babies in the Avengers' bodies, you stood up abruptly before he could change the settings anymore, walking stiffly to the bathroom.

"That was kind of mean of me." Peter finally said when you were out of his vision. 

"Yeah kid, I would've kicked your ass if I didn't know that she would do it before me." Tony snarked, curling his lips and shaking his head before going back to the dossier in front of him.

"You should go and apologise to her Pete. She looked upset." Steve piped in, his disappointed eyebrowsTM showing their way.

"She's in the toilet and he's a horny teenager, you really want him to go right now?" Sam said.

"Ew Sam, get your gutter brain out of here!" Peter defended, not meaning what he said.

In fact he was going to do just that. The entire time during the mission, you had been teasing him one way or another, whether it was landing in certain poses or just touching him every chance you get.

The bet was just an opportunity for him to get back at you for leaving him hot and bothered, dreaming about you all night in that tiny lingerie with spider prints on them.

“Yeah Sam, get out of here.” Natasha joked. Before he could witness the counter arguments though, he left the room, leaving a very noisy meeting room and a very frustrated Nick Fury. 

He found you in the bathroom stalls near the cafeteria. It was the women's bathroom but no one was around this time of the night, so he entered it. 

He could hear your moans and pants, your arousal hitting his nostrils as he tried to hyperfixate on you. His jeans suddenly felt strained at his… web shooter area. 

Opening the bathroom door, he clenched his fists. You were standing there, vibrator out of you and your finger inside, eyes scrunched as you threw your head back, not even noticing him enter.

"Why are you touching yourself?" He growled, smirking innocently when you jerked up, eyes taking a lustful look that sent his blood rushing south. 

"It's your fault. You were the one who made me horny in the middle of those boomers." You gritted. 

Your hand was poised on your waist now, legs still spread apart, your pussy on display. 

Grabbing you by your ass, he picked you up and slammed you against the wall, kissing your jaw, "Just seeking revenge." He mumbled  

"Oh oh Petey- revenge for what?" You moaned, arching your back as he undressed you, grabbing your now unclothed boob and sucking on one nipple, twisting the other with his fingers.

Moaning at the sensation of the cool tiles, you dug your fingers at his back, your wet pussy throbbing for a feel of his dick.

"You did it on purpose didn't you? Showing off during missions?" He sucked at your skin, leaving it tender and brushed, "you know how hot you look while you kick ass?" 

He unbuttoned his pants, letting his dick slip out with his boxers. His length never ceased to amaze you, the thick organ making your mouth water. You imagined it slipping into you, your thighs slipping wider on instinct.

He saw the look you were giving him, his lustful eyes full of mirth and desperation. Without waiting any further, he slipped out a condom from his discarded jeans' pocket, sliding his dick into your wet entrance, your ass hitting the wall as he pushed into your walls. 

Throwing your head back, you hissed as your walls clenched around him.

"You get, you get turned on when I kick ass?" You panted, grabbing his hair in desperation to the coiling in your gut, "Fuck I'm gonna cum. I'm gonna come Pete." 

"Well what are you waiting for princess?" He nibs your ear, squeezing your breasts to his now naked chest. You shuddered at the coolness of his body, he's always been cold to touch. 

"Fuck princess, feel so good." His mouth was slack, his thrusts getting harder as he shoved into you, "so tight for me. Enjoying my cock in your pussy eh?"

"Yes! Oh- I love it Pete I love it!" Hitting your head on his chest, you pinched his nipple, making him groan and hit your stomach, the slapping sound echoing in the bathroom.

"Say it louder pretty girl" 

"Why?" You whined, "I should get back to you for using the vibrator but I'm having too much fun." 

You groaned, Your eyes scrunched when his thrusts started to slow down, his senses too overloaded to work together with his stamina.

"Yeah you're needy aren't you?" He said, out of breath from your little meet. He set you down, wiping off your cum using the tissue paper, flushing it off in the toilet. 

He took a minute to just admire you. Your body was shining from sweat, your breath coming out in short pants. You were completely naked, breasts out to the display. He flushed when you smirked at him, you had caught him staring. Not that you minded.

"My beautiful girl." He said, voice husky from strain as he closed the distance between you both, holding you in his arms. 

You laid your head on his chest, rubbing your cheeks against his pectorals. You could hear his racing heart, chuckling when you saw heat rising up his chest to his neck and then face. 

"Why are you blushing? We literally just fucked." You laughed, tracing circles on his collarbones. He looked ethereal from where you were standing, perfectly sculpted by a skillful sculptor. 

"Because you're amazing and I can't believe you're my girl." He said. 

"Mmhm,” You nodded against him, “Also, do you always keep a condom in your pocket?" 

        __________••☆••__________

There were many reasons as to why you keep around Peter, and one of them is that he's an amazing chef. Living with his aunt and uncle, he and Ben had been the main source of home cooked meals, because Aunt May was never good at cooking. 

