#and the only close people he has with him that have been with him since are India and Iran

[flowersforthemachines]

Some facts about Neve (and Tevinter) gathered from the banters

I went through all companion banters on DanaDuchy's channel after playing the game to write down all facts about companions/the world that I haven't seen brought up anywhere in the game as a writing reference (and for funsies).

Note: This list may not be exhaustive. I might have missed some something or didn't write it down because I considered it common knowledge. If you have anything to add, please DM me or send an ask! (do specify what banter the information is coming from, though)

Note 2: Posts from this series (mostly) don't include information from banters specific to quests or between companions and faction members. I plan to do another playthrough to capture more of those and will add any relevant info to the character posts.

Other characters' posts: Bellara, Davrin, Harding, Lucanis, Emmrich, Taash. I'm also planning a post about just the Lighthouse some time later

About Neve:

General:

Neve isn’t rich, and her best coat is a gift from a grateful tailor after she saved his warehouse from an arsonist

Neve’s coat is woven with enchantments to resist fire and lighting 

Neve has never done blood magic. She is against it on principle and judges those who use it 

Neve doesn’t seem to like entertaining extreme hypotheticals since she reacts to Harding’s questions like “What would you take with you to a deserted island?” with asking why she would end up in such situations in the first place 

Neve wouldn’t want gems on her leg, because she thinks they would get stolen within a day of working in Minrathous, and she generally prefers to keep a low profile while on the job

However, she still considers saving up for a new, fancier leg to have more fashion choices. She likes Taash’s idea of getting a ruby inlay for it

Neve never visited Rivain before joining the Veilguard, though she now finds its beaches charming

Ever since she was a baby, Neve was stubborn and asked too many questions (and hated unanswered questions as well)

Neve likes Qunari food but thinks it’s very spicy

Neve likes seafood 

Neve doesn't drink tea

Neve isn’t really close with her family

Neve once tried to use a wisp-repelling artefact the Veil Jumpers found to get rid of the wisps in her room, but it only attracted wisps from the entire Lighthouse

Neve isn’t interested in exploring the mysteries of the Lighthouse because she has enough mysteries on this side of the Veil

(If Rook chooses to save Minrathous) Neve sends civil engineers to assist in Treviso 

On work: 

Neve didn’t want to be a detective when she was a child (not as if in she didn’t like the idea, she just didn’t consider it), though she didn’t have any dream career either 

Neve got into detective work by picking up odd jobs and building a reputation of being good at finding things. Eventually, she was hired to find someone’s brother, a case nobody else wanted to pick up, and her career took off 

Neve agrees that she is cynical and married to her job, but doesn’t consider herself ‘serious’  

Neve allegedly has a system for sorting her papers (Emmrich and Rana are sceptical about its existence) 

(If Neve becomes Dock Town's protector) Elek is implied to visit the Lighthouse again multiple times. Taash mentions seeing him poking around the library. Neve explained that he thought he could grab some fade-touched items to sell, and told him to run the plan by the Caretaker (one would think they did not approve)

On life in Minrathous: 

Neve was born and raised in Minrathous

Neve has never been inside the Archon’s Palace

(If Neve chooses to become Dock Town’s inspiration) Neve doesn’t regret letting Aelia live because she got information on Venatori out of her, and her death wouldn’t change the past

(If Neve chooses to become Dock Town’s inspiration) Neve gets to take a break for once in her life because Rana keeping an eye on the Dock Town actually helps

(If Neve chooses to become Dock Town’s inspiration) People gossip about Neve and Rana after they start their agency :)

Neve describes the rain of Minrathous as "cold fingers down your neck", but she misses it now that she's away from the city. The sound helps her fall asleep 

Neve’s entire apartment could fit inside villa Dellamorte’s dining room 

One of Tevinter papers referred to Neve as "Dock Town dirt-chaser," and to Emmrich as "sinister foreign necromancer”

A Tevinter paper called The Minrathous Herald once wrote that Neve should be exiled. The same paper called Shadow Dragons “traitors to the Empire” 

Neve never runs out of ink because she's on good terms with Minrathous ink sellers 

There is however one banter where she runs out of ink (I think it was with Davrin). Make of that what you will. 

On the Shadow Dragons: 

Neve didn't know Dorian personally until she joined the Shadow Dragons

Neve figured out the Viper's identity even before joining the Dragons. Her not revealing it to the public is one of the reasons he recruited her

Tarquin calls Neve a pain in the ass 

Relationships with companions: 

Neve calls Manfred ‘Fred’ (he seems to like that)

Manfred learns to say Neve's name (likely only happens if you revive him at the Necropolis, though I am not sure)

Neve introduces Lucanis to a spice shop in Dock Town

Harding describes Neve’s tastes in coffee as “made of gutter water filtered through an old sock”

Lucanis once showed Neve’s coffee to Viago. He found it “unsettling” 

Davrin thinks drinking Neve's coffee is worse than the Joining

Neve spoils Assan (but denies that accusation)

Neve is rather quick to consider questioning corpses with Emmrich’s help for her cases 

Neve is very apprehensive about lichdom and the perspective of Emmrich eventually turning evil (just like Emmrich isn't thrilled about her taking over the Threads for similar reasons)

Lucanis is concerned about Neve taking over the Threads. Mainly, about how much they are paying her

Neve has multiple banters with Taash discussing her relationship with Lucanis. Taash initially thinks of it as some sort of predator-prey dynamic, but Neve says she is not into that and explains that they are taking it slow and cautious. They both went through a lot of pain in their lines, which they tend not to show for different reasons

Neve's relationship with Lucanis is also more than she usually looks for with people

Neve takes Taash to Hal’s fish fry stand. Taash loved it :)

Taash offers Neve help on ladders in case she may need it/it gets stuck on steps due to being hook-shaped, mentioning they knew a Lord of Fortune who lost a hand and whose shoulders hurt while climbing because of it. Neve seems to appreciate the gesture, even though she can handle herself

Neve thinks Taash is nice to work with, offering help without being overbearing like some people are

Neve asks Taash to teach her Gold Thief (a Lord of Fortune dice game), so she can play it with the Shadow Dragons, and then subsequently gets beaten by the Viper

On Tevinter: 

Fashion is important in Tevinter because a good outfit lets people know you are under the protection of someone powerful

There aren’t many mages in Docktown, which is one of the reasons the government doesn’t care about it 

The big red cat near Halos’s stand is named Ferdinand

Stains on clothes can be cleaned with magic

You can get pineapples anywhere in Minrathous 

Neve calls the magic used for the lights in Minrathous a party trick, but Emmrich considers it a high-level enchantment because of its quality and duration

Tevinter doesn’t regulate the charms sold in the market (which is why there are a lot of scammers who sell fakes) 

[munsonsmixtapes]

hello! if you have the time could you please write soft Eddie guiding a shy reader when they make out for the first time?

There's a knock on Eddie's door and he hurries to answer it, hoping it's who he thinks it is. He isn't expecting anyone else, but it's not uncommon for people to show up looking to buy from him, but he really hopes it's you. He's been looking forward to tonight for over a week since you suggested it. He opens the door and there you are, beautiful as ever.

He steps aside and you plant a soft kiss on his cheek as you enter the trailer. You hold out a DVD and a few of Eddie's favorite snacks and he can't help but smile at how sweet you are. You've only been on a few dates and hopes he wouldn't scare you off if he proposed. Because if he's being honest, he can't see himself with anyone else.

No one he's dated has ever been so sweet to him. All they seemed to be interested in was using him for his body and rarely anything else. He wasn't really known as Eddie "the freak" Munson (well, maybe in other ways) anymore, but it still seemed like people didn't want anything else from him besides drugs or sex.

But you? All you seem to want from him is his company, genuinely interested in all of his fun facts that he has about random subjects and you even laugh at his jokes. And they aren't pity laughs either. You're a breath of fresh air and he hopes you'll stick around forever.

"You didn't have to do all this," he tells you with a smile as he takes the stuff from you. You're staring down at the floor and he can tell you're getting shy on him again. He doesn't mind, though. He thinks it's cute.

"Of course I did," you insist. "I wanted to treat you for once," you then smile and Eddie never gets tired of seeing it.

"Well I'm not going to say no to that," he responds then takes you by the hand, threading his fingers through yours. "Now c'mon."

You follow him over to the couch and the two of you sit together, but you make sure to leave a little space to be polite. You want to be cuddled up into his side, though. You want rest your head on his chest as his hand lazily runs up and down your back.

A lot of the people you've out with all seemed to be after one thing so it warms your heart that Eddie is willing to go at your pace. He always waits for you to initiate things like hugs or kisses and waits until you pull away, never asking for more. He's nothing but a gentleman and you really like spending time with him.

Eddie spreads out all of the movies you brought, his eyebrows quirking at the variety. You seem to have an eclectic taste and he admires that. He plucks the horror movie from the selection and heads over to the VCR. As soon as his back is turned, you begin to panic. You had only brought the movie to give you excuse to get close to him because of the scary scenes, but now you're beginning to regret your decision.

Eddie turns back to you and you try to hide your fear, debating on telling him that you'd rather watch something else, but you can't yourself to form the words. So you just sit in silence as Eddie moves back over to the couch, sitting even closer to you now and your fear takes over as you throw yourself into his arms.

Eddie lets out a laugh at your eagerness but he wraps his arms around you anyway, pulling you even closer to him as he turns his head towards the screen. You instantly feel better knowing that he'll keep you safe but can't help but think about what Steve told you when he rented the movie out to you.

He told you that it was the scariest movie he'd ever seen and that he couldn't sleep for days afterwards. And you rented it anyway even though he had suggested many more options that weren't nearly as scary and would still help you get into Eddie's arms despite how silly he thought the idea was.

The movie hasn't even started and you're already burying your head into his chest, gripping his shirt in your fists as tight as possible. His hand moves up to stroke the back of your head as he murmurs something to you that you can't quite hear.

"Hey, hey," he says as grabs hold of your face, forcing you to look him in the eye. His are nothing but soft as they look at you, his eyebrows knitting together in concern. "What's going on?"

"Nothing," you shake your head, suddenly feeling silly for how scared you just were. "It's nothing."

"We don't have to watch the movie," he tells you. "If you were scared, why didn't you say something?" It's a fair question, but you stay silent, not wanting to tell him the truth.

"I-" you start to say but cut yourself off, not wanting to admit the truth nor finding the right words to use.

"You what, honey?" He asks, his hands moving up and down your back exactly the way you wanted him to. Sometimes you're convinced he's a mind reader.

"I just wanted an excuse to cuddle you," you tell him, your voice so soft he almost didn't hear you. And at that, Eddie lets out a laugh before pulling you to his chest, giving you a tight squeeze. You have to remind yourself that he's not laughing at you, but because of you.

