#and encourage my dear mutuals to do the same. and encourage their followers to do the same maybe.

[angeltism]

May I asked what promo hour is? And what promos r for?

Umm basically we post a promo post for ourselves anddd our mutuals reblog it so their followers can find us and follow us if they deem us worthy of following !! And then you rb the promo of anyone you follow, andd they most of the time will follow you back and reblog your promo post in turn, and it's super duper helpful to find new awesome beings to frolic in fields with together

[andreas-river]

➷ Kinktober 2023

Day I: Virginity Loss || John Price

Cross-posted on Ao3.

TW: smut, virginity loss, cunnilingus, protected p in v, mutual orgasms, fluff.

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears, pumping faster than ever as you locked eyes with John, his hands already all over your chest, caressing the soft skin of your breast, gently tugging at your nipples and occasionally licking them, his beard scratching your skin covered in goosebumps.

He travels down to your belly button, his lips burning hot, until he reaches your panties, still covering your sensitive skin, already pulsing wet with excitement. He waits until you nod to remove them, and you have to hold back a moan as he tentatively licks your sex, beginning to focus on your sensitive nub, making you jerk from the sudden stimulation.

"Fuck—" you had to close your eyes, mouth open agape at the wet feeling of his tongue and lips against the wetness of your cunt. "Please, please—"

He smiled against your folds, lips curving and eyes staring at you, making your cheeks burn at the sight. "Please? You want more?"

Nodding eagerly, he complies and removes his hard cock from his boxers, wrapping a condom around it before nudging the head against your entrance. The realization hits you suddenly as he applies some pressure, but he's quick to read your body language and moves his gaze back to your eyes, noticing your stiffening.

"Love, look into my eyes," you obey him, concentrating on his soft gaze. "Take a breath, nice and slow."

He takes one with you, encouraging you to do more, helping you to relax, and with his hand on your hip, tracing slow circles on your skin, he makes it work—much to your surprise, releasing the tension from your body.

He begins to kiss your lips again - he had already tortured them long before you both entered the bedroom, and you felt him between your legs again, guiding his cock inside you, and you didn't understand why or how, but you could sense every single inch of his cock stretching and squeezing your hole until he reached the bottom, his pelvis pressing right up against yours, and for a moment you could even feel him twitching between your walls.

It felt good and bad at the same time—from the painful stretch around his girth, you could feel him kissing you softly—the pain slowly dissipating, leaving only waves of pleasure cursing through your veins.

But when he began to move, you swear you saw stars at that very moment, moans of pure pleasure escaping your mouth uncontrollably, and when you began to hear the sound of skin slapping against each other, you realized that John was doing it on purpose—forcing you to arch your back as two of his fingers began to circle your already hypersensitive clit.

His pace became erratic, pushing his lips to yours, followed by a grunt, your body shaking against his as the orgasm rippled through both of you, your hands instinctively wrapped around his neck, clutching for dear life—you never thought you could feel this level of euphoria, the adrenaline pumping through your veins like a drug.

His skin feels sweaty against your hands, his eyes open after a few moments of pure bliss, pupils wide as he stares at you with a gaze full of love. He pulls out gently, takes a tissue and cleans you, your parts still sensitive.

"Are you okay?" He asks you after lying down at your side, pressing your tired body against his own and covering your naked body with a blanket. You simply nod and begin to drift off as his strong arms hold your form.

As sleep begins to embrace you, reality and dreams mix, and even though you feel like you are in a fairy tale, a soft pair of lips brush against yours, the loving touch sending shivers down your spine as you finally succumb to sleep.

[lucky-clover-gazette]

prince's gambit highlights & annotations

chapter 4

indented text is from the book. some quotes have commentary, some do not. some comments are serious, and some are definitely not. most of them will only make sense to people who have read the series. and, like, there are spoilers. so please read the books first if you're interested!

also: part of the reason i'm doing such a close reading is to study cs pacat's style, especially in terms of how she does romance and erotica. there are "craft notes" that might seem weird, like i'm being redundant or restating something rather than analyzing, but those are more things that i want to remember/take away from the writing!

i'm going to tag these longer posts with "sam reads capri" in case anyone wants to read them all at once.

this is a google doc i wrote with overall content warnings for the captive prince series. it's not perfect, but i do think it's important to include.

Damen knew the answer to that question. Laurent was not going to kill him. He was going to break him. Here, in front of everyone.

we all need hobbies. that just happens to be one of laurent’s

The men returned to camp boneless and exhausted with no energy to complain that their leader was a blond, blue-eyed fiend, curse him.

‘You just surprised me,’ said Damen. ‘Sometimes I think I understand you, and at other times I can’t make you out at all.’ ‘Believe me, that sentiment is mutual.’

‘The men think you bend me over inside the tent,’ said Laurent. He said it in the same calm way he said everything. Damen fumbled the vambrace. ‘It would erode my authority. My carefully cultivated authority. Now I have really surprised you. Perhaps if you were not a foot taller, or quite so broad across the shoulders.’ ‘It’s considerably less than a foot,’ said Damen. ‘Is it?’ said Laurent. ‘It feels like more when you argue with me on points of honour.’

laurent: i can’t promote you because everyone thinks you’re fucking me every night. it would make me look weak. damen: ?????? laurent: you appear to be surprised by this. maybe they wouldn’t think so, if you weren’t so tall and strong damen: i’m not that tall laurent: you seem to think you are, with how high and mighty you act

‘I want you to know,’ said Damen, carefully, ‘that I haven’t done anything to encourage the idea that I—that you and I—’ ‘If I thought you had, I’d have had you tied to a post and flogged until your front matched your back.’

somehow, this is a positive interaction for them. laurent admits that he knows damen wouldn’t ever take advantage of him, or view/portray him as a sexual object like so many other people do. this almost certainly means a lot to laurent, even though he can’t/won’t admit it.

Laurent wasn’t loved. Laurent wasn’t liked. Even among his own men, who would follow him off a cliff, there was the unequivocal consensus that Laurent was, as Orlant had once described him, a cast iron bitch, that it was a very bad idea to get on his bad side, and that as for his good side, he didn’t have one.

this has the same energy as regina george writing about herself in the burn book as a power move. laurent, to a degree, curates this image in order to maintain what little power he actually has.

actually, laurent has a lot of regina george energy. “raise your hand if you’ve been personally victimized by laurent of vere.” “he’s a life ruiner. he ruins people’s lives.”

now that i think of it, laurent has heather chandler (the og regina george) energy too. "mythic bitch" "they all want me as a friend or a fuck" "well fuck me gently with a chainsaw, do i look like mother theresa?"

It didn’t matter. Laurent gave orders and they were followed. Men found when they tried to baulk that they couldn’t. Damen, who had been manoeuvred variously into kissing Laurent’s foot and eating sweetmeats from his hands, understood the machinery that confronted and compelled them, deep-buried individually in each circumstance.

"Dear Diary: Heather told me she teaches people 'real life.' She said, real life sucks losers dry. You want to fuck with the eagles, you have to learn to fly. I said, so, you teach people how to spread their wings and fly? She said, yes. I said, you're beautiful." - Heathers (1998)

Damen was aware that what he was witnessing was nascent kingship, the first flexings of command of a prince born to rule, though Laurent’s brand of leadership—equal parts consummate and disturbing—was nothing like his own.

nice vs good theme! damen is starting to reconsider some things—okay, laurent is a bitch, but he’s actually doing something good here? like i’d want to accomplish the same things, i’d just go about it more nicely? hmmmm

The mercenary had enough of the sympathy of his fellows that there was the danger of a minor insurrection if Laurent ordered him put on the post. A crowd gathered. Laurent didn’t order him put on the post. Laurent flayed him, verbally. It was not like his exchanges with Govart. It was cool, explicit, appalling, and it reduced a grown man in front of the troop as utterly as his sword thrust had done. The men got back to work after that. Damen heard one of them say, in a tone of awed admiration, ‘That boy has got the filthiest mouth I’ve ever heard.’

HE IS REGINA GEORGE! HE IS HEATHER CHANDLER! HE IS THAT BITCH!

‘I’ve seen him. Last week he had half the camp at each other’s throats.’ ‘He’s all right,’ said Jord. ‘It’s only that he’s highborn, and not used to rough company. He’s doing the right thing by what he knows, it’s just that the rules are different. Like how it is with you.’

jord you have no idea how right you are. also i love how he just casually implies damen is a nepo hire lmaooo

is this perhaps our second lamen hr complaint? laurent giving damen special privileges? jord isn’t really complaining, though, it’s more of an observation. but he would have GROUNDS to complain. i’ll count it. lamen hr complaint #2 (jord).

‘I’ve never bedded anyone highborn,’ said Jord. ‘Is it different?’ Damen flushed when he realised what Jord was assuming. ‘He . . . We don’t. He doesn’t. As far as I know, he doesn’t with anyone.’ ‘As far as anyone knows,’ said Jord. ‘If he didn’t have a mouth on him like a harlot in a guardsroom, I’d think he was a virgin.’ Damen was silent. He drained his mug, frowning a little. He wasn’t interested in these endless speculations. He didn’t care who Laurent took to bed.

i would like to believe that laurent has developed his creative vocabulary simply because he is clever, theatrical, and well-read.

however, i think the more likely reason is that those words were used towards him for years, thus becoming a part of his vocabulary.

so that’s fun.

After a moment, Damen said, ‘Speaking of difficult men, there’s something I’ve wanted to ask you.’

i wonder if damen meant this to be an insult to laurent, as well as a conversational transition to govart. either way it’s funny

‘Why did you leave Govart alive?’ ‘Why not?’ ‘You know why not.’

this is a great parallel to their dynamic in book 1. there were a few instances in the early chapters where damen challenged laurent’s morals/decisions, was asked “why not?”, and took the question as laurent inherently disagreeing with his concern. but here, damen does not seem to assume the worst of laurent’s actions or questioning. he actually WANTS to hear his plan, and help to make it better. and he’s much more confident in calling laurent out on his shit, because he sees laurent as something of an equal.

“you know why not” = “i’m not playing this game. we’re on the same page about what needs to be done. explain how your approach is supposed to work, or else accept my solution instead.”

‘You were well within your rights after Govart charged at you. And there was no shortage of witnesses. There’s something else.’ ‘There’s something else,’ Laurent agreed, looking at Damen with steady eyes. As he spoke he lifted his cup and took a sip. All right.

context: laurent knows the regent is somehow indebted to govart, so it’s futile to try to use govart’s bad behavior to manipulate the regent

‘It was an impressive fight.’ ‘Yes, I know,’ said Laurent. He didn’t smile when he said things like that. He sat relaxed, with the cup now dangling from his long fingers, and gazed back at Damen steadily.

‘I was never a fighter,’ said Laurent. ‘That was Auguste. But after Marlas, I was obsessed with . . .’ Laurent stopped. Damen could see the moment when Laurent decided to continue. It was deliberate, his eyes meeting Damen’s, his tone subtly changed. ‘Damianos of Akielos was commanding troops at seventeen. At nineteen, he rode onto the field, cut a path through our finest men, and took my brother’s life. They say—they said—he was the best fighter in Akielos. I thought, if I was going to kill someone like that, I would have to be very, very good.’ Damen was silent after that. The impulse to talk flickered out, like the candles in the moment before they were snuffed into darkness, like the last dying warmth of the embers in the brazier.

first of all, laurent, you’re so real for the swordfighting obsession. make that ptsd hypervigilance work for you.

second: the insanity of laurent knowing that damen is damianos, and saying this to his face…

this conversation is when, i think, laurent begins to perceive HIS damen and damianos of akielos as two different people. it indicates the splintering of something private and complex within laurent’s mind, that we can understand on a re-read based on previous and future characterization. left unsupervised, laurent’s main coping mechanisms—pretending, dissociation, and self-isolation—combine with his strongest traits—force of will, calculated risk-taking, and overall commitment to the bit—to eventually place him in an emotional purgatory of his own design.

the delusion is both subconscious and conscious, in a way only an experienced overthinker like laurent can accomplish. he knows it’s impossible to actually separate damen from damianos, and that knowledge at this point in the story probably brings him comfort. whatever he says or does, they’re still going to end up enemies in the end. and with that strong grasp on reality in place, laurent also knows he can start to play. he can pretend that they’re not enemies, that they aren’t going to hurt each other, that they haven’t hurt each other already. if laurent is actively choosing to indulge the delusion, he’s not actually being delusional. as long as he knows that he is lying to himself, and has no reluctance towards the eventual truth, he remains in control.

speaking to damen in this specific moment, laurent is almost testing the limits of his own bit. "just how insane and delusional can i get away with being here, as the only person who understands the depths of my own insanity and delusion?”

the results of this test—damen’s lack of realization or response—have given laurent a green flag to proceed. it’s almost as if he’s invincible—he’s pushed the dramatic irony of the situation to its limits, and STILL damen has no idea. so he might as well just do whatever he wants now, because nothing matters anyway. he can get to know damen, and he’ll kill damianos later. it should be totally fine, as long as he doesn’t do something ridiculous like fall in love.

of course, we know that laurent does end up falling in love with damen, fully aware that he is auguste’s killer the entire time. that’s the eventual emotional purgatory i mentioned a few paragraphs ago. laurent even has sex with damen under this ruse, which is probably the most vulnerable thing that he specifically could possibly do with anyone.

laurent’s intentional cognitive dissonance is good for us, as readers and shippers, and ultimately good for laurent himself. after all, it’s what allows him to find and eventually choose love. but he is setting himself up for a massive internal struggle for as long as the lie persists. which it will, for an absurdly long time—because the more laurent indulges damen and distinguishes him from damianos, the more he knowingly betrays his brother’s memory. laurent can handle the resulting guilt and self-loathing internally, but anyone else knowing would make that betrayal real.

meanwhile, damen’s just like, “oh fuck. he has no idea. awkward. anyway.”

‘You have to understand. Auguste was made to be the pride of any father. It’s not that there was any bad blood between Laurent and the King. More like . . . the King doted on Auguste, but didn’t spare much time for his younger son. In many ways the King was a simple man. Excellence on the field was something he could understand. Laurent was good with his mind, good at thinking, good at working his way through puzzles. Auguste was straightforward: a champion, the heir, born to rule. You can imagine how Laurent felt about him.’ ‘He resented him,’ said Damen. Paschal gave him a strange look. ‘No, he loved him. He hero-worshipped him, the way that intellectual boys sometimes do, with older boys who excel physically. It went both ways with those two. They were devoted to one another. Auguste was the protector. He would do anything for his little brother.’

damen hears these words, but he doesn’t actually Hear them yet. but we do!!!!! this pov style is so good.

Damen thought privately that princes needed seasoning not protection. Laurent in particular. He had seen Laurent open his mouth and strip paint from the walls. He had seen Laurent lift a knife and in cold blood slit open a man’s throat without so much as a flicker of his golden lashes. Laurent didn’t need to be protected from anything.

better start seasoning those words, damen, because you’re about to eat them

[seokka0o]

Asking bestfriend!Matthew to help you with your moaning because you're not sure of how you sound in bed 😔😔

🔭•°.ᴍᴏᴀɴ

Seok Matthew ♡ Afab!Reader

🪐 : bestfriend!Matthew ; mutual pining; friends to lovers; non!ídol au

Warning: unprotected sex; Oral; hottie matthew 😔

Author: it's still not my work of thanks to the 200 followers, but what could I say about those hard hours that my dear bestie sent me? I'm obsessed okay? So it turned out that all this thought got out of my control, I hope you like it as much as I liked it

2k

He's so brazen. he'd accept the offer without a second thought, and you're so eager to figure out your problem that you don't even realize it.  You're best friends, there aren't too many secrets, none that might sound too weird to live together, but Matthew can't deny that sometimes he'd thought about being put in that kind of intimacy with you, for a few seconds he imagined what it might be like to play a little with you and then you're suddenly asking for it?  It's too much, you know.

 His eyes shining in your direction, without even a word being said and you just want his answer that never seems to come out of his mouth to make any comment whatsoever, unravel whatever the problem was that needed to be solved as soon as possible.