You saw him standing in the kitchen, flipping pancakes while he hummed to some melody. You didn't mind, you could stare at him all day. Thankfully, none of the Avengers were awake yet (but they would be. They're huge fans of his food) 

"Morning." You smile, wrapping your hands around his waist, placing your head on his back.

"Did you sleep well?" He asked, moving around as you clung to him like a koala. Giggling, you wrapped your legs around his waist, jumping on his back like a potato sack. 

"Mmhm, the best sleep I've had in a long while." You mumble, words muffled by his back.

"Is that so?" He asked. 

"Yup." 

Hearing shuffling noises, you quickly jumped off of him, fixing your t-shirt and sitting on the dining table.

You saw as Steve and Sam entered the kitchen, Natasha soon following suit. Clint had left for his home early that morning, wanting to meet Laura and his kids as soon as he could. 

You smiled at each of them, nodding a good morning and helping them sort a plate. 

You were arranging the plates when you heard a choked gasp. Alarmed at the sound, you looked up at Steve's horrified expression, looking at where he was pointing a finger.

"What?" You asked, biting your lips.

"That- is that a hickey?!?" 

Slapping your neck, you let the plate clatter on the table, ignoring Peter's scrambled replies. You saw Bucky entering from the corner of your eye, unable to formulate a coherent answer.

"Oh my god, Bucky they totally fucked yesterday!" 

Page dividers by @cicicantblog​

[notcorrect-persona5]

In Defense of Yosuke’s Parents

I’ve seen so many posts about Yosuke having bad parents which really surprised me because I didn’t get that impression at all. I’ve been meaning to make a post in defense of his parents, but I’ve been working on a Yu analysis. After I saw @personuhh​’s post I thought I’d offer an alternative perspective. I’ll be addressing some of the things they brought up first, and then I’ll get into additional evidence. I have edited this post since I originally posted it because I I wanted to elaborate and reword some things.

My Response

You’re right, Yosuke does take on way more responsibility than a part-timer should. However, I don’t think that’s his parents doing. It seems like Junes is extremely understaffed. In his social link, Yosuke says his dad was “bugging him to find helpers.” I volunteer at a small location of a large church (much like the Inaba branch of Junes), and I have been asked to find more volunteers over and over again because they’re desperate for more help. It’s a lot of work and not enough people. Additionally, both Yu and Chie come in to help due to the lack of staff. I wouldn’t be surprised if Mrs. Hanamura helped out too as Teddie’s under the impression that Yosuke’s parents are always together (which I’ll talk about later). 

On top of that, Yosuke mentions part-timers ditching work and slacking off. When an employee doesn’t show up, Yosuke (and Teddie) are often called in because their managers know they’ll show up. People who are reliable are given more responsibility, period. It sucks, but if someone needs help they aren’t going to ask someone who they don’t see as dependable. I volunteer at church every week, and I have been asked countless times if that’s okay because they don’t want to overwork me. Every time I say I don’t mind, and I assume Yosuke would have the same reaction if asked. Not only is it Yosuke’s natural instinct to help people, but he was kind of a pushover before the events of (and at the start of) Persona 4. In his third awakening, Yosuke says he was overworked and taken for granted. That’s not okay, and it’s a huge problem, but Mr. Hanamura isn't the cause of that. Mr. Hanamura is the general manager; his job isn’t to create the part-timer’s schedules. 

It’s true that Yosuke tries to work out the problems of other employees and listens to their complaints. There is no indication that Yosuke was told to do this, and I don’t know why he would be. In his social link, there are two girls who act as if he has more power than he does. They demand a raise, ask him to give them the day off, and assume he has knowledge about another employee’s schedule. Yosuke says he doesn't have the power to help them, and in a manga page he says “I may be the manager’s son, but I’m still just an employee.” Yosuke is doing much more than the average part-timer, but he isn’t being given the responsibilities of a manager.

As for the Junes concert, Mr. Hanamura did not tell Yosuke he was going to be fired. Yosuke came to that conclusion himself. Mr. Hanumura did not ask Yosuke to find a solution or ask Rise for help. Yosuke only asked Rise for help because he was scared of moving again. I understand how the phrase “awfully nice for some reason” could come across as odd, but I don’t think he meant his dad isn’t usually nice. In the Persona 4 Manga that scene is translated as “My Dad’s been extra nice to me” meaning his dad is nice, he’s just being extra nice, and I’m not surprised. Yosuke was extremely unhappy when he moved to Inaba. Despite trying to hide his feelings, you can see in The Magician that he didn’t do a very good job of it. And now that Yosuke is finally happy, they might be forced to move again. Of course, Mr. Hanamura would feel guilty. Oftentimes, when people feel guilty, they start acting nicer - unnaturally so - to make themselves feel better. Chie (who is already very kind) even does it after she and Yukiko spend Yosuke’s money on clothes for Teddie. Yosuke notices the shift in her attitude and tells her that he’s worried. It’s the same reaction he had toward his dad’s behavior.

