#and I questioned my career choice several times this past week

[ley-med]

Back from my week long break, and had a blast of a time, but not feeling too refreshed.

First off, apparently now I have insomnia. And I can't decide if it's a symptom of my mental unwelless, or if I'm feeling like shit because I can't sleep. I want to cry.

It's like, even before my vacation I could feel the desperate need for vacation, and I was so permanently exhausted that it started to scare me, but now that I had a week off, I feel like I rested just enough to realise how burnt out I really was (am)

I am so damn tired from having to dig myself out of this mental pit again and again

And I just want to have a good night's sleep...

[jerzwriter]

Kaycee has had an exceptionally rough week and is nearing the end of her rope. That's when her secret boyfriend, Ethan, comes up with a plan to help them both recoup. But will their cover be blown? Book: Open Heart (Late Book 2 Timeline) Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Kaycee MacClennan) Rating: Teen Words: 2,300 Trope: Hurt/Comfort; Secret Romance Summary: Above A/N: Participating in @choicesaugustchallenge - Day 2 - Beach Date; also sundress & fireworks. I did not have time to edit much, so be kind :)

It had been the week from hell. Kaycee glanced at her watch and grimaced. Slumping against the nurses’ station, she rubbed her temples with a sigh as Sienna looked on sympathetically.

“I’m never going to make it,” Kaycee groaned. “Five more hours? Nope. I’m not going to make it.”

“You’ll make it just fine,” Sienna said with a reassuring smile. "But what’s going on?”

“It’s been a very tough week.  Two double shifts, code after code, too many accidents, several difficult patient losses... I’m just... I'm burnt out. I need a break."

At that moment, Ethan approached the nurses’ station. Deeply involved in a conversation with Harper, he hadn’t noticed Kaycee at first, but he raised his eyes with concern when he heard the tail-end of her conversation.

“That’s a lot,” Sienna replied. “We've all had those weeks, and they're hard. So, besides the batch of Snickerdoodle cookies that I'll be making for you, is there anything I can do to help you?”

“I'll be fine,” Kaycee half-smiled, angry at herself for the tears rising in her eyes...she should be stronger than this. “But I could really use a hug.”

That’s all she had to say. Sienna jumped up from her chair and wrapped Kaycee in a warm embrace. “Hey,” Sienna whispered. “When’s your next break? Why don’t we take a walk to Derry’s? The change of scenery might help.”

“I’d like that,” Kaycee smiled softly. She wiped a tear that threatened to fall from the corner of her eye and turned back to the station. That’s when her eyes met Ethan’s.

His heart had been clenching in his chest as he watched the situation unfold. He understood her more than most, and with just a glance, he could see her pain and self-doubt forming.  All he wanted to do was hold her, but he couldn’t. Not here. The rumor mill was already abuzz with gossip about the two of them, but they decided to keep their relationship under wraps. It was best for everyone, but at times like this, it didn’t feel ‘best’ at all.

All he could do was nod sympathetically in her direction, aware that this act alone could raise brows. After all, in the past, catching a resident in Kaycee's condition would have launched him into a tirade advising them to reconsider their career choices... now... he no longer felt that way, and it wasn’t only with Kaycee. He had to admit, she had brought a level of humanity back to him, one he thought for sure had been lost for good. Kaycee had changed his world for the better in so many ways, and here she was suffering, and he had to pretend he didn't see.

“Harper,” Ethan interrupted. “Would you mind if we scheduled sometime later to discuss this? I just remembered I have to tend to something right now.”

He headed to his private office and texted Kaycee to meet him there. In case prying eyes were around her, he made it professional but included a code they had created.

“Dr. MacTavish, can you please come to my office? I’m questioning your judgment on her treatment plan for the patient in 215."

“I’m questioning your judgment.” Kaycee hid her smile when she read those words. That’s what he told her the first time she told him that she loved him. “I question your judgment, Rookie,” he grinned. Now, when they sent those words to each other, it was code for "I need you."  

Kaycee rushed to his office, assuming he needed help. When she stepped in, he greeted her with a stern gaze and gruffly instructed her to close the door. She complied at once, and by the time she turned around, he was already there – wrapping her in a warm embrace.  

“What’s going on, Kaycee,” he said with a kiss atop her head. “I can tell you’re having a hard day.”

“I am,” she said, resting her head on his shoulder and clutching the lapels of his lab coat. "Don't worry. I’ll get through. Sometimes, it’s just... hard."

He led her to the sofa, where he watched intently as she talked. “It’s not one thing; it’s a myriad of things that all add up. I’m working more than usual this week, so I'm exhausted. I’ve had a bunch of difficult cases. I haven’t been eating or sleeping right, and...” she hesitated.

“And?”

“And sometimes all I want is my boyfriend to squeeze my hand as I pass him in the hall to reassure me that everything will be OK, but we can’t even do that.”

“Kaycee, you know I want to. It's just...”

“Shhh,” she smiled sadly, silencing him with a kiss. “I know why we can’t, and I agree with our decision. But that doesn’t make it easier.”

“It’s not forever,” he reminded as she nuzzled closer, her arms pulling her tight.

In an attempt at levity, he chuckled. “Hey, at least you didn’t catch anyone flirting with me today.”

Kaycee’s hand was already on the doorknob when she turned around and smirked. "Fifth floor, by the elevator. That damn nurse from peds that still thinks she has a chance with you.”

“You caught that?” Ethan winced.

“Don’t worry,” Kaycee winked. “You handled it like a pro.” She mouthed I love you, as she opened the door, and he did the same. The situation wasn’t ideal, but Kaycee had to admit she felt much better.

Unfortunately, Ethan did not. He loved and admired her more than he could express. He needed to offer her more than five minutes of support hidden in the shadows as if they were doing something wrong when nothing could be further from the truth.