 "Is this necessary?" The question doesn't sound like he's not comfortable, or because it seems too unexpected, Matthew just wanted to make sure you're ready to deal with it, even if he felt he weren't. He's scared to death of liking it too much

 "Yes, it's a matter of calamity, come on, Matthew, we don't need to take it so seriously" he looked really confused even more, so when he felt the weight of your body on his, when you shamelessly sat on his lap, making comfortable about it.  Since when did you plan this?  To do without even flinching, when did everything change for you to magically want Matthew to unlock the secret of your beautiful voice.  "I promise not to get attached"

 And damn his word about you.  Only he knew the weight of it, how much it seemed to affect every nervous system.  Matthew felt the neurons burned just with that kind of easy condition that posed that until minutes ago everything seemed perfectly normal.

 "Don't do this to me he" wipers, he had the cold extremity, you felt the cold finger touch your skin under your clothes, making you make simple noises.  The smile crept across his lips in celebration and then your eyes met, twinkling, the splendid sight coming from both of them, as he so reluctantly kissed your lips, extremely respectful, when your breath hitched and you missed a beat before you synchronizing, moving your lips from side to side, sucking each other, tasting the strawberrie lip tint he gave it, the gloss, and any other sweet taste.  Your fingers squeezing his shoulders and arms so hard that he felt like he could break at any moment.

It might not seem like it, but hearts were beating fast as Matthew led the way to remove your shirt, so you did the same with his, where eyes met and you could only laugh as you realized you were in such a situation with your best friend.  It seemed absurd.

 When Matthew kissed your neck gently, leaving wet marks across your skin, you didn't know that someone could remove a bra so quickly, but without realizing you were without them. that's when the first sly whisper came out of your lips, still awkwardly, but in groaning formats, which encouraged Matthew to keep going.  Touching your breasts between chubby fingers, massaging, teasing your nipples until they were hard.  Careful tongue flicks and grunts in response to feeling them hard against the hot tongue. He was already completely out of control, you could feel it, the bulge building beneath you, the shape of your hips fitted tightly together and you took the liberty of moving, rubbing, biting your bottom lip to try not to spoil the fun and moan too soon.

 "I thought the point here was for me to analyze your moan, why aren't you already doing that?"  He seems genuine in the question, but you feel the teasing deep down inside, that twinge, he wants the wrong answer so he can somehow justify it all.

 "Maybe you haven't done enough yet" who would have guessed the kind of person Matthew is?  You being so disrespectful suddenly didn't seem like so much fun to him anymore.  You couldn't help but laugh. now he lays you down on the bed, and you can see the darkened irises, as if he's become a completely different character than you're used to know.

 He hasn't spoken to you since, you still feel his icy edges, squeezing your flesh, cupping your breast so he can snap your nipple to him again, go back to dragging his tongue, sucking, feeling your body rise to make contact with his from him, your sighs began to come out with an already more exclusive air, maybe you weren't ready for what would come next, the way his hand will invade your clothes to touch your wet intimacy, squeeze your spot between his fingers, how he will collect your liquid to be able to feel and spread it everywhere.  Hearing you moan for the first time made him vibrate, his body shook, heated up, he felt his cock throb desperately inside his pants, but he wouldn't take it anywhere else for now.

You felt everything in you shiver, your fingers over the strands of his hair making circles, you were stroking and pulling to relieve yourself, moving up and down your hips looking for more contact. sometimes your leg rises to massage matthew's member, but it was some awkward mention of the act, your eyes closing and you feeling lost in the sensation, letting out some moans and grunts so endearing, you wanted to please him, you knew he was enjoying what he was hearing.

 "Keep singing to me, I want to know what kind of slut you are" you were taken aback for a moment and bit your bottom lip in pleasure.  Nothing lasts too long, Matthew took off the rest of your clothes, as if it were nothing, now you were naked in front of him, not feeling exposed at all, but somehow unable to react, because you weren't dealing with anyone. he didn't give you time, he opened your legs for him to place himself between them, without expecting too much.  Now you leaned over his shoulders, feeling his hot breath touch your pussy.

 Toasting he left, touched all your vulva with his fingers, your skin crawling all over your lips, he pressed a kiss over your clit, delicate, you lost your mind there, moaning involuntarily, sly for him.  Soon after you felt the tongue, going down your lips, circling your perimeter, sucking your juice, stopping over your bud so you could play longer;  your moans made his vibrate at your sensitive spot, making you arch your back in pleasure.

"F-fuck" you sucked in your breath, one hand over your mouth and the other went back to his hair, which you gripped so tightly, pulling closer to your core, you squeezing desperately, the sensation made you dizzy, your eyes closed , all the shivering, he seemed to enjoy it when you closed your legs over his head, there wasn't any protest, just when he thought he needed more space to be able to see you, promiscuous sounds escaping from your lips in now more frequent melodies.

"You're enjoying it too much,was it a trap?"  he asks as he rubs his thumb across your clit.

 "N-no, I promise…" you replied in a certain air of desperation, you couldn't say something like that right?  But Matthew is smart, he knows you too well,you would never be able to hide for so long your wiles.

  Soon he returns between your legs, now removing his own clothes. you are groggy, some moans still escape your lips without he doing nothing, which betrays your need for him as soon as possible and the sight of him in front of you doesn't help too much, no one but you knew the kind of need condition you've been in since the day you considered matthew as an attractant, he's a danger to anyone's sanity and you knew it well, perhaps that was why he was so inescapable.

 "I know you well, don't lie to me,y/n" His hand finds your wrists, which he holds up on the mattress, uses the other to fit his cock over your entrance and then sinks down.  The moans mixed together, you didn't want to have to respond to him, his body took you too well, the way he filled you felt like enough.  Soon his other hand found your wrists and then he laced your fingers together, still on top of your head. in an attempt to maintain a certain emotional closeness with you, even if you hadn't demanded it from him, matthew would like to make it clear that he didn't do that just to use you, it was something that went far beyond that "look at me"

 "S-sorry, it's hard to control myself around you" so you complied, opening your eyes to meet his.  It was the signal he received to start moving, first of all so calm, so slow, not taking his eyes off the way your body moves , how your face contracts, how your moans come out of your lips, this is what you wanted him to see?  A piece of what could be heaven?  Whatever he does you would gladly accept it, and then you welcome him so well it's unfair, makes him lose his mind easily.

he has his fingers laced through yours, Matthew slowly feel lost, the air starting to cut, and then he starts to fuck you for real. Hips moved with precision, he wasn't inexperienced you could tell it, how he kissed your jaw gently as you moaned his name in the most beautiful way, making your skin crawl, he slipped inside in majestic ways , as you lost yourself in this immensity.  Even after he let go of you for precision, now with each hand on each side of your body Matthew was going harder, making wet sounds all over the space, your fingers forcing the flesh of his shoulders again and then you can pull close.  Feeling your sweaty skin all over his, your breasts pressing against his chest making him grunt, thrust hard and then bury his face in the crook of your neck, for your nails to make some reddish paths down his back.

You felt his tongue passing through your skin, then sucking, barely marking you, to guarantee something that wasn't even so right, just like you did with your nails, you were marking each other's presence in the fur.  You moan his name in a way he feels is just for him, it's beautiful, he's never heard anything like it before, it filled him with pleasure, just as it filled you.  The way your whispers come out effortlessly, how you silently over his ear beg for more, or to go harder, how you moan so slyly even though you can't take it anymore, Matthew feels he can become addicted to your voice. , boosting the ego for achieving great achievement and making you moan so beautiful with his fuck.

 Gradually the bodies tensed, the hips moving clumsily, Matthew's hand sometimes taking the liberty of touching his skin, feeling your textures, lovingly exploring, maintaining the frequency of the fuck, when he slipped one of his hands to your neck, as a form of support and then began to play inside at once, you screamed, moaned madly, felt your orgasm come with an absurd force and then your body heat tried to reduce without much success.  Matthew reached the limit soon after, pulling out at the last second to end up cumming on your belly.

 "Fuck…" he said as he fell to the side, a little dizzy and out of breath from the previous effort.  His body trembled, still yearning for his next moves, but without much effort.

 "And then?"  you genuinely asked

 "Hm? I don't know, I didn't pay attention... maybe we should make a new one, so I can be sure" he says cheekily, not even considering how you looked completely destroyed, not knowing if you would have the ability to move through the next few monitors

[catohphm]

Welcome to my first Hogwarts Legacy fan fiction! In this story, we will explore my MC Danny's first day at Hogwarts and the drama between him and the headmaster that took place during it, as well as the following aftermath.

Tagging some mutuals who encouraged me to write this @carewyncromwell, @boxdstars, @charmedslytherin, @alsopartgekkos and @danceworshipper

Dear Bands Against the Darkness

-

Rays of morning sunlight cast through the windows of a dormitory in the Ravenclaw tower. Sharing the dorm were a handful of first year Ravenclaw boys. Among them were Daniel Gibson, Amit Thakkar and Andrew Larson. The night before, they had gotten along and became friends over their excitement to learn and exchanged what subjects they anticipated studying the most. It was certain they would be attending several classes together as housemates.

Danny awakened from a peaceful slumber.

"Morning, Amit." he greeted his friend who sleeps in the bed next to him. "Good morning to you, Danny." he replied in a calming voice. "Slept alright, I hope?"

"Yeah," said Danny. "These beds are really comfortable. Yourself" His friend smiled and nodded "Nice to hear, me too. Agree with you in fact," Amit added "it's easy to relax and fall asleep in one of them."

Andrew then woke up. "Good morning lads! I cannot wait to start my classes this morning." he said.

"Morning, I want to see what they're doing for herbology." Danny commented with a smile.

Amit turned to face the blonde-haired boy. "Good morning to you, Andrew. Hopefully you slept well last night?"

He nodded "I did, yeah. Any classes you're excited for, Amit?"

"Definitely Astronomy. I love looking through the telescopes and studying star maps."

"Flying for me," remarked Andrew. "I want to join Quidditch."

Danny leaned and looked at him with a curious face. "You know that quidditch is for second years and up only, Andrew?"

Amit nodded in agreement with Danny but he was intrigued still. "What's the position you would like to try out for?"

After a few seconds with his hands on his chin, Andrew answered "Maybe a chaser, perhaps. I still have a year to decide."

"I wouldn't worry about it now. I would suggest watching the games as they come. How about this? We'll go together as a group since we're Ravenclaws."

"Sure Amit, I'd be glad." Andrew grinned. His roommate then turned to Danny. "Do you want to join us when we go watch the games?"

Danny paused but then blurted out "I mean I'd be happy to join you and Andrew at Quidditch. It sounds pretty fun."

"Great to hear." declared Amit "We should get ready for our classes now."

Eventually, the boys were all cleaned up and donning brand new Ravenclaw uniforms in place of their pajamas. They were of the same design as the plain robes they wore while being sorted. However the inner layer of the robe was blue instead of black. It was complimented by a matching blazer, trousers, a shirt and tie with a beautiful pattern of blue and bronze stripes. Ravenclaw house patches were on the robe, vest and blazer.

Amit looked into the mirror. “This is quite a beautiful set of garments.” A surprised Danny commented “Wow, I can’t remember if or whenever I wore something nice like this.” Andrew said “Whoever designed these uniforms knew what they were doing. A famous school like Hogwarts has to have quality uniforms.”

The boys were all in agreement about the looks of their school garb. They gathered their bags and made their way out into the common room.

Out in the rotunda of the tower that was the Ravenclaw common room, they ran into one of the girls in their year, Samantha Dale. Danny had met her their first night at the castle, where they struck up a conversation about their excitement for potions and herbology. They both had mentioned having a younger brother yet that part of their exchange was brief.

“Good morning lads. Hello Danny. Slept well I’m hoping?” Samantha greeted them. “Hello Samantha, I did,” nodded Danny. “hope the same for you?” She affirmed “surely I did. Can’t wait to see you around the greenhouses later on. I’m excited about that.”

“Me too, It will be a pleasure having you there.” Danny remarked.

Samantha turned to Amit and introduced herself “My name’s Samantha Dale, you can just call me Samantha.”

Bowing his head quickly forward “I’m Amit, Amit Thakkar. Greetings to you, Samantha. Hope you are well.”

“Certainly.” replied Samantha. “It’s nice to meet you, Amit.” The boy smiled “Pleasure. You know Danny, the other one is Andrew.

“Larson. Andrew Larson. I’m just called Andrew. Happy to meet you, Samantha. How are you today?” he asked the Ravenclaw girl.

“Doing quite alright.” she said positively.

With the introductions in order, Andrew pulled out his schedule. “Our first class of the day is charms. We ought to get moving.”

The group of four then headed out of their common room on their way to class.

-

Leaving early to catch their first class, the four Ravenclaws were already well on their way to the Charms classroom. Along the way they encountered a Gryffindor boy, Garreth Weasley. He was in their year.

“Hey, Danny! How was your first night here at Hogwarts?”

“Hey, Garreth. My night was great. I slept pretty soundly. What about you?”

“It was good.” Garreth replied “My roommates are alright, Leander seems like a nice fellow, if a bit nervous.”

“Leander?” Danny asked. “Leander Prewett. He’ll be sharing some classes with us.”

Amit then stepped in “I’m Amit by the way. I share a dormitory with Danny. Good to meet you, Garreth.”

Confidently, Garreth returned the greeting. “Nice to meet you as well Amit! Who are those two Ravenclaws with you and Danny?”

“They are Andrew and Samantha. Andrew and Samantha, this is Garreth Weasley. He is a friend of Danny.”

“Yeah, we both live in Devon. Not too far from each other.” Danny commented.

Andrew and Samantha exchanged platitudes with the Gryffindor.

Garreth smiled. “It’s a wonder to meet you all. My aunt sent me to find Danny. She’s the deputy headmistress and will be our transfiguration teacher.”

Curiously, Danny asked “Why did Matilda send you for me?”

“She wants to have a chance to talk with you before your first lesson. Let’s go, she’s waiting by the Charms classroom.”

The Gryffindor boy led them through the hallways to the entrance of the classroom. Out by the door was Professor Mathilda Weasley. She looked professional yet motherly, stern but assuring.

“Thank you for bringing Mr. Gibson here, Mr. Weasley.” Although the teacher was the aunt of Garreth, it was still proper for them to address each other formally since they were in Hogwarts.

“Of course, professor. He came here with some friends from Ravenclaw.”

The professor looked back and forth at the five kids before speaking to Danny. “I see. Good morning Mr. Gibson. I am glad to see that you are making some new friends here at Hogwarts. Your mother did right by getting you here. I helped her out with that.”

“Thank you, Professor Weasley. Garreth and my housemates have been nice to me.”

“I am pleased to hear that. The headmaster has been riding up and down on his own game. I can’t say I trust him to run this school, but as Deputy Headmistress I do try my best to ensure it remains safe and stable for students to learn.”

“We’ll do our best to make it through this together, Danny.” agreed Garreth.

The bell rang. Amit told Danny as he, Andrew and Samantha went into the classroom “We’ll let you three finish up. Find us once you’re done.” Danny nodded “Okay.”

“Well I must get back to my classroom now. I got students to teach. If Professor Black or anyone else here gives you grief, you can come by my office next to my classroom on the ground floor. It’s always open if you want to come in and talk about anything.”

With a nod, Danny replied “I appreciate that, Professor. Again, thank you.”

“Best of luck on your first day of classes to you both.” the professor said happily. “See you in Transfiguration.” She finished. Danny and Garreth said their goodbyes then Professor Weasley departed for her classroom.

Left by themselves, Garreth expressed to his friend from home “I’m glad she’s here with us, Danny. My aunt can feel strict and overarching sometimes but she cares a lot for us and this school.”

“I can certainly agree too, Garreth.” Danny replied. “You, Matilda, Amit, Samantha. There’s some good people here.”

“Right. We must be in the classroom with us though.” said Garreth.” No need to lose house points for being late.”

The boys went into the Charms classroom and found their seats. Danny joined Amit, Samantha and Andrew while Garreth went and took a seat by Leander and the other Gryffindors in his year.

-

Later that day, Danny and his group were on their way to Magical Theory taught by Professor Fig. He heard his name abruptly get called out in a deep, booming male voice. “Gibson!”

Panicked, he shouted “What?” and dashed away from his friends without another word, leaving them in shock and confusion.