"You could have just cuddled me," he says as if it's the most obvious thing in the world and it is. Well, it should be, but you've always found it hard to voice what you want no matter how badly you want it.

"How about we call off the movie for now?" He asks and turns off the TV then pulls you closer to him, his hands still moving up and down your back. You look up at him as he licks his lips, now unable to think about anything but how inviting they look.

The two of you have kissed multiple times, but it's never gone any farther than little pecks here and there because you've been too afraid to do any more than that. But now you feel the need to go all the way, wondering what he tastes like, if his hair is as soft as it looks.

But you've never made out with anyone and that scares you. Even though you know for sure that Eddie would talk you through it, the whole thing still makes you feel nervous. But apparently not nervous to forget it completely because before you can stop yourself, you're looking up at Eddie, gulping before getting his attention.

"Eddie?" You ask and his head turns to you, those honey eyes boring into yours. You melt under his gaze but trying to muster up the confidence again.

"Hm?" He asks, that stupid smirk making its way upon his face, the same one that's always there when he looks at you.

"Can-" you cut yourself off for the second time tonight but Eddie just sits there, patient as ever as he waits for you to speak. He knows how hard it can get sometimes for you to speak your mind so he doesn't mind waiting for you to finish your thoughts. "Can I have a kiss?"

"Of course you can," he responds, taking your face in his hands and pecking your lips once, twice, three times before pulling away only for you to grumble in response.

"No," you shake your head. "I want a real kiss."

"Oh," he replies, wondering what made you decide on that, but wanting to oblige. He's willing to give you whatever you ask.

His hands move down to neck, his thumbs rubbing back and forth across your jaw as he leans in again, his lips slowly capturing yours as they move together slowly. He's nothing but gentle as he kisses you, showing you how it's done.

Your hands press against his chest and all you can think about how you can't believe you've gone so long without his lips attached to yours. They're nothing but soft and gentle and now you're sure that you can do this for hours.

Eddie breaks away before you're ready and you're breathing hard as you try to catch your breath. He stares down, a chuckle falling from his lips as he presses his forehead to yours.

"You're supposed breathe, baby," he tells you softly and you feel your cheeks heat.

"Can we try that again?" You ask as you pick up one of his curls, twirling it around your pointer finger, staring down at it as you speak again. "Do you think we could...make out? I promise to breathe this time."

"Oh, honey," he sighs before pressing a kiss to you lips. "I'd love to make out with you." Another and another until he's capturing your lips again, taking the lead again. You have no idea what you're doing but Eddie is being nothing but a sweetheart as he guides you through it.

He pulls away again and you whine this time at the absence of his lips, chasing him and getting in another quick kiss before you sit back, waiting for him.

"Do you want to sit in my lap?" He suggests. "I think that'll be more comfortable for you."

Eddie sits with his back against the couch and you do as he suggests and straddle his waist which feels foreign to you but he's right. It's much more comfortable. Your arms wrap around his neck as his rest on the small of your back, a good spot between your waist and upper back because this is just kissing and he doesn't want to give you the impression that he's going to go any farther.

"You kiss me now," he says and your heart races in your chest as you think about fucking it all up.

"Are you sure?" You ask, bringing your bottom lip between your teeth, nibbling on it as you contemplate.

"Positive," he nods. "You've got this. Do whatever you want, baby. This is all about you."

"Okay," you nod, leaning forward and slotting your lips just like he did, Eddie immediately responding to you but he's moving at your pace instead of leading like he previously had.

You remember to breath through your nose as your fingers thread into his hair on each side of his head. His hair is normally off limits because people get too rough with it, but with you, he doesn't care. In fact, he loves when you play with his hair, a little bit of love sprinkles into every touch of it.

"You're doing so good, honey," he murmurs against your lips. "Do you want to try sticking your tongue in my mouth?"

"Please," you whine with a yank of his hair and if you can feel his cock hardening underneath you, you don't say anything. And thank god for that.

"Do you want me to show you first?"

"Yes," you breath against his lips and he's getting even more hard, knowing that he's going to have to get himself off later because there's no way he's going to expect you to go all the way right now.

Eddie captures your lips again as his hands rest against your waist, landing on the strip of skin where your shirt has ridden up. His lips are moving against you to warm you up and then he gingerly flicks his tongue against your bottom lip.

"Open up," he commands against your lips and you do as he says, opening up for him as he slides his tongue into your mouth. He swirls his tongue around yours and you mimic his actions, tugging on his hair as a moan falls from your lips at the feeling of his tongue moving with yours.

Your eyes widen and you can't help but pull away as you suddenly feel embarrassed at the sound you've just made. Eddie, though? Eddie's convinced that's the hottest thing he's ever heard and he really wants you to make it again.

"You don't have to be embarrassed," he says quickly, trying his best to assure you. "It was really hot, actually."

"It was?"

"Definitely," he nods. "Would it help if you made me moan too?" All you can do is nod and before he can say anything else, your lips are on his, only a few seconds passing before your tongue is flicking against his bottom lip. He opens up immediately and you mimic what he just showed you, your tongue swirling around his as you pulling on his hair even harder, a loud moan falling from his lips.

You haven't thought about it until now since you were so caught up in his kisses, but you're soaking wet between your legs and if you had more confidence, you'd ask Eddie to take care of you, but you don't so you don't. You don't think you're ready for that right now anyway.

You try to focus on the taste of him to get your mind off of it. He tastes like cigarettes that you know he smoked before you came over and you don't know why but you can't get enough of it. It's intoxicating.

You stay like that for a while until your lips are kiss bitten and your legs are asleep from you straddling him for too long. You both decide to call it a night and Eddie walks you to your car like the gentleman he is, kissing you one more time before you drive away. He then goes back inside and heads to his room where he collapses onto his bed, deciding that he's probably (definitely) in love with you.

[imujings]

[j.ww] say my name

synopsis | a snowstorm has hit your city, the surprising cold front making it hard for anyone to go anywhere. good thing you and wonwoo are already busy with… other things.

♯ pairing(s) | jeon wonwoo x gn!reader ♯ genre(s), wc | suggestive (MDNI) & fluff, 1.1k ♯ warnings | making out, cursing, wonu calls gn!reader pretty, handsy!wonu, lil bit of sub!reader, lil hair pulling, some grinding, lip biting, pet names (baby)

jay's musings | m.. making out w wonu during a snowstorm mfqwkdjfjf,,, ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;) … (ty @wheeboo for beta reading <3)

Outside is the picture perfect shot of a winter wonderland. Snow blankets the streets of the city, your high-rise apartment giving a breath-taking view of the twinkling lights as people begin to wind down from the day’s escapades.

A snowstorm had taken your area hostage in the middle of the day, and shivering figures could be seen frigidly walking along the sidewalks in a hurry to get home, clearly eager to get out of the cold and uninviting environment.

Inside your cozy space, however, is an entirely different atmosphere.

The only light on is the Himalayan salt lamp sitting on a shelf some ways away, its warm orange lighting draping the room in a rich honey glow. Music drifts in from your bluetooth speaker atop the kitchen island; a NIKI song, no doubt queued by Wonwoo from your shared playlist. There’s a buzz in the air, thick and heavy, like a weighted blanket.

It started out innocent enough, cuddling on the couch and absentmindedly watching the snow outside fall. In moments like these, there was no need for words between you and Wonwoo; you both were simply content with the comfortable silence, finding the presence of the other enough of a joy in life. Sometimes, though, the two of you would mumble quiet reassurances to each other, words of affection passed between the two of you like cherished high school notes, your lips idly finding their way to the other’s.

As the flurries turned into a curtain of white flakes, you and Wonwoo were in the middle of a particularly… heated kiss, with you breaking it to breathlessly (and teasingly) ask if he’d like some tea. His eyes, half-lidded and dark behind his fogged-up glasses, followed you out of the living room area. Your taunting gaze didn’t miss the tent in his grey sweatpants.

When you came back from turning on the stovetop, a shit-eating grin on your face, you were greeted with silence. Biting your lip to hide your smile at his obvious irritation, you open your mouth—only for Wonwoo to drag you into his lap, taking his glasses off and fumbling to place them on the side table, before kissing you fiercely.

That was all some time ago. You aren’t too sure how long it's been since then, but a part of you doesn’t really care anymore, too preoccupied with other matters. Such as the man whose lap you’re sitting in.

Your thighs straddle Wonwoo’s, him having gone back to kissing you lazily, as if he had all the time in the world. You suppose he did, given that his early morning schedule tomorrow was cancelled. Your thoughts drifted to profusely thanking the inclement weather for this pop-up opportunity to get lost in him, lips slowing against his. He seems to notice your attention leaving him, the grip of his fingers on your chin tightening, and any coherent thoughts immediately leave your mind as he softly bites your bottom lip.

You whine, cheeks flaming at his touch. “Wonu…”

“Hm?” is his only reply, hands sliding down to rest underneath your hoodie, teasing the waistband of your sweatpants.

A soft, hushed moan falls off of your lips. Your eyes flutter close and you hide your face in his neck, the rumbling of his laugh only making the fire in your lower stomach burn hotter. Wonwoo’s hand, warm and calloused, cups your cheek and brings your mouth back to his.

Kissing Jeon Wonwoo was as easy as breathing. If you could have this as a full-time job, you would take it, no hesitation, and become the richest person in the world. His lips are soft and plump against yours, tasting sweetly of the peach-flavored lip balm you keep in your nightstand. Every time one of you pulled back in the slightest, the other’s lips chased after, shiny and bitten and longing for more.

His other hand is still running along the waistline of your pants, sometimes dipping underneath to snap the hem of your underwear against your skin. You yelp, but he only smiles against your lips, squeezing the fat of your hip gently.

“Relax, baby,” Wonwoo murmurs. “Let me take care of you.”

And you let him, your fingers desperately scrambling to find purchase in the hairs at the base of his neck as he gains control. His hand on your cheek disappears again, grabbing onto your hips as he helps you grind into him. The man’s head tilts back a bit, a groan spilling from his lips from the friction, and you trail open-mouthed kisses along the column of his neck. 

“C’mere,” he whispers, pulling you closer until you’re somehow flushed even more against him.

Even through the layers of clothing, you feel the warmth of his skin, your fingers further tangling themselves in strands of his hair. His breath is hot against your skin, pressing a sweet kiss to the apple of your cheek. You melt into him with a sigh leaving you. He knows exactly what buttons of yours to push. You adore him for it. Mind quickly turning into mush, he plants another kiss to your other cheek, a saccharine promise, before tugging your bottom lip between his teeth yet again and biting. Hard.