He immediately checked their schedules; they were both off this weekend, and his wheels began to spin.

~~~~~

Saturday morning, Kaycee was waiting on the front steps when Ethan pulled up to her home. He smiled as she approached the car wearing his favorite sundress, a pair of sunglasses covering too much of her beautiful face, and a big floppy hat perched precariously atop her head. She was adorable, but he hoped this was just her style and not an attempt to disguise herself. After all, that’s exactly what he hoped to avoid this weekend. She slid into the passenger seat and squeezed his hand, giving him a surreptitious kiss on his cheek.

“You look adorable,” he smiled.

Kaycee lowered her sunglasses and shot him a look. “I’ll take it... though usually for hot with you... not adorable."

“You’re always hot,” he growled. Kaycee went to put her sunglasses back on, but he stopped her. “Nah-ah-ah. Take those off.”

“Why?”

Ethan reached into the glove compartment and retrieved a black blindfold. Kaycee raised a brow. “What’s that for?”

“I don’t want you to know where I’m taking you. It’s a surprise,” he held the blindfold up. “May I.”

“Fine. As long as this isn’t something kinky,” she smirked.

“It’s not,” he laughed. “At least not now.”

The ride was longer than expected, and at times, the blindfold became a bit annoying. But the constant conversation and Ethan not letting go of her hand helped. Then, he even put on her playlist, and she had to ask what he was up to. But all he did was chuckle and kiss her hand.

When the car finally stopped, and he opened her door, a smile crept onto Kaycee’s face. She could smell the salty air and knew they were at the beach at once. It had become a special place for him, though this summer hadn’t afforded them many chances to go. He helped her to her feet and untied the blindfold. She couldn't stop smiling when she saw where they were. The little cabin they had rented on the Cape once before was right in front of her.

“I thought this place was rented straight through next summer!” she beamed.

“It is,” he said, grabbing a bag from the trunk. “I’m not going to tell you what I had to do in order to get this.”

“Hey, as long as it has nothing to do with that hot nurse in peds, I’m OK with it,” she winked.

He took her hand and led her toward the front door. “It’s only for one night,” he said. “I’ll be sure to have you back for your evening shift tomorrow. But, I thought we could use some time away from Boston. I wanted to be someplace we can be ourselves and where we don’t have to hide. Here, I’m not Dr. Ramsey, and you’re not Dr. MacTavish – we’re just a couple – enjoying our time together.”

Kaycee’s face lit up. “God, Ethan... I love you,” she beamed. “But I didn’t pack. You didn’t say it was an overnighter.”

He lifted the bag at his side with a smile. “I packed for you. Besides, once we return here tonight, clothing will be optional.”

“I like the way you think,” she purred.

They spent the day strolling the beach, splashing in the surf, and stopping at quaint shops in town. Ethan took her to a little café that he used to visit with his parents years before and was delighted to see they still served old-fashioned egg creams, and he ordered two right away. He held her hand as they watched children flying kites, and he had to smile at how Kaycee stopped to make friends with every single dog they passed along the way.

“If medicine doesn’t walk out for you, I think a doggie daycare is the way for you to go,” he laughed.

“Please! Don’t tempt me!”

They sat on a dock as the sun began to set, their feet dangling over the side as they worked quickly to lick their ice cream cones to prevent the melted ice cream from falling onto their hands.

“What’s next?” Kaycee asked.

“Fireworks,” he grinned. “They’ll be starting as soon as the sun sets.”

Kaycee nuzzled her head into his shoulder, and his hand looped around her waist.

“This has been the perfect day, Ethan. This is exactly what I needed.”

It was what he needed, too. A day when they put their professional lives behind them. A day away from prying eyes and gossiping lips. He was just Ethan. She was just Kaycee. Just a couple lost in each other on a beautiful beach.... and they didn’t have to hide!

They were basking in the glow as the sun descended, and the fireworks were about to start. Kaycee giggled with anticipation as she held Ethan’s hand when...

“Ethan? Ethan Ramsey? Is that you?”

Ethan's body stiffened, and Kaycee’s heart skipped a beat. “Is that?” she asked, immediately dropping her hand from his.

“It is,” he sighed.

Peter Blumenthal, from Edenbrook’s Board of Directors. With him are his wife, Eugenia, and their daughter, Kimmie, whom Peter had been trying to push Ethan for years.

“Don’t leave me,” he winced, though he knew she had no choice. Adjusting her hat to conceal her identity, she managed to tell Ethan she’d meet him back at the cabin, and then she disappeared into the crowd that had assembled on the pier.

From a distance, Kaycee heard them exchanging pleasantries. She could sense Ethan’s discomfort in his voice, and she wished she could swoop in and save him, but she couldn't. Her hat bopped on her head as she moved along, apologizing as she bumped into people as she pushed her way through the crowd. She reached their little cabin and shut the door behind her just as the fireworks began, her face faltering when she realized they’d have to be missed.

She sat on the couch and waited for him to return. With each passing moment, she missed him, but in this instance, she got the better end of the deal. She knew how much he hated dealing with Board Members at work; she could only imagine how irritated he was having to do it now. Her heart fluttered with delight when she heard him at the door.

“Hey,” she beamed. “Are we safe? They didn’t see me, did they?”

Ethan sat beside her, wrapping her in a tight embrace. “If they did, they didn’t let on. They were too busy trying to marry me off to Kimmie.”

“Oh, hell no!” Kaycee laughed. “Sorry, Kimmie, but this man is all mine!”

"You better believe it!" Ethan looked at her with sympathetic eyes. “I’m so sorry it's like this, Kaycee. We shouldn't have to be a secret and I know how hard this is."

Kaycee waived her hand, easing his concern. “Baby, it’s OK. I don’t like it either, but we know why we’re doing it. In the end, we’re protecting me most of all. I worked too damn hard to get to where I am for anyone to suggest I slept my way to the top.”

“Well, on an up note, Edenbrook and Boston are rather progressive. If we were caught, there would be at least as many people who believed I was a vile man preying on an innocent young resident. So...” he grinned cheesily. “Both of our careers would be ruined.”

“Good,” Kaycee laughed, “That makes me feel so much better.”

Ethan pulled her closer, and they kissed passionately as the boom of pyrotechnics exploded in the distance.

Kaycee pulled away, a hint of sadness in her eyes. “It was a perfect day, Ethan. But I hate that we have to miss the fireworks!”

Ethan cupped her cheek, and she knew that look in his eyes. “I wouldn’t say we’re missing the firework,” he said, pushing her sundress strap off her shoulder and gently kissing the bare skin left behind. “We’re going to have fireworks right here, just not the kind that blow up in the sky.”

"Oooh," Kaycee groaned with delight. “I like that kind so much better."

"As do I," he replied, scooping her up and rushing to the bedroom.

While tourists and locals spent the night watching the spectacular show in the sky, Ethan and Kaycee spent it lost in their own world, lost in each other. While they wished they didn't have to hide at all, tonight, they had to admit, they wanted nothing more than to hide away—together.

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Tagging others separately.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ���

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

The Magnus Archives/ What We Do In the Shadows (Crossover)

gaslight gatekeep girlboss by thepolysyndetonaddictsupportgroup

"Look, believe it or not, I had no intention of killing the Vampiric Council when I came here,” declares Nadja, sitting alone on the couch. “But Guillermo and I arrived at the first council meeting and did the whole, you know, the whole thing, the first day thing. Introductions and all that, yes hello wonderful to meet you, yes this is my bodyguard, yes he has slaughtered a tremendous number of our kind”--she flaps her hand absently--“normal first day things, you know? It was fine.” She pauses. “It got really fucking weird on the second day."

Or: Nadja and Guillermo seize control of vampiric politics, puppeteer world powers, and have the hottest of hot girl summers.

Unfortunately, they also really miss the stupid assholes they're in love with. With no way left to find them, they have no choice but to consult an Archivist.

DC/Danny Phantom Crossover

Teenage Hero Burnout #56: Interview With A Ghost. by STOVE

Red Robin, (aka Tim Drake) decides to host a YouTube series called "Teenage Hero Burnout'' after he makes a video by the same name talking about his own experiences. He interviews current and past heroes who started their careers as teens and discuss how it shaped their outlook on heroing & life in general.

(This fic is a one-shot. Teenage Hero Burnout is a hypothetical series that I will not be writing, but others are welcome to write their own episodes.)

All For the Game

One More Time (With Feeling) by elesary

Andrew Minyard went to sleep next to Neil Josten in their bed in Denver six years after graduation. He woke up on plane to Tucson between Wymack and Kevin, on their way to recruit Neil Josten, striker sub.

boyfriend privileges by mostly_maudlin

Andrew knows he treats Neil different. So why is it so bothersome that everyone else seems to know it, too?

Five times Neil gets boyfriend privileges, and one time it doesn't piss Andrew off.

SVSSS

The Peace Between Divine Pec- ah-hm sorry - uh…Peaks by AceOfDivineChlorophyll

Well, being kidnapped and tied up had to be the worst part of Shen Qingqiu's day right? Surely it couldn't get worse even if he was being presented to some new and upcoming demonic warlord as tribute after all it would all be mote when Luo Binghe escaped the Endless Abyss right? Well... unless the demonic warlord in question WAS Luo Binghe.

Thankfully... it might not end up going at all how he, or the demons, thought it was going to.

invasive blindfold removal surgery by postcardorigami

Part 1 of side effects may include indefinite photosensitivity

Oh, he thought absently, dizzily. Oh. I love him. I really, really love him.

That wasn’t a new thought—Shen Qingqiu had always known that he loved Luo Binghe. Thinking otherwise wasn’t a concept that had occurred to him. He’d loved him as a fictional character, as a sticky and eager-to-please disciple, as a troubled young man. He loved Luo Binghe the same way he loved the world around him: easily, wordlessly, endlessly, and in full acceptance of all faults and flaws.

But this- this felt like-

I think, Shen Qingqiu thought, for the first time in this life or the one he’d left, I think I’m in love with him.

And- and then-

I want to tell him where I come from.

or Shen Qingqiu, in order: hits the ground, pulls himself back up, and comes out. About several things.

Dreaming of Gardens in the Desert Sand by TGP

Huan Hua Palace master Luo Binghe never thought there'd be any reason to worry about the master that threw him away all those years ago. Surely, he was safe and cared for by the martial siblings he'd so thoroughly enamored.

Luo Binghe was wrong.

(Or, the one where the Jinlan City event doesn't happen and Luo Binghe's plan to slowly show he can be a righteous cultivator actually goes as he expected, with consequences he did not)

starry-eyed by shoutowo

"Shi-Shizun,” Luo Binghe says, going cross-eyed in an effort to see what Shen Qingqiu just placed on his forehead. “What is this?”

“A star,” Shen Qingqiu explains, while not explaining at all.

or, Shen Qingqiu has a sticker sheet.

Clone Wars

(you were) meant to save them by cjwritesfanficnow

The building was only five stories. With the gravity on Melida/Daan, it should’ve been over in seconds... but he—

just—

kept—

falling—

And then there was nothing around him, but he was still falling, down down down, infinitely, through space, stretched thin, twisted and pulled and the Force curled so tightly around him that he couldn’t tell where he ended and it began, and then—

And then he was falling straight out of a clear sky and down down down—

Onto another battlefield.

-

In which Obi-Wan is abruptly transported from the civil war on Melida/Daan to the Clone Wars.

(Alternately, in which I noticed how few clones there are in all my other fics, and this wouldn't leave me alone.)

Tactical Engagements by elwenyere

Even before he managed to open his eyes, Obi-Wan felt the tug against the base of his neck, the snarled thread of energy that only ever meant one thing: something had gone very, very wrong.

-----

Or, Cody, Obi-Wan, and the 212th are sent to Ringo Vinda with Anakin and the 501st, and it changes the field of engagement.

[artbychelcie]

Murder on the Dancefloor: The Chokehold of Oliver Quick

'Saltburn' has catapulted leading actor Barry Keoghan into our daydreams, revitalised music careers stagnant since 2007, and ensured we never look at a bathtub the same way ever again. It's delicious darkness has amassed a huge audience, some revelling in its lurid glory and others questioning what the f*** they just watched. There’s so much to say about this film, so many parallels and Easter eggs that tickle the brain notice - for today, I’m focusing on why Oliver Quick intrigued me the most.

As a devoted horror fan, some of the more controversial scenes served to stimulate rather than disturb… The vampire scene? That's just an average Tuesday night for some. The grave scene? Nothing compared to the visual impact Patrick Bateman’s hobbies. But what did succeed to unnerve me was the turning point of the film, when Felix suprised Oliver with a trip home for his birthday. You watch with stunned panic as she says his dad has been pacing all day waiting for him - in real time the web was unravelled and Oliver's traumatic background was quickly proven to be a façade. For me this scene positioned the 'real' Oliver to the audience, realising the person we thought we knew isn’t real at the same time his friend does. And this is where my interest peaked. For me, this film suddenly turned from a critique of the upper class, to a mythological study of a sociopath, and the subsequent events demonstrate how someone with an apathetic disposition could easily infiltrate and dominate a household of such wealth and status.

On a second watch, I couldn't help but laugh at Felix's naiveity as he pulled into the driveway of this enormous house, and noted that it looked as though his mother 'had really turned things around'. Anyone watching this would immediately question how someone allegedly suffering with severe mental illness and drug abuse issues manages to, in the space of less than 6 months, become the owner of a property of that scale. This small observation highlights just how out of touch Felix is anyone outside of his social class, and how Felix's pity towards Oliver, be it through kindness or ego or a convenient blend of the two, blinded him to the manipulation.

Another incredibly successful aspect of the film is the iconic soundtrack. It has brought some early 2000 musical classics back into the spotlight (we all know the best one) and I can admit I have listened to 'Loneliness' more times in the past two weeks than ever in my 26 years of life. The soubdtrack embodies the nostalgic and romanticised qualities of the film, set in 2006 before smartphones dictated every aspect of daily life, especially as a fresher. I may have been only 10 when Oliver Quick started university, it still made me long for the simplicity of this era of my life, when getting to know another person was fundamentally down to face to face interaction.

The choice to turn back time to the mid 2000s contributes to maintaining the mystery of Oliver's identity, depriving the characters of the ability stalk his social media profiles and forcing them to take his personality at face value. His manipulation, and eventual dismantling of the Catton family, was arguably possible through his ability to present himself without the hinderance of a digital footprint. There was no evidence available to anyone in Oliver's immediate circle of the sisters we found out he had, of the father that had infact not died, nor been an alcoholic drug dealer. So why did he lie?

In analysis I've seen online, many people contribute his deception to a need to be noticed by Felix, or in Oliver's own words, to 'perform' for his attention and friendship.

Revisiting the film, I picked up on certain phrases Oliver used to describe his home life, describing it as 'dirty' and proclaiming he could 'never go back'. To us, this sounds like the way you would describe his chaotic home life he described. But when the reveal comes, you can’t help but question why he’s adamant to distance himself from a seemingly stable, and privileged background.

During the scene, his parents also mention how he is the top scholar at Oxford, a member of the rowing team, participating in the school play... his chronic deception extends beyond the Catton family to his own. They also share with Felix that he was 'such a loner' and was 'so clever' that he struggled to make friends, both earmark characteristics of someone with sociopathic tendencies. This illustrates an individual who has never been satisfied, who always saw himself as superior, and who's fixation with Felix was just a desire to climb up and out of all the menial and average and into a position of absolute control.

The grandiose and self-absorbed lifestyle of the Saltburn estate allowed for someone like Oliver, whatever his original or developed intentions, to blend in without being truly seen until, both before and after death came knocking. The need to stifle emotional expression (We don't want to hear your American feelings, Farleigh!) and the uncomfortable obligation to uphold the British sentiment to 'Keep Calm and Carry On' gave him an invisibility cloak, blending in with his surroundings. It reframed Oliver's awkward disposition as one of politeness, and his manipulative sexual deviancy was guarded by members of the household behind a wall of upper class social etiquette.

I can safely say I have fallen into the deliciously depraved world of Saltburn, so much so I’ve felt like I had to write this. I love experiencing and analysing media, but this one really had me captivated. This is a maze will happily lose myself for weeks to come, especially when it comes to the complex and captivating portrayal of Oliver Quick - I would definetly sign my estate over to that beautiful crazy bastard.

[kitsoa]

Recovery Update: June Edition~

So I've been battling chronic laryngitis for 6 months now. My rambling stories get cut off abruptly by mucus buildup and a very mild itching kind of sensation in the throat. I have to pause often. I have to speak softly. I have to hold my tongue. I have to seethe in the presence of music, unable to join in. The damage is positively psychic. The injury is a case of vocal nodules. Blisters on the chords. A little rock in the groves of the machine I've spent decades fine-tuning. It's an honest but rather strange disability that leaves me with a catalog of emotions. Because I've spent the past 4 months attacking this node through the conservative methods. Kindness. Don't talk. Don't sing. Eat these foods. I can't say I've stuck to it perfectly (ohh there's the guilt) and I'm completely missing a vital piece of my identity and income. I'm reevaluating my entire career and the systems of discipline I've built my entire dopamine cycle on (perform, perfect, provide, then praise).