Amit, Samantha, Andrew and Garreth all had worried looks on their faces as Danny went to the man that called for him. The man shouted at them “Off to class with you lot!” They had no choice but to keep going. It was no question that this man was Phineas Nigellus Black, the headmaster of Hogwarts. He was tall, tough and imposing, with jet black hair, a handlebar mustache and wide goatee. Profesor Black wore a long overcoat and towered over many of the students like a hawk.

The headmaster then turned to Danny. “Follow me. We need to have an important conversation. Do not even delay.”

He led a confused Danny to an empty classroom and forcefully shut the door. “Take a seat, Mr. Gibson.”

“What did I even d-” Professor Black rudely cut Danny off before proclaiming. “No questions. Sit down!”

The boy rushed to take a seat at one of the front desks in front of the blackboard. The headmaster leaned and grasped the front end of the desk with his hands, glaring straight at Danny.

“Let’s get straight to business. When I learned that you were from America I expected you to share the belief that we are above all others. Then I realized who you truly are. You and your mother came here with just the clothes on your backs. No galleon to your name. Father is missing. The kind of people that will never amount to anything in life!” Professor Black banged his hand on the desk as Danny stayed fearfully silent.

He continued. “Face it, Mr. Gibson. We have ties all over the place, while you leeches are parasites feeding off the well-being of good-to-do families like us. Like that loser of your mother who can’t even stay married. I would be surprised if she made it into the prophet or even found a job. Your father must be really disappointed. His boy is going to end up nothing but a footnote in this school’s never-ending list of failures no different than a troll, you know that?

Danny could not speak. Tears were coming down his face as he overheard the bell ringing in the hallway, hailing the start of the next class period.

Professor Black approached the desk and leaned on it again. “That’s right! You are foreign filth plaguing the good name of our beloved school and everything we stand for.”

He was not done yet. “I am appalled that they even let you into this school. Mr. Gibson, the only reason you are here is the Ministry has a tight leash on us about their galleons going into the school treasury. They would bloody shut us down if we didn’t admit every magical child in Britain and Ireland.”

The headmaster stood up and looked at the blackboard. Your goody-two-shoes Professor Weasley and those blokes have their heads in a barrel full of bubotuber pus.”

“I would not be surprised if your grades falter and you get expelled.” Professor Black then said as he turned to face Danny. “The honorable Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry will be better off with you flunking little horklump out of the picture.”

Without looking back, the headmaster told Danny “Out with you now, tramp. I have other matters to attend to. Be lucky that your next professor doesn’t lay it down on you for being late.” He opened the door and left without closing it.

The poor boy remained sitting at the desk of the dark room. He was sobbing with the earful that the headmaster had given him. Danny did not grasp what Professor Black was exactly going on about or why he singled him out of many students.

Meanwhile, in Professor Fig’s classroom, there was concern over Danny’s absence. “It has been about ten minutes and Mr. Gibson is still a no-show.” the teacher said. He asked Amit about his whereabouts.

“Professor Fig, we were on our way here when Professor Black called Danny aside. He then told us to go. We have not seen him since. I hope nothing has happened to him.” he said, sharing worry.

Squinting his eyebrows, the teacher remarked “That is certainly troubling. Mr. Thakkar, please go for look for Mr. Gibson. Tell him he will not be losing house points for being late. Miss Dale, and Mr. Larson, help Mr. Thakkar find Mr. Gibson.” Garreth also volunteered to help the Ravenclaws search for Danny.

The group left the class together, retracing their steps to where Professor Black had stopped the Ravenclaws before the start of Magical Theory.

-

Danny was found in an empty classroom at one of the desks, staring into space.

Amit asked him in a panicked, worried voice “What are you doing here, Danny?”

Brought up from his dull trance, he went “Ah! I’m late for Magical Theory.”

“What did Professor Black put you up to?” inquired a troubled-looking Samantha. “Are you alright, you looked quite out of it?” Garreth also questioned.

In an irritated tone, he only responded “Come on, I need to get to class. I will lose a lot of house points for being this late.” as he got up from the desk.

Andrew then told Danny “Professor Fig said he won’t take off points for this.”

“That’s brilliant. I really need to get to class.” he said, walking intently out of the empty room. Amit quipped “Please, Danny wait up.” as he and the others followed their friend out.

He arrived in Professor Fig’s classroom first followed by Amit, Samantha, Garreth and Andrew. The teacher approached the group and spoke to them.

“Ah, Mr. Gibson. It’s pleasing that you are okay and in one piece. What was all that about with Professor Black?

Danny sighed, he couldn’t think at all. “How about you go and find a seat? You need to relax.” said the teacher. “Yes, Professor.”

He went and sat down with the other Ravenclaws while Professor Fig talked with his friends. “Poor Mr. Gibson looked quite disturbed. Professor Black must have shoveled quite the load of foul rubbish to him.”

Amit affirmed “That’s right, Professor Fig. Danny was in no mood to talk when he found him. All he was focused on was getting to class.”

“I believe he got things said to him that hit him hard inside. My friend seems to be bothered a lot by thinking about whatever he had gone through. He can’t pull anything together without it getting to him.” Samantha added.

“Ahh, Merlin’s beard! This is quite a problem. Mr. Weasley, what do you think Professor Black has against Mr. Gibson? I know our headmaster is rather notorious, but why him?”

Garreth noted “Perhaps he saw something in Danny that he disliked a lot.”

Finally, Andrew said “Danny is using his classes to avoid talking about the matter. It must be too much for him to go through.”

“I see.” assessed Professor Fig. “This is something very disturbing indeed. I hope we can get to the bottom of it and help Danny but there is not much we can do at the moment. This is an isolated incident and there is no hard evidence of what Professor Black said to Danny. Until he can talk about it, we ought to be patient.”

The teacher had said it all. Danny’s four friends nodded in agreement. “We should start class now and focus on that for the time being.”

Magical Theory went on for the rest of the class period. Everyone including Danny paid attention to Professor Fig and took notes as he lectured to keep their minds off the matter.

-

That night after classes had ended, the Ravenclaws recuperated in their common room. Danny, Amit, Samantha and Andrew talked about how all their classes were like. Everyone was excited, except for Danny, who was more solemn in his responses.

Samantha broke the chain of the conversation when she took notice of how quiet he was. “Is that matter with Professor Black still bothering you, Danny?

“Please tell us what’s wrong.” said Andrew.

Amit stated “We cannot help you if we do not know the story.”

“We are your friends, Danny. You can be honest with us. We will not judge for anything you say to us. None of what Professor Black said is your fault.” explained Samantha. “We’re listening.” added Amit.

Feeling comfortable and assured enough by his friends to talk, Danny opened up to them.

“Okay, Professor Black took me aside and said we needed to have an important conversation. He led me inside an empty classroom and shut the door. The headmaster did not allow me to talk at all. He went on about how I was a filth to the school and the good name of people. Not just me, but he also talked about my mum and Professor Weasley being just as bad. Professor Black called us foreigners that were only leeches that feed off of families like his, like we would never amount to anything. He also got at my mum for not staying married and not able to find work. Before he left he told me that he would not be surprised if I failed my classes and got expelled.”

“Oh no, Danny. I can’t speak for how terrifying that must have been. I’m sorry.” Amit responded

Danny nodded slowly. “Indeed, it was terrifying. Professor Black just pulled me away while he just shouted at you all to go away. He’s not a nice headmaster.

Samantha reassured “You’re not alone here, Danny. Professor Black has a bad name for himself around here because of that behavior. He is also known to use his powers for only things that benefit himself and his family.”

“Right. He is still allowed to do whatever he wants even though it makes students feel unwelcome.” Andrew noted.

“The problem is that there is no way to punish him. That also scares me. He may just pay anyone he knows to get him out of trouble.” expressed a concerned Danny.”

“I know,” said Amit. “But we didn’t come here to Hogwarts to live in fear of Professor Black. This is supposed to be our home. Let’s make it that.”

Danny felt somewhat better. “I’m glad to have you all and Garreth by my side in this castle. I know Professor Weasley is also there for me.”

Samantha happily nodded “Exactly, Danny! We’ll work through this together. Remember we’re always here with you.”

“You can trust us.” agreed Andrew. “We’ll do our best to help you like when Professor Black made you late to Magical Theory today. Professor Fig is also someone to turn to.”

Amit then chimed in “This is only just the start of the first year. There are more days ahead of us, and tomorrow will be brand new. For a moment don’t think that it’s ruined. Together we’ll make the best out of it here.

“Thank you! All of you are showing to be good friends to me. Hopefully with us together it’ll be more fun studying here.” concluded Danny.

-

Over the weekend, Danny was on his way to the library to study potions with Garreth. Luckily he had avoided any contact with Professor Black since the fiasco on the first day. It was by fate that the hawkish headteacher would strike again.

He went into a T-intersection where two corridors met when he found himself face to face with the headmaster.

“Now, now Mr. Gibson. What have you been up to?”

“I was on my way to the library to do some studying.”

Professor Black scoffed. “Ah, the library. That dump. You Ra-”

Their exchange was broken off by the loud booming voice of a first year boy. “Professor Black! Enough of that potty mouth of yours!”

Both Danny and the headmaster turned to face the source of the shout. Facing them were a brown-haired Slytherin with a part in his hair, accompanied by a witch from his house with the same color of hair and a ponytail.

“What did you just say to me, Mr. Sallow?” an annoyed Professor Black asked the boy.

“You heard me.” he replied back.

Danny witnessed as he and the witch exchanged words with the headmaster

Backing up the Slytherin boy, she added “You don’t talk to a student like that. Better be lucky we don’t slip a dungbomb in your pocket for this.”

The headmaster didn’t take her words lightly. “30 points from Slytherin. I do not have the time for this foolish nonsense! Next time it’ll be in detention. I swear, I’ll have both of you polishing the trophy room from top to bottom with no spark of magic to teach you both some respect!”

Fed up and determined to be rid of the sight of the “troublemakers,” Professor Black scrammed away, leaving the three kids alone.

The Slytherin boy spoke to Danny now that the headmaster was gone.

"Hey. You doing alright?" He asked Danny. "I'm sorry that you had to see that."

"Thank you. I'm just glad you two made Professor Black go away. This is not the first time he tried to get at me.

"He's been giving us quite some trouble too."

The witch then spoke up "We're going to have to be quiet when dealing with Professor Black after this one. He means it when he'll put us in detention next time he catches us."

"Oh by the way, I'm Sebastian, Sebastian Sallow." the boy introduced himself.

"I'm Daniel Gibson. You can call me Danny."

The witch then made her introduction. Hello, I'm Anne, Sebastian's sister. We're twins."

"Great to meet you both," said Danny. "I appreciate people who can set aside their own things to help others in need."

Sebastian agreed "That’s good to know. Anne and I are the same there."

"I have to head to the library to study with a friend."

"We'll see you around here, Danny. It was nice meeting you." said Sebastian.

Before they parted, Anne told Danny "Come see us if Professor Black gives you trouble again."

"I'll keep that in mind," replied Danny. Thanks again. I'll see you later."

With that, Danny and the twins bid their farewell and continued on with their days.

-

Now confident with people he knew by his side, Danny had the security to continue his studies at Hogwarts with opulence and a drive to learn more despite the transgressions of Professor Black. It would still be where he would take time to open up to most but he put a lot of faith in those there with him. The Sallow twins would introduce Danny to Ominis Gaunt, a fellow Slytherin who held strong disdain for the Dark Arts and the ways of the pure-blood elite. Over time, the four opened up to each other and realized they had much in common. They came from broken families marked by long struggles with abuse and crumbling ties between members.

United by their contempt for Professor Black, Danny would start working with the twins to discreetly cause chaos for the headmaster. When Professor Weasley learned of these actions, she was sympathetic to Danny. Although she advised to keep it between him and his friends and hoped they would not get ahead of themselves. In all cases, pranks and chaos was the only form of justice available when the repressive headmaster's immense clout and connections in society made formal punishments futile.

[mello-when-hi]

Tag at least six people (can be more than six if you want), and say at least one nice thing about or to each of them. Can be mutuals, can be people you follow, can be people you don’t know but just happen to exist in the same circle(s) with. All you gotta do is tag them and say something nice about/to them :)

I was tagged by these lovely people (and decided to pull an uno reverse card on ALL OF THEM >:) : @bottleofchaos , @rebelwithoutabroom , @findinghomes , and @wolfboypunzo

@findinghomes- Finn, you make every space you enter just a bit more brighter, always a kind word to say to someone’s latest creation. Your writing never fails to take my breath away. You manage to capture such raw emotion, you put so much of yourself into your writing and it shows!!

@blocksforbrains - hiya Blocks!! I feel like it’s been a while since our paths have crossed, but we’ve been mutuals since before this blog was created, thanks for sticking around for the ride :)

@latenightsinmay - May!! Gosh, it feels like we’ve been mutual for forever. You’re someone I’ve come to depend on, still hanging on during the rainy days. Thanks you for quality tags and some amazing pjo posts

@wolfboypunzo - Asher!!! You lovely sweet human!! A frequent goer of my inbox!! I’m happy we found each other, you’re a little ray of sunshine, always with something kind to say. You’ve stuck with me through it all, and I’m happy you’re here.

@mahikamihan - Yumi!! Your art never fails to warm my heart!! I love how you always encourage those around you, it’s always a good day when I see you on the dash. Thank you for always bringing the community together by proposing fun little events, our fandom is brighter with you in it

@demonstars - nunki!!! I can always count on you to understand the cdnf demons. Your skillfully crafted posts never fail to shatter my heart in two, thank you for keeping the demons and insanities of Dnf alive and well

@hearvex - fun story H. I randomly saw one of your edits on YT before you joined the fandom and was immediately shocked. It was utterly stunning, unlike anything I had ever seen. Imagine my surprise when I saw you on tumblr, it was like seeing god at Walmart. Being mutuals with you has always been an utter delight, this fandom is better with you in it :)

@rebelwithoutabroom - Taizi!!! An awesome writer and an even better tumblr mutual. Thanks for being my hype person whenever I’m pitching fic plots, and thanks for letting me bounce ideas off you. I can’t wait to see what you create next, I’m lucky to have you as a mutual

@bottleofchaos - Ocean! Thank you for always being there to back up my Greek mythology/ Dnf parallels, you are an absolute gem! There’s always so much humanity in your fics, a fitting reflection of the person writing them

@jupitersthirdstar - Jay!! Thank you for the top tier fic recs and being someone I know I can turn to when things get a little crazy here. I love your loveposting, keep doing your thing!!

@froggyrights - hi Charlie! I know we haven’t been mutuals for too long, but I’ve always thought you were hella cool. I started playing undertale on your recommendation, and I feel like that set the tone for the sort of mutual you are (someone with absolutely based takes)

@rosy-skies - Rosie, oh my dear Rosie. If there was anyone that had to be part of all this I’m glad it was you. Thanks for being *here* with me, seeing the side of me that’s here online. It’s been an utter delight having you here, love ya

@suenitos - Nov, one day I’m going to hold you accountable for your web weaves because they don’t leave me teary eyed every. Damn. Time. You have an incredible scope for all the emotions a human can feel, thank you for unknowingly introducing me to some of my best inspiration

@minecraftdog - Mandragora!!! You always leave the most delightful things in my notes and all around one of the kindest people here, I’m happy to know I have you in my corner

@bagelrites - resident skephaloer and maker of adorable art!! Your stories are always so cozy, thank you for making our corner of the fandom all the more lovely with your creations

This is the part where I’m brave and say wonderful things to people I’m not mutuals with but I still need them to know that I think they’re amazing

@anonysage - your art never fails to take my breath away. You always manage to capture so much intimacy in your work, weaving an adorable narrative into everything you create. Thank you for sharing what you do with this fandom

@wolflyndraws - your designs are utterly STUNNING! The colors you use are always so bright and your Dream design is perfect in every sense of the word. I love all the darling au’s you put Dnf in, I get so excited seeing your creations!!! (Also I am an AVID enjoyer of your mermaid au, the colors you have for the tails are MARVELOUS and bright and just so so fitting for the people they’ve been crafted for)

@jun-hug - your little blob doodles always put a smile on my face!! I have two younger siblings who also enjoy your art and we love ‘awww-ing’ over the adorable drawings you’ve made!!!