The only reason I bring up Chie is to show an in-game example of someone being overly nice due to guilt. What Chie did was wrong, that’s why she feels guilty. The reason Mr. Hanamura would feel guilty is his job may have to move his entire family again. The cause of their guilt is different, but they are responding the same way.

I don’t think Mrs. Hanamura not wanting her son to own porn is unreasonable. My mom doesn’t like magic, so I wasn’t allowed to read or watch Harry Potter growing up. Similarly, a friend of mine wasn’t allowed to watch iCarly. As for Mrs. Hanamura burning Yosuke’s porn in Arena, that’s the third time (that we know of) that she’s seen his porn. I assume she’s told him she doesn’t want him looking at pornography, but he continues to do so anyway. Burning his magazines may seem dramatic, but she was likely just frustrated that he kept disobeying her. 

I don’t think Yosuke’s parents are the reason why Yosuke wants to be seen as manly. I haven’t seen anything that implies that. I think Yosuke’s desperation to be seen as a man comes from Japanese society and his fears regarding his sexuality.

Mr. Hanamura came up with this slogan because they were selling jinbei's which are traditionally worn by men. It’s a play on words. This isn’t the first time Mr. Hanamura has come up with a cringey slogan.

It seems Mr. Hanamura has that stereotypically “dad humor” which is typically associated with positive father figures (it’s not always). Yosuke saying his dad is still saying the “MANsoon” slogan gave me reminds of kids being like “Dad, that’s a bad joke, stop”, but the dad continuing to make his bad jokes regardless. It’s very Disney Channel and sit-com like.

I don’t remember Teddie saying he watches violent war movies with Mr. Hanamura, but I don’t see how that connects to the idea of Mr. Hanamura pushing Yosuke to be a “more masculine, traditional, unshakable, unemotional man.” The idea that only those types of men watch war movies is the type of thinking Kanji’s and Naoto’s shadows were trying to address. I don’t think Mr. Hanamura cares about being that type of stereotypical/traditional man because of his relationship with Teddie. Teddie is not very masculine (he even says so in Persona Q, screenshot will be later), and he isn’t hiding it. 

This exchange is from Kanji’s Persona 4 Club Profile. Teddie went to the store to buy female clothing, and he asked Kanji to make him a dress (the one from the cross dressing pageant). He already owned his “Alice dress” before the cross dressing competition, and I assume he’s worn it. In Arena, you can see the dress is hung out in the open in their bedroom. He also wears hair clips. 

This is not “masculine behavior” yet the Hanamuras don’t seem to have a problem with it. If anything, I’d say they’re pretty open-minded. If they disliked that way Teddie behaved, Teddie would change himself to fit the way they want him to be. I mean, the kid literally grew two new bodies in effort to get people to like him. Due to Teddie’s low self-esteem and need to be loved, he takes any sort of criticism to heart and does his best to act the way others want him too. In Persona Q, Yukari says he’d be cute if he was quiet, so Teddie stops talking. 

In Persona Q, Teddie says he’s realized that to steal hearts he needs to be manly. He gets this realization from Koromaru. He did not think this prior. 

Teddie saying Koromaru gave him this realization means the Hanmuras never said anything to him about his less masculine behavior. 

As for the song lyrics you posted, I don’t really think that means anything. Yeah, people often relate to the music they listen to, but they don’t have to relate to every lyric or even song. My favorite artist is Taylor Swift, but I don’t really like romance. I don’t relate to most of her songs, but I still jam out to them. I could be super wrong about the song thing though because I’m not a huge music person.

My Own Additional Analysis (with some elements of response)

In this section I’m going to talk about Mr. and Mrs. Hanamura’s character and personality, their relationship with each other, Teddie, and Yosuke.

Let’s start off by talking about their personality. They seem to be very carefree people. Yosuke has less than average grades. In the Persona 4 Animation, he didn’t even show up to one of the exam days. Academics is extremely important in Japanese society, yet his parents don’t seem to be pushing him to get better grades. Considering how carefree Yosuke can be, it makes sense that he may have gotten that trait from his parents. 

Yosuke’s family is pretty wealthy. It’s mentioned more than once. They also live in a pretty big house (you can see it in The Magician), Yosuke’s cell phone seems to be a newer model, and he has a large, flatscreen TV in his bedroom which wouldn’t be very common when the game took place. Despite this, Yosuke works for his own money. He complains about being broke and needing save up. I think the reason why Yosuke has a job despite being well-off is because his parents want him to have work experience and grow up to be a hardworking person, so he can succeed in life. It makes me think that hardwork is important to them.