And then I've given up. I will go crazy if I have to write out another question on my phone. I can't stay inside for weeks on end. I'm already talking for work why the hell am I quiet for the people I actually love? Meanwhile, I have not been able to look forward in my life beyond 2 months at a time (see these align with doctor visits!). This monster weighs over me like an anvil's shadow. And there's a choice lurking just behind me that keeps me running. Talk about a hard mode. Surgery. The doc brought it up in April as something to consider should the node continue to be stubborn. It's my very scary monkey's paw solution. Kindness isn't working, so we are going to cut it out....and hope there's little to no scarring. And hope that my chords are able to complete vibration and move in a way similar to before. And then hope that the vocal rehab brings me back to the professional level. And that the demands of my teaching job aren't compromising to the process. Fuck. This is so scary. So I'm getting surgery in July? Outpatient, general anesthesia, 30 minute procedure. Recovery is a week of total silence and then several weeks of gradual voice integration. Shit. School starts back on August 19th. Fuck. What am I doing? This is the best choice guys. It's not responding to the kindness. Everything else is looking great but this node is just there. Same size, getting in my way. The doctor didn't pressure me. He was so frustratingly neutral. But I got the reassurance I needed. He wouldn't have offered the option if it wasn't a viable choice. I've paid my dues to the situation. I'm ready to live my life again. I want to move on. Get me the fuck out of here. On one hand, hell yeah I'm cutting this motherfucker out of me and I'll finally stop having vocal fatigue and be able to sing (one day). On the other hand. I have no clue what that fucking voice is gonna sound like on the other side. That's me. That's who I am people. My identity. I'm so scared yall.

[brutclhonesty]

★ spotted!! HART UNDERWOOD on the cover of this week’s most recent tabloid! many say that the 28 year old looks like BRENTON THWAITES, but i don’t really see it. while the STUNT MAN is known for being BOLD my inside sources say that they have a tendency to be INTENSE i swear, every time i think of them, i hear the song POMPEII by BASTILLE

details.

name: hart underwood

dob: january 17, 1995

zodiac: capricorn

face claim: brenton thwaites

gender identity: cis male

sexuality: heterosexual

profession: stunt man

hometown: portland, oregon

spoken languages: english

positive traits: brave, hard working, loyal, kind, determined

negative traits: impulsive, resentful, lost, chaotic, angry

about.

Hart Underwood was born into a family where his parents were mostly absent, leaving him and his older brother to fend for themselves. From a young age, Hart’s brother became his main caretaker, stepping in to provide the support and guidance their parents failed to offer. Although grateful for his brother’s care, Hart grew up feeling abandoned and resenting his parents for having children they were unprepared to raise. In high school, Hart excelled on the football field as the quarterback, driven by the hope of earning a college scholarship. However, when those dreams didn’t materialize due to poor grades, Hart faced a harsh reality. Without the scholarship, he didn’t go to college, and his lack of direction left him feeling lost and unsure of his future. This setback severely impacted his self-esteem, making him constantly question his worth and purpose. Hart’s search for meaning led him to Hollywood, where he took up a job as a stuntman. His career choice reflects his need for adrenaline and excitement, a way to escape from the numbness and depression that often weigh him down. Despite the thrill of his work, Hart still battles with his mental health, struggling with feelings of inadequacy and fear of failure. He remains close to his older brother, who has been his rock and source of stability throughout his turbulent life. At twenty-eight, Hart is known for his high-energy personality and daredevil stunts, but underneath that exterior, he harbors deep insecurities. He longs for love and a meaningful relationship but is haunted by the belief that he is too damaged to be a good partner. His history of feeling neglected and his ongoing mental health struggles make it hard for him to trust himself or others fully. He works a second job as a personal trainer for celebrities, which is how he forms a lot of his relationships. Otherwise, he's sort of reclusive. Hart’s positive traits include his bravery and resilience. His ability to pursue a challenging career as a stuntman shows his courage and determination to push through difficulties. His loyalty to his brother and his drive to find excitement in life reflect a deeper sense of hope despite his struggles. On the negative side, Hart’s mental health issues and low self-esteem often lead him to feel lost and unworthy. His resentment towards his parents and his difficulty in trusting himself in relationships add to his emotional burden. His need for constant adrenaline and partying can sometimes mask the deeper issues he faces, preventing him from fully addressing and healing from his past.

[trekwiz]

For the first time in my career, I conducted interviews. I finally think I have an understanding of how to interview--and this recommendation is actually not it.

I kind of learned that from the other side years ago: I "nailed" every interview by doing your advice, and didn't get any offers. The interview I felt I botched because I didn't do this? I got the job. It had aspects I strongly did not want to do, so I was a lot more direct than I otherwise would have been.

After seeing the other side of the table, I get it a bit more now. We interviewed someone who did this. The problem is, it's obvious that you're telling us what we want to hear: when we notice, it means we know we can't trust your answers. It's much harder to judge how well you'll fit, so you're too risky to take a chance on.

We had a specific soft skill we absolutely needed. It was the highest priority for us, because it's a key predictor if someone will succeed or not, and determine if they'll like the role enough to stay. It'll take weeks of training before they can do the basics with supervision. About a year before they'll be confident and independent.

Picking someone who just told us what we wanted to hear is very risky, because someone who doesn't stay (by their choice or ours), increases the workload and frustration of 4 other team members, after investing that time and energy into training. Also, we had experiences with someone who actually couldn't do the work despite telling a past manager what they wanted to hear, and actively dragged down morale in the process--we were at risk of losing the person taking the brunt of it, and a couple others wouldn't have been far behind. We can't take that chance.

This candidate had a great answer to questions about this skill: but they were clearly repeating what we said, back at us. We didn't ask the recruiter to keep them available for a second round if we had a tough choice among other candidates: they were a definite no. There were also other reasons, but all panelists made the same comment about this. We all saw it as a severe negative. If they were otherwise perfect, this would have still pushed us to a "no."

The person who got the role didn't have all the criteria we were asking for. As an example, the role will use HTML to an extent, but this person never used it before. Why did we hire them? They made us feel confident that HTML won't intimidate them; that they'll be able to do the tasks with a bit of training. Their attitude was very genuinely can-do. Not, "yeah I can do anything." More, "I haven't done that before, but it's a great growth opportunity."

We asked for someone who could also speak Spanish--as preferred, not mandatory. They don't speak Spanish. But they made us feel very confident that they won't be intimidated if they see content in Spanish; that they'll be able to take a step back and figure out how to handle the work.

We had someone in the past who would panic when he got questions in Spanish; even the easy ones like "no observa presentacion". 🙃 We just wanted to know that the candidate we pick isn't going to freeze up in the scenario.

They've never worked in our industry before. But the work they did prior is very similar, in the parts that mattered.

The person who told us what we wanted to hear, came from our industry. But from a very different (more desirable; creative) type of role. They'd be easier to get up to speed on the technology, and could probably stretch into helping other members of the team in a similar role. Great choice?

Maybe. But they're also likely to look for creative roles and leave us as soon as one is available. We don't get headcount increases often, so it's not guaranteed that they even could be promoted into the more desirable role.

They'd probably leave right after they finally got up to speed. Which means we're going to be disrupted again not too far into the future. None of us want to work overtime to fill that gap for a few weeks while we repeat this process. Regardless of their answers, they're not a good fit if we can't feel confident that they're going to be around for a while.

The person we selected was doing about 75% of the work in their past role. Different industry, different tools and ways of doing it, but the similarities were obvious. The interview was an opportunity for them to make us believe they can reasonably handle the other 25%, and demonstrate that they really can transfer the similar skills.

Their answers were very good, but candid. They let us know they were hesitant. "This aspect sounds great, but I feel like it'll take some time to adapt to it." Cool, they're comfortable enough with the concept; by highlighting the adjustment time, they let us know they were being thoughtful about the question, and importantly, we now know they'll tell us if they get uncomfortable so we can adjust training. They won't just suffer through and fail at it when it gets tough.

I got more out of that honest answer than I did out of the easy "tell me about an achievement" questions.

What else made a difference? The one we selected fostered a conversation. Other candidates really stuck directly to the questions and didn't give me a chance to dig for more. The one we chose made it easy to talk; I didn't have to rely on my prepared questions very much.

They also pre-empted some of my questions. We get a lot of new processes that we have to implement, and we have to be the expert who determines what it means for our roles. When I asked about an achievement, this person talked about a time they implemented a new process.

I got my answers without having to ask the question! I could just ask clarifying information about the achievement and give them the chance to brag a little. This candidate also politely vented, "they had no process for this and the people who were there the longest didn't think we needed one. Until I made it easier for them."

Amazing! Do you know how much I learned from that story? They can adapt to new processes. They're willing to implement the parts that affect them. They're able to understand how other people feel about the change and work to make it a win for everyone. They showed ownership over their role and understanding how it fit in the scheme of complementary roles.

That one story, about implementing a process they'll never even touch in our environment, really helped me to picture their success in the role.

And they talked about their personality once the panelists joined us. They make jewelry! How neat is that? In our work culture, since we're remote, we make time for personal conversations before we start some of our meetings. The candidate we chose made us feel comfortable that they'll participate!

We did also have another good candidate with a similar background. But we had a lot more doubt about the transferable skills. This person normally worked with students and patients: how happy will they be behind a computer every day? Will they leave if a role like that opens up?

They also have a masters degree. It has nothing to do with our field or their past work. Our pay is not masters degree pay. Will they make it through training before they're bored? Is that a gamble I can take? They didn't really make me feel comfortable that these things won't be an issue.

The person we picked is someone that 2 panelists, and 2 clients agreed would be a good fit; will likely stay for an extended time; and was personable enough that the team would enjoy working with them. I should mention they're an introvert--that did not prevent them from appearing friendly!

We already liked their background, that's why they got the interview. They nailed the interview by giving us a lot of the information we asked for directly, but enough candor to determine how much of it was honest.

They interviewed us back, by asking just as tough questions about our culture and what the day to day work is--demonstrating that they'll take ownership over the role. They let us know they'll ask a lot of questions! We're in an environment where the work really needs to be done right, because live broadcast doesn't have much room for errors: we need someone who's going to take the time understand it completely.

I don't say this lightly: we were impressed by this candidate. We could see this person staying at least 2 years. It's partly my job to ensure we have an environment that will encourage them to stay longer.

We had already decided that we'd keep interviewing and not make any offer at all if we didn't find someone who was likely to stay long term. Someone who just tells us what we want to hear isn't able to inspire that kind of confidence. Being able to assess what the company's goals are for the position is more important than mirroring the listing. That's what the resume is for. Not the interview.

remember that interviews are not about giving a good and honest first impression that they'll carefully consider. interviews are about saying the special words and phrases they're looking for that give you points and when they tally those up whoever earned the most job points wins

[insectsinsects]

Recently finished a show listed as an HBO Girls-type spawn called "Shrill" on Hulu which chronicles the lived experience of fat women in an inherently fatphobic world through a flawed protagonist and a variety of choices she makes. This was a very interesting watch because I was admittedly looking for something to satiate my urge to rewatch Girls but have ended up going through the whole thing pretty fast and being hit with the whiplash of actually missing it.

Annie (brilliantly played by Aidy Bryant!) is truly a Hannah Horvath type... a defiant body type among other shows of its time with a show that frames it with normalcy through acknowledgement in proper places and through the success of its protagonists. Annie is so tough to watch, not only as a product of a world which devalues and tries to "fix" her, but also as a crazy selfish person (😭). She's boldly inconsiderate, ungrateful, and outright rude at times, and you can see part of that is a coping mechanism for internal and external fatphobia. Owning the space she occupies, lurching at career and relationship opportunities without care, and selfishly moving ahead are things that seem to liberate her from her body but are also reminders of the vessel we are forced to operate regardless of how it's percieved. It showcases a history of diets initially imposed upon her by her mother until she moves out and starts treating herself poorly on her own volition. She's allowed frequent sexual encounters, illuminating the existent desire for fat people despite the prevalent status quo which simultaneously highlights her own perception of sex as the ultimate form of validation.

I watched this in 2 weeks over several laundry sessions and chores and things where I honestly wasn't looking but a lot of dialogue forced me to sit down and take in the framing and body language and the things which are invisibly superimposed upon us as people with bodies. I think it reveals things about the viewers, especially if they don't exactly look like Annie Easton. Her mannerisms are familiar to the insecure woman (MEEE) and sometimes you can't blame her for settling for someone because she thinks it's the only time love might come around for her. I also found they created a good (albeit rushed) arc that they reckoned with her whiteness wherein she perhaps un/knowingly succumbs to platforming a racist familt cult (crazy ass episode, also that is her sin verbatim😭) in order to satiate her desire to become a bigger, unconventional journalist. It was interesting, because I do think the writers towed the line well when creating a black lesbian best friend in Fran (Lolly Adefope!!!!!!!! love), who knows when Annie is being inconsiderate and knows when to let her be/learn on her own. She's a great confidante. Their friendship and the boundaries seem evident, though even that is questioned later on. Fran is initially constructed to be Annie's more "put together" foil, but throughout the show this is quickly undone. She's flawed, sometimes as emotionally unintelligent and inconsiderate to her own partners as Annie's boyfriends, and dynamics of gender and sexuality as it relates to body are pretty brilliantly displayed here.

Annie fumbles so many things and learns and sometimes doesn't learn, and there really comes a point on the creative end where you can tell the writers were told this was their final season (with like 4 episodes to go...) And by no means is it perfect nor comprehensive.

But despite these things I found it easy to root for Annie as someone reckoning with my own past of self mistreatment and the dismal mindset I had when I was just unbearably insecure, lashing out, and wanting to cease existence. It's kind of encouraging in a way to see someone so forward about their ambitions, propelling their own body towards something they care about. It was also nice to see people stick around despite her mean outbursts. The idea of "mattering" through other people is a comforting one for the self-loathing, and a solid foundation for unlearning it.

[mariacallous]

The recent electoral optimism among Democrats has many causes: gas prices are down, Biden’s legislative victories are up, and Republicans are nominating candidates from New Hampshire to Arizona who appear to be out of step with the voters. But the Supreme Court’s decision to overturn a woman’s right to an abortion may be, by far and away, the most powerful development yet this year. As the results of a ballot initiative in Kansas—a state Donald Trump won by nearly 15 points—showed, when the issue is on the ballot by itself it wins big.

The question is—will support for abortion rights also result in support for Democratic, pro-choice candidates?[1]

Three interesting developments are changing the expectations for November. First are special elections. There have been five special elections in 2022 that pitted Democrats against Republicans. In four of these elections the Democrats did better than Biden did in 2020 and the Republicans did worse than Trump did in 2020. In New York’s 19th congressional district, the Democrat was expected to lose but he ran a single-issue campaign—pro-choice—and won. The fifth special election in Alaska was conducted under new rules known as ranked choice voting so it is harder to compare to past elections. But there, to the surprise of many, a Democrat won for the first time in 50 years.

The second development is data coming in from many states indicating that voter registration is surging and that most of those new voters are women. Tom Bonoir, a political consultant wrote in the New York Times that when he looked into new voters in Kansas, 69% of them were women. This finding was “… more striking than any single election statistic I can recall discovering throughout my career.” An Upshot analysis of 10 states with available voter registration data showed that women registering to vote rose 35% after the Supreme Court’s decision whereas men had an increase of only 9%.

A third and even more intriguing point are reports from Republicans scrubbing their anti-abortion stances from their websites or seeking to moderate their positions. In Arizona, Blake Masters, the Trump-supported Republican Senate nominee overhauled his website and tried to paint himself as a moderate on abortion, saying “look I support a ban on very late-term and partial-birth abortion… and most Americans agree with that.” Of course late-term and partial-birth abortions are not at all the issue at hand nor was that an accurate reflection of Masters’s complete stance on abortion during the primary. And when Sen. Lindsay Graham (R-S.C.) introduced a 15-week abortion bill in the Senate this past week he was quickly rebuffed by many of his Republican colleagues, including the Senate Minority Leader Mitch McConnell (Ky.). McConnell, aware of what this issue could do to his hopes of being Majority Leader again said, “I think most of the members of my conference prefer that this be dealt with at the state level.”