“Wonwoo!” your voice, high and needy, seems to invigorate him; he moans, eyes squeezing shut for a moment. “Wonu, please…”

“Sounds so pretty, saying my name,” he sighs, tone low and gravelly. “Keep going, baby. Feels so good.”

He’s everywhere. All at once. His hands are traveling up and down your sides, fingers making your skin tingle and burn with the brightest fires. Your brain is foggy, unable to think of anything other than the feel of his tongue swiping against yours and his hips bucking up right where you need him, hard and heavy in just the right way. Something in your stomach starts to burn, coiling with a pressure you know all too well, your telling whimpers being muffled again and again by his lips. One particular and delicious drag of his hips against yours awards him with a beautifully choked sob. If he keeps going, just like that—

The wail of the kettle startles away the fog in your brain.

You pull away, panting, lips swollen and hair disheveled. The blue throw that’s been teetering on the edge of the couch finally falls to the floor in a heap from the sudden movement. Your eyes are wide with alarm, but Jeon Wonwoo just stares at you as if you’ve gone and hung up every star in the damn sky.

“Wonwoo! The tea!”

[ariadnes-elixirs]

thinking of an isekaied reader and a yandere noble boy...

(gn reader x male noble yandere)

part 1 / part 2 / part 3

tw: none for this part

about a week has passed since your impromptu tea party with oliver. everything about that interaction left you feeling unsettled, and him barging into your estate certainly didn't help his case.

as you think back to that conversation, you recall his words. he claimed that the two of you were lovers, but also stated that apparently no one knew. you were able to determine that original person in this body was close to their parents and that their family was tight knit, so why wouldn't they know?

"your" parents definitely would have approved of the relationship, so there is theoretically no reason for this to be a secret. unless it had to do with his parents? but that doesn't really explain why your parents wouldn't have been told...

as you continue to spiral, you hear a knock at your door. your father pokes his head in with a wide grin on his face, "oliver is here!" he said, "and he did provide notice this time! hehehe~" your father seemed to grin even wider at that, "anyways, lunch is starting soon and hes waiting~~" your father wiggled his eyebrows up and down.

"why... why wasn't i made aware of this??" you replied in shock. both at the sudden lunch plans and at your father's behavior.

"well he's a nice boy, and this is an informal gathering. him dropping in for lunch isn't unusual, he does it all the time!"

you had been in this body for around two weeks, but your father seemed to believe that this was a regular occurrence. you tried to come off as calm and composed, but the best you could do was force a wobbly smile. "oh. well. uh. i'll get ready..."

your father initially looked concerned, but then seemed to remember that you had been "struggling with your memory" (read: you know nothing, absolutely nothing, about anything)

his face shifted into one of guilt, "i'm so sorry, i forgot, kinda like you hehe, wait that's rude-," he collected himself, "yes, every two weeks oliver comes here for lunch, then the two of you usually spend time together until dark, then he leaves."

"ah, i understand," you said, trying to keep calm. you did not, in fact, understand. as you collected yourself and prepared to get ready for the sudden visit, your father quickly left to go entertain the guest.

...

oliver's eyes lit up the second he noticed you enter the room, "ah! hello!! its been so long!" his wide smile seemed to infect your parents, as they begin grinning as well.

it seems like there was some truth to what he had said, everything you had asked your parents about and what your father described lines up perfectly with what oliver said. even still, something just felt wrong, you couldn't explain it, and you felt a small wave a guilt wash over you as you looked at the genuine joy on his face from seeing you.

you tried to ignore both the guilt and your intuition, deciding to simply get through the meal and try to gather more information. after you steeled your resolve, you responded, "yes, it really has."

after that short interaction, lunch went as expected. you were easily able to confirm that the part about him being your childhood best friend was true. additionally, your parents' behavior seemed to suggest that they genuinely liked oliver, and that he liked them. you spent most of the meal observing their interactions, and whenever someone mentioned your silence you simply directed their attention to your plate of food.

after everyone finished their meals, your parents called for the staff to clean up, but not without thanking them as they entered and thanking them again as they left. your parents then retired to the living room for the afternoon.

with only two people left at the table, you finally had to confront what you had been dreading during the entire meal, but at the same time, you were also looking forward to it for some reason.

oliver meets your eyes and grins,

"how about we take a walk in the garden! the honeysuckles should be blooming this time of year~"

a/n: thank you @ersharyzst for giving me the idea for the last line! i apologize for any errors, i'm too tired to proofread this. i'll try to look over it again soon and fix any mistakes. this was mostly set up for the part, which i hope to release in a couple days!

[deathofpeaceofmiiind]

Kill my time // Quinn Hughes

In a city full of lonely people, I just want you all to myself

summary: birthday celebrations causing jealousy while struggling to turn a certain age

warnings: drinking, clubbing, smut (18+)

── ∘◦ ⛤ ◦∘ ──

“I can’t believe I’m going to a bar like I’m in my early twenties again.”

I smoothed my dress down, picking apart everything wrong with me as I looked in the mirror. Turning thirty felt like my world was about to collapse, and what made it worse was knowing my boyfriend was only turning twenty five just two days after me.

“Not to mention with a bunch of guys who are twenty one.” My roommate added as she fixed us a couple of drinks. I saw her bring out a bottle of tequila, knowing I was going to be in for a long night.

“Ugh, what did I get myself into?”

“Girl, it’s fine! Quinn doesn’t care about your age so why should you?” She asks, passing me whatever concoction she made. A took a small sip, realizing it was tequila and soda…more like tequila with a splash of soda.

Deep down I knew she was right, because when I told Quinn I was older than him it didn’t phase him at all, I completely expected him to run. He told me the idea of being with someone older was a big turn on for him, something he didn’t discover until he met me. As for me, it didn’t matter what age the men were I dated, they were all extremely immature. I knew it was a risk with Quinn but he definitely didn’t act like men his age. After all he was the captain of an NHL team, he had to have a strong head on his shoulders.

An hour later I was making my way through a busy drunken crowd, holding onto Quinn’s hand for dear life. For whatever reason, his teammates chose this club to celebrate his birthday tonight. Wouldn’t have been my first choice, and I don’t think Quinn was thrilled on it either but he was too quiet to say anything. We always made the best of a bad situation and I knew tonight wouldn’t be any different. House music and lights were bouncing off the walls, making it hard to focus on where we were going. We finally got into our booth and a heavy sigh left me, I definitely wasn’t drunk enough for this.

“You okay, sweetheart?” Quinn’s velvet voice echoed in my ear, calming my nerves. His eyes were bright green, almost enchanting as they peered into mine. My face grew hot, wondering how it was humanly possible for someone to be this gorgeous.

“Yeah it’s just been a while.” I wasn’t lying either. I spent most of my time in breweries with my friends since most of us were over going to clubs. Quinn likes to tell me he doesn’t like going out, but give him a few drinks and he makes a liar out of himself.

He pulled me closer to him, so close I could feel his stubble on my neck. “I won’t leave your side at all, I promise.”

“Okay.” I nodded before he gently brushed his lips over mine. I got lost in our own little world, the music melted away and I forgot we were in the middle of a busy club surrounded by strangers.

“Let’s celebrate, it’s your birthday after all.”

I rolled my eyes, “it’s also yours in two days.”

“Yeah, but …” his words trail off as he runs the pad of his thumb over my lip, “today brought me you.”

“How does it feel to be with a thirty year old?” The words falling last my lips causing my eyes to roll again. That number just didn’t sit right with me. “I’m officially an old lady.”

“Thirty has never looked better.” He mused, his hand running up my hip and pressing me closer to him. I pulled him into another kiss, his cologne hit me like a tidal wave causing butterflies in my stomach. His hand ran up my neck and gripped me tighter while his tongue begged to enter my mouth. We stayed like that, blissfully unaware of reality until his teammates came over with trays of various shots.

“Okay lover boy that’s enough. Let’s get you drunk.”

One thing about partying with hockey players is all of them have no limits when it comes to spending. I had to finally stop accepting every shot they brought around after the room began to spin. Best part of the night though was that the Devils were in town, so Jack and Luke, Quinn’s brothers were here to celebrate with everyone. This was only my second time meeting them but they were extremely welcoming and treated me like I was their sister. Jack at one point asked me to go dance with him and I couldn’t help but say yes.

“So how does it feel to be thirty?” Jack yelled into my ear as we danced to one of my favourite John Summit songs.

“Terrible. I’m almost a decade older than you!”

“You make thirty look so good though.” He smirks as Luke came behind me and picked me up, causing me to scream at him to put me down. As much as I fought he kept me over his shoulder.

“I just want you to know we fucking love you and you make my brother so happy.” Luke added as he finally put me down, the room was still spinning so I had to brace myself against him to make it stop.

“Thanks buddy.” I jumped a little, feeling Quinn’s hand on my back. His face was flushed, telling me he was taking shots without me.

“Can I have my girlfriend back now?”

“Sorry bro!” Luke kissed the top of my head before him and Jack ran off to grab more drinks.

“You okay?” I asked Quinn as I turned to him, he smelt like whiskey and honey as he brought his lips to my neck.

“I will be.” He mumbles, burrowing his face into my neck. “I’m glad my brothers like you, but you’re my girlfriend. Not theirs.”

“Do you think they’re gonna steal me?” I clasped my mouth, trying to hold in my laughter because I know he was being serious. It was downright adorable.

“Maybe.”

“But I’m yours” I assured him, pressing closer to his body. My hands teaching behind his neck, slipping stands of his hair between my fingers. “No one will ever steal me from you.”

“Prove it.” He replied with such confidence, not taking his eyes off my lips. His hands reached up to my hips, pressing me even closer to him. I gasped as I felt his erection brush up against my leg, “come with me.”

“Where are we going?”

“Trust me.” He mumbled, his eyes glazed with desire and whatever was in his system. I grabbed his hand, not knowing where he was taking me.

Quinn guided me into a private bathroom and locked the door. His hand brushed gently over my chest, hooking his finger under the strap of my dress. I watched him with intent, my heart pounding so fast I was surprised he didn’t feel it.

“You belong to me.” He whispered, slowly bringing me closer to him. My hands braced onto his chest as he captured my mouth into a kiss that started off sweet but grew sloppy.

“Let’s not wait then, birthday boy.”

He smirked so devilishly that I felt something more than butterflies in my stomach. Our kisses were met with biting of lower lips and Quinn grabbed my dress so tight I thought it was going to split. I wasted no time and began to unbutton his pants, dropping to my knees in the process. His dick sprung out of his boxers, dripping with pre-cum as my eyes widened.

“Stick your tongue out baby.”

My exposed tongue was met with his tip as he gently circled over my taste buds. I could taste him already, it was making my mouth salivate and run down my chin.