[phoenixwrites]

As a follow up to my previous ask, I just wanted to say that I feel like I’m going insane. Some of the hellcheers who have been regularly subtweeting GVD on twitter and are super offended that she responded are also retweeting news in support of Chappell Roan and praising her. How is this not a double standard?

How are some of these hellcheers not acting the same way as the steddies and faze incels that we adamantly criticized?

I was honestly really angry at all these call out and hc/vq harrassement blogs but while I will never condone those awful bullying blogs, I’m feeling really disillusioned with the fandom and this toxicity.

I want to reiterate that there are crazies in every fandom, every ship, and to paint Hellcheers with a broad brush like this isn't fair. Yes, there are bad apples. But please remember Hellcheer is a very tiny ship and you can't accuse all of us because a few are behaving badly.

As I have said from the get-go, the best way to deal with them is to ignore them and focus on your friends. That's why I love the Hellcheer server. If you're in the server, you are not allowed to bash people you share the community with. It is a community built on mutual respect and kindness and if you can't handle that rule, you get banned.

I continue to be angry at Hellcheer and VQ callout blogs because they serve nothing but self-righteous clout and pretend to be "doing a service" to the fandom when all they do is self-aggrandize about how MORAL they are and encourage others to harass users by name. I know you aren't defending them, but I'm a little sick of folks not taking seriously how damaging and hurtful those cesspits are. Even liking a post from them is despicable.

And as always dear, if you are burned out from fandom drama, take a step back. Watch a different show. Protect your peace, no matter what. At the end of the day, these characters are fictional, the actors don't know us, and all that matters is creating art.

[do-angels-dream-of-starry-seas]

I don't have that many popular fanfics, but ill be participating in End OTW Racism. I find their demands well written and understandable, and being clear on not wanting to promote censorship, just to implement hard harassment rules

So what I'll do is:

temporarily change my most popular fic titles, like Kri'les and Dancing With a Partner, to End OTW Racism, and add the tumblr post link to the creator note

For the two week period, I'll make a fic with the same title and update it with a chapter once a day so it stays on the top of the recent filters

Along with adding chapters, I'll add popular fandoms in order to get it seen and not get filtered out easily (I'll delete the fic once the two week period is over)

In the two week period, once a day I'll be sending the OTW Board of Directors an email about End OTW Racism. Mine reads:

Dear OTW Board of Directors, I am writing as part of a movement of fans who are demanding action from OTW on racism within OTW & AO3. It has been 3 years since OTW promised to take action on racist harassment on AO3, and we have seen little to no change.

We want to see the results of your 3 years of work implemented within 3-12 months, including updates to the Terms of Service to address racist harassment, hiring a Diversity Consultant for longer-term antiracism work, and committing to greater transparency on anti-racism work. You can read our full Call to Action and our more detailed demands here: https://www.tumblr.com/end-otw-racism/716978822501875712/fandom-against-racism-a-manifesto?source=share It’s time to act on racism so that OTW and AO3 are inclusive, safer spaces for fans of color. Thank you, Quinn

I encourage my followers and mutuals to do the same

[game-set-canet]

I love Christmas and every year i can't wait for December and Christmas because somehow the Christmas holidays are something really important for me. I love to spend Christmas in a quiet way with my family and every year i write a little letter to my closest friends of how much they mean to me. And i want to do the same here on Tumblr:

Dear mutuals, dear people i love to see on my dash bc you make me happy, dear friends,

my year wasn't easy. There was so much happening in my life in 2022 and a hugh part of it wasn't that positive or beautiful.

But as funny as it might sound i think you guys really helped me through this whole sh*tshow disaster: sometimes with your really sweet and caring dms, sometimes with encouraging comments under my posts, sometimes with very creative and funny asks or just because you made me smile a little with one of your posts.

I love loging on to Tumblr because i know i won't get judged because of things that i do or things i don't do. I know i can be quite ✨special✨ sometimes and i can be really annoying or i don't make any sense. And i know that it's not always easy with me (since i tend to open dms, read them and forget to answer them or stuff like that but i want to say i appreciate every single message you send and i love talking to you).

So i want to say thank you: thank you for listening to my (sometimes really uninteresting) person rambling (and still liking it), to my motogp/2/3 followers: thank you for dealing with my tennis obsession (sometimes I'm not aware that a third of my blog consists of Alcaraz, Rublev and all the other tennis players), to my tennis follower: thank you for dealing with my motogp/2/3 (and Rinaldi) obsession (and sometimes I seem to forget that another third of my blog already consists of posts about how much I love Canet, Bezzecchi and Rinaldi), to my wintersport-fan-followers: thank you for following me although i seem to forget that all the wintersport athletes still exist in summer and don't post a single word about them.

Thank you for making me laugh with your posts, comments and asks. Thank you for often encouraging me when things aren't going so well.

So, to those who celebrate it: Merry Christmas! Apart from that, I wish you all the best, that your wishes and dreams come true and also (although today is December the 24th) all the best for 2023.

Every single one of you deserves the world and I probably wouldn't have made it through the year without you.

Yours, Mira

thank you to everyone who follows me and therefore reads this!

and a special 'thank you' for your dms/asks/comments or just that you are on Tumblr and post:

@waru-chan8 @colourful--bubbles @lxndonorris @bwehdal @andreyrublevs @lewizhamilton @tam-is-blogging @vivalaxnda @melissa-leaf @augustofernandez37 @soronya @ryoyukobayashis @aliceinqueensland @melxncholyman @charlitosalcaraz @thedutchgirl46 @collecting--stardust @racingmuppett @hola-felicidad @kodachromatics @worldchampionpeccobagnaia @ofbooksandstardust @bahattinscar @acrazybayernfan @kuumaasikas

I'm a 100% sure that i forget someone and i'm terrible terrible sorry! Feel hugged! You're very important to me!

[my-deer-history]

Louis de Végobre to John Laurens, 7 June 1776

My translation into English, followed by a transcription of the French below the cut

English translation

Geneva 7 June 1776

It is time, my dear Friend, that I write to you, I have let Kinloch & Manigault go before me, & I have waited some time, thinking that it would be more agreeable to you to receive news of Geneva at some intervals, than to receive several letters at the same time.

Morse would have sent you my compliments, and would have shown you a sample of my skills in English, I wanted to write to you in the same language, but K told me that I was wrong to do so, and that if I desired to make my letters as good as possible, I should not use any language other than the one that is the most familiar; I must also tell you that I understand English well enough to be aware of a good or a bad style, and that I well recognised that your style, my dear Laurens, is excellent; in truth, your letters are the most pleasant to read, I am talking at present just of the style but at some other time I will speak of the basis which is the principal thing and which has no less truth; but let us speak of it at present. 

Pictet brought me a letter from you which is extremely precious to me, that Letter & the pretty gift that you attached are very agreeable marks of your friendship. You prove this friendship to me in a very convincing manner, the more I make discoveries of your merit, the more this friendship acquires value for me, & lately it has been a very large one; so you can imagine how much this Letter pleased me; I swear to you that this pleasure was very keen. Two causes gave rise to it, I learnt that I was loved & esteemed by you as much as I could have desired; & I saw by the traits of your character that you displayed to me, that you are a Friend of the highest merit. How happy are the Friends who can feel that for one another! No, I conceive nothing that more affirms a man in the career of virtue than the idea that he possesses virtuous friends, in whose eyes he would lose estimation if he degraded himself. 

I am much persuaded, my Dear, that if we could live together our mutual happiness would be augmented; especially when I think of the calamities that surround you, I would desire to be close to you, to witness your fortitude and to offer you the relief of my friendship, which I reduce to tender condolences and firm encouragements: receive them, my Dear, this feeble support; all that I am able to give you, I give as freely as is possible: remember that far from England there exists a man who is sympathetic to all that you suffer, who is touched by all of the wounds that you receive, who views with admiration and transport the heroism of his friend’s feelings, and who foresees with delight the heroism that this friend will put into his actions as soon as circumstances will permit him to act. Be sure that everything that will happen to you will move me greatly. Oh how I would like to fulfil on this occasion the prophecy: it will help to remember this some day.

I thank you for the interest that you have taken in Mr Rilliet, and the news that you have sent me about him, his parents did not know anything about his departure for America, and have not yet learned anything about his arrival in Europe. I am delighted by the acquaintance that you had me make with Mr. Manigault; in the first months of his stay here, I could not do for him what I desired to because I was very occupied with my exams which were approaching, and because I did not want to speak English, which is the only language that Mr Man. speaks.

But since I have been connected with him, and so closely; he takes Geometry lessons with me, I give these to him and in return he gives me ones in French and English literature; we go out together often; we will go on Saturday night to spend the Sunday at Kinloch’s in the countryside, a league away from town. I am very attached to this young man, I desire with all my heart to be of some use to him; and I flatter myself that my acquaintance could be of some advantage to him, at least if I apply myself as much as I can. 

I am very happy with him. His health has been admirably fortified, he has been cured of small inconveniences, and is vigorous, all he needs to do is grow up. He is disposed to study, to boredom, to learning and to talents; without doubt, if his poor health had until now not derailed his education, there would be more liveliness and nerve in his current labours, but I must tell you in this respect that he makes progress every day: that which he does he does well, that which he learns he learns well; and I hope to get him little by little to do serious work that requires attention and struggle, in greater quantity than he has done so far.

His character is excellent; he has a sort of pride which is a precious quality when it does not pass certain limits. He has wit, & he is increasing everyday in all the things in which I had found him somewhat lacking, namely liveliness and energy. When you write to him, I would be grateful if you would repeat to him that he can & that he should regard me as his true Friend in this country. 

I saw this morning our friend Kinloch: what shall I tell you of him which you don’t already know? That admirable man lately spends his life studying politics, History & Jurisprudence: his goal is to become useful to humanity & above all to the country: if ever man deserved to succeed, it’s surely him. I regard it is as one of the joys of my life to have become his friend. 

I saw Pictet frequently: we have greatly enjoyed ourselves, him in speaking to me, me in hearing him speak of London and our English friends: how these conversations reignite my desire to travel & above all for a trip to England! I compliment you for your part; & I add to the list of sincere [givers] of compliments Jurvettini, Naville & Martin. All these friends follow the thorny & dangerous career of law & of Politics, Naville above all devotes himself to it entirely, & and already figures honourably among the Lawyers. 

As for me, I do not feel much for my title of Lawyer and for my little insights into Jurisprudence; I continue to live in the manner in which you saw me live, peacefully studying different sciences that make me happy, and by means of which I can perhaps become useful to other people. I confess to you however that I find my current life too uniform and too peaceful; I feel that in the time of my youth I should experience more restlessness than I experience, I should do and think more, and I do the opposite: a useful and agreeable agitation that I would really like to experience is that of travelling_ Whatever happens, I am not at all unhappy.

I must do a little apprenticeship in the art of Travel: I have Parents in Languedoc that desire to know me & that I desire to see, my intention is to go and spend time there this autumn; this little trip should satisfy in part, in truth a very small part, my general desire to run. I intend to go at the beginning of September, so if you wish to procure for me the pleasure of your letters, make sure they reach me before my departure. 

Compliments and compliments from me to dear Morse; I wrote to him at the start of last month.

[written in English by de Vegobre] I will let you Know that the pretty swift you had the Kindness to give me entertains very much Man. & me, and bids me many times a week to thing on you. 

My dear Laurens! I am your Friend.

L de Vegobre

I forgot to talk to you about the philosopher Le Sage, to whom I have given your compliments and who was very touched by them. His literary health being enfeebled, he has been obliged to retract much of the extent of his plan; his friends urged him strongly, seeing that it was impossible to expect anything from him while he was intending to publish all of his discoveries, and with the degree of perfection that his imagination shows and that his exactitude requires. Currently, he is working on this curtailed plan; and if he hopes to see some or other work of his published, there is now very little left to do towards the current project. But this hope, I cannot yet have it as complete as I would like.

French transcription

Geneve 7 Juin 1776

Il est tems, mon cher Ami, que je vous écris, j’ai laissé passer avant moi Kinloch & Manigault, & j'ai attendu quelque tems, pensant qu’il vous serait plus agréable de recevoir des nouvelles de Genève à quelque distance les uns des autres, que de recevoir plusieurs lettres au même tems.

Morse a du vous avoir fait mes compliments, & aura pu vous montrer un échantillon de mon habileté dans l’Anglais, je voulais vous écrire dans la même Langue, mais K. m’a dit que j’avais tort, et que désirant tacher à rendre mes Lettres aussi bonnes que possible je ne devais pas employer d’autre Langue que celle qui n’est la plus familière; il faut pourtant que je vous dise que j’entends assez bien l’Anglais pour être sensible a un bon ou à un mauvais Style, & que j’ai fort bien reconnu que votre style, mon cher Laurens, est excellent; en vérité, vos Lettres sont des plus agréables à lire, je vous parle à présent seulement du Style mais autre fois je vous parlerai du fond qui est bien le principal & que n’a pas moins de vérité; mais, parlons en à présent.

Pictet m’a apporté une Lettre de vous qui m’est extrêmement précieuse, cette Lettre & le joli cadeau que vous y avez joint sont des marques bien agréables de votre amitié. Vous me la témoignez, cette amitié d’une manière très-convaincante; plus je fais des découvertes dans votre mérite, plus cette amitié acquiert des prix pour moi, & actuellement elle en a un très grand; vous pouvez donc penser combien cette Lettre m’a fait de plaisir; je vous jure que ce plaisir a été très vif. Deux causes l’ont fait naître, j’ai appris que j'étais aimé & estimé de vous autant que je pouvais le désirer; & j’ai vu par tour les traits que vous me donnez de votre caractère que vous êtes un Ami du premier mérite. Heureux les Amis qui peuvent sentir cela l’un pour l’autre! Non, je ne conçois rien qui affirmeise plus un homme dans la carrière de la vertu, que l'idée qu’il possède des amis vertueux, dont il perdrait l’estime s’il se dégradait à leurs yeux.   

Je suis bien persuadé, mon Cher, que si nous pouvions vivre ensemble notre bonheur mutuel en serait augmenté; surtout quand je pense aux calamités qui vous environnent, je désirerais d’etre aupres de vous peut être témoin de votre fermeté & vous offrir les secours de mon amitié qui je réduisent à de tendres condolences & a de fermes encouragements: recevez les, mon Cher ami, ces faibles secours; tout ce que je peux vous donner, je vous donne aussi libéralement qu’il est possible: pensez que loin d’Angleterre il existe un homme compatissant à tout que vous souffrez, toutes les blessures que vous recevez parviennent jusqu’a lui, qui voit avec admiration & transport l'héroïsme des sentiments de son ami, & qui prévoit avec délices l'héroïsme que cet Ami mettra dans ses actions dès que les circonstances lui permettront d’agir. Soyez sur que tout ce qui vous arrivera, m'émouvera vivement. Oh que je voudrais realiser dans cette occasion cette prophétie: hoc quondam meminisse juvabit 

Je vous remercie de l'intérêt que vous avez pris a Mr. Rillet, et des nouvelles que vous m’avez fait parvenir de lui, ses parents ne savaient rien de son départ d'Amérique, et n’ont encore rien appris de son arrivée en Europe. Je suis charmé de la connaissance que vous m’avez fait faire avec M Manigault; dans les premiers mois de son séjour ici, je ne peux pas faire pour lui ce que j’aurais désiré parce que j'étais fort occupé à mes examens qui approchaient, et que je ne voulais pas parler Anglais qui était la seule langue que M. Man. entendit. 

Mais depuis je me suis lié avec lui, et assez [étroitement?] ; il prend de moi des leçons de Géométrie, je lui en donne et il m’en donne tout-à-tour de belles lettres françaises et anglaises ; nous nous partons souvent ensemble; nous partons le samedi au soir pour aller passer le Dimanche chez Kinloch à la campagne à une lieue de la Ville.  Je suis fort attachée à ce jeune homme, je désire de tout mon coeur de lui être de quelque utilité; et je me flatte que ma connaissance pourra lui être de quelque avantage, au moins je m’y applique tant que je peux.