But even with all these signs, the question still remains: will voters who support abortion rights transfer their feelings to the individuals running for office in their state or district?

For the answer to that we need to move to an election eighteen years ago—the presidential election of 2004. That election took place between then-Senator John Kerry (D-Mass.) and President George W. Bush. It has since become the stuff of legend because Bush’s victory has been widely attributed to his win in Ohio. There, a referendum banning gay marriage was placed on the ballot (as it was in several other states) with the express purpose of driving Evangelical and other conservative voters to the polls. Bush won Ohio in a race close enough that had Kerry won he, not Bush, would have been president.

Soon after, three political scientists set out to determine how important the gay marriage ban was to George Bush’s vote. After carefully controlling for other factors, they conclude:

“What is most striking about the results is that support for anti-gay marriage measures in both states affected the vote for Bush in 2004, even when controlling for his level of support in 2000…. In Michigan, for every percentage point increase in a county’s support for Bush in 2000, support for Proposal 2 increased by nearly half a percentage point (.48). Similarly, in Ohio, support for Issue 1 increased by a third of a percentage point (.31) for every percentage point increase in a county’s support for Bush in 2000.”[2]

Although the ban on gay marriage did not push Bush over the top in every state (Bush won Ohio but Kerry won Michigan) its power in affecting the vote for president was clear. Ever since, political parties and candidates have attempted to use referenda to not only get around state legislatures, but to boost the vote for their candidates. On the Democratic side, referenda on voting rights, minimum wage, and cannabis have all been placed on the ballot not only for their own merits but with the expectation that they will boost turnout.[3]

In this fall’s election we will see a pro-abortion ballot measure appear in two states, Michigan and Kentucky. Michigan is the quintessential swing state, going narrowly for Biden in 2020, for Trump in 2016 and for Obama before that. It has a Democratic governor and a Republican legislature. The ballot measure, “Reproductive Freedom for All” would codify abortions up to 23-24 weeks. It got 325,000 more signatures than the 425,000 needed and overcame an attempt to block it by Republicans on the Board of Canvassers.

If the ban on gay marriage worked to boost the Republican vote in 2004, imagine how powerful a ban on abortion could be for Democrats in 2022. It could mean a victory for Democratic Rep. Elissa Slotkin, who started this election year as the most endangered House Democrat; it could mean a victory for Hillary Scholten, a Democrat running in Michigan’s 3rd congressional district (an open seat and what would be a Democratic pick up), and it could mean a strong victory for the incumbent Democratic Governor Gretchen Whitmer, who is facing a strongly anti-abortion challenger.

Kentucky is the other state where abortion is on the ballot. It is a solidly Republican state so there are not likely to be many congressional upsets. However, the battle is being fought at the state legislative level where an increase in pro-choice turnout could have unanticipated effects.

The referenda outcomes in these two states and their effect on the vote for other offices will be studied more intently than any similar elections in history. Already, Republicans in states like Arizona and Arkansas are asking for constitutional amendments to increase the threshold for getting referenda on the ballot, a sign that they are worried. And pro-choice groups see the ballot referendum as a tool for getting around heavily Republican states legislatures on issues with broad appeal. If the votes in Michigan and Kentucky prove to have the power to carry Democrats, expect to see, in 2024, pro-choice referenda of some sort in every state that has banned or attempted to ban abortion.

[tressasinterlude]

𝐑𝐀𝐍𝐓 #𝟑: Female Public Figures Dating Men with Questionable Views That Contradict Their Image & Alleged Politics

𝗗𝗜𝗦𝗖𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗠𝗘𝗥: These rant blog posts are really just reflective of my thoughts at the time that I make them and are posted here because I need an outlet to release all of this shit I have going on my busy ass mind. That’s it and that’s all. Now let’s get into it..

This rant was greatly inspired by none other than Ms. Robyn Rihanna “Tell Your Faves To Pull Up [in regards to social injustices directly affecting black people]” Fenty and her openly colorist boyfriend, A$AP Rocky. Aside from the fact that Rihanna tends to slip under the radar and is never held accountable for her problematic ways due to her conventional beauty (i.e. Her heavy usage of anti-Asian slurs, particularly targeted towards Chris Brown’s ex gf, Karrueche), it’s very alarming that a woman who has an entire makeup brand with a campaign based around the inclusivity of ALL black women is publicly flaunting a beau who once said that DSBW do not look good with red lipstick.

And yes, I’m very much aware that Rakim said this tasteless comment over 8 years ago but from the looks of it, not much has really changed with him. Don’t @ me about it neither because I don’t care.

Also peep how he compares a hypothetical darkskinned woman to a man (Wesley Snipes) while trying to explain how his antiblackness isn’t wrong because he said something about white women as well. Gaslighting at its finest. Don��t you just love it! 😀

Furthermore, you would think that somebody of Rihanna’s level of stature would know not to associate themselves with someone as messy as A$AP Rocky but... Stupid is what stupid does, I guess! I can’t even begin to place the blame on him anymore because he’s revealed his true colors and we all have made the deliberate choice to either accept it or don’t and have discontinued all support for him. Unfortunately, misogynoir is never the dealbreaker for most people and the hatred for [dark-skinned] black women is so engrained in society that it’s frowned upon when we publicly speak out against it. Very ass backwards if you ask me but that’s society for you. Now, enough about that. Let’s focus back on Ms. Vita La Coco.

As a woman who claims to be a girl’s girl and is always presenting herself to be someone who is the epitome of a pro-black feminist bad ass, it just makes her alleged activism come off so disingenuous when she’s also laying down with the same man that actively attacks the demographic she’s supposed to be standing in solidarity with. It’s “Black Lives Matter” on the IG posts but your vagina is getting moist for a man who openly stated he doesn’t relate to what goes on in Ferguson because he lives in Soho & Beverly Hills. Ferguson being the exact place where a 17-year-old black boy’s lifeless corpse laid on the hot concrete for FOUR hours after he was murdered by a police officer. He couldn’t 'relate' to the fate of so many black men, women, and children who are murdered or seriously injured from state-sanctioned violence because they’re poor and he is not or so he thought.

But then again, what can I really expect from a woman who identified as being “biracial” until as recent as roughly 6 years ago? What can I really expect from a woman who called Rachel Dolezal a ‘hero’ for cosplaying as a black woman? I’d be lying if I said my expectations for her were high in this regard because sis has always shown us she was lacking in this department. And just for the record, this is not a personal attack on Rihanna at all for the die-hard Navy stans in the back. I admire her latest fashions and bop my head to her music just like the next person but she’s getting the side-eye from me on this one.

Trust and believe me though, she’s not the only woman who I can call out for being a hypocrite. Of course not! This stone can be cast at a few others. So without further ado, why don’t we bring Ms. Kehlani Parrish to the front of the congregation? Prior to Kehlani’s recent declaration of identifying as a lesbian, her last public relationship with a man was with YG. Yes, the same YG who felt it was necessary to say him & Nipsey had ‘pretty light-skinned’ daughters to raise in the middle of his deceased friend’s memorial. By the way, Nipsey’s daughter is not even light (or at least not in my book anyways.) She’s a very deep caramel tone just like her father which makes what he said even more moronic. Yes, the same YG who thought it was clever idea to use slavery as an aesthetic for a music video to a diss track about 6ix9ine. And yes, also the same YG who has derogatory lyrics targeted at bisexual women. Just to end up sweating the red carpets with one. I swear the jokes just continue to write themselves.

This raises the question once more; How high of a pedestal can I really put a multiracial woman who has a song titled ‘N*ggas’ and when received backlash for the song in question, she used the ultimate ‘I’m mixed’ copout while not having a visibly black parent in sight?

It’s also kind of suspicious to me that many were not privy to Kehlani’s secret romance with Victoria Monét (pictured bottom right) until Victoria did an interview with Gay Times revealing she fell in love with a girl but they subsequently broke up because Victoria had a boyfriend and that girl was pregnant in a polyamorous relationship. Fans began to speculate because both Victoria & Kehlani previously candidly spoke about their sexual orientations, Kehlani had just had Adeya and they both were seemingly close. Their short-lived fling would later be confirmed when Victoria released the song ‘Touch Me’ on her last project and Kehlani hopped on the remix. Meanwhile, Kehlani’s relationship with Shaina (pictured bottom left) was very overt and all over her Instagram feed from my recollection. And as you can see, Shaina looks absolutely nothing like Victoria. They look like the complete opposite of eachother in every aspect which is kind of alarming(?) to say the least because why is it that the women she proudly claims as her partners tend to have a very racially ambiguous look such as herself but her ‘sneaky links’ on the other hand are undoubtedly black women? Again, it could just be me jumping conclusions. You know, I’m kinda good for that however something tells me I’m not. Y’all be the judge of the material though.

Last but not least, I’d like to touch on Ms. Raven Tracy very briefly. I was very weary about even including in this segment and if I should just put her in a entirely separate blog post with other women who openly date abusers despite their checkered past (alongside Nicki Minaj & her r*pist murderer of a husband, India Love & Sheck Wes etc.) being this particular blog post was based around the theme of lightskinned/mixed women dating men with extremely problematic views about DSBW. Raven obviously isn’t lightskinned or mixed however I refused to ignore how contradictory her [former] relationship with an alleged (I used this word very loosely and mainly for legality purposes.) serial r*pist while promoting a brand that is all about feminism & body positivity. This also traces back to A$AP Rocky by default being that Ian Connor is his very close friend and he came to Connor’s defense when several women came forward detailing accounts of Connor allegedly s*xually assaulting them. (I wish I could place the actual video of what A$AP Rocky said verbatim but Tumblr only allows one video per blog post. 🙄)

Back in June of this year, Ian & Raven had a back & forth on Twitter after Ian tweeted about Raven “fucking everybody” behind his back. I can only assume that he was alluding to Tori Brixx posting a video of her ex, Rich the Kid & Raven kissing on her story. Disgusted is not even the word to describe my feeling when she admitted she stuck by Ian despite of his many allegations of s*xual abuse because she loved him and her being a empath causes her to want to help everybody. Imagine aiding and abetting a predator and even paying for his bail & legal fees just to turn around and expect sympathy because this same individual cheated on you and exploited you all over Twitter for the public to see. The same man that you would get back with not even a WEEK after the fact & turn off your IG comments because it isn’t our “business” after making it our business...

That being said, I just genuinely want to know: Why do these women completely go against what they stand for in regards to these men? Maybe it was never genuine from jump street and if that’s the case, why jump on the bandwagon of performative activism? Is it because it’s profitable right now? Is it because disrespecting black women is not an immediate death sentence to your careers and more often than not actually helps you advance even further? I guess that’s the billion dollar question that’ll never truly be answered. I just want the world to stop using black women as their stepping stool to get to where they need to go and then discarding of us when we’re no longer beneficial. Support us all the way or don’t support us at all. We deal with enough disrespect as is so we’d appreciate if y’all would stop straddling the fence and partake in your misogynoir out loud if that’s what you choose to do. We have no use for fake allyship and quite frankly, it’s doing more harm for us than good. Please and thank you!

Sincerely,

- 𝙼𝙸𝚂𝚂 𝙴𝙳𝙶𝙰𝚁 𝙰𝙻𝙻𝙴𝙽 𝙷𝙾𝙴. 💋

[therappundit]

REVIEW:  ‘The Elephant Man’s Bones’ by Roc Marciano & The Alchemist

A few week’s after the initial buzz has died down, exactly how good is the highly anticipated collaboration?

After *years* of reliable hearsay from two of the most iconic figures in underground hip-hop, last month we received a long-awaited gift from Roc Marciano and The Alchemist in the form of The Elephant Man’s Bones, a stacked and polished snarl-fest, perfectly described by Roc’s own manager as “ criminal jazz* ”.  The album arrived to an overwhelmingly positive response, feasted on by the loyal fanbases of both artists, who had been salivating over the project’s impending release since long before the completion of the tape was even confirmed.  But after the initial buzz has died down, for me the question remains:  as a fan, did it meet my (potentially unreasonable) expectations?

2022 is far from an ordinary year for rap music.  At times it feels like the culmination of the “underground renaissance,” which - depending on who you ask - kicked off circa 2015/2016.  Every week eager rap-addicts (myself included) dive head first into a ubiquitous sea of new releases from all different rap styles, from all different corners of the rap universe, leading to an unavoidable feeling that good NEW rap music is no longer a hope, but an expectation.  Being fully aware of that sentiment, I spent the past few weeks checking myself to see how it impacted my early takes on The Elephant Man’s Bones.  

What at first seemed like a not-so-out-of-the-ordinary act of mid-verse braggadocio on “The Eye of Whorus” off of Roc Marci’s last solo album, 2020′s Mt. Marci, (”coke up to my elbows / I still own the Elephant Man’s bones / rare stones make my hands look like Thanos”), was gripping enough to fit the bill as a final title for Roc & Uncle Al’s first full length LP as a duo.  “The Elephant Man,” known in real life as Joseph Merrick, died in 1890 at the age of 27, after enduring what must have been a life of almost unparalleled suffering.  At a very young age, his body began to develop masses of overgrown tissue, eventually leading to enough of a sever deformity that a normal public life was impossible.  Infamously dragged through the sideshow carnival life, and treated like an inhuman freak of nature just to make a living, he finally found a home in London Hospital, spending his remaining years in relative peace, leaving a legacy as an intelligent, gentle soul that epitomized the “never judge a book by it’s cover” adage better than almost anyone else in history...

It’s not clear if any of the above factored into the title of this album.  What is much more likely an influence, is the rich person’s quest to collect the most rare and expensive trinkets over the course of one’s life, and die with the most toys at your disposal.  Some rap artists build a career off of mining such territory, but with the longstanding rumor that Michael Jackson identified with Joseph Merrick and may have even tried to purchase Merrick’s bones, suddenly we have a display of rare exclusivity that stands out from the pack.  I suspect that this notion inspired Roc Marciano in the past, and from his perspective, even pieces of Merrick’s own life may have even inspired Roc, who never claimed to fit in to “mainstream” music expectations (but did he ever want to?).  

It would not be outrageous to call Roc Marciano one of the most influential MC’s of the past decade.  It also wouldn’t be outrageous to consider him one of the most successful independent artists in the history of the genre.  There are plenty of moments on The Elephant Man’s Bones that capture that all too well.  “Deja Vu” makes for an odd choice as the album’s lead single.  It’s far from the concrete-cracking, go-for-the-throat type of joint that people may have expected as the first audio glimpse of this album, but it shows that both artists can dabble in territory that many of their peers cannot.  The beat flows woozy, like it was meant to score the opium den hallucination of a cinematic anti-hero, providing just enough canvas for Roc to cruise in and out with confidence (“this is clairvoyance / I brought the stick for the voyage / the crest on the Gucci knit embroidered / in my forties, I’m still looking boyish”).  

Boldy James, another frequent Alchemist partner in crime, comes through on “Trillion Cut” to bless the album with another one of the best verses on the album, and then Roc sticks the landing with “my pops had tracks in his arms from heroin / this is rap meets Gil Scott-Heron / Black Bugatti Veyron / the leather in the car was eggnog / vest I wore was kevlar / the scarf was a gift from Pablo Escobar / these ain't no regular old bars, this a five star restaurant - Marci...”  Like many of his top shelf peers - JAY-Z, Rae & Ghost, Jadakiss, Nas, Ka - Roc Marciano understands better than most how word choice and attention to detail are some of the key traits that can elevate a rap artist from passable to being considered an elite lyricist.  Ironically, Roc pens some of the album’s strongest bars towards the very end of the album, on songs like “Stigmata”, “Think Big” and on the special-edition-only cut “Macaroni”, stating “I’m an enigma - I’m still dealin with trauma from back when I was a drifter / Used to crash at Kim’s, she was my bottom-bitch, sometimes I miss her / in particular / But thank God I know how to pick em / everything in the Garden ain’t to be bitten”.  

Meanwhile, behind the boards The Alchemist holds court throughout Bones providing cozy backdrops for Roc to flash his craft.  One of the biggest differences between early 00′s Alchemist production and his work today is that he understands that not even the greatest MC’s can coast on darkness for forty minutes.  Here he thoroughly embraces the use of piano keys (harkening back to that “criminal jazz” reference from earlier), ranging from sinister to breezy, never really flaunting his uniqueness as a producer, just assured that the subtle choices he weaves over his loops and chops shine through in the end.  While it doesn’t touch his flex of versatility on his union with Armand Hammer on Haram, or his blunt-force boom-bap that he brings to the table on his joint ventures with Boldy James, there’s no shortage of high points on the production side.  For many fans, “Rubber Hand Grip”, “Quantum Leap”, “Bubble Bath”, and “JJ Flash” represent exactly what they came here expecting, but while I enjoy all of those tracks, it’s the unexpected aesthetic choices he makes on songs like “Daddy Kane” that showcase the ceiling-less potential of a Roc and Al union (I don’t know if any of us expected something as uniquely funky as “Daddy Kane” to come from this album).  At it’s best, Uncle Al’s work on The Elephant Man’s Bones champions his sublime chemistry with a longtime collaborator; at it’s worst, it’s a solid addition to his catalogue, albeit one that might not have a beat selection that matches the lofty expectations for this project.