“Such a good girl.” He breathed as his free hand tugged on my hair. “Open your mouth for me.”

I did as I was told and Quinn slowly slid his erection into my mouth, inch by inch until his tip hit the back of my throat. He bit his lip as I began to slide my mouth up and down, his grip on my hair getting tighter.

“Fuck, baby this feels so good.” He deeply moaned, making me feel it in the back of my throat. “Such a good girl taking my whole dick in that pretty little mouth of yours.”

I could tell he was getting close with how laboured his breathing became. I removed my mouth from him and began to lick his tip that was glistening with my spit. He looked down at me with pleading eyes, as if me mouth fucking him was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Come in my mouth Quinn, I know what you want to.”

“Not yet.” His voice sounded so husky as he motioned for me to stand up. I wiped my mouth, taking a long look at him. “Your turn birthday girl.”

I couldn’t help but giggle as he picked me up and sat me on the bathroom counter. My back rested against the mirror as he spread my legs, situating himself between them. When our eyes met my heart felt like it was going to explode, I’ve never seen him like this before.

“How bad do you need me right now?” He asked, slowly taking my lip between his teeth again.

“I need you so fucking badly.”

He makes his home between my thighs and begins to tease me with his tip. I regretted wearing underwear tonight but feeling his pre cum soak the lace was the sweetest form of torture, and he knew it.


“Tell me again…how bad do you need me?” I couldn’t get a word out. His laugh was dark as he fluttered his somber eyes at me, “use your words sweetheart, what do you want for your birthday?”

“I want you.”

“That’s a good start.” He muses, applying pressure on my thighs with his thumbs, “where do you want me?”

No words were leaving me as I gasped for air. Quinn began to run his mouth over my jaw, down to my collarbone, nipping slightly at the skin. I grabbed his hand and guided it between my thighs, his thumb instantly pressing onto my underwear.

“Right there?” He asks, slowly moving my underwear to the side. A small gasp in satisfaction left him as he felt how soaked I was for him. I just nodded, whimpering already from his touch. “Tell me how much you wish this was my dick instead?”

“Quinn, I need you please … I’m yours.”

“That’s my girl.” He replied so proudly, pushing his tip inside of me slowly. His head falls back once he’s fully inside me and it’s the most beautiful sight I’ve ever seen. “Fuck you feel so good, so fucking good.”

Quinn started off slowly, teasing my clit simultaneously with each stroke. He leaned into my ear, continuously praising me as his strokes became faster and harder. Sweat rolled down me as the building started up in my stomach, that familiar flutter began to take over and I knew I was done for. My nails dug into his back as he sinks his teeth into my shoulder as my orgasm left my body.

“Fuck I’m gonna -“

It only took a few seconds before he spilled into me. His hands gently found my face, guiding me to look at him. My legs were still shaking as he kissed me so softly. I was in a complete haze as we broke apart, that one unruly strand of hair fell in front of his face as he studied me. He was so beautiful, there were no other words to describe him.

“Happy birthday, baby.” He mused, gently kissing all the tattoos on my arm. Funny thing,

I never thought he’d go for a girl with a full sleeve and dark hair like me. He struck me as someone who went for blonde Instagram models but, once again he proved me wrong.

“You definitely just gave me the best birthday present ever.” I lightly laughed.

He titled his head to the side, cupping my cheek, “I don’t think anything will be beat the gift you gave me.”

“What’s that?”

“You.”

[luvgam3]

Riding Kiyotaka Ijichi in his car + glasses wearing reader

Summery: Ijichi accidentally leaves his lunch in your work bag, so you get to have a spontaneous lunch date! It’s not everyday you get to spend half an hour of uninterrupted time with your boyfriend… might as well take advantage.

cw: mdni, afab!reader, horned up Ijichi?, reader wears glasses, car sex so semi public, nothing crazy

You groan, rolling over and grabbing your phone to shut off the loud ringing as Ijichi yawns beside you, digging the heels of his palms into his sleep crusted eyes. “G’morning.” You grumble, your voice horse and gravely as you stretch your arms above your head.

Both of your schedules are always clashing. Between working and errands and appointments you hardly have any downtime, by the time you both crawl into bed you’re already spent, curled into one another and falling into a deep dreamless sleep before waking to the sound of your alarms only a few hours later— which is exactly what happened last night.

Ijichi hums in response, his usual smooth voice a low grumbling as he tries to work the grogginess from his bones.

You both fall into your respective morning routines— Ijichi showers while you make breakfast and pack your lunches, you do your hair while Ijichi pours you both coffee and lays out your clean work clothes on the bed— and so on and so forth until you’re leaning over your seat to press a quick kiss to his cheek before jumping out of the car and heading into work.

Lunch rolls around, the only time of day you get to sit down and call your boyfriend in peace (if he isn’t busy). You open your phone and press on his name, listening to the soft ringing before the line crackles and his voice cuts through. “Hi angel—“ he says, you can hear him flick on his blinker as he drives. “Did I leave my lunch in your bag this morning?” He asks. “Mm let me check—“ you murmur, rifling through your work bag, finding his lunch next to yours.

What a happy accident, he thinks as he pulls infront of your building, beaming as he rolls down the tinted window of his car to look out at you waiting for him. You smile back at him as you climb inside, pressing a kiss to his cheek again before he parks in an empty corner behind your building. Blooming trees shade the sun from view, most people refuse to park under it, hating the way leaves and pedals would get stuck under their hoods and windshields— and the walk from this parking spot to the front of the building made the walk even less enjoyable. But it made for a great impromptu picnic location!

You hand Ijichi his lunch, leaning back in your seat with a sigh as you ask him about his day so far.

He shrugs, resting his bag down at his feet before gently cupping your cheek, his thumb trailing softly against your skin as you relish the warmth of his touch. “How’re you, beautiful?” He asks, voice gentle as you look at him and his goofy lopsided smile.

“Tired… I miss you.” You admit, nuzzling against his palm.

His brow twitches in confusion, “we see eachother everyday.”

You laugh, your hand closing over his, bringing it off of your face and holding it in your lap. “I know that! We just never get any alone time, we’re always so busy.” You groan the last part, head lulling to the side dramatically.

You aren’t sure why you’re even bringing this up, sure it gets a little annoying sometimes but that’s never stopped you both from doing things together after work.

“Well we’re here now.” He says, his other hand moving to gently squeeze your arm. That innocent little action has heat pooling in your lower belly. That’s ridiculous! You think. He didn’t even do anything. But now that you think about it… it has been a while since you’ve both been intimate. Fuck, you’re lucky if you have enough energy at the end of the day to even kiss him goodnight.

Your eyes find his, that glint in them makes his stomach tighten and his cheeks flush. “What’s that look for?”

You raise your brows, that look of mock innocence gracing your features as he squirms in his seat. “Look all I’m saying is—“ you start, unbuckling your seatbelt and slipping off your shoes, “we each have forty five minutes left on break—“

Ijichi clears his throat, “I actually only have twenty—“ but you cut him off as you lean over and unbuckle his seatbelt for him, listening to it whip back into place before swinging your leg over the gearshift to place yourself firmly in his lap.

Good. Lord. His breath catches in his throat as you look down at him, his heart hammering wildly in his chest as you hike up your skirt with one hand, your other cups his cheek tenderly before you lean down and capture his lips in a searing kiss. You swallow down his desperate moans, his slender fingers digging into the fat of your thighs while you blindly fumble with his belt buckle.

Clink, click, ziiip!

He’s hot and throbbing as you palm at his clothed erection, straining against the fabric of his boxers. You pull back, his lips chasing yours before you push him back against the seat, a huff leaving his swollen lipstick smeared mouth. “You got enough time for this?” You ask, your lips pulled into a smirk as you watch him writhe beneath you, hurriedly nodding as his hands squeeze at you, pulling you down fully on his lap. You both moan as your clothed cunt meets his sensitive bulge, his hands groping at the globes of your ass as he urges you to grind against him, leaning forward to smash his lips into yours once more— all tongues and teeth this time as you moan into his mouth.

Your hands snake down his chest, clinging to his hips as you detach your lips from his with a wet pop. Drool dribbles down his chin, before it can fall onto the collar of his shirt you quickly press the flat of your tongue against his skin and drag upward. Your breath is hot against his face, glasses knocking together as your tongue slides past his lips, his hips thrusting upward to meet your small wiggles and grinds.

With eager hands Ijichi slips his fingers under the damp fabric of your panties, thin fingers slipping through your slick folds as you mewl against his lips before he slides your panties to the side. Your hands seek his boxers but before you can lean back and slip him out of his confines he beats you to it, deft fingers push down the worn elastic of his underwear, his cock springing free, the rosy head swollen and glistening as it rubs against the moist material of your panties.

His lips press hot open mouthed kisses along your jaw, wet and hot as he pants out “Can I?” His voice curls into a whine as your hand join his at the base of his cock, guiding it through your folds until it catches on your fluttering hole.

You both moan out as the head pushes past that tight little ring of muscle, a thin sheen of sweat coating his brow, his glasses fogging at the edges as you sink down inch by torturous inch until you’re flush against him, your clit rubbing against the bunched up fabric of your panties as he squirms under you, fingers digging into you to keep you in place as your own tangle in his neatly combed hair.

“O—oh fuck—“ he moans, lips kiss bitten and trembling as you roll your hips.

Oh how he wishes this could last forever— your gummy walls sucking him in, your juices already dribbling down his shaft—

“This okay?” You ask, your eyes heavy as you take in his features— his beautifully smooth face flushed and sweaty as his eyes fight to stay open, his mouth hangs open, moaning as you suck him farther inside only to pull back at an agonizing pace.

Ijichi nods, his hips aching to thrust up into you, “yes, beauty. go— ugh— faster.” You don’t deny him that pleasure, quickly shifting from gentle steady rolling motions to bouncing on his cock.

The soft squelch of your pussy splitting open around his cock has Ijichi’s ears ringing, a steady stream of whimpers spilling from his mouth as you do all the work. The car rocks softly, windows fogging as you gasp into each other’s gaping mouths between stolen kisses, nipping at his bottom lip when you get the chance to- soothing the sting with your hot and eager tongue.

“Oh god—“ he cries, eyes glassy as he watches you lean back, hands bracing the steering wheel behind you so that you can go faster. Your tits jiggle under your clothes, your glasses fall down the bridge of your nose, your hair sticks to your sweat slicked forehead— you’re just so… so hot.

His head swims, hazy as his gaze drops to your joined bodies, a frothy creamy ring forms at the base of his cock, the sticky substance clings to your glistening folds as you continue to thrust down onto him with increasing intensity as you selfishly chase your own peak.