Due to this conversation, I think Mr. Hanamura is a very honest man. Yosuke says he was surprised his dad was against selling gas masks, likely because from a business standpoint, that’s a really big missed opportunity. I think it’s also worth noting that ATLUS talks a lot about how people naturally fit into the masses, including the main characters. That’s why it’s surprising that his father is going against the masses. Although he’s losing money and has faced many hardships running Junes, Mr. Hanamura refused to do something that was against his moral compass.

In Persona 4 Drama CD #1, Junes is closing down half of the electronics section due to a lack of sales. Despite this taking place in March, Teddie panics and hopes to sell a TV set in a month in exchange for keeping the TV they enter the TV World through where it is. 

Yosuke isn’t afraid to ask his dad two huge favors with a not very good reason (side note: Yosuke had to lie because the truth is that’s the TV he and his friends used to go into the TV world and fight shadows). Despite Yosuke’s best efforts, his father says no. He doesn’t really have any choice but to close part of the electronics floor. Junes is losing money by keeping it open. I think Mr. Hanamura gave him the vouchers because that’s the only other way he can help. Teddie made a deal that if he sells one TV set by the end of the month, they’ll keep the TV that leads to the TV world. He’s trying to advertise the TV set by promising other surprise items coming with it. These Junes vouchers are part of those surprise items. 

It’s no secret that many of the shopping district families despise Junes and the Hanamuras. Many horrible things have been said about their family, yet Junes still teams up with the shopping district in the YasoInaba Case File to help keep them afloat. Whether or not this was Mr. Hanamura’s idea, he’s the one who has to approve it, and he does. Despite being treated horribly by them, he still wants to help the shopping district. Junes teaming up with shopping district might be a good business move, but they didn’t really need to do that. The problem is that Junes is taking away the shopping district’s business. Junes doesn’t need to team up with the shopping district to do well. The two of the teaming up benefits the shopping district way more than Junes. It doesn’t do much for Junes other than the shopping district maybe not hating them. At the end of the day, the shopping district families would still shop at the shopping district to keep their businesses afloat, so Junes isn’t getting a lot more business.

When Teddie came to the real world, Yosuke offered to take Teddie home with no hesitation. He didn’t think it would be a problem with his parents or show any concern about how he would convince them. I think this goes along with them being pretty carefree as well as showing that they’re kind and generous people. Not everyone is willing to take others in like that. Yosuke’s also comfortable with asking his parents such a huge favor.

Teddie talks about Yosuke’s parents in a really positive light, and I would say they treat him like their own son. For example, on January second Teddie says, “I got New Year’s gifts! Yosuke’s mom and dad gave them to me!” (edit: Someone said “notice how Yosuke doesn’t say the same thing.” He doesn’t need to. It’s Japense culture to give younger family members gifts for new Year’s. Yosuke saying something would be the equivalent of, “omg my parents gave me a birthday present!!” It would have been weirder if he did say something then. Teddie is excited because because this is his first New Year’s. He’s never experienced this before. Also, Yosuke did get New Year’s money. He talks about saving it on 1/10 when walking to school).

I think I remember Teddie saying he watches movies with Mrs. Hanamura, but I have no idea where he says that. There’s a 50/50 chance I made that up and convinced myself it was canon, so don’t take my word on that one. 

Teddie breaks A LOT of rules at Junes. He steals topsicles, rode a handi mover through the store, slept on both a display bed and the floor of electronics department, been yelled at for eating samples, been chased by store security, and Yosuke had to monitor Teddie during his late night shift because they didn’t trust him to work alone. Teddie’s a terrible employee, yet he hasn’t been fired. I think the reason for this is he’s basically the manager’s son. I do want to say that just because they consider Teddie as their own child doesn’t mean they treat Yosuke as anything less. I haven’t seen a single thing that has implied that there is favoritism going on.

Yosuke and Teddie act a lot like brothers (Naoki even suspects that they're related), and Yosuke’s parents seem to treat Teddie like their own son. He even wears their family crest in offical art. I looks like ATLUS wnted the four of them to be a family. And If that’s the case, it wouldn’t make any sense for Mr. and Mrs. Hanamura to be bad parents.

Additionally, if Mr. and Mrs. Hanamura treated Yosuke badly, and Teddie noticed, I think Teddie would say something.

The second Yukari said something slightly mean about Yosuke, Teddie defended him. He doesn’t like when other people say mean things about Yosuke. Not to mention conflict really stresses him out. If Yosuke’s parents treated him badly, I there’s a chance Teddie might see the problem.

I think it’s also worth noting that Yosuke’s parents have a really healthy marriage.

This quote implies that they’re rarely apart and get along really well. A happy marriage doesn’t automatically equal a healthy household or good parents, but it really increases the likelihood. 