The title track features some of the album’s more memorable lyrics, but I don’t think it matches Roc Marci’s past moments of clarity.  Again, like many of his peers in the rap game that I mentioned earlier who often write from under a “rose growing out of concrete” pretense, Roc’s flashes of sensitivity and internal reflection loom large due to how suddenly and infrequently he reveals his softer side.  But many of his stand-out quotes from “The Elephant Man’s Bones” sound like they’re mined from ground that he explored in the past, and on sharper songs.  While lines like “the pen got pain in it / I came in the entertainment business with this / can't trust no bitch, she just tryna bang her favorite musician / like I ain't got feelings” are solid bars, coming from an established MC that has casually dropped some of the coldest pimp talk in rap history, it’s hard to feel this sentiment as more than just a "okay I guess I should have one of those more personal records here?” moment.  When compared to past references from Roc reconciling with his heart being all too human (“if you love me, then buy me a V / was never love, why would I be naive / my team we got it out the mud, y’all n*ggas got y'all money clean” on Rosebudd Revenge 2′s stellar “Soul Power”, for example), it feels like Roc mostly has his pen set to stun instead of kill.  Bar vs. bar this is all a relatively minor grievance, but when thoughts of “been there, done that before - but better” arise multiple times across an album, if Roc is guilty of any mistake it’s that he’s at the mercy of his own high bar with the snootier fans (of which I am one, for what it’s worth!).

Like Prodigy before him, The Alchemist’s chemistry with Roc yields some of the best slick mafioso rap since the Wu’s hay day, but I don’t actually believe darkness is what Roc does best. Yes, the gangster bravado has always been a part of his rep, but it’s his ability to take the fodder of harsh street life - guns, drugs, prostitution - and sew it all together seamlessly with splashes of darkness, humor, soul, swagger and some experimentation here and there to keep things fresh, that has always made him a MC’s favorite MC.

Above all else, it’s the experimentation that’s missing here.  Both Roc and Al have enough great work to their credit, so they can more than afford to take some risks.  Roc took some risks with the sound of Mt. Marci (some outside the box production choices which I appreciated, although some of it felt half-baked), but it was on his Rosebudd’s Revenge series when everything came together perfectly for Roc Marci.  At his peak as a writer, he could ride "C.V.S.”’s mysterious, gurgling beat (courtesy of the very dope Don Cee), or zombie-level creep of “The Sauce”, and succeed with songs that were bound to be embraced by some and questioned by others.  It showed not only the confidence in crafting his sound, but in continuing to push his boundaries.  Delivery wise, Roc also came across as much more limber on those aforementioned projects than he has over the past few year.  The challenge for Roc and other rappers that set foot in his lane is that amongst the “quieter” MCs, absences in variety loom larger over time.  He has yet to pleasantly surprise me with his flow choices like he has on the Rosebudd series, but what I think this all just all amounts to is a surprisingly safe, relatively risk-free album in The Elephant Man’s Bones.  

For some time now, I have believed that Roc was becoming more infatuated with producing than emceeing (work with Stove God, Flee Lord, Bronze Nazareth and others in recent years only confirms that direction).  That would only make sense, since he is very much a strong producer in his own right, and it’s in his production that it does seem like he is the most open to stepping out of his comfort zone.  I felt like he sounded bored over parts of Mt. Marci, and while he sounds considerably stronger on Bones, there are still moments where I feel like he’s freestyling and occasionally stumbling into sharp bars rather than meticulously shaping a strong verse.  The running joke over the years is that he has as many sons in this game (an apt reference to the many other underground artists that are making a living today off of similar flow-patterns to Marciano, serving at best as a successful homage, but rarely as ear-grabbing as their father figure)....well, it’s 2022 and plenty of his sons have grown, but he should still be standing out from them.  Dated references to gettin’ by like Talib Kweli, hittin’ em up like Blu Cantrell, Dylan, Dylan, Dylan, and Fonzworth Bentley only serve to make Roc sound like a throwback, which he hasn’t been since 2010, and doesn’t need be, whenever he wants to focus on his pen game.  

At one point hungry fans might have considered The Elephant Man’s Bones an underground devotee’s Detox, but while Detox remains an abstract idea or symbol of “what might have been”, an Roc Marciano album with The Alchemist was always believed to be only a matter of time.  Should this project have happened sooner?  Maybe, but it’s hard to say that equally about both artists.  Since 2011′s Greneberg brought us the first joining of Alchemist and Roc Marciano within a rap project, Roc went on to inspire a generation of indy artists and Al became the definitive “go to” producer, recommended by underground heads across the globe whenever they unite to snarkily question a rapper’s beat selection (at some point post-2010, the “they should do an album produced entirely by _____!” sentiment pivoted from DJ Premier being the assumed blank-filler, to the now famous Alc).  

When compared to their early outputs both have matured so much as artists over the years, but one fact remains in the same:  creatively speaking, neither Roc Marciano or The Alchemist need each other.  In an age where Hip-Hop Twitter does everything it can to fast-track MC’s to The Alchemist early and often, Roc Marciano is actually the last MC that needs Uncle Al to set his beat selection straight.  His own skill set aside, Roc has no shortage of resources to call upon whenever he decides to crank out a project (DJ Muggs, Animoss, Don Cee, Element, Q-Tip - to name a few).  However, I don’t think The Elephant Man’s Bones was ever meant to be like any ol’ Roc project.  If anything, it’s a victory lap, a celebration that these two prolific artists have been workhorses in rap music for decades, with little to no signs of rust.  The heavily hyped Roc Marciano and The Alchemist album was stamped a winner by their fans before it left the gate, and it’s a well-deserved toast to the underground rap renaissance we are currently basking in.

Since “Roc Marcy” first began hanging out with the Flipmode Squad and The Alchemist first began messing with Muggs, Buc Fifty, Dilated Peoples and the late great Prodigy, we have seen their experimentation turn into new lanes for today’s artists to thrive in, continuing to foster creativity and push the boundaries of what is considered the standard for rap fans in 2022 and beyond.  Neither Roc Marciano or The Alchemist have actually reached the King of Pop’s “capable of purchasing the Elephant Man’s bones” level of influence, but they’re the undisputed kings of their own sound, and fans wouldn’t want it any other way.

*https://twitter.com/DubCityRoller/status/1560804097883774977?s=20&t=vk5U33GX8bksjJQMK0GS6g

https://rocmarci.com/

[egcdeath]

hook, line, and sinker

summary: steve was never meant to be anything more to you than a check, a basic mission. but somewhere along the way, things had veered from that.

pairing: steve rogers x spy!reader

word count: 1.9k

warnings: angst, bad decisions, betrayal, unhappy ending

author's note: it has been a minute since i've posted a fic! i hope you enjoy :)

you can find my masterlist and taglist here

Despite the different rooms you found yourself in, the harsh morning sun was always the first thing you saw in the morning. Its bright rays would peek through the room’s shades and land right onto your face, intruding on some of the more vulnerable moments of your life.

When you finally angled your face away from the beaming star, your tired eyes fell upon the man next to you. The man you should’ve never taken things this far with. A man on the run, who you were sent after.

You sighed softly as you became a bit more conscious, and a now slightly more awake Steve threw a large arm around you, pulling you impossibly closer to him.

“Don’t get up yet,” he mumbled softly against your ear. You nodded and relaxed further into the slightly stiff motel mattress, mentally snapshotting and framing this moment in time. Yet another to add in the five month scrapbook of your time with Steve. Time that you recognized was quickly running out.

You allowed yourself to close your eyes once more, to listen to Steve’s soft breaths as he inhaled the scent of you. It made your heart hurt knowing that within the next week you would no longer get to be in those arms. Knowing that you would have to wake up alone in a new apartment in a new country and wait for a new mission while the news on the television droned on about the nomadic Captain America being flushed out of hiding. That Steve was no more to you than a mission. That it was your fault that you had fallen so hard and so fast.

So you treasured it while you had it. Hummed contently as Steve massaged your side before peppering little kisses against your neck. Tried to absorb the stubborn tear that threatened to fall down your face at any moment.

“We have to leave today,” he whispered against your ear, sending goosebumps up your arm. “Natasha wants to meet you.”

Your eyes shot open and your brows momentarily furrowed, something you quickly attempted to play off with a wide smile. There was no way that she wouldn’t recognize who you were— despite being declared ‘dead’ years ago, you were one of the more esteemed spies in your community. What that also meant is that you had even less time with Steve than you’d expected.

“When are we leaving? Am I gonna have to get used to another time zone?”

“Probably a few. Nat’s already with Sam, but we heard there’s something weird going on in Scotland with Wanda and Vision.”

“Should I really be getting involved with this then? It sounds like some pretty intense Avenger business if the parts of the team you still communicate with are getting together. I can just stay here ‘till you guys are ready to come back.”

Steve gave you an ‘are you serious?’ look before breaking into soft laughter, “are you serious?” You nodded wordlessly in response. “Oh, you’re serious. I promise that you’ll be fine.”

“Well, things better not get weird,” you giggled right along with him, reaching out and grabbing Steve’s face so that you could look into his eyes. You took another mental picture of him. You just hoped it wouldn’t have to be the last.

——

After you prepared yourself for the long car ride ahead of you, you slipped your second burner phone out of the hidden pocket of your suitcase, you were met with several missed messages by the man who sent you on the mission in the first place.

What is the wait?

I was referred to you for a reason

Have you even found him yet?

I’m not paying for you to sit around and go to brunch all day.

Do I need to send more money for a plane ticket or something??

No, I’ve got it. He’ll be in custody by tonight.

He better be. Or else you won’t be around to see tomorrow.

You swallowed thickly. You wouldn’t be dealing with this in the first place if you weren’t so irresponsible. And if word got out that you were falling in love with your targets, your reputation would be in shambles. You should’ve known from the start that this could never end well.

Steve stepped back into the bedroom area, a goofy smile on his face at the sight of you sprawled out on your back on top of the dingy motel bed. “You ready?” he asked, sounding chipper. You assumed he was ecstatic that you were finally going to be able to meet his friends, which made your heart hurt even more.

For a moment you considered the possibility of not going through with it. Of going along with Steve, work, prestige, and that hefty bounty be damned. You would still be living life on the run, but you’d have Steve, and everyone else on his side on your side too. You’d have some semblance of a family, and maybe someday you’d have a real family and someone to grow old with.

You chastised yourself for getting soft before sitting up, “I’m ready.”

——

You weren’t ready.

You knew you had to move quickly, the sun was going down, and you’d made a promise that needed to be fulfilled, or god knew what would happen to you.

You reached for the volume dial on the radio portion of the car, and turned down the song that Steve was currently humming along to.

“We should probably get off on the next exit that has a gas station,” you prompted, “the tank’s getting pretty low.”

Steve’s eyes flicked down to the dashboard and he nodded in agreement, “you’re right. Good catch.”

Steve pulled the car off and drove you to the nearest gas station, humming pleasantly along to the music once again. Your stomach was twisting and untwisting knots with every foot you got closer to the station, knowing exactly what you would have to do once you arrived.

Somehow, this was the most nerve wracking moment of your career. Not infiltrating secret government operations, not pulling the trigger on a mark, not even seeing the message from Tony Stark asking for you to find a way to bring Steve in.

You hurried into the main building of the station, making up an excuse on the spot to go inside. You made your way into a bathroom stall, and slipped the phone you hid away earlier out of the extra pocket in your pants.

Your hands shook as you dialed the first two numbers. You took one last deep breath as your finger hovered over the final number. You had one last chance to change your mind, to go back out to the car like nothing had happened because nothing had happened. You would drive a little longer before staying in another shitty hotel, and think about how you made the right decision as you curled up next to Steve’s warm body.

But you couldn’t. You were given this mission, and you needed to complete it.

You pressed the last nine, immediately connecting with an emergency service operator. You gave them the tip that you had seen Steve Rogers pumping gas into a black Honda Civic, and provided them with your location. With every word, your voice trembled a little more. You were grateful for your proximity to a toilet, as the lump inside of your throat threatened to force the contents of your stomach up with every passing moment.

You hung up the phone and looked at yourself in the mirror for a moment. You could barely recognize yourself now, and you weren’t sure if that was from the flagrant betrayal of your partner, or the undermining of your own personal rules for the past five months of your life.

After reflecting on what you’d done for a few minutes, you made your way back to the car. You sat down in the passenger seat, lip trembling as you thought about Steve, and the fact that you’d laid a trap for someone you had such strong feelings for.

Steve sat down just a few minutes later, a smile on his face, and snacks from the gas station in his arms. As he passed you a water bottle, he couldn’t help but notice the tears slipping down your face.

“Hey, what‘s wrong? Are you alright?” he asked, dropping the rest of the items on his lap and leaning over the middle console to console you.

You began to full-on sob now, each tremble of your body filled with regret. “I’m sorry, Steve. I am so sorry,” you repeated.

“No, no, you’re okay. What’s wrong?” he asked, frowning as he wiped your tears away with his thumb.

“I- I had no other choice,” you wailed, “I’m sorry.”

His brows creased and he pulled away from you, betrayal evident in his features, “oh.”

You swallowed hard and shook your head.

“So this was the plan all along?” he questioned. Your lack of response seemed to answer the question for him. “Was any of this real?”

“All of it was, Steve,” you all but whimpered out.

He sighed deeply and leaned his head against the headrest, eyes squeezed shut. He seemed to be searching for the words, but couldn’t quite put together what he truly wanted to say. It was silent in the car for a moment, aside from your quiet sniffles.

“I loved you,” he finally said, hurt evident in his delivery. The admission shook you to your core. You almost couldn’t believe that the first time you were hearing it was after you had put him into such a terrible situation. After you turned in someone that you cared about for your own gain.

“I know,” you looked away from Steve in shame, the look of hurt on his face now permanently imprinted in your mind.

The sound of sirens began to fill the air. Not too long after, you noticed the unmissable blue and red of emergency vehicles approaching your own. It was time.

You unlocked your door and exited without another word. You refused to look back to the car, keeping your head down and your eyes squeezed shut, knowing that if you had to see Steve being taken away, you might never get over the permanent sick feeling you were currently in the midst of.

You walked right inside of the building, stopping in front of an aisle of chargers and finally looking back at the mess that you had made.

“What’s going on out there?” the clerk asked from behind the counter, peeking out the large glass windows.

“I don’t know,” you feigned ignorance and casually shrugged, ignoring the fact that the sight of about a dozen police and SWAT vehicles was tearing you up inside. What were they going to do to him?

You turned away from the scene once again, pretending to browse through the low quality electronics next to you. You heard some yelling, a bit of a struggle, then it was all over.

The coast was clear. Your mission was over.

You left the store without purchasing anything. You moved sluggishly as you got back inside of the now abandoned vehicle.

You started the car once again. This time without the radio playing overplayed pop songs, and without Steve happily humming along. You stared blankly ahead of you, feeling numb above anything else. Steve's words resonated in your mind, bouncing around in your head as you attempted to make sense of what you just did.

Guilt was beginning to creep up on you in a way that you’d never experienced before. You immediately felt haunted by the ghosts of your memories with Steve. Of every entry in your mental scrapbook, of the final image of the hurt on Steve’s face as he confessed his true feelings for you. Of all, you were left with one terrifying thought.

You loved him too.

[queenshelby]

Time for Change – Part Two

Pairing: Cillian Murphy x Reader

Warning: Smut

Words: 4,356

Notes: Not based on Cillian’s life. This is fiction guys! 

YOUR POV

Your night had to be the worst one yet as you received a photograph of your husband in bed of another woman from someone who contacted you via Facebook.

The person who contacted you went by the name of Lucas and Lucas had a story to tell. He asked whether he could call, speak to you about your husband and, of course, you agreed.

You were intrigued and you needed to know what he was up to.

When Lucas called you, he informed you that the woman your husband was with was named Emily and, of course, you knew all about her. She was his secretary back when you lived in New York. She was the reason you demanded to return to your home country of Ireland and he promised you that it was over between them after a yearlong affair.

But Lucas told you that it wasn’t. And Lucas also told you something else which came like a blow to your face.

According to him, Emily had a young child, a child which had been fathered by your husband.

This, of course explained everything. The constant business trips, money disappearing from your joined bank account without explanation and him getting up in the middle of the night in order to go for a walk.

Lucas’s phone call was like a plea for help. He wanted you to know. But why did he, you wondered? He had no vested interest in their relationship or yours, or did he?

He never told you who he was and you didn’t question it once you received pictures of your husband’s daughter via Messenger. On the pictures, your husband was holding her, cuddling her and feeding her. He looked happy and that made you feel guilty.