Je suis extrêmement content de lui. La santé s’est admirablement bien fortifiée, il est guéri de ses petites incommodités, et est vigoureux, il ne lui manque que de grandir. Il a des dispositions à l'étude, de l’ennui, d’apprendre et des talents; sans doute, si la mauvaise santé n’avait jusqu'à présent pas y dérangé son éducation [crossed out], il y aurait plus de vivacité et de nerf dans ses travaux actuels, mais je dois vous dire qu’a cet egard il fait tous les jours des progrèts : ce qu’il fait il le fait bien, ce qu’il apprend il le apprend bien ; et j'espère de l’amener peu-à-peu à faire des ouvrages sérieux et qui requièrent de l’attention et de la peine, en plus grande quantité qu’il ne l’a fait jusqu’ici . 

Son caractère est excellent; il a une sorte d’orgueil qui est une qualité précieuse quand elle ne passe pas de certaines bornes. Il a d’esprit, & il gagne tous les jours dans ce en quoi je trouvais qu’il manquait un peu, savoir le nerf & l'énergie. Quand vous lui écrivez, je vous prie de lui répéter qu’il peut & qu’il doit me regarder comme son vrai Ami dans ce pays. 

J’ai vu ce matin notre ami Kinloch: qu’ai-je à vous dire de lui que vous ne sachiez déjà? Cet admirable homme passe actuellement sa vie à étudier la Politique, l’Histoire & la Jurisprudence: il a pour but de devenir utile à l'humanité & surtout à la patrie; si jamais homme a mérite de réussir c’est bien lui. Je regarde comme un des bonheurs de ma vie d'être devenu son ami.

J’ai souvent vu Pictet: nous avons eu un grand plaisir, lui a me parler, moi a l’entendre parler de Londres & de nos amis Anglais: combien ces conversations réchauffent mon goût pour les voyages & surtout pour un voyage en Angleterre! Je vous fais des compliments de sa part; & j’ajoute dans la liste des sincères [feseurs?] de compliments Jurvettini, Naville & Martin. Tous ces amis suivent la carrière épineuse & dangereuse du barreau & de la Politique, Naville surtout s’y a donne entièrement, & fait déjà figure honorablement dans ce corps des Avocats. 

Pour moi je me sens peu de mon titre d’Avocat & de mes petites lumières dans la Jurisprudence; je continue a vivre de la manière dont vous m’avez vu vivre, en étudiant tranquillement différentes Sciences qui me rendent heureux, & par le moyen desquelles je pourrai peut être devenir utile à d'autres personnes. Je vous avoue cependant que je trouve ma vie actuelle trop uniforme & trop paisible; je sens que dans le tems de ma jeunesse je devrais éprouver plus d’agitations que j’en éprouve, je devrais plus agir & penser, & je fais le contraire: une agitation utile & agréable que je désirerais bien de me prouver, c’est celle des Voyages ___ quoi qu'il en arrive, je ne me trouve point malheureux.

Je dois faire un petit apprentissage de l’art de Voyager: j’ai des Parents en Languedoc qui désirent de me connaître & que je désire de voir, mon intention est d’y aller faire une course cette Automne; ce petit Voyage satisfera un partie, bien petit a la vérité, de mon désir général pour courir. Je comte de partir au commencement de Septembre, ainsi si vous voulez me procurer le plaisir d’avoir de vos Lettres, faites en sorte qu’elles me parviennent avant mon départ.

Compliments et Compliments de ma part pour le cher Morse ; je luis ai écrit au commencement du mois passé:  

I will let you Know that the pretty swift you had the Kindness to give me entertains very much Man. & me, and bids me many times a week to thing on you. 

My dear Laurens! I am your Friend.

L de Vegobre

J’oubliais de vous parler de philosophe Le Sage auquel j’ai bien fait vos compliments, & qui y a été très-sensible. Sa santé littéraire s’étant fort affaiblie, il s’est vu obligé de retrancher beaucoup de l'étendre de son plan ; ses amis l’y ont fortement exhorté, voyant qu’il était impossible de rien espérer de lui tant qu'il viserait à publier toutes ses découvertes & avec le degré de perfection que son imagination lui représente et que son exactitude requiert. Actuellement il travaille sur ce plan restreint ; & si l’on peut avoir quelque espérance de voir quelque ouvrage de lui publié, c’est à présent que ce qu’il lui reste a faire pour cela est très peu de choses selon le projet actuel. Mais cette espérance, je ne peux pas encore l’avoir aussi complette que je voudrais.

[princess-of-pomefiore]

Hello Author! Could I request some headcanons for how Malleus Draconia, Lilia Vanrouge, Vil Schoenheit, & Epel Felmier react when they drink a potion to see the red string of fate for a class, and discover that their string is not only wrapped tightly around S/O’s pinky, but that S/O’s string is also wrapped around theirs (Signifying them both as mutual destiny/magic blessed soulmates)

Idk if this is too cheesy lol, but I couldn’t help myself! I love soulmate AU’s (I’ll totally request more if you like this one author XD)

-Soulmate AU Anon

Oh my god. You’re not the only one who loves soulmate au’s. I’m such a sucker for them. So much that I turned these into mini scenario’s instead of headcanons. I hope you don’t mind! And you’re more than welcome to come back with more soulmate au’s! 💜

Crewel had been in an awfully good mood that day, and had granted the class the opportunity to brew a potion that would let the students see the red string of fate. The possibility of seeing who their soulmate was encouraged many students to do their best. Finally, the potions were finished and after approval of Crewel that they were safe, the students were allowed to drink their own potions.  

Brewing the potion itself was a breeze for Malleus. He waited to drink from his potion only because it was part of the assignment, knowing it was safe and working for sure. Finally, after Crewel praised him as a good boy, he took a sip of the potion.  

Malleus didn’t get his hopes up when he did, knowing that it was rare for someone to meet their soulmate. With how long he had lived already, it was very possible that his soulmate had already passed away.  

What surprised him was not that there was a red string, but how tightly the string was bound around his pinky finger. He was sure that if this string was physical, it would cut off the blood flow to that finger, and possibly even cut the skin. His eyes followed the string, and his eyes widened as he saw the other side of the string attached to your pinky finger, just as tight as around his.  

You had no idea, you were still brewing your potion, and in your focus, you were unaware of his gaze. Imagine the chances that now, of all times, he tried to make this potion, and his soulmate was standing just a few tables away from him. Shock slowly made way for a smile as the meaning of the string sank in. He had found you. His soulmate. The person he was destined to be with.  

Malleus quickly looked away, waiting for you to see it for yourself instead of being able to read it from his face. From the corner of his eyes, he watched you finish up your potion and drink it. Your eyes went down to your pinky finger, over the ground... and landed on him. Only then did Malleus look up to you and smile. The shock on your face made him smile even more, despite him knowing he likely looked the same only minutes earlier. He got up from his chair and walked over to you.  

“My dear Y/N... I knew you were special when I met you, and this only proves it. You were made to be the most special person in the world to me. There is much more I’d like to say to you but... perhaps those would be better suited for a more private occasion. Would you like to have dinner with me tonight? Just you and me?”  

Lilia wasn’t too excited about the assignment. Sure, brewing a potion like this wasn’t too hard, but meeting the one person who was supposed to be your soulmate out of the billions of people on this world? It was a long shot. It was an assignment though, and he had no problem doing it. He only hoped you wouldn’t be too disappointed when you saw your pinky wouldn’t be tied to his. He took the potion but didn’t look down at his pinky, instead looking over at you. Crewel had just approved of your potion as well.

Your eyes looked down to your pinky finger and you were surprised. Looking at your pinky finger, Lilia was surprised too. You were tied to your soulmate so strongly. It was often seen as a blessing, and a sign that you’d meet your soulmate for sure. A hint of hope flared up inside of Lilia. What if? It was so unlikely... but even if the odds were one in billions... the possibility was still there.  

The hope only flared up when your eyes landed on him. Unable to stand the uncertainly any longer, he looked down at his own pinky, seeing his string tied strongly as well. Following the thread, the noticed your pinkies were tied together. His eyes met yours once again, and surprise quickly made way for a big smile. Not a second later Lilia appeared behind you, wrapping his arms around you and resting his head on your shoulder. He held his hand next to yours, watching the two fingers wrapped tightly in the red string. His hand lifted yours to his face where he placed a kiss on your pinky, right over the red string. You could hear the grin in his voice as he spoke.  

“Well well Y/N, look at that! The chance of meeting your soulmate is so small, and yet look at our fingers! I guess we really were meant to be, huh? That’s good though! We’re super lucky! I honestly didn’t think I’d ever find my soulmate. Now that I’ve got you though, you bet I’m going to treasure you. Maybe I should cook for us tonight?”  

It was no surprise to Vil when his potion got full marks. Sure, it was a challenging potion to make, but with everything Vil makes himself in his spare time, following a recipe was like a walk in the park. Vil was about to drink his potion, when he heard the harsh voice of profession Crewel from the table next to his, your table. Your potion had failed. He lowered the cup and looked over, seeing your disappointed face as Crewel walked away.  

“Are you alright?” Vil asked.   “Yes. I just... was looking forward to seeing the string? You’ll have to tell me if ours are connected.”  

Vil heard the disappointment in your voice and his heart felt like it broke just a little. He hated seeing you anything but happy. His sadness was soon replaced with a smile though, as he knew the perfect solution to this little problem. With a small grin, he handed you his cup.

“How about you tell me instead?” he said with a smile. Your eyes widened.   “Vil? Are you sure?”   “Of course. Now drink it.”  

You did. Vil watched as you looked down at your pinky, following a trail only you could see, before your eyes landed on his hand. Vil felt as if there were fireworks going off in his chest, knowing what that meant.  

“They’re connected...” Vil heard the disbelief in your voice, and it made him smile. “They’re tied super tight as well. I’m pretty sure if this was a real string, that’d hurt a lot.”  

That statement only made Vil smile more.  

“My love, that means that we’re more blessed than others. The tighter the string, the more it was meant to be. The more the universe, magic, fate, destiny... whatever you want to call it, it working towards bringing us together.”   “That’s amazing... but Vil, aren’t you sad you don’t see the string?”   “Darling, seeing your face light up as you followed that string back to me means so much more to me than seeing the thing myself. Your smile is much more beautiful, after all.”  

It was an advanced potion, and Crewel had allowed students to work together, though the judging would still be separate. You and Epel jumped at the opportunity, brewing your potions together in the exact same way. It was something both fun and nerve-wrecking. Doing this as a couple added some significance, certainly if it turned out to be you were soulmates. But that was stuff that happened in fairy tales, and this was the real world. There was a big chance that the string would go off into the distance, and not to each other. Despite that though, you both had fun and joked as usual while brewing the potion, leaving those worries for later.  

When Crewel finally judged your potions and gave you two the approval you needed, you drank the potion. Immediately, Epel’s eyes shot down to his hands. He noticed the string, tied tightly around his pinky. He remembered reading something about it in the textbook earlier, but that became a though for later when his glaze followed the red string, to the seat next to him, to your finger.  

He heard you mention his name and looked up, briefly locking eyes with you before looking away again. He had never guessed you two would actually be soulmates. This was his first relationship, and he barely knew what he was doing. To now find out that you two were meant to be? It overwhelmed him. Of course he was happy, but what was he supposed to do now? How was he supposed to react?  

Slowly he looked back to you, making up his mind on what to do now. He gave you a smile, before motioning you to wait for a little. He pulled the textbook in between the two of you, and after some searching, he pointed out the part he had been looking for.  

“Look here. ‘The tighter the string is attached, the more blessed the soulmates are, and the more likely they are to meet each other’. Y/N I... I will do my best to be a good boyfriend. I will try to- no, I will make you happy. So... ehm... what I’m trying to say is that... I really... really like you.”  

[hannahhook7744]

Chaudrey Friendship headcanons;

Summary; my headcanons about Chad Charming and Audrey Rose's friendship requested by my dear friend @cleverqueenchild .

🤴👑👸🤴👑👸🤴👑👸🤴👑👸🤴👑👸🤴👑👸

Audrey dyes her hair pink exactly one time after the events of descendants 3.

She dyes it back less than a month later after noticing how Chad would flinch when she moved too quickly when her hair was pink.

Chad can't stand pink hair after the events of descendants 3. It freaks him out.

His claustrophobia have worsened after it as well, much to Audrey's guilt.

They've known eachother since they were babies.

They were tutored by the same tutors growing up and knowing that they were expected to rule once their parents stepped down as the royalers of their kingdoms, which can put alot of stress on a kid.

They have a ton of inside jokes between the two of them.

After the hair don't situation in wicked world, Chad tried to cheer Audrey up by telling her that the hair do wasn't that bad and that it actually looked pretty nice.

She didn't believe him but appreciated the sentiment.

Both of them are neat freaks and obsessed with looking their best-- which was drilled into them by Leah and the harsh critics that are the paparazzi.

When Audrey was learning how to apply make up, she used Chad as a practice dummy. She still does occasionally.

They use to sword fight together when they were kids and occasionally they'll sneak out to do so in the present.

They are both forced to do community service and into therapy after the events of d3. For once, niether of them complain.

They are one another's best friend and confidante. They tell things they wouldn't tell anybody else.

Audrey was the one who straightened Chad's hair for the first time and the one who introduced him to hair spray and hair gel. He's been obsessed with the two things ever since.

Audrey was the one who first encouraged Chad to try out for Tourney and the Swords and shields team-- thinking and hoping that it would give him a confidence boost and make him less jealous of others. It only partly worked.

When one is in trouble, the other doesn't hesitate to answer the call. Which is one of the many reasons that they're closer to eachother over their other friends.

Leah doesn't like Chad. The feeling is not mutual because he is desperate for her approval, especially after his beloved grandfather's death.

Leah always stressed how important it was was Audrey that she marry a prince, which is why Chad ended up becoming a back up for her in case things didn't work out with Ben.

Chad wasn't upset when he found out that they weren't actually dating and when he found out that Audrey didn't return his feelings. No really he wasn't. At least that's what he tells himself.

Chad's feelings for Audrey is just one of the many, many reasons he grew to resent Ben despite the fact that he was one of his closest friends.

Audrey didn't realize this until well after d3 and it just adds to the growing mountain of things she feels guilty about.

When confronted about the whole situation with Chad by Jane of all people, a stunned and slightly hurt (but understanding ) Audrey insisted that she didn't know how he felt about her at the time and that if she had, she never would have fake dated him.

It's one of the many, many things they talk about in therapy.

They make sure the other eats when they get overworked or upset. They both like pumpkin lattes.

The two of them have large social media followings and often collab with one another.

They grew codependent on one another when they realized they were drifting apart from the large majority of their friends prior to d1 and no one really noticed- noticed until after the events of Queen of mean when they realized that it was driving Chad insane when Audrey was avoiding him out of gulit for what she did.

Their friendship is alot healthier when they're older.

They learned how to play the piano together.

They were the first numbers in eachothers' first phones.

They have eachother listed as the other's emergency contact when they are both single.

They compliment eachother alot and usually have to talk down the other from doing anything too crazy. Which doesn't always work. But hey at least they try, am I right?

They never forgot the others' birthday and always try to be there or at least have a small gift when the day comes up.

They use to joke and dream about running away together when they were kids.

It always went like this; they'd run as far and fast as they could until they found a place far enough away from all the responsibilities and pressure and name calling and find a nice cottage to live in until they found their true loves. Chad would become a model like he always wanted and Audrey would become a professional ice skater and they'd travel the world until they found what they were looking for.

They obviously never got to but they both still remember those late night talks and just how well they had planned everything out. They had even picked out a color for the drapes.

When one of them can't sleep, they'll spend hours on the phone talking to one another until they can. This mainly comes from Audrey's fear that she won't wake up if she does go to sleep.

Chad never once complains though.

Chad always avoided small spaces growing up haunted by the stories of what his mother went through and one particularly horrible game of hide out seek.

Audrey helped him by usually getting whatever he needed from said spaces for him.

He grew out of it /claimed he did but in reality just toughed it out once they got to highschool.

And coincidentally, after the whole Audrey turning evil thing, his extreme avoidance of small spaces has returned. Which is totally coincidental. No he will not elaborate.

[kthynes]

THE MIXOLOGIST 🍸 (4/7)

part four: tom collins

previous part

SERIES MASTERLIST

pairing: bartender!steve rogers x fem!reader; fem!reader x andy barber

summary: after a rough break up you find yourself frequenting the same bar every night where you’re tended to by Steve who helps you through your heartbreak.

word count: ~5.9k

warnings: 18+ nsfw. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT — This part contains: course language, smut-ish thots, mutual pining, yearning, bit of slow burn. Character epiphanies.