For context, Yosuke is talking about Teddie in this picture. I’m not from Japan, so I don’t know if most families there eat breakfast together, but my family - despite being very close - does not. We all eat and start our day at different times. In my mind, eating breakfast together is a very domestic thing to do. Even the phrase “Hanamura family breakfast” screams domestic to me.

This conversation gives me the sense that Mr. Hanamura has a great deal of trust and respect for Yosuke. I mean, I don’t think he would accept Yosuke’s idea if he didn’t. Adding a kid’s menu would be pretty exspensive. Not only do they have to print the kid’s menu, but they have to design them, create new menu items, and depedning on what’s on the menu buy more food or ingredients. That adds up, and if it isn’t successful then they’ll lose money. Mr. Hanamura has to approve that idea, and he’s putting in trust that it’s going to be successful. Also, Yosuke is comfortable enough to “push really hard” for his idea.

All in all, it is my personal opinion that the Hanamurs are a really close family. It would make sense for ATLUS to go in that direction to create a contrast to the Narukami’s, after all. That being said, neither headcanon is wrong. It just comes down to how we interpret the very little information we’re given.

[collegecoward]

Sorry if you answered this already, but do you have any tips for finding colleges to apply to? I have a long list of colleges in my area, but I don't really know which ones I should look into.

How to Pick a College to Attend

This is the ultimate question! I'll be honest: I've been procrastinating on answering this question because I wasn't sure if I'd have a good enough answer. I’m figuring this out all over again, now that I’m looking at law schools.

Since I'm still learning, I'm going to tell you what I know now and what I'm learning. Other people might have different ways of dong it, and there's no One Right Way to choose a college, as far as I know. But when I was starting looking at colleges and colleges were looking at me, I needed to know mostly three things:

1. Who to talk to. Who is safe and has information I need.

Ideally these people are your teachers, your counselor, your family and friends, and the admissions offices at every single college you are even a little bit interested in. Seriously, I know it can be scary, but it’s their job to talk to you.

If your school has a college and career office, go there. I regret not going and talking to the folks in there at my school; I was scared, but they could’ve helped me. The Fair Opportunity Project, other non-profits, and even your state might have mentors who can help you along when you’re stuck. And I’m always here.

2. What order to do things in.

You have your list of colleges--that’s a great start! I'd start by organizing yourself based on what you know about these schools and what you learn as you go.

Play around with the choosing-a-college sites like Cappex or the College Board.

Get on those colleges websites and pretend like your scrolling through Instagram or browsing on Amazon. You’re shopping for a school you like, is all.

Please feel free to copy this spreadsheet I made and edit it with whatever you want!

3. What to think about.

Here are some things to think about when you’re sorting colleges by ones you like and ones you don't:

Is this a good school for my major?

Are there opportunities I like at this school?

Is this a competitive school for me?

Is this a school that meets my needs, spiritually or demographically?

Is this school the right size I'm looking for?

What's the campus like? Where is it?

How much might this school cost?

Academics

Do they have your major? If you haven’t decided what you want to study, do they have majors you’d be interested in? What classes do they require? What classes do they offer? Most schools offer most majors, but some of them specialize in one thing or another. Figuring out which school in your area is really good at the thing you’re interested in can help you prioritize, at least as far as academics go.

You'll also want to understand how competitive the school is, overall and for your major. What does their average accepted applicant look like? What about their average applicant for your major? The school’s website, as well as sites like College Board, can help you figure this out. That said, I wouldn’t necessarily discourage you from applying to a competitive school. Research shows that students often “rise to the occasion” when they apply for schools “just out of their reach” if they get in. It can be good for you to attend a school where you'll be challenged, which can happen at any school, but may be especially true at your "reach" schools.

Culture

Public schools or private? And if they're private schools, are you interested in schools with strong religious affiliations, or more secular vibes?

Demographics. Early on, I didn’t realize how much a campus culture can change depending on who goes there and teaches there. For example, many Black students find that going to an HBCU (Historically Black College or University) or PBI (Predominantly Black Institution) is extraordinarily validating in a way that PWIs (Predominantly White Institution) are not. The same can be true of other MSIs (Minority-Serving Institutions), even if you are white. Here’s a good breakdown for more information. This isn’t to say that one type of school is better than the other, the experience is just different!

Competitive or chill? Some of this you’ll find in the marketing of a school. I’ve gone to chill schools, I’ve gone to a competitive school. Sometimes the Competitive to Chill Scale correlates with the school or program's acceptance rate, but each campus has its own unique culture that you can get a sense of when you do your research, go on tours, and talk to people.

Environment

This is closely related to culture, but environment is a little more about the place than the people. One of the big things I didn’t do but should’ve was to visit the schools. How you feel going to, and potentially living on, a campus every day can be very much influenced by the school’s environment.