A child was what you could never give him after you lost half of your reproductive system following an accident in 2001. You were devastated but, at the time, you didn’t realise what consequences this accident would have on your life.

You tried, many times over to conceive and he pushed for you to try harder, to go through the IVF process, which was something you decided against. Instead, you pushed for adoption and this is how you met the most important person of your life, your daughter Chloe.

Chloe was three years old when you both adopted her and she was everything you ever cared for with all your heart. But, to your husband, she was never really his daughter. He never loved her the way a father should because she wasn’t his and he blamed you for it ever since.

Now, you were 32 and Chloe was 10 and you were happy. But obviously, your husband was not and sought the comfort of another much younger woman. Now, she gave him what he had always wanted, a child of his own and you felt as though you should be happy for him. But you weren’t. You were saddened by how your life had turned out. Yet, little did you know that your life was about to change.

CILLIAN’S POV

Cillian’s night wasn’t any better than yours. His wife Danielle had called him from her mother’s house, telling him that she wouldn’t be home until the weekend.

‘What am I going to tell the kids, Danielle?’ Cillian asked angrily and annoyed by the fact that, once again, she ran off.

‘I don’t know, you figure it out. Why is this always my problem, Cillian?’ Danielle asked, causing Cillian to huff.

‘What is all this about. Please enlighten me Danielle’ Cillian then said, wondering why she took off once again.

‘What do you think Cillian?’ Danielle asked, causing Cillian to huff and sigh again.

‘For starters, you rather spend time with Marina and Natasha instead of calling me and your children when you are away filming. Then, when I call your PA, I am told that you are busy. You are always fucking busy’ Danielle said angrily and Cillian realised that, of course, this fight was about his work again and the fact that Cillian had been away for months until recently to shoot Season 6 of Peaky Blinders.

Danielle never supported his career. She hated it and didn’t support his choices and her attitude towards it had become relentless over the past three years as he became more famous.

She was jealous, continuously, and alleged him having several affairs over the years. Every time there was a young and attractive woman on set, she would become possessive and, when Cillian didn’t call her every night, she would lose her mind. But, unlike your husband, Cillian didn’t cheat on her, not even once and her allegations created constant tension between them.

Whatever Cillian did, was never good enough for her. He wasn’t a good enough husband and he wasn’t a good enough father. Yet, on the other hand, she enjoyed the financial stability and the fact that she didn’t have to work as Cillian was able to provide for her and his family.  

After their latest fight, Cillian surely had enough and, whilst he had stayed with Danielle for his children, he didn’t know how much longer he could sustain a relationship like this with her if, all she did, was walk out on him whenever she thought that he done something wrong.

DINNER TIME

With both of you torn, upset and lonely with Cillian’s children at camp and your daughter at her grandmother’s house in Galway, dinner, a movie and some wine seemed like a fantastic idea and you texted Cillian at around lunchtime, confirming your date.

Whilst it felt somewhat weird to you, cooking dinner for your brother-in-law without the presence of your step sister Dannielle, you were somewhat excited to spend some time with Cillian.

You always liked him, his sense of humour and his intellect. You were likeminded and both enjoyed music, movies, books and theatre. You always had plenty to talk about and it was nice to not be surrounded by children for once.

***

‘Are you still coming over at 7 o’clock for dinner and some Netflix? Bring some wine because I know you are picky with the reds’ you texted him.

‘Says who?’ Cillian texted back.

‘Your wife’ you then responded.

‘Will do. See you at 7’ Cillian texted.

***

At exactly seven o’clock, you heard the doorbell ring and there he was, your brother-in-law with not one but two bottles of wine and a book.

‘Right on time as usual’ you said as you invited him inside and he couldn’t help but look at your cleavage again, surprised by the fact that you were wearing a tank top with no bra underneath. Did you have your nipples pierced, he wondered?

‘Cillian?’ you then asked as, clearly, he didn’t hear your question as he was too busy staring at your breasts.  

‘What?’ he then said as he collected his thoughts.

‘Which bottle did you want me to open?’ you asked again, laughing as you did.

‘Whichever one you want’ he then said before offering you some help in the kitchen.

You quickly declined his offer, telling him that everything had been done, before walking into the kitchen to open the bottle of wine.

As you walked off, Cillian couldn’t help but watch you again, moving your hips and causing your rather short and flattering skirt move from side to side.

You weren’t wearing anything special. Just a plain skirt and a tank top, no shoes, no stockings, possibly a pair of panties for what he could tell. But that was it. It was a warm day and he wasn’t really surprised by your outfit. Your figure was immaculate so why not show it.

You eventually returned to the living room with two glasses of wine and sat down next to Cillian.

‘Dinner will be about 30 or 40 minutes, sorry. I had to play around with the oven for a while to get it working’ you explained, noting that your kitchen was rather dated.

‘That’s perfectly fine. Thank you for cooking’ Cillian then said before handing you the book which he brought along.

‘Oh damn, you found it. Thank you’ you said excitedly as Cillian and you had talked about this book which he had read about five years ago and you were rather intrigued by it.

***

Following the initial small talk, you told Cillian over a glass of wine what happened to you over night, about James and his child in the US.

He was shocked but couldn’t stop himself and ask why you never had children together.

‘We tried for five years but I can’t have children’ you sighed, taking another sip from your wine.

‘I am so sorry Y/N’ Cillian then said, placing his hand over yours gently.

‘It’s alright Cillian. I made my peace with it and I do have Chloe’ you explained with a warm smile.

‘Well, she is one good kid, that’s for sure. You should count your blessings’ Cillian said with his hands still on yours.

‘I do, every day’ you said before asking him whether he had heard from Danielle.

Without hesitation, Cillian told you about what had happened and about the problems they were having over the past few years, her jealousy and her possessiveness. He also told you that, today, he had finally seen a lawyer to talk about his options. He wanted to file for divorce. It was long overdue.

‘Well, I can’t say that I blame her for being a jealous although the way she is acting seems excessive if you have never given her a reason to distrust you’ you then said, cheeks flushing as you reached for your wine glass again.

‘You can’t blame her? What do you mean by that?’ Cillian chuckled.

‘I think she is lucky to be with a man like you and she probably knows it. Men like you are rare. You are a great father and husband and, well, you are quite attractive so I can see how she gets a little worried’ you said somewhat embarrassed, the wine helping you tell the truth.

‘You think that I am attractive huh?’ Cillian asked equally embarrassed as he took a sip from his wine.

‘Yes’ you said, your cheeks now red like fire as you got up suddenly.

‘I think dinner might be ready’ you then said quickly as you disappeared into the kitchen and Cillian followed you shortly thereafter to help you plate up.

***

‘So, 45 next week, are you doing anything special?’ you then asked but Cillian simply shook his head.

‘Thanks for reminding me how old I am Y/N’ he then laughed and you couldn’t help but giggle before grabbing your empty plates and taking them to the sink.

‘You aren’t old Cillian’ you said as he followed you, helping you to clean up.

‘Coming from a woman in her early thirties. I take this as a compliment’ Cillian then chuckled.

‘You should’ you smirked. ‘In fact, I think, at 45, you are in your prime’ you then said with a cheeky wink as you filled up the sink. Like most other things in your house, your dishwasher was broken.

‘So, I am in my prime, huh?’ Cillian laughed and, just as the sink filled up completely, you felt Cillian touch you from behind.

‘Yes’ you murmured as the heat emanating from him was incredible and it took all of your willpower to just stand there and wash the dishes while he reached for the kitchen towel by your side, beginning to dry the dishes.

You desperately wanted to turn around in this moment and kiss him, but he was your step-sister’s husband and it was wrong.

This continued on for a while, in your small kitchen. You could feel Cillian’s warm breath behind you, his hands brushing against you so many times that you lost count until, finally, he put the last dry dish on the bench and leaned over your side to hang the kitchen towel up to dry.

Suddenly and somewhat unexpectedly, you felt Cillian’s warm hands run over the skin of your arms and a hot pair of lips kissing your neck. You wanted to move, you knew you had to, but you couldn't. Your body had started sweating and you felt him pull you closer as his lips continued to kiss your neck.

‘I am sorry Y/N, I should stop’ he then said as you stood there almost frozen.

‘No, don’t…please’ you huffed out, staring at the splashback behind the sink as Cillian kissed you gently.

Then you couldn’t resist your urges any longer and, with one swift movement, you turned around and pressed your lips onto his while your wet and soapy hands took hold of his hair.

The kiss was urgent and passionate, unlike anything else you had ever experienced before.

‘We shouldn’t be doing this’ you huffed out as you pulled away from Cillian to take a breather.

‘I know’ Cillian then said as he gently played with your hair, moving your long streaks out of your eyes.

Then, he moved his hand to the side of your face and caressed your cheek. His touch was gentle and he was so close to you that your voice was gone from your throat and you couldn't say anything. Couldn't stop him, you didn’t want to stop him, you just wanted to feel his touch.

Within seconds your lips were connected again and you couldn’t help your urges and desires any longer.

‘I can’t stop’ you then huffed out in between kisses while his hands travelled over your back and then down to your ass.

‘Neither can I’ Cillian said and, just as he did, you moved your hands from your chest down to his stomach and lifted up his t-shirt.

‘I need you Cillian’ you said as he helped you pull his t-shirt over his head and lifted you up onto the kitchen counter.

‘I suppose if Danielle already thinks that I am cheating, I might just as well’ Cillian said, no longer caring about her and giving into his needs.

Within seconds, Cillian lifted your tank top over your head and saw that, indeed, both of your nipples were pierced.

‘I saw you look at them when you walked in’ you giggled as Cillian gently ran the palms of his hands over your breasts.

‘Fuck’ he barely managed to breath out and, when you looked down at his skinny jeans, you could see his cock hardening beneath the denim.

While Cillian was playing with your breasts, giving some attention to your nipple piercings, he pressed his lips onto yours softly at first, gently kissing you, and slowly sucking on your lips.

His kisses were caring, loving, and not at all what you had expected. He parted your lips with his and soon the kisses became more and more passionate again. His tongue slipped into your mouth and his lips moved all over yours.

You could feel his hand trace from your breasts down to your stomach before pushing your legs further apart and finding its way beneath your skirt.

‘Jesus Y/N’ Cillian groaned as he could feel how wet your panties were and he pushed aside the fabric before running one of his fingers through your wet slit.

‘Oh god’ you moaned, causing Cillian to smile. His touch was almost too much to bear and, after just minutes of teasing, Cillian picked you up in his arms and took you to your bedroom. Of course, he knew where it was. He had been at your house many times.

After Cillian placed you onto your bed gently, he pulled off your skirt and panties together in one go and you suddenly bit your lip, feeling somewhat embarrassed about lying there completely naked in front of your step-sister’s husband.

‘You are stunning’ Cillian then said, mesmerised by your naked beauty right there in front of him.

‘If you say so’ you giggled, waiting for him to join you on the bed.

‘Are you sure that this is what you want? Because there is no turning back after this’ Cillian then asked as he stood in front of the bed and unzipped his jeans

‘Yes, I do…and I must admit, I’ve been fantasising about this for a while, but I would never have acted on it’ you said with some embarrassment.

‘That makes two of us then’ Cillian chuckled as, finally, he pushed down his jeans and briefs, causing you to let out a sigh of excitement when his hard cock sprung free.

Cillian joined you on the bed, caressing your body while kissing you gently. Eventually, he moved his hand lower and started pressing his palm on your pubic bone. He pulled you close to him and his hard cock was poking against your thigh. You could feel his pre-cum dripping from his cock onto your skin while the pressure and movement of his palm on your pubic bone was sending subtle vibrations to your pussy. It was getting wetter and your nipples were getting harder.

Your mind was reminding you of your morals, your vows, and values, but your body was no longer listening. Your body wanted pleasure and release and so did his.

‘You are beautiful Y/N. James is a lucky man’ Cillian said in between kisses as his eyes were filled with a lust and fire you had not seen before. Not even in James’s eyes.

He moved his hand to your breast again and fondled it tenderly. He closed his thumb and finger around the nipple. Then he pinched it and a sharp jolt seemed to go through your body. He squeezed your nipple again and your pussy reacted with an involuntary spasm.

Then, his body began to shift, hovering over you and he started kissing the soft flesh of your breasts. He was leaving marks on them as if he was marking them as his territory. What was James going to say, you didn't know, but your body didn't care.

Cillian eventually took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking on it gently and causing you to moan. His mouth was so hot, you felt it would burn your skin. He pulled his head back, letting your breast slip out, till your nipples was between his teeth and then he gently bit on it. Shorts of pain as well as pleasure rippled though your body and another moan escaped your mouth.

By this time your pussy was so wet that drops of your juices were tricking out of it and down your thigh. You loved this kind of foreplay, something James never bothered with but, clearly, Cillian enjoyed it a lot.

But this wasn’t all of it. Cillian wasn’t done with the foreplay just yet and, when he was satisfied that he had left enough little bruises on your soft flesh, he sat up on his knees and began loving your lower body.

He pushed your legs apart and began planting small kisses on your upper thighs, and licking small trails up and down, stopping short of your mound every time he did, causing you to squirm and moan. He wanted to break your resolve completely and he wanted you to beg. That was going to be his power over you and, as much as you didn’t want to do that, your moans kept escaping your lips. And even though you couldn't see his face, you would imagine his smile.

‘Oh fuck, please Cillian, just do it’ you moaned out loudly and, just as you did, you could hear him chuckle.

Then, finally, you felt it; his tongue on your wet pussy lips. It was a slow broad stroke that sent jolts of pleasure though your pussy, up your spine and exploded in your brain.

‘Oh yes, oh god, fuck’ you moaned before you bit your lips. Your whole body shivered and you felt week in your knees. Then you felt his fingers work their way to between your legs to your pussy.

You squirmed at the intensity. James usually didn’t pleasure you like this and it was overwhelming having Cillian do this to you. He pushed your legs apart widely and forced you to open up, making yourself accessible. His finger traced a line along your pussy lips as his tongue started to twirl circles over your clit. He stroked there, not attempting entry, just teasing your entrance while his tongue worked its magic.

‘You are so fucking wet Y/N’ Cillian observed and then you felt his fingers open your lips, using one finger each from both of his hands. Your body seemed to open to him like a flower. The dampness that was in you started coating his hands. You were enjoying this more than you should and your mind was fighting it, but your body betrayed you. It was welcoming, eager.

‘Oh god, Cillian’ you moaned again his tongue traced the glistening slit on your open pussy. Then, your legs began to quiver as his tongue entered your open hole.

You knew you were going to cum any second as Cillian was rubbing your clit with his lips and fucking your pussy with his tongue. Your pussy was flowing profusely and Cillian must have been gulping down every drop. Suddenly your whole world exploded and you came with thunderous force. You pushed up against his mouth and let out a muffled scream through bitten lips as you came. Your nails were digging into the back of his head but Cillian still didn't stop.

‘Holy fuck, oh god yes’ you screamed out while your legs began to shake as Cillian gave you the most intense orgasm that you had ever experienced.

You don't know what happened next, if you had passed out or not, but the next thing you did remember was lying on the bed with Cillian on top of you. He was kissing your lips and you could taste your own juices on his lips.

‘Hmm fuck this was good’ you moaned, drawing Cillian’s lips closer for another kiss and you could feel him smile against your lips. His cock was touching your wet pussy and the heat emanating from it was incredible.

‘I could spend fucking hours between your legs’ Cillian then smiled, starring down at you with lustful eyes.

‘I wouldn’t object, although, for now want to feel you…all of you’ you said, biting your lips and urging him to push inside you.

Your legs were spread and open with his hips holding them apart. You felt the head of his cock slide across the mouth of your pussy, teasing you and collecting some of your wetness.

‘Please, stop teasing’ you then moaned, bucking your hips and his cock followed your movements before, suddenly, forcing its way several inches into your body.

You were gasping for breath. You were in the grip of some primal emotion as you groaned Cillian’s name loudly and he slid out to the end again. This time, your body moved with him, like it didn't want to feel him leave your confines.

‘Oh god’ you moaned and Cillian slammed into you burying the full length of his member deep into your pussy.

‘Fuck, you feel so good…so tight, Jesus’ Cillian groaned as he pulled out, then drove in again. The power of his thrusts caused an almost violent reaction in your body, as it met his thrusts with powerful thrusts of its own.

Your hips were now rolling with his every move, trying to keep his cock deeply in your pussy. Your mouth was open, you were panting, moaning. Your resolve to keep calm was being sorely tested as you gave in to Cillian’s thrusts.

But it was difficult for him too as he hadn’t slept with Danielle for six months and was starved of intimacy and now, here you were, the woman he had desired for a while right beneath him for his taking.

‘Cillian, I am close, fuck’ you moaned since you really needed to cum. It seemed your whole being was centered on Cillian’s cock splitting open your pussy, almost like it was the first time you had sex. You may as well have been a virgin, since Cillian angled his movements in way that he was reaching places that James, the only man you ever had sex with before tonight, hadn't even known existed.