Reblogs, likes and comments are encouraged! And as self explanatory as it should be, please do not copy and/or translate my works onto any other platforms. Cheers!

This series has not been beta’d so any mistakes are my own.

“What do you think about Tom Collins?”

You were perused like a sullen deer on headlights the moment you set your purse down, winded by Steve’s ever lending cogency that follows. There’s no hi, hello or a ‘how are you?’ Just a tall order of perfidy that bubbles in a polished Collins glass. And so with that, you take what’s given with reciprocation.

“Like the drink? Cheers.” You lift your brows and hasten a quick sip.

“And the goading gentleman to your right.” Steve adds. A mouse-like sound escapes from your lips and part way into the drink that you were ambitiously trying to double down.

“Don’t look yet…” He confides a little too quickly, pardoning your cadence that overtures by the second. You were the least bit curious, studying the moiety bartender who never backed down from a charismatic dare. Ever.

“I can’t believe you.” You shake your head with disbelief, mouthful and embittering the aftertaste of club soda while swatting away a questionable water stain that blotches the front of your silk tie blouse.

Great. You mumble your tyrannies, eyes flitting to the godly super soldier who pillory pins you with a similar look.

“What?” He innocently garbles while drying glassware on rotation. The long braided end of the muddling spoon hangs between his teeth and lips, holding onto dear life as he coyly turns to unload the dishwasher.

Today was like no other. You were in a continuous row of meetings when his late-afternoon text read: ‘Come by tonight. I need to see you, it’s dire.’

Unimaginable on any front, Steve's dinky little Nokia finally gave way and that’s how you were settled back at the bar, diaphragm painfully pressed up against the ledge and barely squeezing by in a full house. It’s some fucking night and you can’t tell if it’s a harbinger open mic or your inferred commisseration that’s on for show.

“This isn’t a matter of life or death, Steve. I’m not supposed to be here. Also what’s in this? Tastes a little out of the ordinary.” You point to your partially spilt drink, trying to remember the acquired taste of lemonade. “Straight up battery acid and laundry detergent.”

“You’d know?” He pops the spoon out and tosses it back in the wash basin. No one lampoons his craft, not even the woman he inexplicably revered.

“Fine! Don’t tell me… Like I care.” You flippantly counter. Steve chuckles, shaking his head that strums out the palatial house music. Your suffering came easy. He’d almost always see for it.

“It’s Yuzu juice, you spazz.” He adds, reaching for your glass and doubtlessly sipping on the drink himself.

“Yuzu what?” The way your eyes lit up was a glimmering prospect that Steve could not get enough of. He would have to hold your face right to gaze into them longingly, desperate to wane that connection.

Don’t do this to me. He mentally berates himself on your behalf, a tendon in his jaw flexes, feeling impalpably short handed.

“I guess not all types of lemons make lemonade.” He polishes off your drink for you and then goes back to tweaking the recipe. “Why don’t we try out John then.”

John Collins another reverted classic but with whiskey. You release a noncommittal grunt, distracted in your undoing as Steve relinquishes a cathartic smile.

“Tell me if this needs more bourbon.” The super soldier is saccharine, nudging another partially made drink with laser-like focus. Amongst the nightly kerfuffle, he’s curious to know and as the glass touches your plump lips, you’re disregarded again.

“Oh! Sorry!” A large bodied patron tumbles into you, preceding your fruitless conquest. Most of the aged bourbon now weighs down your top, the rest on the counter where the glass rolls on its side. Thank goodness for unbreakable glassware.

“Here, I got it.” Steve assures the crowd, sweeping in with another tea towel.

“You’ve got to be shitting me.” Last to start a fight, your hands come down from the high heavens and smack against your thighs, gawking like a fish out of water.

“Fuck I am so sorry.” The stocky stranger groans, jamming his hands through his mane, disbelievingly slow.

“Come out back and I’ll get you a spare shirt.” Steve discerns, swiping a hand under to unlock the half table as a gesture to get you in. But then a swarm of frat boys call out to him, demanding to be serviced.

“Just deal with them.” You dismiss.

Steve gives you an unsatisfactory one over, watching you release a long, fulsome breath. He can’t help but be distracted by the way your blouse clings onto the contours of your perfectly rounded breasts, the wet buttons nearly coming undone in the middle and further easing your frustrations. From a short distance, he could hear you moan a breathy little ‘fuck me’ over and over again. Invariably different from the literal meaning itself.

“Hey man.” Shit.

“You boys, uh, good for another round?” Steve comes out of a dazed state, quickly looking away for his own good.

“Hell yeah we are.” A Nordic blonde pipes with a hearty laugh. He has a small entourage of friends that gather next to him and look to the other, enthusiastic conversations overlapping their youthful mien while you’re pushed aside at their leisurely precedence.

“I am so very sorry about that.” One of his friends (presumed) extends to you, still by your side and close in your ear. You stiffen upright, crooning away from his ticklish aura. “S’not bad right?”

“I’m good, um, thanks.” You inspect the stain, swatting at it to no avail.

“I think you missed a spot there.” He adds, half lidded while pointing right at your chest. You shield yourself away and soon a Seth Rogen type of cackle shakes his form, obnoxiously disturbing.

“Oh for fucks sake.” You curse at your wits end, letting the sodden wet patch bear its own defeatist tale to tell. He caws a resounding ‘what’ that volleys between his friends.

“Let’er be Patsy.” A gangly brunette in a varsity hoodie reaches over and grabs the swaying giant by the collar, pulling him into a one arm chokehold. “Sorry ‘bout our friend, love. He’s a big dumb lug.”

“Fuck you, Anders.” They share a laugh and that’s when you lose yourself in an unwarranted cockamamie. “I was just tryn’a be… nice.” He coyly trails.

“Nice, huh?” Varsity jock snickers. Steve tucks his bottom lip in, returning to a pile up of drinks that were served on rotation. You stuck it to him as he worked the bend, ignoring the men next you who were way too young to entertain.

“You know I had a pivotal pitch to make. A multi-million dollar project just outside midtown Manhattan, for a long time investor and you just had to—“

“Do you trust me?” Steve interjects, grabbing a large glass bottle of what looked like Ketel One. The decanter is tossed up, down, behind his back and then over his shoulder with expertise. Show off.

“Now why would I do that?” You snap, tone deathly abhorrent. He finishes off his baton bottle work and begins to pour six shots at once.

“Why wouldn’t you?” He’s patronizing you. “Here you are fellas, cheers.”

“Ay cheers! Thanks man.” The surfer blonde bounces his brows at Steve, sliding a crisp ten before gathering and passing around the shots.

“Point to the nearest bridge and I’ll jump.” You state once it’s just the two of you duking it out.

“How ‘bout I point you to him instead.” He nods to the side while pouring some hard ciders into a frosted slim Jim.

“Steve.” You wail.

“Go on.”

Past the herd of patrons you spot a polished tycoon, ten seats down, sporadically clad in a dark blue, French made suit like a Wall St imperialist.

It’s a sight when your eyes meet in the polarizing darkness for the first time. He’s straight backed and almost eager to see you, a flat fist on his hip while the other hand softly flexes against the countertop. The vying apprehension is impalpable. He forces a hurried smile in your general direction and you did nothing but remain astute. Was he there this whole time? Watching? Hoping? Waiting?

“Like what you see?”

There wasn’t a bewitching iota of care as your bored gaze looms over his physique, noticing his thick tree trunk legs spread apart over the small round bar stool. He must’ve been uncomfortable, a pariah in a localist bar filled with hoppers and tosspots as Wes would eloquently put.

But a businessman (like him) meant business even while wooing their pursuit in gander. Although, this particular mogul in seized questioning had broad spanning shoulders, shapely arms and large feet to euphemize.

“Fuck this.” You shake your head, routing an escape.

Here’s the thing; mystery suit man wasn’t necessarily bad to look at. Very good looking to the teeth, freckle and beard. But you knew his type. A financial broker of some sort, an Alpha constant, someone you’d have to one up by means of survival. Your ex was the same animal. There’s no way you could break even or fall back.

“Don’t be like that, Y/N.” Steve softly agonizes.

“Is that really his name?” You question as the corner of your mouth twitches.

“His father owns a large corporate distillery, so he occasionally comes by to market inventory and close accounts while at it.” Steve incubates with a story, meeting your gaze that gyps his longtime associate. “Great guy.”

“I see and what does that have to do with me?” You stupidly wonder.

Steve, who is a little side tracked, wipes his hands on the back of his starchy Levi’s, carefully looking around his workstation for a stray muddler or a dowel in sight. As he tries to wield his attention, a stern divot forms in between his brows. His thoughts are a little divisive so he lets it be.

“Well, it just so happens that he’s seen you frollicking around the bar and has taken quite the interest. And I figured why not help a brother out.” He gives a crinkly eyed grin that doesn’t touch your heart.

“In me?” You’re gaffed. “I’m the pursuit?”

“Yes, you, of all people. Hi there, what can I get started for you?” He expertly turns his attention towards a shifty middle aged man in a J. Crew polo and khakis.

“Oh, um, I’m undecided at the moment.” He hums, distracted by his mobile.

“No rush.”

“So by accepting his drink I have to talk to him?” You retest, pointing to nothing. The glass was upright and empty.

“That would be an exemplary thing to do, seeing as you already put your dirty little mouth on it.” On the contrary, you both did.

“Yeah I don’t know if I’m ready to be pursued yet or punished for that matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because I just got out of a long, withholding relationship and the last thing I need is to get back in the game to eternalize those traumas.”

“That was over 6 months ago, Y/N. You’re allowed to talk to people, take things slow.” Steve muses, gallant and loud. “Y’know rock the boat if you will.”

“You clearly don’t get it… I mean look at your handy -you do the jerk off motion- roster.” You remind him of his self care tendencies.

“Works for me.” He holds up his trusty right hand which is clasped over a steel shaker and then starts fisting another spuming cocktail in conjecture. “Also, I don’t tell you these things for you to hold it over my head.”

Steve’s slightly embarrassed to admit that he hasn’t been on a proper date in a long time. Partly because being a worldly superhero rarely afforded him a plausible (and pleasurable) love life. So in more ways than one you both were akin to unavailability by definition and example.

“But I’m your informant who by happenstance makes you feel so fucking good about yourself... Tell me I’m right.”

“Not even the slightest.” So he says.

“Look Steve, I’m a complete weirdo. I like being on my own and left alone.”

“That’s fine. Your weirdness might be his kink.” You’re just about to open your mouth and say something, he curtly cuts you off. “But he just wants to get to know you.”

“And then what?” Your tone goes up an octave as if there aren't enough people who don’t know your business.

“See how he’s like first and if he’s not top shit then it’s back to square one, wherever the hell that is.”

“You’re out of your mind. Why are you doing this?” While casting a downward gaze, Steve cracks a gentle smile that irks every fiber of your being. “I’m serious.”

“I don’t know, I mean… I’d like to think that I care outside of my own spatial awareness.” He pauses, inquisitively biting down on his lower lip while muddling some berries, grinding harder when a more perverse thought hits him. “Also when was the last time you got laid?”

“Excuse me? That’s none of your business.” You squeak.

“So then make it his.” He chides, leaning in close to get a not-so-secretive point across. “Blow his mind, dick, whatever. Just don’t be so damn closed off.”

“You’re peacocking me.”

“Peacocking you?” Steve snorts at the term. “If anything your feathers are being unnecessarily ruffled right now.”

“I can’t be put out like this, Steve! I am not OK.” You grovel which then turns into contempt. “Do you understand that or do I have to talk stupid for you to get it?”

“Okay you know what… We’re gonna talk.” You faintly mutter a ‘fuck that.’ He ignores you. There are things being set aside, distinct clatter that mingles with the jive bar music playing above. You’re a little disappointed. Steve is nothing but determined.

He finally finishes up and passes off a diddly order to Wes before meeting you at eye level. He’s about to get real with you and that’s when your heart drops into your asshole. Inconsequentially, no one should do that to you but he does so anyways.

“Now before you throw a shit fit, I can assure you that he’s nothing like your ex. Just like you aren’t the same person you were when you first came into this bar. I mean do you remember how fucking insufferable you were?”

“You never let me see the day.”

“Yeah well, I took a chance on you... So let him.” Steve apprehended you with a terse, idiosyncratic look.

“God you are so un-fucking-believable.” You finally grit on the edge of consideration.

He lets out an airy little laugh while standing up straight. “I think what you’re trying to say is ‘thank you Steve for being so kind and considerate.’”

“Never that.”

“Here, let me get you both a booth started… That way I’m at peace.” He pushes back and calls over Ian to settle this arrangement, once and for all.

The more you flip flopped the less inclined you’d be to actually go on this date and Steve wanted you to be happy again. Not just with him but without him. He wanted you to consider someone new and young and exciting and human. Someone who’d make you feel whole and loved. Appreciated and valued. Someone who’d kiss you like their last breath and hold you closely. Steve wanted you for someone else and this seemed to be the only way to harbour off the impetuous feelings he had for you since that night he first met you.

“Oh my god, this is really happening.” You panic, both hands caging your face. Steve takes the lead, guiding you down the strip in slow stride. He patiently watches your resolve crumble even though you gracefully hold to your own. “I don’t think I shaved.”

“Don’t sweat it. You look absolutely gorgeous tonight irregardless of the titty stain–” his eyes fail to look away as they land on your chest. Your skin is set ablaze, a hand landing protectively on your chest.

“I’m gonna knock your two front teeth out.” He’d like to see you wrestle and try.

“You’ll be fine, here take this.” He manages to grab a spare shirt. His spare shirt. The one that he changed out of prior to his shift. You owlishly stare at him, imposing your innocence and disregard before he offers some sage assurance. “Just say when and I’ll get you out.”

“When.” You grab the waffle knit Henley, making yourself small in the ascend.

“Try that in Mandarin.” He levels up.

“I don’t know Mandarin!” You whisper yell.

“Exactly. You got this.” He turns to the man now stationed in front of you. “She’s all yours my friend.”

“Hi.” The handsome stranger lets out a breathy chuckle while slipping out of the stool and onto his feet. Standing at an impressive, neck breaking height, you’re completely enchanted. You swallow a thick bundle of nerves caught in your windpipe, wordlessly stock still. Shit.

“Hi!” You fucking cringe. “It’s… It’s Tom, right?”

“Tom? Oh no it’s, uh, Andy, Andy Barber.” He pageants a sheepish little half grin.

This fucker. “An-dy, right, I… I’m so sorry I thought–”

“By no fault of your own. I know Steve.” He dismissively shakes his head, clearly in on a joke that you failed to comprehend.

“Don’t we all?” You mutter.

“Cuuuute.” Ian appears from the throngs of people, briefly looking (gawking) at you first and then slowly eyes Andy who purses his lips into a grim smile. There’s a bit of a hold up as he starts swiping away on his iPad, face contorting over the bright blue lit hue.

“Alriiiight and we are all set! I can have you both seated now. Right this way.”

🍸

They say in the presence of absence you can almost feel everything and it’s true. You felt your heartbeat clamor to an uneven tempo, palms clammy and chafed as they glide along the runs in your black stockings, rubbing up and down, barely corroding friction.

Your ex once said: ‘You’d be prettier if you smiled.’ Uneasily, you grimaced.

There’s a long, rafting silence that follows until your drinks are finally placed in front of you. You stick to water and Andy chooses to have a sweaty pilsner. Compliments of the house, of course.

“Are you sure you don’t want something a little stronger?” He teases, quickly thanking the waitress on standby.

“I’m good for now, thanks.” You take a distracted sip of water, eyes wandering the annex, hotly turning away from the gorgeous man plucked for your pleasure. Andy, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to mind your nervousness because he’s right there with you.

“Well, let me know if you change your mind because I can definitely recommend some on brand items.” He takes a rivaling swig and studies your exact facial proportions up close for the first time. Like Steve and any other man in the precipice, your striking beauty is an immeasurable mark. Even Andy catches himself staring a second too long.

“Of course.” You finally unnerve a smile that sees a new light of day and he nods, understandably.