Big city, small town? Is the town part of the campus, or is the campus part of the town? When towns or cities are smaller and surround a college, these are called “college towns.” Life tends to be built around the needs of the campus, which is a huge perk, but beyond the reaches of the city, there might be…nothing, until you drive to the next town. On the other hand, being in a city that happens to have a university in it can be a perk, too, because there’s so much beyond the campus to do, and there are plenty of opportunities to leave campus and live and work someplace else, But if the campus is inside a big city, it might not feel much like a campus. Kinda depends on what you're looking for.

Big school or small school? Big schools tend to have lots of opportunities to do things like research, activities, clubs, a variety of classes, etc. Small schools tend to have smaller class sizes for more personalized attention and more of a community feeling.

Residential or commuter? Often on a college website they’ll tell you whether most students live on campus or off-campus, but you can always ask an admissions counselor. Commuter schools may be more convenient for students who work or take care of family members, while residential campuses can be more of a traditional college environment. It’s not black and white, of course, but this is just something to keep in mind.

Cost

If you're like many students, you probably can't pay for school out of pocket, and you don't have someone to pay for you (or they're only willing to pay so much). Once you've taken a look at the schools and figured out which ones you like, you should think about cost.

What is the cost of attendance? What kind of scholarships do they have? What’s the difference in tuition and fees between schools? If you plan to live on campus, how much would that cost? Every school has to have a financial aid calculator on its website that can help you figure this stuff out.

If you’re like most students nowadays, you can’t just pay for college out of pocket without some kind of help. What kind of financial aid does the school offer to an applicant like you? When you look at their financial aid page, what scholarships are there? Who are they for? Do they give need-based aid, and do you fit their criteria for need? Do they give merit-based aid, and do you fit their criteria for merit? Usually you can’t guarantee you’re going to get scholarships, but it is prudent to think about opportunities.

Does your state give aid if you go to certain schools?

THIS IS SO MUCH INFORMATION, I KNOW. If you are overwhelmed, that is totally and completely normal!!! I would encourage you to go back up to the top of this post, and take things step-by-step. And if you need any more help from me, I promise I won't take so long to respond next time.

You can do this. I believe in you.

[beef-bakery]

The Lights Are On

Rating: Luz Noceda x Amity Blight - 2.2k words - SFW

Synopsis: In which Amity confesses first, not without mishap, of course

Notes: differs from canon, started as a character study and progressed wildly, not well edited, a certain someone—ahem—has ballet and hasn’t gotten around to editing the whole chapter (even though the season ended today??), part one of four, will be uploaded to ao3 once someone edits it all

Next Part / Read on AO3 / Playlist

Amity pressed the palms of her hands against her eyes and groaned, leaning back in her chair. Nothing she wrote sounded right. It was funny; she could write essays, pages and paragraphs of analyses, deep dives into coven-separated magic infrastructure, and yet she couldn't manage something so simple!

But what was it? Amity knew what she was trying to say, just not how to say it. Poets did it all the time, eloquent declarations of love that they belted from rooftops, but that wasn’t Amity. She wasn't some cheesy poet gushing over their sweetheart, taking every chance to remind everyone around them that ‘I’m in love!’ Maybe if she was a bit braver, a bit bolder, Amity could take that chance, announce to the world she liked girls. And not just any girl, but a beautiful, strong, independent witch who could charm anyone given the chance!

But Amity was sure she would be private surrounding her love life. The only thing she was boastful about was her academic standing, but that had been drilled into her by Odalia. She was slowly realizing that that wasn't really her. She wasn't someone who wanted to put others down with how much better she was. That was—not a Blight thing, per se, but—definitely an Odalia thing. Even with her friends Amity tended to be more standoffish, choosing to observe rather than socialize. Maybe that's what made Luz so enticing.

She wasn't like Amity at all. She wasn't afraid not to be liked, or to get things wrong; in fact, she seemed to thrive off of trial and error. Luz took every opportunity that was presented to her and dove straight into it, putting her best foot forward and doing it fearlessly.

If Amity hadn't been so ticked off the first time she met Luz, she would’ve been impressed. She’d neve met someone so sure of what she wanted and not afraid to take it.

Moreover, Luz was open with her affection, hugging Gus and Willow, talking animatedly about how much she loved her mom without regard for her volume; Luz was the pinnacle of public displays of affection. Platonic or romantic, nothing screamed private about Luz Noceda.

That's probably why this was so hard. Amity, a private and uptight student, was planning to confess to Luz, the lively, carefree witchlet who captivated the entire student body. How could she successfully court such a perfect person?

Should she do it in a way she would like being confessed to? A private, intimate setting, a heartfelt note—read by her admirer, of course—and a gift of flowers to end the night? Or should she do it in a way she thought Luz might like? A public confession with a big display of passion? A smoke spell set off at sunset reading, ‘I like you!’ or something just as sappy and sweet?