Your head lulls forward, incoherent words tumbling for your lips as Ijichi takes two fingers and pushes your sliding glasses back up your face. “Thank you baby.” You mumble with your spit glossed lips. The sight has Ijichi leaning forward, pulling your chest to his as his hips meet yours, snapping upward at a brutal pace as his tongue darts out to lick at your sweat speckled neck with a low groan.

When you and Ijichi make love he’s always so tender, sweet soft kisses and a gentle grip that doesn’t hurt, he loves when you guide him through it— but now? After you both accidentally deprived yourselves for god knows how long? This isn’t love making, this is fucking.

The feeling swimming around in his gut is something new, he wants to wrap a slender hand around your throat, pull your hair, push your face into a pillow— anything if it means you’ll make these vile little sounds again.

You moan, back arching in his hold as he plows up into you, your arousal dribbling down your thighs and seeping into his pants. But fuck— he doesn’t care. Not when you’re babbling, treading the fine line between moaning and screaming as his tip kisses that spongy spot deep inside you that has you tightening around his dick.

This feeling buzzing deep inside of him has him seeing stars. His spine tingles as his hands grope and knead at your flesh in a new way.

He wants to pop the buttons on your work shirt, tear the fabrics with his teeth and rip down your bra so he can suck and bite at your tits as they bounce in his face.

“Oh my-g-god— I don’t think I can—“ he babbles, moans melting into sudden strangled whines as you start rubbing your clit in tight sloppy circles, your cunt clamping down around him, threatening to milk him dry. “M’gonna— oh-f-fuck—“

“Cum in me— Jichi— fuck! Jichiplease!” You cry, eyes scrunching tight as the coil in your stomach snaps, your hips aching and ears ringing as you cum around him, pussy fluttering as your body goes slack against him, lazily meeting his hurried thrusts until you feel him spill inside you. His ears ring as his cock twitches between your slick gummy walls, mind blank and empty aside from the thought of you pumped full of him. Hot spurts of cum paint your insides as he moans against your neck, “oh— oh shit—“ he pants, breathing in your perfume and sweat, his body trembling just as much as yours as you melt into each other.

As you lay in his arms catching your breath you chuckle, head still fuzzy as you come done from your high.

“Ijichi?” You hum.

“Hm?”

“I haven’t heard you swear this much before.” You laugh, your fingers carding through his hair as he groans, his softening cock twitching inside you as you lean back slightly.

If his cheeks weren’t already bright red they’d be burning with embarrassment. “I don’t want to think about it—“ he mumbles.

“No!” You tsk, biting down another laugh as you feel him nuzzle into your neck. “It was hot.”

He groans again, embarrassed and horny all at once— that pathetic little feeling so enticing. For his sake you pretend like you don’t feel his cock jump inside you at your confession, maybe tonight you’ll be able to pull some more colorful words out of those pretty lips of his. When you aren’t on a time crunch of course.

[thebroccolination]

Hi Key, your post is the second I've seen that hinted at Joss but without further explanation. He generally has a positive public perception and I only know him from 3WBF (which I liked), so I'm curious where this shift in perception is coming from recently.

Would you mind making a post or directing me to where I can learn more about his general...situation.

I apologize if this is intrusive since I know you don't like to engage in Fandom Drama and like to keep your space positive, but I don't have XTwitter and his Tumblr tag is usually quite dead.

Thank you in advance!

Why I Don't Fuck with Joss: An Extremely Academic Essay of Words and Screenshots

Hi Anon!

I normally would have DM'd you an answer to this, but since you sent the ask anonymously and you were very kind in how you asked, I didn't want to ignore you.

However, two things:

I do generally make it a policy to keep my negative personal thoughts about certain actors to private conversations or, y'know, Discord servers, just to keep it off public platforms where toxicity is already rampant. In this case, though, I think the situation is interesting enough to comment on. (Plus, y'know, I'm amazed he was even managing a comeback when he's been known to Be Like This for years.)

I didn't get a lot of primary sources for this post because quite frankly I don't like Joss and I don't want to look at his face any more than I already have. However, friends who've been following this more closely than I have were able to verify that there are sources out there for everything I'm going to mention. Just, y'know, don't use me or this post as a source. This isn't one of my Citations Included Posts, this is just a Why I Don't Fuck with This Guy Post.

So, for context, I made this post last month, and someone made a more explicitly worded reblog here that's honestly better if you're going in without any context.

Essentially, Joss has had a dodgy reputation for years, but I think because fan turnover is high in interfandom and he's never been in a BL series before, most interfans just know Joss as A Tall Man Who Likes Sportsball.

But when I got into Thai BL back in 2020, Joss was one of the first actors I heard of as ~Problematique~ so I looked into him, and what I learned made me go, "Ew," so I just keenly ignored him from then on. (General gross stuff like the Domundi boob-grabbing prank and some assorted Dudebro comments about women. I don't remember specifics anymore because he was barely on my radar, but a friend at the time who'd been in fandom longer basically told me, "Yeah, that's Joss, lol.")

Interestingly, before JossGawin became a thing, most interfans were rooting for JossLuke, but I think given how vocally left-leaning Luke has proven to be, I wouldn't be surprised if Luke saw the prospect of tying his public reputation to Joss and went, "lol no goddamn thank you."

Gawin, on the other hand, seems to be down for whatever GMMTV wants him to do, so he probably just sees Joss as a colleague he makes out with (acting is a weird job). He went to high school in western Pennsylvania, he has white relatives on his dad's side, and he hangs out with the Gym Dudes of GMMTV, so I'm sure he's completely desensitized and is one of those guys who thinks, "Nah," but doesn't go so far as to say, "Not cool, dude." The Gawin Caskey Method seems to be: throw a basketball, make out with a dude on camera, go home and eat an edible. Dismount.

Unfortunately, even though Gawin's never really made any political statements or taken any major stand for the queer community, he's gained goodwill that some people are now calling into question because of Joss.

Anyway, apparently Joss used to follow Andrew Tate on Twitter until Tate was suspended, so it seems a lot of people assumed Joss unfollowed Tate, but yeah, between the sexist comments, Boobgate, and admiring Joe Rogan, that was enough for me to physically recoil from the screen when I saw the teaser for MGB.

Okay NOW, everything from this point onward is new stuff I've learned over the past month that made me go, "Oh. So he's worse now."

Joss has apparently had that Joe Rogan quote pinned to his Twitter account since 2020, but people just shrugged it off because they like his man stomach or something? (I don't find him attractive, but even if I did, I truly don't understand how he made it this far. It feels like he's been pretty firmly canceled every year since I got here, honestly.)

I also didn't like him weight-shaming Gawin. There's some older clip of him calling Gawin fat, and I know in Asia it's more common to comment on other people's bodies and weight, but I also recently found out that he got Gawin a meat cake for his birthday because idk actual cake is for pussies? (Sorry, Anon, I was trying to aim for an objective tone but I abandoned it because I reeeally don't like this man.) And apparently a lot of JG fanservice is just Joss and Gawin at the gym so Joss can teach Gawin self-control or something? I've had their tag blocked from the beginning, so you'll have to look into that if you're curious.

Ah, and at some point in the last few months, Joss was apparently asked what his "type" is and he said something like "white, skinny English-speaking Europeans/Americans"(?) Which apparently made Asian women go, "Hey, c'mere real quick: good. Bye."

I also thought it was a huge red flag that Joss has been in the industry for years, and his domestic fanbase is still quite small. Others have pointed out that very few fan interactions with him are in Thai, and he's clearly courting a western audience both in his individual engagement and by partnering with a mixed American actor. When he did the LGBTQ+ panel last summer, apparently the reaction from Thai commenters was, "lmao why Joss?" not, "Oh yes, of course, Joss!"

So it seems like GMMTV has been trying to do a rebrand for Joss using Gawin and interfans more generally since Joss speaks English and interfans don't generally seek out the resources to do research. Remember last year when GMMTV announced that Y-MIND script competition? It was originally domestic only, but after Thai fans overwhelmingly went, "The contract terms here are wildly exploitative, so fuck off," GMMTV rereleased the promotional material in English and went, "HEY INTERFANS WANNA SEND US STUFF :D?"

That told me they really don't think especially highly of us.

On December 15th, someone pointed out that Joss didn't just follow Trump on Twitter, he also followed a ton of extreme alt-right accounts on Instagram. Not normal political figures, either. Obscure figures like Pearl, Candace Owens, that guy who was saying Your Body My Choice, and Andrew Tate's right-hand man, and more! Some of his fans tried to point out that he follows progressive Thai politicians, but as far as the American side, he only followed alt-right conservative accounts with zero liberal accounts.

Though, in fairness, someone did point out that Joss also follows famous progressive Democratic figures [checks notes] comedian Chris Rock and basketball player Stephen Curry.

So. Whoohoo for that, amirite?

Since Joss's fans weren't having much success defending him on their own, they threw some @'s at his account to get him to make some kind of statement that would somehow explain away why he was following a deep, deep alt-right fanatic like Pearl. (Spoiler: He didn't.)

The JossGawin International fan club even released the above statement to address the issue, then received such alarmingly vitriolic backlash from the JossGawin fandom for "betraying" Joss that the fanclub decided to deactivate entirely. (I have no idea if they reactivated or not, since I stopped keeping up with this whole debacle shortly afterward.)

One Thai(?) JossGawin fan actually seems to have used ChatGPT to create an English comment to chastise the fanclub for their lack of support in Joss's dire times:

Amusingly, rather than address his fans' concerns or unfollow any of the accounts causing the chaos, Joss instead just started deleting any comment on his Instagram that called on him to comment.

Five days later, he unfollowed 137 accounts. No idea how many of those were alt-right extremists and how many were just extra padding to make it look like a general cleanse, but it was at least fifty last I heard, and the fact that 1) it took him nearly a week to do anything but delete the comments calling him out, and 2) his first tweet after this whole mess was a quote-retweet of GMMTV's message welcoming Barcode into the company saying, "lol this kid looks like if me and Gawin had a baby" just goes to show how unthreatened he feels.

After all, Joss has been this way for years, and his upcoming series with Gawin is probably going to do numbers regardless. He's successfully rebuilt his stagnant career off the support of interfans, and he knows he'll be fine.

Even Foei has a show with Tay! We're all good here. \:D/

So yeah! That's why I don't fuck with Joss. \:D/

This'll be the last I say on Joss publicly.

I just figured I'd make one all-encompassing post so I can link back to this in case anyone asks why I'm not supporting any of Gawin's projects with Joss. It's a shame because I do really like Gawin, but this isn't even a hard choice for me to make.