“I know you probably weren’t expecting to be set up.” He states, scratching the porous surface all while you let out a haphazard chuckle.

“It’s been awhile that’s for sure. But I guess we all have to start somewhere right?” You wearily confess, pressing your lips together in a thin line.

“Yeah.” He exhales, reliving many instances where he’s tried to put himself out there but failed miserably. There’s some silent wallowing and now you took pity on him, straightening your back a little.

“So tell me one thing, Andy.” You begin, pulling him from his self-doubts with a saccharine look.

“Lay it on me.” He hums almost immediately, matching your coy demeanour at par. He was undeniably handsome so you decided to give him the time of night.

“Why liquor?” You lean up against the table, concurring a congenial approach. A small, delighted smile tugs at the corners of his bearded mouth, entertaining your fervour with his own.

He lowers his chin, letting you in on his sworn secrecy that takes a crack at your inquisition. “I’m glad you asked.”

🍸

Steve hears your melodically in tune laughter. An open soliloquy, much likeness to you, weaves through an unassuming crowd that rushes the works of a good cocktail and personal milieu. Midst it all, you were being unintentional and cute, letting your hair down for once, chasing a pursuit.

Steve candidly takes turns working the pike while you’re hysterical about cereal being soup.

“You can’t be so literal.” You cock your head to side, leaning into the conversation more with poise.

“Why not?” Andy pushes back. He has an arm splayed over the top of the vinyl seating as you begin to encroach his space. You’re both facing each other, bodies turned at an angle and away from the crowd. Andy, respectfully, admires your free-spiritedness and childlike wonder. You were more so taken by his dissuasion, at ease with the fact that Andy Barber was truly as good as they came.

“Bloody Mary’s.” You finally conjure.

“Bloody Mary’s.” Andy echoes, his hand makes a fist and then he lies the side of his head against it, completely beguiled.

“That’s soup.”

“Oh yeah?” He mocks you, earnestly laughing in return.

“Yes!” You harrumphed, voice carrying over.

“Why didn’t I think of that?” Andy’s eyes thin out over another sip of beer.

“Because you were trying to be funny.”

“And did it work?” He states, expectantly. Your mouth is drawn open and his gaze flickers for a quick second. You were about to say something insignificant and coy. Steve took the time to listen closely, his movements slow down and there’s some acclimating trepidation.

“Hey Steve, table 3 ordered some margs awhile back and they haven’t been served yet.” Matt swoops in after clearing his bar end. All the worry lines are apparent as he stalls by dishwasher. “What’s the hold up my guy?”

“I’m on it.” Steve distances himself at keel. His hawk-like eyes are still fixated on you, engrossed by every little misdemeanour for show.

Your words are amiss now. The smile on your face is tenfold. Andy matches your gracious tenure with a little self-satisfied grin and that resonated with Steve when he felt infatuation (and agitation) at its best. Without a doubt you were giving your blind date the same repertoire you’d belly Steve with and that didn’t sit right with the super soldier himself as he sludges crushed ice into a chalice.

“Is he supposed to be the one?” Matt inquires, folding his arms over his chest.

“He’s a possibility.” Steve answers while briefly looking over his shoulder. The other bartender huffs while leaned up against the churning machine. He’s tentative on holding back but then goes against his own moral code, purely out of chaos.

“Does she know that he’s a widow?” Matt makes himself useful again, passing limes in an attempt to speed up and sour the process. “A father on the mend.”

“Does it matter?”

“I guess not.” He grumbles to himself.

“Honest thoughts… Go on, I wanna hear it.” Steve challenges. Matt rolls his eyes, prying open another drink mixer.

“No you don’t.” He exhausts.

“Try me.”

The two men box step around the narrow strip, wordlessly shelving a tray of missed margaritas. This goes on for a bit before there’s a grievance in order.

“Look man, Andy's great and all. Sublime even. But he’s so far down the line, don’t you think?” Matt carefully advises while straining to decant fresh lime juice into each goblet.

“He’s good for her.” Steve forewarned, passing the attendant another bottle of orange liqueur. He offers what he thinks is palatable for the mix but Matt feels otherwise.

“Now that’s some unconvincing bullshit.” He berates. “Also pass me the Curaçao.”

“Why don’t you ever look out for her?” Steve stops midway into his absent cocktail mastery. One martini glass down, many others empty.

“Because I know where we stand.” Matt snorts. “Whereas your inclination is a little different. Curaçao.”

“Don’t.” Steve grits, finally sliding the requested bottle across the vinyl.

“I see the way you look at her, brother.” Matt patronizes him. “It doesn’t get past me one bit and that’s fine, feelings are funny like that.”

Steve cocks his head aside with a resigned look, jaw ticking in place when their eyes meet. Was it that obvious?

“Just make sure when the time comes that you let her down easy…” He uncorked the bottle, gracing his friend a tight smile. “However your superhuman heart tells you so.”

“I’m not trying to hurt her.” The honey blonde bar back defends, running a hand over his bearded mouth.

“I’m not!” He hears himself fretfully repeating the statement, jolted with guilt.

“I get that. But if you aren’t being honest with your intentions then you’re no better than her ill advised ex.” Matt reminds him. He finishes up and quickly plates the margaritas, garnishing each drink with a lime slice. “Do right by her and maybe she’ll owe you another lifetime.”

“We’ll see about that.” Steve ponders over the idea of his lifetime versus yours and if the wait would be worthwhile.

“Hey man I hate to boss the boss but can we pick up the pace?” Matt states in close proximity to Steve, earning him a shove.

“Fuck outta here.”

🍸

The evening crowd lulls out by the eleventh hour. Stools are being flipped over the small serving tables. There’s some collective chaos as Steve peruses by, ceaselessly endeavouring his managerial duties. He’s bounded by his wait staff who’d constantly approach him, curtailing his need to keep after you.

But you were fine. Swilled by the sweetest wines and cocktails. Andy took good care of you, making sure your tasting flights were in order and water was plentiful. He was a true gentleman. Steve did good by you this time. You owed him that.

“Thank you for tonight.” You hum, standing your ground while a bustle of servers pass by. They’re just as smitten by you and Andy who stare eye to eye at a cordial distance. From out of the blue Shaylene gawks with a double thumbs up. Her contentious approval makes you breathe laughter, bowing your head.

“Shaylene?” Andy surmises, curious enough to look over his shoulder.

You nod lazily. “The one and only.”

“Always onto me.” He clucks, shaking his head. “All in good fun though.”

“Of course.” You add while rummaging through your purse.

“Hey, I was thinking… we should, um, do this again sometime.” He offers, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “If you’re up for it, that is.”

“I’d like that.” You look up from your phone to see his brows shoot up to his gelled hairline, mouth forming a puckered ‘o.’ He’s taken aback. But then again was there supposed to be a catch?

“Great!” He exhales after holding his breath for some time. Relieved. “Wow, OK! We can, um, definitely make that happen.”

“You were really holding off there, huh?” You tease, biting down on your bottom lip.

“I mean I didn’t want to seem too ambitious.” He embibs and then mutters an affliction under his breath. “Or out of practice.”

“You’re good.” You coo, tone low and insouciant. His smile broadens, creating perfect little creases along his face and the corners of his eyes.

“So how’re we feeling?” Andy initiates a small step forward that yearns for closeness.

“Barely buzzed.” You give him a sideways look as he hovers over you, huffing with laughter. He’s outright predictable. Showing his interest through the art of subtlety and the small buoyant gestures that paralyzes your entire state of being. Though at moment, you were really contemplating on calling an Uber —but then again, where would that take you?

Home, dummy.

Your heart skips a beat when Andy’s hand lightly grazes your forearm, holding you in place but not astray. “Your centre of gravity is telling me otherwise.”

“I promise you that I’m fine. It’s these shoes.” You kick up your foot, almost taking him out by the shins. “Oh fuck I’m so sorry! Wasn’t trying to kick you there.”

“Well that’s one way to get a man on his knees.” He winks and you both erupt into a fit of belly hurting laughter. It’s a fleeting ordeal as Andy gets a missed call.

“Ah shoot I should get this.” He contemplates while glancing at the blue white screen. In close stride he tells you that he’ll be out front waiting for you in his car. You insist on taking an Uber. He’s not having it.

“You’re coming with me. That’s that. No if’s, ands or buts.”

You jerk your head back thinking the same thing that crosses his mind. Sex. “Oh c’mon not like that!” He defends boisterously, hands spread apart.

“Yeah yeah, that’s what they all say.” You snipe, only giving him a hard time.

“Let’s not go there alright?” Those were the final parting words before Andy's phone bleeps again.

He finally excuses himself, ducking out of the ambient establishment that leaves you empty and satiably hollow.

As you relapse, your eyes cut to Steve who’s hunched over stacks of paperwork and QA audits. You were staring, wondering if this is what he wanted for you. Muscle memory brought you right to him.

“There’s my girl.” He harps under his breath, deeply unaffected by his due diligence and your impervious candour. He’s attentively going over a long rap sheet, tallying profits in one go while you stand before him, unabated.

“Hey you.” You barely get by on a whisper, plucking at some cocktail picks left aside.

“Now was that so bad?” He inquires, absentminded. The ballpoint pen slashes against the paper and then he bores you with a half lidded gaze that piques. You’re practically a fish out of water, not entirely drunk but done for, almost aloof.

Steve was now impolitely staring, ploughed by the dopey look on your face with mere decrepitude.

“Terrible, actually.” You joke.

“Oh boo.” He reverberates with a small, victorious grin that tugs at the corners of his mouth.

“Yeah he told me everything I needed to know.” You quip, following a heavy hearted sigh.

“Everything?”

“The good, the bad and the ugly.”

“So he basically trauma dumped.” Steve comes to a stark realization, shaking his head.

“Maybe that’s what he needed… Someone to hear him out.” You mope as he puffs out his chest and stands a little taller, squaring you off in perfect form, worried as can be.

“I mean I don’t always take things personally and that was probably a good enough opportunity for him.”

“Y/N.”

“Unironically, he reminds me of me.”

There’s an indescribable look on Steve’s face, well concealed by his fulsome beard and beady blue eyes. He lowers his tone to a salacious entendre. “Not an easy person to walk away from, huh?”

“Is that how you feel about me?” You challenge, arms folded over the tacky counter.

How did Steve feel about you? What could he possibly say that would make the most sense?

“I like that you’re around.” He calculates on a lighter note, distractedly taking apart a mixing stand. “You somehow make a busy day better.”

“So you wait on me?”

“In more ways than one.” He grunts with some unsaid meaning and connotation behind his nonchalance. You stare right at him, observant of his every tantric move. At the drop of a rag he stops what he’s doing to notice. “What?”

Here goes…

“Were you meaning to get over Peggy?”

After harassing Matt one night you came to know about Peggy Carter and ever since then it’s been a nagging repertoire.

Steve’s countenance hardens as a rough sigh escapes his lips. He carefully thinks through what he’s about to say and when he does it’s a bit short handed.

“No but it just so happened that I did.” He admits, barely meeting your gaze.

“How?”

“It’s complicated.” Steve dismisses. He’s unable to reconcile his love for her when he sees the world in you. “Can we just—“

“You’re complicated.”

“What exactly do you want me to say?” He flummoxes, wildly disoriented.

“I want you to be honest with me.” Andy opened up to you about his previous relationship and now you wanted Steve to do the same. Except with him he’s stubborn, eulogizing his past convictions with some jest that you certainly don’t account for.

“She died before I got the chance to see her again. I made peace with the fact and now I’m moving on.” He deadpans. “How’s that for honesty?”

“I’m so sorry.”

“You’re sorry?” Steve jerks his head back with a slight scoff, crassly torn by this conversation.

“I didn’t know.” You defend.

“And you shouldn’t care either.” He adds, a hand on his hip while the other extends out in the opposite direction. “Goodnight Wes.”

“Why not?” You quickly assert, forearms bearing the weight of your body as you lean forward.

“Because I’m fine.” Lies. Captain America isn’t fine. He’s worried. He has the world counting on him yet here he was trying to be inconsolable, wishing you’d prod less. “Really.”

“Truly?” You chastise him.

“Yes!” Steve laughs as he takes apart his apron a little too aggressively. The house lights flicker and both of your eyes turn up. “That’s our cue by the way.”

“Do you want to be with someone like her?”

“Why do you have someone in mind?” He says over his shoulder while pacing down the backend.

“Maybe.” You hum. Steve chuckles knowing there’s no one else quite like you; his only consuming thought.

“How ‘bout we get you a cab instead.” He appears in front of you again. This time he’s donning a roughed up denim jacket, swiping on chapstick ever so liberally, ready to go home.

“I'm good. Andy’s my ride back.” You chirp, half lidded.

“You two…?” He falters, capping the small Blistex tube.

“No we’re not banging it out.” You mock him. “He was just so kind enough to offer, that’s all.”

“So it’s expected then.” Steve shoves both hands into his pockets, nodding at Matt who makes an Irish exit. “There he goes…” The bar back mutters under his breath upon the commotion.

“You need to fucking stop.”

“I’m just messing with you. I know the guy. He wouldn’t pull a fast one.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.” There’s that moseying, ‘you-don’t-know-what-the-other-persons’ thinking silence again.

“Thanks for trying though.” You eyed him suspiciously.

“Wouldn’t have worked out otherwise. Now leave, I need to close shop.”

“Yeah you do.” You chortle, backwardly hobbling off the two-step landing. “Later bum!”

“Get home safe, stink.”

As you assail through the large barn doors and twirl towards Andy’s R8, Steve can’t help but release a deep seeded sigh. His head falls forward, surrendering to much of his own asservations that lambaste him to be truthful. Brow stitched together, a firm fist lands on top of the bar counter, slowly pounding once, twice before he gathers himself, shaking his head clear of admonition.

Honest feelings and bad timing make for the most painful insinuation to prelude. And in the wisest way so, he’s going to have to get used to being without. Just being on his own.

NEXT

[cybervesna]

Vesna Blazkowicz x Arthur Jenkins - Ship: Heart of Glass

First of all I wanted to thank for all these nice feedback on them! I didn’t expected I will get so many questions about Wiosna and Jenkins and I’m really flattered by it! They’re opposites of my Vinnako and I was a bit scared doing something different.  I wanted to show a bit of behind the scenes with them! I’m following the the game’s timeline as it’s all set in my Vincent’s story. So Wiosna (Vesna but since my mutuals started to call me Vesna I’m using Wiosna to describe her which is her true name and Vesna is “americanized”) in 2077 is kinda way different person because of everything that happened to her in the past which part of it is her relationship with Jenkins. She’s not V but someone my V meets because of Hanako. Everything with Jenkins is happening between 2070-2076 since it’s the year he dies.  WARNINGS! Triggering content bellow, from death to manipulations, kind of abusive behaviors and (maybe) gaslighting. Toxic in general! 

Since she's not V Jenkins and Wiosna actually met when she was 19, at the Arasaka party in Tokyo in celebration of new space project "Athena" that her parents were heads of. And it was A BIG DEAL because it was the main Arasaka space program. So Jenkins knew she has parents behind her not only with great fortune, several properties on Luna and Mars (including mines) but also contacts at the very top of Arasaka since they were board members in Japan. It was easy to approach her for a word or two because she was rather on the side, more in the shadows so everyone paid more attention to her parents. They talked but it was it, he wasn't about to seduce her in a day.

Situation changed when he got relocated from Osaka to Night City and he saw Wiosna at Arasaka HQ again at one of the parties. She was on her parents' pass since ofc they didn't attended the party, and came because "needed to socialize a bit more". At the time she was studying at NC's University and her parents already started encouraging her to "look for opportunities" so she was trying to socialize in corpo world. Jenkins spent with her a whole night just talking about things because he exactly knew it's what she needed. He knew the drill with her right away, Wiosna had everything she wanted except for her parents attention, and he was pulling his strings on that aspect. He would often invite her for dinner, and stage that he cancelled important business just to be with her that day. Then dates became attending Arasaka parties together where he started to show her off, complementing Wiosna's and not her parents achievements. And mind you, they weren't intimate at the time yet, they were "friends".  Of course it looked ridiculous because he was claiming it in front of everyone when she was 18 years old younger than him. But since he actually wasn't showing her off as her parents' daughter but her own person, everyone just thought he went for her looks since she actually doesn't share a surname with her parents for safety reason (Therefore most people didn’t suspected him of going after her status). 