The furthest Amity had gotten was deciding that she would need to write a note, whether to recite or place in Luz’s locker. She needed a safe, surefire way to express her feelings that she couldn’t ruin.

Amity had thought about quoting some lame and cheesy Bonesborough poet—that’d be something Luz would like, right? But that didn't seem quite Amity enough. She didn't want her confession to be a cheap copy of someone else's words, written for anyone.

But maybe that was it. Amity couldn't write anything good enough for Luz so maybe… Amity just wasn't good enough for her.

Amity huffed out a sigh of frustration, pushing her chair out and standing up to stretch. The vertebrae of her back clicked into place satisfyingly, sufficiently lubricating her spine and righting her stiff posture.

“Where are you going, Mittens?” Edric asked as Amity passed him and Emira in the kitchen. The twins were making some sort of concoction, presumably supposed to be edible, but from the smell… Amity wouldn't say that it was going to taste good.

“Just out for a walk,” Amity replied.

“Be safe!” Emira called out after her.

“Don't do anything I wouldn't do,” Edric added.

“I’d never do anything you would do.” Amity said. A gasp of indignation could be heard right before she shut the door, and Amity stifled a giggle at the thought of Edric’s goop-covered hands reaching up to clutch at imaginary pearls in offense.

The Boiling Isles wasn't as bad this time of year. The weather was clear, boiling rain storms were sparse, and the overall temperature was acceptable. Amity walked aimlessly, letting her body take her where it wanted to go while her mind wandered.

Funnily enough, it led her to Luz’s house. Amity hadn't even realized she was headed that direction until the beak of Luz’s house demon was way too close for comfort.

“Hiya Luz’s friend!” He chirped.

“Uh, hi,” Amity said, trying to ignore all the physical boundaries he was violating in order to stay on good terms with Luz’s family—that is, if a house demon could be considered family.

“Whatcha doing here?” The house demon—Hooty, was it?—began winding around Amity, trapping her in a loose circle.

“I'm not really sure myself,” Amity sidestepped, desperate to maintain her personal space.

“Well, Luz is inside, I could get her for you—”

“Oh, no you really don't need to do that—!”

But Amity was too late, Hooty was already screeching with his temple-throbbing voice, “Luz! You have a special guest!”

It felt like all of Amity’s hair stood on end when Luz appeared in the window.

“What is it, Hooty? I'm busy,” Luz leaned out the window and held her hand over her eyes, squinting at Amity.

Amity waved awkwardly. “Hi, Luz!”

Luz only squinted more, not recognizing Amity’s voice. Or not hearing it, that was probably a more viable option. Luz leaned out further and toppled out. Thankfully, Hooty had fast reflexes, maneuvering his body with a fine dexterity Amity wouldn't’ve expected from the owl-worm-bug-demon-thing.

“Oof,” was the sound that came out of Luz’s mouth once Hooty deposited her at Amity’s feet. “Oh! Hi, Amity!”

“Hi Luz,” Amity parroted, her words turning to ash in her mouth.

“Well I'll leave you special friends to it.” Amity cringed at Hooty’s choice of words, and was only further humiliated when he winked at her, retracting himself back into the door.

“That was unfortunate,” Luz chuckled softly.

Amity felt the blood rise to her cheeks as she barked out a laugh. “Yeah! Definitely! I mean us? Special friends? Ha! Maybe you should get your owl fixed.” Amity could tell she was overcompensating with her word choice, and could see it reflected in Luz’s face.

“Um…” Luz looked back at Hooty. “I meant me falling out of the window.”

“Oh yeah! Yeah, that was unfortunate,” Amity laughed loudly, feeling the tips of her ears redden with embarrassment.

“You’d be surprised with how often that happens,” Luz laughed, rubbing the back of her neck.

“That’s happened before?” Amity’s eyes were wide enough to draw attention away from her red face.

“Yeah! You won't believe the first time it happened…”

Just like that, Luz set Amity at ease. It was wondrous, the way that Amity fell into comfortable conversation with her. She never felt this comfortable, not even at home. Her parents were more focused on her academic standing, and the twins were always closer with each other than they were with her. Her friends weren't like this with Amity, not like Luz was.

But maybe it was just in Luz’s blood. Amity had seen Luz win over even the coldest witches with only a smile and a dumb pun. Maybe that was over exaggerating, but Luz could still get anyone in her corner with just the slightest persuasion.

There was no way someone like Luz would ever go out with someone like her. Only talented magically and academically… socially, Amity was a freak. Without her status as a Blight, she was nothing more than another silent prodigy.

With that, Amity’s heart sank. How was she ever going to work up the courage to ask out someone so cool and sociable? She’d have to compete with everyone for Luz’s heart.

“Hey Luz?” Amity blurted, stopping abruptly. While the two of them had been talking, Luz had led Amity on a walk through the woods surrounding her house.

“Yeah?” Luz blinked, turning around.