Oh, and while we're on the subject: the director of MGB, Ark, is also Not a Good Dude by all accounts I've heard from multiple people who've interacted with him privately. I mean, he sure is queer, but he's also said to be a misogynist with some white-people-worshipping tendencies. He doesn't have the highest opinion of BL fandom in general, either, especially when you look back on his whole direction of IT'S NOT A BL Shadow. Just, y'know, another reminder that queer people aren't Virtuous or Evil by nature. We're a big ole clusterfuck of nuance, so you don't have to support MGB for Ark just because he's a queer man. I have zero proof that I can share publicly, so you don't have to take my word for it. Just, y'know, in case you were on the fence, I've heard he's a dick.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go write absolutely filthy gay porn to purify myself from writing Joss's name so many times.

[honeyedfate]

operation: no hate, just date | 심재윤

pairing. jake sim x idol!gf!reader

the objective is clear—make both of your fans believe that you and jake, in fact, don’t hate each other by convincing them that you’re actually in love. which you are. sadly, jake doesn’t get to shout it from the rooftops like he desperately wants to. instead he’s trapped in an elaborate plan that’s moving at a snail’s pace, but one night on weverse with the boys might speed things up.

genre. fluff & very very mildly suggestive

a/n. this is the second part to loverboy! you can read it by itself if u want but it might be more fun if u don’t lol enjoy! x

it’s been a week since jake and you were pulled aside and shoved into a meeting room where an unforeseen entourage informed him that he sucks at being your boyfriend but makes for a great arch nemesis. he had left that intervention feeling annoyed and his privacy violated, but at least they had a plan. whether that plan is a good one is still up for debate.

grey sweater guy from pr keeps responding to yuki’s plentiful emails with stupid roundabouts of how patience is a virtue and playing the long game always benefits the player. the problem is jake has no patience, and the only person who seems to get it is you.

which is likely why even after the fourth facetime call of the day, his darling-angel of a girlfriend has yet to tell him to piss off. he keeps peeking at his phone, which he has propped up against his pillow, only to begrudgingly return to his scattered lego set, positive he’ll crash out if he doesn’t hear your voice soon.

when the call finally connects and you appear on the screen, it’s like watching the sun rise. jake can feel the tension leaving his body and a lopsided smile curving over his lips. he’s hopeless, really.

you grin through the phone, hands in your hair as you tie it back, and say by way of greeting, “yunjin showed me a tiktok earlier.”

abandoning whatever he was building, jake scoots closer to his phone. “what was it about?”

“us, of course,” you say cheerily, and jake swears his heart skips a beat. not because he’s anxious of what you’re about to say but because it happens every time you refer to him and you as an item. an entity. it’s embarrassing but he kind of likes it. he likes being an idiot for you.

“someone put together a bunch of clips of everything we’ve been doing this week and it blew up on twitter.” you gently rub your oil cleanser over your face.

jake perks up at your words. he didn’t think anyone would’ve noticed any of the stuff he was told to do as part of the stupid plan. an unsettling concoction of excitement and terror swirls in his stomach. “what did they say?” he asks, fiddling with a lego piece.

you take a moment to wipe off your eye makeup, scrunching your nose when jake calls you a panda. “apparently people have been noticing how close we stood on the encore stage and that we kept looking at each other. it’s funny—i didn’t realise in that moment, but when i watched it back it looked like you’re either creeping up on me or you’re extremely terrified.”

jake tilts his head. “terrified of what? you?” he furrows his brows. “i just looked at you a couple of times like they told us to.”

“i know you did.” you turn off the faucet and grab a towel to dry off your face, trying to keep the amusement in your voice at bay. “but, babe, you’re either staring me down—unblinking—or you’re casting glances at me like you’re scared i’ll turn around and jump you.” you can’t help but giggle. “someone commented, ‘i can’t tell if jake is contemplating if he should push y/n off the stage or if he should throw himself off it.’”

jake gawks at you with his mouth agape. “that’s what they’re saying?”

you nod. he falls backward with a groan and covers his faces with his arms. “i can’t believe it. that’s what it looked like to them? really?”

“i know.” you say, more amused than empathetic.

“that’s crazy,” he says, pushing himself upright again, hair sticking out even messier than it had before. “i’m actively trying to act like a lovesick fool—which i am! don’t even—and people still think i’m trying to break your neck? that’s insane.”

you hum supportively. “at least some people believe you were offering to break your own neck for me. that’s romantic, right? we might be on the right track here.” you keep your tone playful, but jake looks at you with his starry eyes and pouty lips, resembling nothing short of a kicked puppy.

“i’m sorry i keep messing this up,” he says and the thinness in his voice makes your heart break.

“jake, you’re not messing anything up.” he looks at his hands, avoiding your gaze. “you can’t control these things, people will interpret and perceive it however they like. it’s always been this way, and it’s always been out of our control. doesn’t mean it’s your fault.”

“i don’t know, y/n,” he says quietly, and the sight of him hanging his head has you nearly sneaking out of the dorms and going over to his. you’ve never seen him look this miserably at a lego set before. “if i wasn’t so awkward and knew what to do, we wouldn’t even be in this mess.”

“no one’s perfect and all-knowing.” you pick up your phone with a frown. “and why do you keep calling it a mess? is that what you think this is?” you enter your room and get into your bed. jake looks up at the sounds of your blanket and wishes desperately he was there with you.

instead, he loosens a breath and sweeps the lego pieces onto the manual, placing it on the floor and going under the blanket as well. “what else should i call it?” he says. “it’s not a blessing.”

you ponder his words. “a mess would be our sex tape getting leaked or people making up rumours that we’re drug dealers or cannibals.”

jake cocks his head. “like hannibal?”

“i meant more like in ‘bones and all’ but sure.”

“oh.” he scratches his face. “well, we’re neither of those things. we also don’t have a sex tape.” the corner of his mouth quirks up.

“no, we don’t.” you pout, forcing a mock sigh. “but we could always make one? ‘operation: no hate, no date,’ am i right?” you waggle your eyebrows at him, prompting a wry smile to flicker across his face.

“they’ll watch it and come to the conclusion that i hate you even more.”

you huff a laugh. “we will probably also get kicked out of hybe and have to start slinging fishcakes on the street. which sounds like fun, to be honest. oh! we could make our own jingle and sing it for our customers. maybe we won’t even have to make the fishcakes if we’re successful enough.”

this earns you a laugh. “that’s just busking, baby. what you want to do is busk.”

you gasp in fake surprise before settling for a rueful sigh. “i am but an artist.”

jake presses his lips together as if to say ‘good riddance, what tragic calling’ with a saddened face before the two of you dissolve into giggles.

“okay, i get it.” he turns to lie on his side, face squished against his pillow. “going from idol to man with leaked sex tape who sings on the street and runs an unsuccessful fishcake stand would be a mess. but this is not?”

“correct.”

“i’m so relieved then.” he grins toothily at you and, of course, you reciprocate it. an involuntarily yawn slips through your lips and jake coos at you.

“is my girl tired after working hard all day?”

“she’s exhausted,” you affirm with bleary eyes. “you seem chipper for someone who’s usually drooling on his pillow by midnight.”

jake shrugs. “i’m not sleepy yet.”

you hold back another yawn. “do you want me to stay awake until you are?”

he smiles at you fondly, relishing in the softness of your drowsy voice. “it’s all right. you should go to sleep, baby.” he glances at the clock on his phone. “i think i’ll go live for a bit. haven’t done one in a while.”

“aren’t we feeling chatty tonight,” you tease, eyes fully closed now. jake swears he actually dies at how cute you look and smashes that screenshot button repeatedly. “i’ll leave you to it then. greet engenes for me.”

he grimaces. “if i do that, you’ll get your jingle and fishcake dreams fulfilled by tomorrow morning because we’ll both be unemployed.”

“sounds lovely.” you rub your eyes.

“yeah,” jake merely whispers, attention span momentarily off the rails as his doting gaze traces your face. he takes another screenshot for good measure. “good night, pretty girl,” he says tenderly, raspy voice and all. “see you tomorrow for the dance challenge and the fishcakes.”

a giggle bubbles out of you, and you crack your eyes open to offer your best, dozy smile. “and the busking. don’t forget the busking.”

“i would never. i’ll even steal one of jay’s guitars.”

you nod, pleased. “we’ll be on the run like bonnie and clyde. except for all the atrocities, of course.”

jake helplessly swoons. “i love you.”

“i love you too. good night, baby.”

the intensity at which his pulse quickens and his stomach tumbles needs to be studied because it should not be humanly possible to be so goddamn whipped. he’s not ashamed to admit that he could write lines upon lines of poetry right now just to ode your every quality and marvel at the curve of your mouth.

again, hopeless. but he’s more than okay with it.

so what if he flips onto his stomach right after the call ends, smiling blissfully into his pillow and kicking his feet? he might not be a lover boy, but he is in love.

with that same crooked smile that is probably etched onto his face forever, he opens the weverse app on his phone and opts for a voice live. as the first few people pool in, he gets lost in mindless chatter. it’s always nice to do lives at night. mainly because they make him drowsy.

at some point, he gets up for the bottle on his desk, hoping that chugging some water will wake him up. but when he returns to his bed and glances at his phone, comments keep flooding in at a speed that make them very hard to read.

“what’s this?” he chuckles nervously. “what happened? i just went to get some water.”

enhaswife: jungwon is live!! go live with him plss

sim hitomi: jungwonnie is live~~

xo, liz: CAN U GO LIVE WITH JUNGWON ‼️

“jungwonnie is live?” jake raises a brow. “that’s actually pretty early for him. it’s not even one yet.” he settles back into his bed. “i was here first though, so you guys have to tell him to come. tell him to come send a request.”

he watches the number of viewers decline rapidly, all of them seemingly leaving to do his bidding. he wields too much power and it might actually go to his head, he thinks to himself in amusement. “i told him,” he reads out loud. “i told him, he’s coming, i told him. you guys are so cute.”

not long after, the request pops up and jake is quick to accept it. his screen splits in two before jungwon’s eager face appears before him.

“yooiii,” jake greets him with a wide smile.

“yoooiiii,” jungwon practically shouts into his phone with excitement that is more appropriate for daylight hours. “what’s this? why aren’t you showing your face, hyung? are you naked?”

“what?” jake guffaws, adjusting his phone. “no, my hair’s just all over the place. engenes don’t need to see me like this.”

“oh, okay.” jungwon nods understandably as his eyes flit over the computer screen before him. the song that’s currently playing in the background changes to a more calm melody, and jake sinks further into his blanket, nearly letting out a moan at how snug he feels. “he’s bald, by the way.”

jake jolts so hard he nearly tumbles out of his bed.