With that constant validation from Jenkins that Wiosna was getting, she actually offered staying at her place, and since then they were officially together. Not long after that her parents had a tragic accident where their space ship exploded on launch. And Wiosna went crazy because of that. She didn't had great relationship with her parents that were absent most of her life, but the times she actually was with them were dear to her, and she really looked up to them. Wiosna wanted to achieve what they had, to be successful not only with career but also in love, since they were her closest example of relationship. And her parents were mad geniuses that were lucky enough to look in the same direction, so they could work together towards achieving that goal. She severed herself from everything that could remind her of her parents, including the whole Arasaka socializing and Jenkins.

And for him it was great occasion. He wasn't devastated she cut him off, it was even better for him. To go further in the act of someone who cares about her, to show her that now he's the only one in the world who cares about her. She didn't answered calls but he knew where she lives, so he was sending her the things Wiosna likes that would help her "cope" with the situation. And it worked! She came to him one day and he just saw as the doors to her little empire just slowly opening in front of him. Of course, he took her in and he knew it was a point when she was already "his". From there he became shaping her in the fantasy he had. Like suggesting her to go blonde, maybe wear more colors (she was wearing B&W), etc. And Wiosna just wanted to be loved, so she followed his desires. Even tho in all of this Wiosna didn't knew if she actually loved him back or if he really loved her. She was just deeply sad and wasn't ready to lose more. Trivia:  - Her bombshell look is inspired by Veronica Lake  - Before (and after) Jenkins she was wearing nu-goth / techcore aesthetic.  - Wiosna’s natural hair color is actually black.  - She didn’t had any plastic surgieries. - Jenkins aside from seeing her as a Trophy (and manipulations) treated her well. His main motivation was her parents’ bank account but he was insanely into her, maybe even a bit too much than he would like to admit it. 

Some songs I associate with them:  Blondie - Heart Of Glass Lana Del Rey - National Anthem Hybrid - Original Sin (thanks @sidver for this one!) Julia Wieniawa & Kuba Karaś - Nie mam dla Ciebie miłości Mareux - The Perfect Girl

If you have any questions feel free to ask I will gladly respond!!! 

[rrasado]

Yo! If that's okay could i request the brothers (or some of the of your choice) reacting to a teen mc who already has a pact with a demon long before coming to the Devildom and this demon is pretty much their (very protective) guardian/caretaker? Like, the demon is really sweet and gentle with MC and babies them constantly but they're wary of the brothers (Nothing romantic, just platonic hcs!) Feel free to ignore if i'm bothering you!

Congrats on the 400 followers!!💞

Who’s The Guardian?

On another episode of “why didn’t I see this in my inbox before-“ but this is such a cute request.

I...haven’t played OMSWD in half a year ;-;. I never got past lesson 40 so, sorry in advanced for the OOC-

When you already have a pact

Lucifer

...is caught off guard, big time.

He probably skimmed through your files and records but not once did the thought of a seemingly innocent teenager already having a pact with a demon prior the exchange program crossed his mind.

That’s coming from someone who overthinks a lot.

As the so called right hand man of the young lord himself, he’ll want to conduct a thorough investigation on whoever this demon is. He can’t risk sullying the honor of Diavolo because of some minor slip up.

Under the guise of a friendly get together he asks MC to invite their demon pact mate over for a nice afternoon tea. Harmless correct? Well that -less becomes -ful when the demon immediate smothers their favorite human with such rare affections he didn’t knew demons were capable of.

He’ll attempt to be discreet about his intentions but, it seems the demon is more vocal about their displeasure of finding out that their dear human is living with seven of the most powerful demons in hell. So lucifer would blatantly put on a facade to keep the dignity of the council and the prince at peace. But if it were up to him...

“We all care for the human’s well being yes? A little cooperation is to be called for”

Mammon

...Feels betrayed. And disappointed

He...wasn’t MC’s first- oh god the others are laughing at him as we speak aren’t they.

Would probably try to not so discreetly compare himself to the demon, arms crossed™️

Is that why MC was so fast in making a pact with him? Like no fear whatsoever because they’ve already done this before? Now he feels dumber than before

It all ultimately ends with..the demon and mammon trying to out do each other when it comes to spoiling Mc whether material wise or affection, of course mammon is at a disadvantage given how much he denies his concern for not being Mc’s first.

But in the end, if anything bad no matter how small happens to the two demon’s beloved human, they’d probably set aside their differences and hunt down the source. It’s a whole other story if the source was mammon-

“Oi the human also has a pact with me Ya got that!”

Leviathan

...is both amazed and disdained.

On one hand- HOLY SHI- YOU’RE YOUNGER THAN MOST SUMMONERS AND YOU ALREADY HAVE A PACT? THAT’S SO SHOUNEN-

And on the other hand- wow...you’re such a normie for being able to pull in other races, what in the name of damned friendship is this-

But that disdain turns to envy, whether envying you or the demon sometimes it’s interchangeable- because he wished he was also that cared for. Being able to be brought gifts or being protective over- it’s the otome dream he’s secretly wanted.

But once he realizes that the demon just genuinely cares for MC, for whatever reason- he seems to understand along the way, maybe he to wishes to protect one of the few people that willingly put up with him with a wild smile. Teen mutuality huh.

He might even invite their demon pact mate over for a game or two- heck if things go well they three might even become a triumvirate. Overall he’ll learn to get along with them but...it’ll take a good while djdndnbd.

“H-hey...ya sure you wanna hang out with someone as yucky as me? Ah- wait I have games for three here somewhere.”

Satan

...Is highly intrigued suffice it to say.

The guy was highly enthralled when you managed to even make a pact with him through hard work and it seems there was a much farther history as to why.

Unlike the first born however, he’d be actually successful in hiding his true intentions when he decided to investigate whoever demon managed to wind up with the young human in the first place.

Those detective novels did him good Huh-

On a more serious note. He’d actually be encouraging to a certain extent until the demon directs their threats to him. Like how dare this lowly bastard make a point to the Avatar sin of Wrath- oh it was for MC’s sake...hard pass-

At one point he’s probably the closest to this demon in terms of peace next to Beelzebub since he’s the most serene of the brothers. Overall neutral to them unless the demon gives him a reason to.

“It’s nice to see the human having someone to lean on to...I wonder what would happen if that support were to suddenly collapse”

Asmodeus

...is sappy to the brim

Look at the lovely human already catching demons with finesse! Proud wine aunt moment™️. And the fact that it was prior to the program? Damn the kid has more potential than he thought.

At first the demon themself is gonna- Ehe carry MC away everytime asmo ties coming in but. With a little nudge and convincing they’d probably stay to listen to Asmo.

Trust me when I say these three will go shopping every weekend once everyone is comfortable with each other. And for what it’s worth they might even get matching outfits.

Asmo would probably try and nitpick how MC even managed to wind up in a pact with a demon without knowledge of the Devildom in the first place but at the same time he thinks it adds to the younger’s charm

These three end up being the child the mom and wine aunt dynamic and y’all can’t convince me otherwise.

“Ehh~? Oh don’t look so weary it’s bad for your face darling~”

Beelzebub

...For some reason happy.

Is this why MC managed to make a pact with his brothers so easily in so little time? Is this why the teen never seems to be bothered by any of his brothers’ threats? Overall he’s happy that you have experience.

He remembers something oddly like this...but in his case he didn’t had experience prior the fall wow way to go at angsting this am I right-

Because unlike him, a being millennia old was so confused of what’s in store for hell after the fall but he had no choice but to grit his teeth and bare the fear.

And someone so young managed to get a taste of a fraction of that experience but here was MC...laughing without a care whilst this other demon places a protective arm in front of them as they interrogate beel- oh wait they were talking to him-

Food as peace offering? You bet, thankfully they did settle with food and unlike first impressions- the demon actually is the most sensible to beel seeing as he was one of the few who...didn’t actively attempt to kill their human- in fact, the demon is probably the one to inform Beel of what demon food the young teen can actually eat and what they prefer.

“I see...ah, would you maybe wanna join us? Food always tastes better when shared”

Belphegor

...could care less until they talk about the whole time universe killing thing-

Ohhh boy- belphie run I’m telling you run- no beel won’t defend you on this one in fact I think I see mammon running with the demon but belphie run boy run-

In all seriousness him and the demon will take the longest to get into terms. Heck not even Mc’s convincing has effect, because the demon really really doesn’t like the avatar of sloth for good reason.

Depending on how the demon even winded up with MC. Belphie would also not like the demon.

That...is until something actually bad happens to MC-

The demon might blindly pin it on belphie but the thing is- he’s also panicking because if he and his brothers were there and the demon was there- wHO TF IS WITH THE TEENAGER-

He...didnt want to have what he did to MC happen again. Let him be the last one to harm the spunky human. I even considered him and the demon to never actually get along no matter how long of a time but...again it all depends on the Hows and Whys.

“I...Care for them as much as you do. Just- Tsk... I don’t need you to believe me.”

[nad-zeta]

Vincent - Art Class

Fandom: Ikevamp

Pairings: Vincent x Reader

Genre: Fluffffff Modern AU

Words: 1500+

Comments: Eeeeep and so the birthday bash week continues hehe! Eeeek so excited! Whooop Whooop! //dances around ❤❤ ❤😳🥺! 🥺😳❤🌈 Hope yall enjoy!!

.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’ .*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:。’･ﾟ｡.*:・’ﾟ: ｡.*:・’ﾟ:｡.*:ﾟ･’ﾟﾟ:

“Would you like to go on a date?” Stood the eight little words written on a note attached to a pressed sunflower found in your jacket’s pocket after spending the evening with the friend of a mutual friend.

To say you enjoyed the evening with the golden sunshine would be a gross understatement. You had no intention of interacting with anyone at the party when you had initially arrived, yet, he found you there —hiding in the corner— stuffing your face with snacks and well, one thing led to another, and before you knew it, you had spent the entire evening with him.

The evening was perfect, well near perfect.

A shiver went down your spine as you remembered the death glances you had received from Vincent’s younger brother, man, that guy was scary, and he certainly made it no secret that he was less than impressed with you stealing his brother’s attention away. Neither the less you whipped out the phone from your pocket with a stupidly wide grin plastered on your face as you messaged Vincent your answer.

........................

You drummed your fingers against your arms as you waited outside of the art building. Surely he would not stand you up? After all, he seemed sincere in his invitation. Then again, perhaps he had, like so many others, fallen prey to the dumbassery that was stupid bets with friends, which in turn lead to even more stupidly hurtful consequences.

Your eyes roved over the groups of people from all walks of campus life filing into the building. You were about to leave, turn around and call it quits, that is until the echo of a familiar soft voice could be heard accompanied by a heavily out of breath Vincent jogging towards you.

“I’m- so - sorry - I’m late,” came the huffed out words of the unfit artist trying to catch his breath.

You offered a friendly smile shaking your head, “not late at all. You’re right on time.”

Your anxieties seemed to melt away with the presence of the angel in the yellow cardigan and instead was replaced with a warm comfort flutter of the heart as he offered his paint-stained hands to lead you inside.

You found your seats easy enough, being placed in front of a large canvas, and handed menus to place your orders before the activities of the evening commenced. “Do you come to this kind of thing often?” you lifted your eyes from the cafe menu to curiously ask.

Vincent shot you a sheepish smile in response, racking his finger through his golden hair, letting go of a nervous chuckle, “Yes and no. You see, most of the time, I am on the other side of the canvas.”

Your eyes followed his line of sight to fall upon the art instructor for the evening before shooting back to meet Vincent’s china blues, “WAIT! YOU TEACH ART! That’s truly amazing!”

Vincent flushed a little at the comment, hand scratching the back of his neck as he looked away from your dazzling gaze, “Theo thought it might be a good way to gain exposure and encourage young new upcoming artists.”

He snuck a glance at you, only this time it was you who looked away, “now I’m a little nervous. I’m not much of an artist,” you admitted meekly, knowing your capacity for art went as far as a stickman with a triangle shape as a dress. On the other hand, you vaguely knew Vincent to be an artist of sorts, or rather, you gathered as much from word of mouth from mutual friends, but still, you’d never imagine he’d be at the level of teaching an art class.

Sensing your inner distress Vincent gently reached over and curled his fingers around your hand to give it a reassuring squeeze with some words of wisdom, “If you hear a voice within you say, you cannot paint, then by all means paint, and that voice will be silenced.”

You lifted your gaze once more to be met with intense blue eyes shining so brightly. You repeated the word to yourself, and slowly but surely, you found your anxieties melt away, “then I’ll try my best!”

You and Vincent were in a world of your own, food having come and gone, and the instructions of the art teacher blending into the background noise of the cafe. The two of you had gone against the grain of the class, painting your own creations instead of the prescribed bowl of fruit placed in the front. And try your best you did, as orange-amber hues turned to swirling blues.

You found the suggestion to paint each other a picture as a memento to commemorate your first date more fun than a stuffy old bowl of fruit. Soooo, you ventured onto your most remarkable feat yet, painting a bright yellow sunflower to match the bright sunny warm personality of your date.

”Hey Vincent, can you show me how to make that textured effect again,” you turned to ask, swishing the paintbrush in the air with a flick of the wrist, causing the unintentional spatter of bright yellow paint to hit your and Vincent’s face.

“Oh, my gosh, i-am so s-” your apology was interrupted by the sound of giggling bubbling from Vincent’s chest, bringing about a laugh of your own.

“You are so cute,” the words slipped from his mouth as he leaned in closer, fingers brushing across your cheek in an attempt to wipe off the paint smear, only to make a bigger mess.

“Oh dear, I think I’ve made it worse,’ he admitted sheepishly, with cheeks reddening ever so slightly.

Smile, never leaving your features. You reached up to imitate him, “These now we match!”

Just before Vincent could get a word out, the two of you were interrupted by a very unimpressed instructor clearing his throat. “Am I interrupting something,” he scoffed out, causing you and Vincent to jump back a little from embarrassment.

His eyes befell the paintings before they bounced between you and Vincent. Admittingly the two of you looked like guilty school children with your hands caught in the cookie jar. And rightfully so, as not only had the two of you completely ignored the instructor for the duration of the evening, but the cosy interaction from only mere moments ago was enough to make any outsider raise a brow. Without another word, the man simply signed in defeat and shook his head as he walked away, “I don’t get paid enough for this job.”

Once the man left, you and Vincent looked at each other before bursting into laughter, scooting closer to each other once more. “You wanted to know how to create a textured effect right,” he inquired, dipping his own brush into the bright yellow paint and handing it to you.

He then wrapped his hand around yours and demonstrated the technique. Your heart picked up pace at his proximity, warm scents of vanilla, sunshine and sunflowers reaching your nose. “It’s super easy. All you have to do is blot it like this!” he said, utterly oblivious to the way your heart galloped at a hundred miles per hour or the warmth that rose to your cheeks from the simple touch of the hand.

Honestly, it was hard to focus on the task at hand when he was so close, wreaking absolute havoc to your senses. His blue eyes filled your vision, almost nose to nose, and if your brain wasn’t short-circuiting before, it sure as hell was short-circuiting now. “Got it?” he asked curiously, releasing your hand and retaking position behind his own canvas with a sunny smile.

“Y-yeah!” you managed to stutter out, trying your utmost best to reign composure.

The rest of the evening went off without a hitch, and it wasn’t before long that the class had officially come to its end. You nervously exchanged paintings with Vincent, eyes roving over the picture of a thousand sunflowers in the bright lower field. “This is amazing”, the two of you spoke at the same time. Giggles erupted once more between the two of you as you nervously shifted your eyes away from the man tucking a stray hair behind your ear, “You really think so.”

Vincent nodded, blue eyes shining as he struggled to tear it away from the painting. “Of course, in fact, I might have to hide this away from Theo, else he might try and sell it off,” he said with a bashful smile.

With ever reddening cheeks, a question lingers in his china blues as he looked you straight in the eyes, “y-you think you might want to go on another”

Your heart soared at the question of a second date; you imagined you must have been wearing just as flustered a look as he was, as you somehow actually managed to stutter out, “I-I’d really like that.”

The two of you shared a final parting smile leaving the place, paintings in hand and plans to meet up again for a second date.