“How would you ask someone out?” Amity asked nervously, kicking a pinecone with her foot.

“Oh—!” For the first time since they’d met, Luz was at a loss for words. “Well, do you like this person?”

“Yeah,” Amity kept her eyes trained on the forest floor, “a lot.”

“Well I’d say do something meaningful. It doesn't have to be big or flashy, just something you know—er, think they’d like. If you don't know what they’d like.” Luz offered.

“What would you like?” Amity asked, finally having enough courage to pull her gaze away from the floor to glance at Luz, who was pointedly looking anywhere but her.

“Um, like what I’d do or what I’d like done for me?” Luz’s eyebrows drew close.

“Both,” Amity said quickly, hoping Luz hadn't noticed her slip up.

“Well, I’d take them somewhere special, private, I mean, no one wants to be publicly rejected—and it’s just tone deaf to pressure someone to accept affections just because they’re in public... sorry I’m getting off topic.” Luz laughed softly. “Um, but it would preferably be somewhere nice. I’d probably prepare a speech of some sort beforehand…” Luz paused, blushing.

“What is it?” Amity asked, curious.

“Well, I'm getting ahead of myself, but I was just thinking that if it was my dream confession, I���d want my partner to do something like in…” Luz covered her face, saying something unintelligible from between her hands.

“What was that?” Amity asked, leaning in.

“Something like in thegoodwitchazura,” Luz mumbled.

“What?” Amity leaned in closer.

“Something like in the Good Witch Azura,” Luz nearly shouted. Amity recoiled back, rubbing her ear with one hand. “Oh! Sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Amity assured Luz, who rubbed the back of her neck sheepishly. Amity gestured for Luz to go on.

“Like in book three,” Luz said, talking animatedly as she picked up her pace, walking faster. Amity nearly had to jog to keep up. “When Azura accidentally ruins the confession between Celeste and Aelia when she stops Celeste’s assassination, it’s just so romantic!”

“Stopping an assassination?” Amity asked, puzzled. It was going to be awfully hard to win over Luz if stopping a murder was a part of her dating criteria. Would she have to stop Luz’s assassination or was stopping an homicide in general enough to qualify as a potential suitor? If it was the former, did that mean Amity had to hire a hit-witch to stop this possible murder?

Luz’s laugh interrupted Amity’s spiel, loud and clear in tone. It was almost heavenly, the way it vibrated through Amity’s ears like the finest music.

“No!” Luz giggled. “I mean like Celeste’s confession!”

“Oh,” Amity said lamely, feeling dumb.

“It’s just so romantic to me, the idea of sneaking in to see your crush and confessing? I would die!” Luz laughed giddily, rocking back and forth, her body expressing the excitement that was too much to handle internally.

“Wow!” Amity said, her eyebrows rising to meet her hairline. Seriously? She needed to sneak into the owl house in order to win Luz over? “Your future partner is going to have to jump through a lot of hoops.”

“Oh, well that's just my dream confession,” Luz smiled sheepishly, “realistically, I’d appreciate anything, really. As long as it was genuine and meaningful, it’d mean a lot!”

“That's good to hear,” Amity laughed softly, relieved, “really takes the pressure off…” She mumbled.

“What was that?” Luz asked.

“Oh, nothing!” Amity felt a blush spread across her cheeks.

“Alright,” Luz said, “well, what do you think?”

“About what?”

“What you’ll do? What’re you gonna do?”

“I'm not sure yet,” Amity laughed awkwardly. The silence that proceeded stretched for what seemed like hours, but was realistically only a few minutes.

“Oh!” Luz stopped suddenly. “You should probably head home,” Luz gestured to the setting sun, “don't want the parents to get mad!”

“You’re probably right,” Amity agreed with a sigh, “I should get back before I get in trouble for staying out too late.”

“Do you want me to get Eda?” Luz pointed a thumb backwards. “She could fly you back on her staff.”

“No, it's okay,” Amity shook her head, “I can walk.”

“If you say so,” Luz waved goodbye and turned to leave.

“Oh wait, Luz—” Amity reached out for Luz’s sleeve, accidentally pulling her close enough to touch noses. “Sorry,” Amity stepped back, avoiding eye contact as her cheeks burned.

“It’s okay,” Luz stuttered, mirroring Amity’s body language. “What did you want to say?”

Amity took a deep breath, “I just wanted to say I had a nice time talking to you today—not that talking to you other times isn't nice—” Amity closed her eyes, inhaling sharply through her nose, trying to gather her bearings. “I just meant I liked today.”

“Aw, Amity,” Luz pulled her in for a hug, “I like talking to you too!” Luz gave Amity one last squeeze before letting go. “Better get home before you get in trouble.” Luz turned to walk away but thought better of it, turning back with a wink. “Bye Amity!”

“Bye Luz,” Amity said, breathless.