You pulled Cillian close for a passionately kiss and your fingers clawed down his back, scratching him wildly. You were out of my control. Your body had become a vessel for his use. You heard the screaming and you knew it was your own.

‘Fuck me, Cillian. Oh my god fuck me’ you shouted out as you gave in and then you screamed as your body reached its high.

‘Fuck, Y/N’ Cillian groaned as he picked up speed and, within seconds you could feel his cock erupt inside you, pulsing and pumping as he did. He emptied string after string of cum into the warmth of your pussy while your walls contracted, milking him until there was nothing left and you were a shaking mess.

Finally, through panting lips, Cillian kissed you and pulled out. Just as he pulled out, you could feel his cum leaking from your pussy and onto the sheets. There was a lot and you couldn’t help but collect some of it with your finger and bring it to your mouth.

Cillian raised an eyebrow at you, wondering what you were doing.

‘I just wanted to see what you taste like’ you smirked as you licked his cum from your finger which is when he realised that he probably should have pulled out.

‘Fuck, I am sorry…I shouldn’t have cum inside you’ Cillian then said somewhat embarrassed.

‘It’s fine, really. In fact, I enjoyed feeling you cum like this’ you said, biting your lip and kissing him again gently before asking him whether he wanted to stay with you for the night.

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[slytherinnbitch]

Day 7: Proposal

Since this marks one week, this is going to be extra long!

"Goodbye love," Draco says as he leaves Grimmauld Place a little late.

Harry was dressing when he left him in the room, he casts a tempus charm just outside the door. It's almost noon, Salazar knew why Harry didn't even bat an eyelid at his late morning.

He apparates to the Maya Magal in London, it's apparantly the best place to get engagement rings and both Pansy and Hermione vouch for it.

A handsomely dressed woman, probably Draco's age, greets him at the door and takes him inside.

"What would you be looking for today, sir?" she asks politely.

"Engagement rings, thank you."

"Do you have any choice or maybe a reference picture?"

"No, just something light and simple would do. He doesn't like heavy jewels or jewels for that matter." Draco says, belatedly realising that he used the masculine pronoun instead of the neutral one, Hermione had told him that Muggles didn't always see eye to eye with same gender relationships like Wizards and Witched did.

But the lady doesn't even hesitate before giving him a smile and leading him towards the middle of the store. She starts showing him a myriad of rings- all of them elegant and classy with intricate designs but nothing that would suit Harry.

After almost four hours of looking at almost each and every ring in the shop, he picks a simple band which a mixture of platinum and gold with tiny diamonds adorning it's edges. He immediately knows that this is it.

The lady smiles at him again, not a single sign in her face saying that she is frustrated or annoyed that Draco took such a long time.

"Would you like to engrave something on the inside?"

"Yes sure." Draco replies, he instantly knows what he wants. In the end, the lady- Lara tells him to come back in two hours for the ring to be ready and he thanks her and gets going.

A tempus charm shows him that he has about three hours to get home before Harry starts to suspect anything and that's plenty of time. He apparates to the cementry in Godric's hollow.

"Hello," he greets James and Lily as he sits down beside their grave on the ground, "So I wanted to ask you for Harry's hand. I know it's an ancient practice and well, you are dead but I want to do this right. I was raised this way and I'm rambling."

He takes a moment conjure some flowers before he starts talking again, "So I want to marry your son. Why should he marry me? I don't know that. Merlin, I don't even know why he loves me. Me, who is an angry arsehole to everyone and who never smiles. Weasley's definition not mine, just so you know. I can tell you why I love him though? Maybe that will be enough to convince you both. Harry, he has always been my guiding star. I don't know how but even in school when we were at each other's throats, he had been someone constant, someone always there. No matter in what way, just there. And afterwards, the war where well you know things happened and I was so bloody naive but he was there as well. He had been my only hope back then, that Harry might be able to save all of his from the doom which was Vol-voldemort. And he did, he even initiated the house unity in Eighth year and then we got seperated because of our careers and look at us now. Both working at the Ministry and even our departments are connected, somewhat. I'm an Unspeakable, you see. You would know that Harry is Head Auror but not about me. I don't know when that star, that hope became my everything. Slowly, but consistently. We grew closer and I can't imagine a day without him anymore. At the end of the day, I need to be around him else I can't fall asleep.

It's been almost twelve years since the war but some scars remain. I'm really hoping that you would look past those and forgive me and accept me as your son's husband-if he says yes that is. Maybe this is all in vain, Harry might just say no and that will be that. But I'm trying not to focus on the negatives right now. Thank you for your sacrifices and thank you so much for giving this world such a kind hearted, selfless person. Thank you for my Harry." He finishes at last, his eyes are slightly tinging but that's alright. No one's here to see him like this anyways.

He talks to them somemore, about everything about him and Harry and how much he loves him and how he would never let Harry feel like he did throughout his childhood and how he plans on proposing Harry on the anniversary of their tenth year together.

Its about 6pm when he leaves the graveyard and goes to pick up the ring.

.........

As soon as Harry hears Draco call out his goodbye, he takes out his notepad from under the socks in the drawer and checks everything he needs to do in order for everything to be perfect tomorrow.

Pick up ring

Ask the parents

Check in with Hermione and Pansy

Order the flowers

He makes goes to the Wizarding Jewelry Place first and asks for the ring.

"Yes, Mr. Potter. The ring is ready and just how you asked it to be. I'll bring it right out," the old man says, who Harry got to know was the owner of the shop from Pansy.

He comes out after several moments and in his hands is a small jewelry box, with intricate golden work over the black satin. The man opens the box and shows Harry the ring, it's perfect with its platinum and gold band and a heavy diamond in the middle of it, he checks the inside and yes, the inscription is just how he had wanted it to be.

He thanks the man and hurries to Wiltshire after making his payment.

He apparates just outside of the Manor gates, after all these years it's fairly easy to enter. The Manor has transformed drastically, and Narcissa and surprisingly, Lucius's warm welcome behaviour had helped immensely.

He had been shocked when he met Lucius as Draco's boyfriend for the first time since the war, it had been after two years of dating Draco and he had been invited over. Gone was the bigoted, slimy bastard he knew, this Lucius was still as much of an arsehole but not the same one. They were not friendly exactly, but he liked to think that he and Lucius got along nowadays. Well it's almost been eight years so he guessed with time anything was possible.

The gates opens to him without any sort of hindrance. Just as he was going to knock on the door, Mipsy opens it and pokes her head out.

"Mipsy is here to greet Harry Potter. Who does Harry Potter like to meet? Master Draco isn't here today."

"Yes, Mipsy I'm aware that Draco isn't here. I'm here to meet Lucius and Narcissa actually." He explains, Mipsy nods her head and vanishes with a small pop, only to return twenty seconds later, and asking Harry to follow her to the parlor.

"Harry, dear. What do we owe this pleasure to?" Narcissa asks as he enters the room.

"Sure you haven't lost your way here? Draco doesn't live here any longer." Lucius says at the same time.

"Yes, Lucius I haven't lost my way and I know Draco doesn't live here any longer, since you know, he lives with me now," he retorts back- Merlin it's weird enough calling Lucius by his name in his head, it's weirder when he says it out loud. "I actually wanted to ask for something."

"See Cissa, I told you he had ulterior motives after all," Lucius says as he looks over Harry suspiciously.

"Oh Lucius, why don't we hear out the young man before you start with all your nonsense." Narcissa says and she waves her hand towards Harry in a way to tell him to continue.

"I want to ask for Draco's hand in marriage." Harry blurts out, the silence that follows is deafening. He looks from Malfoy to the other, both of them seem to be in an intense conversation which is being spoken through their eyes.

It's Lucius who breaks the silence at last, "Why do you want to marry our son? Why should we allow you?"

"Because I love him, I know it can't be as simple as that but that's the gist of it. I love your son with my whole being. I can't imagine a day where I can't see his face or without his insults which have somehow become a constant as well. I tried to find the many reasons for which I should deserve to marry him, I can't find one. But I want to, I want to be deserved enough to marry Draco Malfoy. I want to make him happy for the rest of his life and I want to do this right for once, that's why here I'm asking permission for his hand because even though it doesn't matter nowadays. Draco loves tradition and for him, this is of great significance and I want everything to be right this time." Harry finishes and when he looks over at them, because he had said most of that looking at the carpet, Narcissa's eyes a bit glassy and Lucius who never shows emotion, is actually beaming at him.

"Very well then, Harry. You have both our permission to marry our son and we both would be honoured to welcome you into the Malfoy family. I...I might have been wrong about you afterall." Lucius says and coming from him it's high praise. He is glad both of them and he tells them so and both of them smile fondly at him. They make him stay for tea and afterwards wishes him luck as he floos to Diagon Alley to meet Hermione and Pansy at the new cafe.

"So you got the parents blessings then?" Pansy asks as she takes a sip of her firewhiskey mixed coffee.

"Yup"

"And you have the ring?" Hermione questions as she sets down her wine glass. Seriously is this a cafe or a pub?

"Right here!" He shows them the ring and they coo over it for a minute. "Is this place even a cafe or is that just for the name?"

"It's a cafe and bar, of sorts. They provide a mixture of normal drinks but add alcohol to it. You should try the vodka and peach drink. It's absolutely perfect." Pansy answers as she calls over a waiter.

"No thank you, Pans. I have to go back to my boyfriend who shouldn't even suspect that I have been anywhere but work today. Do you have anything non-alcoholic?" He directs the last question to the waiter who has come.

"Yes, right about everything can be non-alcoholic or purely alcoholic as well. The mixtures are just out speciality."

"Oh then....you know what give me a vodka and peach drink. I deserve it after spending an entire afternoon with two Malfoys." Harry says. The waiter suppresses his amusement and goes to get his order.

Pansy and Hermione snicker at him, "Oh shut it. As if you both wouldn't do the exact same."

They are still chuckling as he discusses the details of the date he had set up for tomorrow. Nowhere public because neither of them liked that, so instead he had picked up a picnic spot for tomorrow night. It would be great fun to propose in the middle of night with only the moons and stars providing them light.

Pansy and Hermione were incharge of setting everything up and they would also be telling Draco that it was a joint anniversary gift to them and they had informed Harry as well. It was the perfect ploy and no one would suspect a thing.

"Alright, the two of you. Enjoy your night, go home safely. I need to get going if I want to make it home before him." Harry says as he gets up and kisses both their cheeks one by one.

"Ron and Blaise will be here shortly so you need not worry about it, darling. We'll be alright on our own till then." Hermione says back and Pansy adds,"Draco never comes home early so you needn't worry about it."

Seriously these two are in so much sync that it terrifies him at times.

He steps out of the cafe and on a impromptu decision apparates to Godric's hollow instead.

...

Draco apparates directly inside the Manor Gates after picking up the ring.

Tabota greets him and tells him that his parents are in the third floor parlor. He makes his way quickly-he doesn't have much time left, he needs to be quick now.

"Hello, love. What a pleasant surprise!" Mother says as he enters.

"Hello Mother," he says and then nods towards his father, "Father,"

"Actually I'm in a bit of a hurry right now. I wanted the Malfoy signet ring." Draco says, getting to the point quickly.

"But I can see you wearing yours, son." Father says.

"Yes I know. I'm- I'm proposing Harry tomorrow." He announces and he is confused by their identical expressions of surprise and then repressed mirth. He didn't except that.

"Is that so?" Father says as he tilts his head, "Very well then, I'll go get it." He leaves the room and Draco is left with his Mother.

"I'm so happy for you, my darling." She says as she comes closer and hugs him.

"Well, I hope he says yes, else..." Draco replies as he hugs her back.

"Oh I'm sure he won't." Father replies as he enters the room. That was surprisingly quick.

"Here you go, son. I'm sure Harry would be quite delighted." He hands Draco the ring and engulfs him in a rare hug as well. Draco can't believe it, his parents approve. Not that he didn't know that, but it's different to know that so explicitly.

"Thank you. I need to get going now. Goodbye." Draco says, his parents murmur their byes and he apparates directly to Grimmauld Place.

Harry's yet to be home, so he decides to hide his ring and take a long bath.

Tomorrow is going to be perfect!

@cupofsquirrelfan hope you like this!

Day 6: Braid || Day 8: Tattoo

Part 2 and Part 3 of Proposal

Requests open || Let me know if you want a part 2 of this

[thefanficmonster]

Just Another One

Sequel to: ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’

Corpse Husband x Actress!Reader (Female)

Warnings: Angst, Heartbreak, Mention of bad past relationships, Swearing

Genre: Angst, Romance, RPF (Real Person Fic)

Summary: They keep proving each other right in the most wrong ways possible. They each want to be guarded even if that means the other will be hurt. Maybe that’s what they want - to hurt one another because they’ve already hurt each other once before.

Requested by the lovely readers who enjoyed the previous fic ‘A Little Bit Of Honesty’. Sorry for the large time gap between the posting of the two fics but I still hope you guys will take the time to read it and if so I hope you enjoy it! Love you all with all my heart, Vy ❤

When you go out of your way to avoid leaving the house your options of entertainment are severely limited and you can’t blame anyone or anything but yourself for it. Today, I wouldn’t have gone out of my apartment even if I was one of those people who frequent the outdoors seeing as how the sky is trying to flood the Earth with all this nonstop rain. It does set a mood for a perfect night in but when you spend all your nights in doing the same thing over and over again, the atmosphere is practically meaningless. And so I ‘ve decided to resort to channel surfing as though I’ll find something interesting on TV that I haven’t yet seen on one of my social media timelines.

I pass several cooking channels on my journey, making a mental note of their individual numbers in case I don’t stumble across anything capable of better distracting me from my boredom and loneliness that’s slowly starting to creep in. I pass by a few movie channels showing teenage romcoms as if to celebrate the start of summer so you can imagine how quickly I moved on from those. Then come the celebrity channels which can often get a laugh out of me because of how pathetic and unbelievably ridiculous they are. And so, I stick around one where there’s a broadcast on a movie showing that’s happening tonight in LA. Oddly enough, despite my anxiety, going to a movie showing has always been on my list of things I’d want to do. This can be considered living vicariously or rubbing salt into the wound that I’ll probably never go because my anxiety and fear of being recognized is too severe. Either way I stick around to watch it.

And man do I regret it now looking at several different angels of a couple of actors entering the venue where they are to be photographed and asked questions by the mob of paparazzi that’s gathered due to the massive event. That in and of itself doesn’t sound - and really isn’t - so bad. However, it’s important to note that the actress in this duo is Y/N. Y/N L/N. My Y/N....shit, sorry, I mean my FRIEND Y/N, her arm linked with whatever-the-fuck-his-name-is who is holding an umbrella above the both of them, shielding them from the downpour of rain that is also taking place in LA apparently.

“The two were seen entering the venue earlier this evening, looking particularly cozy in each other’s presence if I do say so myself. The rain probably worked nicely in their favor.“ The first reporter says, her teasing tone of voice sending chills of anger down my spine as I glare at the screen, hands balled in fists, jaw clenched - all my body’s instinctive reactions to what is being shown to me. I know I technically have no right to behave or feel this way, in fact I should be fucking happy for Y/N and her successful career and the progress in her love life. But damn it how can I?! I was so damn close to kissing this girl! I was so fucking close to falling in another trap, tripping and landing in the embrace of another liar and user, another girl who switches partners more often than shoes. How could I’ve been so reckless to get so close to her even platonically? How did we become close enough for me to 1) show her my face; 2) start inviting her over to my apartment regularly; and how didn’t I notice the kind of messed up person she was all that time.

She was all sweet and flirting and shit a week or so ago and now she’s doing the exact same thing with him! The cameras are capturing them perfectly: every laugh, every exchange of a knowing look or nod, ever smack to his arm when he tells a joke. But what bothers me most is the many times he’s wrapped his arm around her to pull her closer. Not just for pictures, but just because the fucker felt like it! And Y/N doesn’t seem to mind it at all. 

“They have been the talk of the town recently, so while they could just be adding fuel to the fire, they could also have been caught by the flame and ‘caught feelings’ as they say. Regardless these two are a view we’d like to see more often.“ The other reporter says and that’s the final straw.

In one swift motion I turn the TV off and throw the remote across the room. It hits the wall and falls to the ground in several pieces, broken by the force of the impact. Just like I am broken by the force of the impact of these news. I don’t know which is worse: the fact that I fell for her and almost let her know it; the fact that she’s just another member of the club I don’t want anywhere near my life; or the fact that I can’t believe it.

Yeah that’s right - one foolish part of me refuses to believe that’s she’d do such a thing. I think that’s the same part which is still in awe of her so you can bet I ignore that part the majority of the time.

She is just another one. Not the one. Having been hurt before doesn’t mean she won’t hurt me or anyone else she’s gonna be with. Hurt people hurt people.

And damn has she hurt me, probably without knowing a damn thing. How selfish can you be, Y/N? How selfish can you really get? And how much am I going to allow you to hurt me?

                                                             *  *  *