“jungwon!” he watches as the comments explode into chaos. “oh my god, what have you done.”

the younger boy ignores him. “ni-ki shaved his head after practice, you know. he got the clippers from hair and makeup and went right at it. they weren’t too happy about it, but it went well. thankfully, i am so happy to announce that our hyung does not have an egghead.”

jake burst out laughing, glimpsing how jungwon’s smile expands with delight when he hears it. “i nearly lost an ear, but yes. all’s good.”

“he gave his hair to jay,” jungwon continues for no apparent reason except to bring jay into this. “he put it in a nice ziplock bag and gave it to him. jay almost cried. he was really touched.”

jake is clutching his sides, trying to keep his laughter down. before he can speak, a highlighted message pops up in the comments.

JAY: Ya! Why are you ruining my image

JAY: When jake gave me his bag of hair I wept

JAY: I wept.

JAY: Get your facts straight punk

“hyung!” jungwon says delightfully. “you’re here too. what’s going on, why are we all awake? is this a party?”

“it’s just us three here,” jake remarks, still chuckling. “what party only has three guests?”

jungwon shrugs. “i’ve never been to one.”

JAY: Me neither

jake cups his neck, deciding to join them despite the fact that there are plenty of pictures of them at several afterparties. “me neither.”

JAY: Wow

“wooow,” jungwon echoes, lips tugging into a smirk. jake frowns. did he miss something? before he can address it, a comment stands out to him.

“yes, we are a sad bunch,” he says jokingly in response to it. “you’re breaking my heart, engenes. no need to rub it in.”

jungwon snickers. “these comments are so fun tonight. i usually only get song recommendations. seriously, what’s happening? where are all my engenes who ask me to play chamber 5 for the eighth time?”

JAY: It’s because I’m here

JAY: I bring the smart ones

JAY: Also can you play chamber 5

“it’s my live.” jake scoffs when he reads jay’s comments. “they were here before you two came, and we always have very stimulating discussions.”

that’s not true. earlier’s heated topic of conversation was whether a tiger or a tiger shark would win in a fight. but jungwon and jay don’t need to know that.

“oh, hey, we’re tripple j,” jake randomly observes while suppressing a yawn.

“we are!” jungwon says enthusiastically. “the moment jay came in, all the comments were saying tripple j. imagine if all of our names started with a j. septuple j!”

JAY: Junghoon

JAY: Jeeseung, junoo, ji-ki

JAY: Annyeonghasaeyo, jenhypen-imnida

jake snorts. he glances at the time and lets another yawn overtake him. “guys, i think i’ll go to sleep. i can barely hold my eyes open.”

“i was waiting for you to say that,” jungwon quips.

“oh?” jake pushes himself up to fluff his pillow. “why? do i sound tired?”

JAY: Ow hay weor wibble j

jake furrows his brows, nearly suffering a stroke trying to read that. “hah. you’re funny.”

JAY: yoar wonny

“ahjussi, please go to bed,” jake says fondly and pulls his blanket up to his ears, letting it almost swallow him. “you’re talking gibberish again.”

JAY: :(((

jungwon ignores them, typing away on his keyboard. “i think i’ll continue my live for a bit if engenes want to join me.”

“yes, keep him company, guys.” jake yawns once more and quickly skims the comments one last time. his mind has become delirious, not really making sense of any of the words on his screen. he’s no longer thinking straight. he’s not thinking, period. which might be why his focus zeroes in on your name as it passes by.

he scrolls back up, looking for it, and finds himself reading it out loud without a second thought.

“do you want me to fight y/n for you?”

he lets his arm fall over his eyes with a funny expression on his face that no one can see and that he’s not even aware of. a mental image of you occupies half of his mind while the other half has simply shut off.

chuckling, he replies, “nah, i can take her.”

it goes quiet in the room as jake’s breathing evens out and jungwon’s typing slows down.

“hyung,” he says with emphasis, a warning tone laced in his voice. jake blinks an eye open, way too tired to grasp the gravity of what he has done. jungwon, on the other hand, is close to breaking out in hives as the comments go ballistic.

jay is not of much help either. he has left the live to message the group chat, asking if they’re now in trouble and if they’re going to kidnap you and jake again. from what jungwon can gauge based on the rapid fire notifications he’s getting, jay’s coming in clutch with quotes and screenshots of the comments, and heeseung’s immediate reaction is to cackle away.

enhaswife2: wiat whaT DID HE JUST SAY

myseven: oh REALLY >:( y/n count ur days

sunoo’s gf: you sure about that? I can fight

xiiuu7: leave y/n to me, i can handle her for you

jake reads the comments through fluttering eyes, somehow finding it all very entertaining. “oh, i take her just fine, thanks.” he rolls onto his stomach, eyes closed, smiling like an idiot, and mutters into his pillow, “i’ve handled her in more ways you can—”

his door slams open.

not a second later, jungwon stands before him in his pyjamas and snatches his phone out of his hands, breathing heavily. it lands next to jake on his pillow with a thud. screen now black.

“hyung, have you gone mad?!” jungwon stares down at him in bewilderment, his own phone in his hand lightening up every microsecond. “are you actually insane? why would you say that into the microphone?”

jake blinks up at him. “what?”

another person joins them. “what’s going on?” sunoo’s socked feet pad over the floor as he pulls down his headphones, regarding the two of them carefully. “i heard doors slamming.”

wordlessly, jungwon passes him his unlocked phone. it’s opened to a twitter account transcribing and translating in real time what had just been said on their live, including jake’s slurred but still perfectly understandable words. in other words, stan twitter is going insane.

sunoo gasps, eyes widening with each tweet as he scrolls and scrolls and scrolls. he’s reading all kinds of things—engenes who are losing it and speaking of you, your group, and your fans as if there’ll be a sword fight at dawn.

your fans who are thoroughly disoriented and confused but ready to go for blood anyway because ‘what does he MEAN he can take her?? take her WHERE?????’

and people who don’t even listen to either group but are dying over the comedic timing of jake uttering those words, jungwon hurling himself out of his chair, his footsteps thumping in the hallway, the doors banging, and the live ending all under two minutes.

some people also seem to believe that jake is bald for some reason? sunoo shakes his head in disbelief. it’s like the internet has been bored for too long, and this has revived them.

an eternity must’ve passed now, and jungwon is still lecturing a very sleepy jake whose words and actions have finally caught up to him when sunoo suddenly yelps. he practically tosses the phone in the air, and both boys turn to their attention to him. with a gulp, sunoo flips the screen around and holds it at an arm’s length.

“yuki is calling.”

jungwon exchanges a look with jake before he grabs his phone. “hello?” he says, clearing his throat. sunoo leans in to try and listen. jake, on the other hand, stays frozen on his bed, not even daring to breathe.

a heavy sigh sounds on the other line. “jungwon?”

“…yes?”

“there’s a change of plans.”

[elixirfromthestars]

A Snow Day With You

Pairing: Athlete!Bucky Barnes x Artist!Reader (college au)

Summary: The end of the semester has you stressing beyond belief, so Bucky decides to cheer you up by spending a snowy afternoon sledding.

Word Count: 1.4k

Warning(s): none. pure fluff.

Prompt/Event: @the-slumberparty december daze -> sledding isn't as fun as when we were kids

a/n: This fluffy drabble is my holiday gift to you my dear Ray @whatever-lmaoo ♡♡ Your comments on my first fic of these two have forever carved a home in my heart, so this one is for you ♡ I hope this fluffy piece can bring you a bit of happiness whenever college gets stressful ♡ This is a standalone fic, but everyone is welcome to read more of their story!₊˚⊹☆ Thank you everyone for reading! ₊˚⊹♡ Likes, comments, and reblogs are much appreciated!! ♡♡♡

where their love story began ♡ || fluffy winter fics masterlist ❆

“Babe, we're going to get hypothermia,” you grumble out, hugging your coat closer to your body. The frosty wind shoving past your face, chilling you to the bone. Bucky plops the wooden toboggan onto the snow, laughing in disbelief at your assertion, “Sweetheart, we’re not getting hypothermia.” He’s not wrong as he says this, since apart from the wind, the weather was tolerable. Last night’s snowstorm ended this morning, leaving behind ten inches of snow. Enough for a multitude of winter activities—like sledding—to be possible. 

“Maybe not, but one of us will break a bone,” you retort, watching in growing concern as other people slide down the snowy hill and end up tumbling out of their sleds when they reach the bottom. Bucky follows your line of sight and playfully rolls his eyes, “No one is going to break a bone, Y/n.” He goes to adjust your scarf, the indigo fabric a little too loose for his liking. Up close he can see the look in your eye, the one that tells him you’re not done trying to back out of this just yet. 

“Maybe you won’t, but I might. I’m not athletic enough to go sledding.”

“Baby, you don’t have to be athletic to go sledding.”

The more you speak the more Bucky’s amusement grows, but he tries not to show it too much as he sees the underlying nervousness dancing in your eyes. He finishes fixing your scarf and you plant a soft kiss on his cheek as a thank you. He smiles at you fondly, noticing your grumpy mood subside slightly. He doesn’t take your mood to heart, knowing the real reason you haven’t been feeling the best lately is because of one thing and one thing only. 

Finals.

More specifically, final grades—or the lack thereof. Most of your professors haven’t submitted them yet, leaving you in a state of limbo unsure of whether you managed to save the semester or not. 

Bucky has been your rock throughout finals season. Supporting you with extra study sessions, holding you close to soothe your frustration when it got the better of you, kissing all your tears away, and on those days you needed a break, he would put on your favorite comfort show and order takeout from your favorite restaurant. He did anything and everything he could to make you feel better. 

These last few days, however, all of that wasn’t enough to shake away the dread that insisted on making a home in your heart. Bucky knew he needed to do something different to cheer you up and get your mind off of things. After seeing how the snow had piled up overnight, he was either going to ask you to build a snowman or go sledding.

Your boyfriend—captain of your university’s baseball team—naturally chose sledding. 

“Just trust me, okay? I’ll hold you tight and make sure nothing happens to you,” Bucky promises as he makes his way over to the sled. He sits down on the end of it, his left hand gently outstretching to grab onto yours. Your gaze locks with his, your trepidation melting away the more you look into his eyes. There’s something about the snow all around him that makes his eyes a little more blue and it pulls you in with the assurance of safety. You nod, taking hold of his hand and letting him guide you to the front of the sled—slowly pulling you down to sit in front of him. 

He instructs you on everything you need to know to keep yourself stable and inside at all times. You’re not entirely paying attention as you focus more on the way he scoots forward and presses your back against his chest. His arms are on either side of you, encasing you in a protective embrace. You lean into it, letting the steadiness of his presence soothe the remaining unease in your body. 