“Thank you so much, Andrew. I would’ve died on the spot of anxiety if I was on my own.“ I say to my best friend who is currently sitting next to me on a park bench, in a tux, eating a cheeseburger. I too am still in my gown and am also gorging on a cheeseburger of my own.

“Don’t mention it. Us anxious people need to stick together.“ He bumps his shoulder against mine, stealing a small genuine smile from me, “Plus I couldn’t not come with you. You know how much I like a good rumor.“

I scoff, “Of course you do, but then again there was no need to add to what the media has already made a whole-ass ship out of.” I roll my eyes and take another bite. My appetite hasn’t been in its best condition so I’m only eating this under Andrew’s orders. I have no idea how people can ship us romantically, he’s the definition of an older - and very bossy - brother to me. I wish I could tell each and every single one of those girls who hate me because I’ve ‘stolen their man’ that I’d most likely be their sister in law rather than man snatcher, seeing as how my relationship with Andrew is so sibling-like.

That’s because we’re too alike, no one gets that. People play the ‘opposites attract’ car more often than I consider rational. But  then again when they see a couple like Andrew and I - who are basically the same person in different bodies - they suddenly think we’re super compatible. Trust me, we’re not. And everyone who’s been on set with us will tell you the same.

“What can I say...“ he shrugs, smirking at me, “I like the fun. I bet Becca doesn’t though.“

I can’t help but huff. Andrew is the only one I’ve ever openly expressed my frustrations with Rebecca to. He was super helpful on the subject, seeing as how he can relate - many partners of his have tried to use him, some of which even succeeded. He’s more than qualified to school me on the topic but it turned more into sharing bad experiences. One of which was that instance back at Corpse’s apartment.

“And neither does Corpse I suppose.“ As though he’s read my mind, he pokes the hurt spot, pouring salt in the wound causing me to visibly cringe as though the pain was physical - because it was, I felt it in my chest and in my gut, a sharp stab of guilt and regret. 

Why did I let it come to that? Why did I let us get so close? How did I not think of the consequences?

“I don’t care if he does or doesn’t.“ My hand automatically reaches for the pocket of the jeans I’m not even wearing in search of a cigarette. Not that I’d be able to light one even if I had them on me - Andrew would smack it out of my hand before I could even take a single puff.

He has the audacity to laugh, “You’re such a bad liar, Y/N.”

That’s all he needs to say really - that’s enough to make me feel seen and understood. Though that’s not always a good thing. I often times wish he couldn’t read me so well. Better said: I wish I didn’t let myself be so readable, you know. I’m just glad he’s the one who sees me because if it were anyone else they’d use this vulnerability of mine against me. I’m well aware that it’s a weakness, a really inconvenient one, but damn it I can’t get rid of it. I feel like I’ll be less human if I lose it. Everyone’s allowed to be vulnerable, some just are lucky enough to choose who they’ll be vulnerable around. I’m lucky enough to to have a choice, not so lucky in the people I choose to trust. Guess that’s not a luck thing, it’s just my inability to decipher whether a person is worth all the pain and torture of coming clean to them or not. So far many people have burnt me but two stick out in particular - Becca and Corpse. Corpse especially, which is the odd thing considering he hasn’t even wronged me in any way. At least not yet.

“Your phone’s vibrating.“ Andrew says, pulling me out of my overflowing head when he hands me my phone which I handed to him because of my dress’ lack of pockets.

“Thanks.“ I mutter through a sigh as I take it from him, checking the notification I’ve gotten.

My stomach drops: it’s a message from Corpse.

“Hey I saw you are in LA but we have a stream tomorrow, will you still be participating?“

Before I can reply, he sends me another message.

“I know you’re probably very busy but we get the most viewership on the streams when you’re in them so....“

I’ve probably been staring at my phone screen for longer than I thought since Andrew felt the need to make sure I was still breathing: “Hey, you ok? You look terribly pale.” I can barely hear him let alone reply. I can’t hear my own thoughts to know what to reply to him. “Y/N, you’re scaring me.”

I’m scaring myself too, Andrew. I’m scared too. I’m scared of how broken my picker has become. I almost kissed this guy! I almost entrusted all my thoughts, hopes, wishes and goals to him! What the fuck was I thinking?! Well, at least I know what he was thinking about - viewership. Likes, subs, views, publicity. The more eyes on the stream the better for him and everyone else. I genuinely want to applaud him, no one has been so direct about using me before. I was in a relationship with Becca for almost a year before I accidentally found out what she had been doing the whole time. No one’s ever smacked me in the face with this much honesty. It’s bittersweet really.

I want to laugh, I want to cry, slap myself across the face, slap him...I want to do so much, but all I can do now is sit in silence and think of how I could be so stupid.

He’s just another one, how did I not see that? How do I never see it until it’s too late? Why is one part of me still screaming: ‘He didn’t mean it like that!’

AND WHY THE FUCK DO I WANT TO BELIEVE IT?

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[classysassy9791]

Fandom: Inuyasha Genre: Romance/Humor/Fluff Pairing: InuKag Rating: T

Originally written for @inukag-week on tumblr circa 2016, now officially being updated. Its been a hot minute, hasn't it?

For InuKag Week - Day 2: Warmth

Part 1 l

Part 2 Word Count: 2,600

Can also be found on FFN and AO3.

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Kagome couldn't remember the last time she had laughed so hard.

Sometime between the moment she met the arrogant, rude man known as Inuyasha and the three shots she had consumed, they had fallen into a flirtatious banter that she rather enjoyed. Gone was the pompous jerk who had so rudely called her audacious names, replaced by a man who proved to actually be decent company.

No, she hadn't forgotten about their initial meeting, but as she downed another shot of whiskey, she realized she didn't much care. For the first time in months - maybe longer - Kagome found herself enjoying her evening. With her shackles removed and her inhibitions lowered, she relished in the sweet taste of freedom that had been sorely lacking from her life.

"You did not!" she squealed with absurdity in her tone, clamping a hand over her mouth.

Inuyasha chuckled, tilting his glass and giving a half-shrug. "I did," he confessed sheepishly, but not at all ashamed of his actions. "Miroku ran down the dorm hall, completely naked, screaming after me."

Kagome shook her head. "I can honestly say I have never stolen my roommates clothes while they were in the shower. Or pulled any pranks on them, really."

"To be fair," he continued, signaling the bartender for another round. "He actually met his girlfriend that way."

"By running naked down the hallway?"

He nodded. "Knocked her down and stopped to apologize."

"Still want to leave the tab open?" Kouga interrupted.

"Yeah, that's fine." Inuyasha finished off his beer. "Another round of whiskey shots while you're at it."

Flashing Kagome a smile, Kouga took their empty glasses. "You're going to dry me out."

"It's still early," Kagome barbed playfully. "Your bar will last until midnight at the very least."

He chuckled, filling up their shot glasses and handing them another drink. "Oh, thanks. I was afraid I'd have to close up soon."

Leaving with a, "flag me down if you need me," Kouga wandered to the other end of the bar where a busty blonde waved at him.

Typical, Kagome thought sourly. On the one hand, she didn't like the way her thoughts were turning, considering she didn't really know Kouga, and hated grouping him in with the rest of the spineless male population she had become accustomed to - especially since he was a bartender and it was literally his job to tend to the needs of his customers. But on the other hand, she couldn't help but feel bitter about his attention leaving her. Maybe it was because she had so blatantly been deprived of it for so long, that her longing for companionship had been exacerbated ten-fold.

Taking a sip of beer - which she had switched to once they started doing shots - Kagome heard her phone buzz in her purse again; it had already gone off several times during her conversation with Inuyasha. She finally pulled it out and unlocked it, frowning at the array of messages popping up on her screen.

Inuyasha raised a brow at the irritable look that overcame her expression before Kagome sighed and locked her phone. She quickly downed her shot of whiskey, not even bothering to 'cheers' him.

"Everything okay?" Inuyasha questioned, against his better judgement. There was a reason people showed up by themselves at a bar on Friday nights - either to drown their sorrows in whiskey or to find company for a few fleeting, midnight hours.

Kagome pressed her lips together. She didn't come to the bar to talk about her problems. She wasn't some sad case that needed a therapist to pour her drinks. If anything, she wanted to forget about the emotional damage that had been inflicted earlier that day. Her heart had been broken, her ego bruised, and no matter how many times her friends had told her he wasn't worth it, their sympathies didn't make her feel any better.

But, alcohol had a funny habit of turning into truth serum, and she found herself spilling her guts before she could stop herself. "Just my ex-boyfriend - er, fiance - blowing up my phone."

Inuyasha chuckled. "Can't take a hint, huh?"

Kagome shrugged with a bitter smile. "I mean, he broke off the engagement. Not sure why he can't follow through with his decision."

She had expected sympathy, perhaps even empathy. That's what most people offered in a situation like this, when they didn't know what to say or how to react. But Kagome was caught off-guard by Inuyasha's next question.

"How long were you together?"

Kagome eyed him curiously, his honey gaze hiding a wealth of understanding. "Five years," she answered him, twirling a strand of her dark hair around her finger. "Planned our life together, put a ring on it, and even booked the venue. But… I suppose he got cold feet a long time ago."

"His loss. What kind of bastard would put someone through that?"

She hummed thoughtfully, but didn't answer. It wasn't in her best interest to start talking about the past now, and she would rather take the spotlight off of herself all together. "What about you?" she asked her barstool companion as she took another sip of beer. "Any lucky ladies in your life?"

Inuyasha chuckled mirthlessly. "Nah, not anymore."

Kagome arched a brow. "Dare I ask?"

"Not much to tell. Her career and ambitions drove a wedge between us, and she decided they were more important than me. Simple as that."

"Sounds high maintenance."

He grinned. "Something like that. I mean, she knew what she wanted and didn't care what stood in her way. Even me."

Kagome felt an ache beneath her breast for the man beside her. She knew the pain of rejection very well. "Put out in the rain just like a dog. Doesn't that bother you?" she asked, tilting her head.

He frowned at her choice of words, and Kagome knew she may have touched a nerve then, but the alcohol had stripped her of her filter apparently.

"Well, I guess we're all damaged somehow," he replied with a shrug.

She scrunched her nose. "That's a bit thoughtless."

"What can I say? Shit happens. Get over it."

And then Kagome suddenly remembered the arrogant, rude, condescending jerk she had met when she had sat down at the bar earlier in the night. She narrowed her eyes. "Why are you such an ass?"

Inuyasha smirked while bringing his beer to his lips. "You are what you eat?"

Kagome let loose a growl of frustration. She had only known him for a short time, but she had quickly learned that Inuyasha was the most infuriating human being on the planet! "Your immaturity is revolting," she stated matter-of-factly, waving down Kouga for another shot of whiskey. She was definitely not drunk enough to deal with the way the conversation had turned.

"I'm not known for my friendly disposition."

Kagome glared at the man sitting next to her. "Is it fun being a jerk to me? Does it satisfy you?"

Inuyasha chuckled. "Actually, it is pretty entertaining."

She rolled her eyes. "You know, Inuyasha. You can hide behind that fake bravado all you want, but I know you're just a big softie underneath."

"Keh," he grumbled, finishing off his beer.

Kagome threw him a glare. "What? No witty repartee?"

He set down his empty glass with a little more force than usual, grabbing Kagome's attention. "I know your type, wench," he snapped, his amber eyes boring into hers. "I know exactly the kind of person you are; all high and mighty, acting as if you're better than everyone else. You think you can show someone how great life can be and how fantastic it is if I would just try. Well, sorry to break it to you, sweetheart, but not everyone is worth saving, all right?"

His words left Kagome stunned into silence for a brief moment. How did their witty banter only a few minutes ago turn into this? This… This denied anger and unadulterated cynicism had Kagome reeling, her thoughts turning to what exactly had penetrated Inuyasha's life so completely that he had such a negative outlook on such.

She pursed her lips. "How much do you think you're worth?"

Inuyasha shrugged. "Like twenty bucks. Or two twinkies." He grinned at his own comment, but Kagome didn't find it very funny.

If anything, Kagome felt pity for him. No matter how bleak her life became, she always managed to find the good in it. If a person couldn't do that… Well, that was a pretty sad way to live. "As much as I would love to hear you divulge all of your secrets, this is a great song and I feel like dancing."

"Look, wench," Inuyasha barked out, his anger palpable. "I'm not looking for your validation. I'm pretty fucking happy with my life of dirty pennies and whiskey bottles. We don't all need to be Barbie."

She looked over at him, the low dim of the bar lights shining off his silver hair, and found she could only nurse one wounded heart at a time. "I just wanted you to leave tonight and think the world is a little less horrible than you thought."

"Hey, pretty lady," Kouga greeted as he appeared at the perfect time with another shot of whiskey for her and a full beer, stealing her full attention away from Inuyasha.

Kagome immediately downed the shot and chased it with her beer, ready to forget half of the night and lose herself in the music pounding through the speakers. As the evening wore on, the bar became busier, and the DJ had started up a round of tunes that had half the customers on the dance floor.

Kouga watched her curiously, arching a brow. "You alright there?"

"Dance with me?" she called over the bass pounding through the speakers. Oh yes, it was now the time of the night in which she had no qualms for asking for what she wanted.

He chuckled and glanced over at the other bartenders who appeared to have things under control. "You can steal me for a few minutes."

Kagome grinned and giggled like a school girl, leaving Inuyasha behind without delay. Kouga met her at the end of the bar and took her hand in his as she pulled him out onto the dance floor.

Some upbeat dance music blasted through the speakers. Kagome moved and swayed through the bodies crowding near the DJ, the vibrations of the music becoming part of her energy, raising her up several levels at once. Gone were her heartbroken wallows and the biting arrogance of her barstool companion. Her mind buzzed with pure joy. She moved in her dress like her hips were made to sway, the black sequins catching the disco ball that twirled above, causing her to glitter on the dance floor.

Kouga pulled her close, his strong hand pressed against the small of her back, his chiseled chest pressed against hers. She ran her fingers through her messy hair and pulled it to the side, feeling the beat of the music pound with each beat of her heart. Bodies pressed in tighter all around them. Kagome felt the part of her that was really her come out to play, to feel the vibe of the music and let her body go free.

"You're beautiful," Kouga's voice whispered in her ear, sending shivers down her spine.

His lips looked soft and very kissable, and Kagome knew her decision-making skills were indeed hindered by the alcohol that buzzed through her veins. And then his attention was caught by something else, his royal blue eyes pulling from hers to the outskirts of the dance floor. He said something to her, attempting to shout above the music, but his words were swallowed up by the electric beat that kept her entranced.

Kagome felt his hands slip from around her waist and he disappeared into the crowd. She didn't bother to follow, her hands playing with her hair, her hips moving to the music as she lost herself within it. This was what her heartbroken soul had fiercely needed; a night to forget all the troubles of the day.

Large, meaty hands found her waist, but they were unfamiliar and too warm to the touch. Kagome felt a warm flush find her cheeks as she gazed up to meet a stranger's hazy stare. He pulled her in close - too close - and even in her alcohol-ridden mind, she felt mild panic begin like sparks in her abdomen.

She tried to push him away, first gently and then forcefully, pretending to laugh at his behavior. "Thanks for the dance, but I need some fresh air."

"C'me on, baby," he slurred, pulling her tighter to his sweaty frame, his hot breath rolling over her skin. "We just met. Let's dance s'me more."

Kagome frowned. "I said no." Before she could stomp on his foot and fight her way out of the throng of dancers, the man was forcefully pulled away from her. They became separated by another man, one with very familiar silver hair who had his back to her. She didn't hear the words exchanged, but whatever was said was enough to send the man scampering off to the other side of the bar.

Inuyasha turned around, his piercing honey eyes studying her expression, before his hand gently wrapped around her waist. His grip on her wasn't strong like Kouga's, or possessive like the stranger. Inuyasha's hand was warm against the small of her back, and the anxiety she felt moments ago melted away.

"You okay?" he asked, swaying his hips in tune with hers as they continued to dance to the beat of the music.

She grinned up at him. "Were you worried about me, jerk?"

"Keh," he grumbled, his lips pulling into a smirk. "I despise you more than any other human I've ever had the displeasure of meeting. You're loud and wild and apparently have no sense of self-preservation. You also act like you have the mental capacity of a five year old."

"Are you flirting with me?" she barbed in return.

"Maybe."

His hand found the back of her neck, his fingers finding purchase in her hair, his hips grinding against hers. Warmth pooled into the pit of her stomach, his breath caressing her skin, and she moved her lips to find his.

Kagome barely had a moment to react before he pressed his tongue to the seam of her lips and delved inside her mouth. It was a very sloppy kiss with the strong scent of beer being exchanged between their billowing breaths. Her arm reached up and tangled around his strong neck. She pulled away and arched up into his broad chest, letting a moan escape in the contact of body heat against her own, before she drew back into his lips.

She could nearly taste the slight bitterness of the beer as it rolled off her tongue and seeped down her throat with every push of his tongue against hers. The kiss coupled with the beer and whiskey humming through her system obliterated every thought. For the first time that day, her mind was locked into the present. Her usual concerns for her life were suspended, and she had no wish for the kiss to end.

But as the music changed, they pulled apart. Inuyasha's skin shimmered with sweat and his amber eyes flecked with gold held her gaze. The beat of the music consumed them under the crazy neon lights, and Kagome felt alive during a night that was still so young.