“I’ll countdown from five and then I’ll push off, okay?” he mentions kindly, his chin resting on your shoulder as he awaits your response. You watch as others go down the snowy hill without a care in the world. Children and adults alike coasting down on sleds and pool floats, merriment written on their faces and echoing in their laughs. It helps subdue the butterflies in your stomach somewhat. 

At your silence, Bucky presses a comforting kiss to your cheek, the coldness of his lips bringing you back to him. You look over your shoulder to give him a reassuring smile, “Okay, but don’t you dare let me go, Bucky Barnes.” You warn playfully, feeling the way his chest rumbles with a laugh before he replies, “I wouldn’t dream of it, sweetheart.” 

He pulls you tighter against his chest as your hands grasp onto the steering rope. He starts the countdown from five gradually inching the sled to the edge of the peak. When the countdown ends, you feel the butterflies in your stomach flutter intensely as the descent begins. Your breath gets caught in your throat and your eyes close tightly the entire way down. While a shriek of adrenaline escapes you, Bucky chortles the entire time as he’s having the time of his life. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad was it?” Bucky poses the question when you reach the bottom, a boyish grin on his face. Your eyes open when you look behind you, noticing the way the apples of his cheeks and nose are rosy from the cold, his hair blown across his forehead, and yet the sparkle in his pretty blues unaffected by the chill. You’re reminded then and there that you’d do anything for him. Even sliding down the hill a million times if it meant keeping that joy on his face. 

“I think I left my stomach at the top of the hill, but apart from that—it wasn’t so bad,” you concede, your smile matching his. He hums in amusement, “We should probably go get it then. Shouldn’t we?” You know he’s really asking you if you two could go down the hill again, and there’s no way you would ever be able to say no, so you nod—knowing you would follow him anywhere. 

The second time you go down the hill you keep your eyes open. Marveling at the sight of the snowy trees blurring into one. By the third time, you're laughing along with Bucky and by the fourth you have the same sparkle in your eyes—enjoying the rush of the fall. And by the fifth, the stress of finals is long forgotten and Bucky feels an overwhelming sense of pride knowing he was able to lift that weight off your shoulders. 

On your last descent, things don’t go as smoothly as the other times. Halfway down the hill, the sled bumps into a large rock hidden beneath the layers of snow. You barely have time to register when Bucky yells your name, as the sled derails from its path—your stomach flipping along with the sled. 

You end up tumbling a few feet down the hill. Bucky holds you like a lifeline to his body as you land in the blanket of snow. You’re disoriented for a moment, but Bucky lifts himself to his knees in an instant, hovering above you to scan you from head to toe for any injuries. The worry etched into his features tugging at your heartstrings. 

“Y/n, are you okay? Sweetheart, please tell me you’re not hurt. Do I need to—” The fit of giggles that erupt from you cuts off his distressed rambling, a bewildered expression replacing his concern. Instead of telling him you’re alright, you decide to show him. Your hands reach out to grasp the edges of his coat and pull him down for a kiss. He melts into it faster than ice does, a cheesy smile replacing his frown. 

“I think that’s enough sledding for today,” you mumble into the kiss. He nods, agreeing wholeheartedly as he deepens it, “Mm, I second that. I can think of other ways we can spend the rest of the day,” his tone drips with suggestion, his eyes glimmering with playful mischief. You slap at his chest lightheartedly, which only elicits a deep chuckle from him before he plants a gentle kiss on your forehead. 

No matter what comes next, you know there’s nowhere else you’d rather be on a snowy day than with him.

[thedemonofcat]

As a starving artist in a large city, Jaskier naturally took the bus. He would usually listen to music and people watch on his commute to work; however, his routine has changed.

He had acquired a nemesis of sorts. Or, perhaps more accurately, an antagonistic flirtation?

You see, he bumped into a man one day, and said man made a snarky remark about Jaskier's shirt. Not one to stand insult, Jaskier snapped back. They continued like that until Jaskier reached his stop, and they've maintained a snarky back and forth everyday since.

Jaskier wasn't sure when these exchanges started to feel more like banter than oneupmanship. Maybe once the actually-quite-handsome man snorted at one of Jaskier's comments.

There was one day though when Jaskier didn't feel up to their usual banter. He had been rejected from another potential gig, and the person judging him had been rather cruel about it. He felt raw and sensitive.

So raw and sensitive that when the man made a comment about "losing his whiny voice", he started crying.

------

Geralt fucked up!

He tried to make a jab at the pretty man like they usually did, but he was crying! Fuckfuckfuck! Geralt didn't mean it! He thought it was like talking with his brothers: like verbally play wrestling.

Had he really been hurting this pretty man's feelings the whole time?!?

"I'm sorry," Geralt stammered, clearly panicking. "Please, don't cry."

"It's fine," Jaskier said, brushing away the tears from his eyes, which were undoubtedly red and swollen. "I didn’t get the gig."

"That's why you're crying?" Geralt asked, his tone perhaps coming off harsher than intended.

"Yes, I’m crying because I didn’t get the job," Jaskier admitted. "They only offered it if I agreed to sleep with the club owner. And honestly, with how close I am to being homeless, maybe I should have."

"Don’t," Geralt interrupted firmly. "Your voice is too beautiful to waste on someone like that. Who cares if some big shot doesn’t recognize it?"

“You think my voice is nice?" Jaskier whispered, surprised. Before Geralt could respond, the bus jolted forward, sending Jaskier tumbling right into Geralt’s lap.

"I’m Geralt of Rivia," Geralt said, for some reason choosing this moment to introduce himself to the captivating stranger.

"Julian Pankratz," Jaskier replied with a soft smile. "But most people call me Jaskier."

[junedenim]

hello you

one day more, part four

warnings: dad!al, fluff, slight angst, sprinkled with smut (piv)

word count: 12.4k

Sometime around when Lottie had just given birth to Franny, Alex got infected with the flu. It was likely he picked it up somewhere in those hospital halls, but that was never officially determined. Lottie banished him from the house, not wanting him to infect her or their newborn baby. Thus was born Alex's worry and fear that he was missing Franny's life.

He belonged to a profession that often required him to fly away. Lottie said she never cared much, only that she missed him while he was gone. She considers these girls-only days to be the sweet, special moments Franny will remember with her maman. 

But Alex is stuck with that ache of missing them always, even when they are right in front of his eyes. It's like two people laughing at an inside joke. He spent eleven years of his life missing her and it has never fully gone away. Lottie has tried to find solutions to this. It helped that they had mostly three uninterrupted years together after Franny was born, but still, Alex is pained by being away and phone calls just don't do it. 

He wants to smell Lottie's lavender shampoo and feel the glitter nail polish on Franny's fingers. The last time he saw them was when the band was in England and he was, of course, sick. He had Franny paint the nail polish on his nails. It mostly ended up on the skin surrounding the nails, but the act allowed him to endure the six weeks without them because he could just rub his fingers on the pink mess.

He talks to them every night before Franny goes to bed. One night he embarrassingly sang her a lullaby in the corner of a bar. He always feels bad about drinking and having fun without them, especially Lottie, who has to deal with a whiny four-year-old who doesn't want to go to sleep. 

Lottie always insists it's fine but he worries one day it won't be fine. He often feels like he's never got his shit together. She's just dragging him along. Maybe that's why a wedding took so long. Lottie doesn't even wear a ring. Her last name is still the same too and she was the one who wanted to get married. Sometimes he thinks she's playing a big trick on him. That this has all been some massive fraudulent ruse on him and he'll wake up with them gone one day.

Right before they got married, they were stuffed in a Brussels hotel with Franny. They tucked themselves away in the bathroom while Franny was sleeping. Lottie was in the bath and he was sitting on the closed lid of the toilet in his boxers watching her. 

They were sharing a "celebratory" glass of wine between them. Alex asked her, "Do you want me to change my last name?" He thought she might laugh but she didn't. Her expression was contemplative, still processing his words. She sank deeper into the tub, the water touching her cupid's bow. She took her time thinking and he passed it by sipping on the wine. 

She lifted her mouth out and asked, "Why would you do that?"

He shrugged and said, "'Cause I love you" because that has been the driving force of all his actions since 2018. 

She smiled and placed her arms on the edge of the tub, resting her chin on her folded arms. She was cherubic, one of Botticelli's angels. "That's nice."

He came beside her and kissed her after that, but in the darkness of all these empty hotel rooms, he thought about how she didn't say I love you back. He gets this way on the road and he knows he's overthinking and he knows she’s probably nervous that all this time away from one another isn't good for you. But still.

They got married the next day, so, who is he to doubt her love? He's just insecure and lonely, he knows this. It's different now—missing someone. His love for Lottie is undeniable. It's the only way he's able to function, but Franny...that's something different.

She's a piece of him. Literally. Sometimes it feels like she's his heart just running around their London home with a mind of its own. He always knew having children could be like this. He didn't know it would feel like this. It came to him quickly in two moments. 

Right after she was born they placed her by Lottie, but since it was a C-section and given Lottie was still open, they gave her to Alex in place of the usual skin-to-skin with the mother. There, when his heartbeat rang through her little ears and her cries turned to small whimpers, he cried with her. It was the quiet kind of crying. I know how you feel, kid, I love you too.

Loving her is the easiest and hardest thing to do. A weight crushes down on him, threatening to break through his ribs that only subsides when she pats his face and says, "Papa." (Yeah, Lottie got her way).

Late at night on one of those phone calls, he talks to Lottie. She's cleaning up their house in London and he's smoking a cigarette on his hotel's balcony in Vegas. He hears Franny's toys rattle against her hands as she says, "There's no need to be jealous, Al." Maybe he should feel lucky that he's looking out at Sin City's lights and was able to have two whiskeys during a game of poker. He doesn't.

But she speaks to him in a way that always puts things in perspective. The calm in the middle of the storm. It was something that used to seem so unexciting to his teenage mind, even when he was running around Brussels with her, he thought happiness would lay there, but really it lies in her, not the moment.

"You don't miss me?" He asked it jokingly, but he took her answer seriously.

"You're all I think about. The good and the bad. I even miss having your wet towels on the floor."

"Wow," he chuckles. She's crying. He could hear it. But he doesn't comment on it, he knows it will hurt her more. "I bet all my gambling money on green in roulette."

She laughs then says, "You lost, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but it's okay. Got me on the phone with you sooner."

He keeps a photo in his wallet. He'd never thought he'd come to an age when he did that. Lottie makes fun of him for having the default iPhone background. She doesn't know about the photo in his wallet.

It's Lottie and Franny at Waterstones. It's a photostrip, so technically it's four pictures in one. She showed it to him when the band came through London. At first, it felt like another thing he missed out on, but then Lottie showed him a photo strip taken of her with her mother, right when she was around Franny's age. He realized some moments aren't meant for him. But they are, so he keeps it in his wallet.

It's nice to catch a glimpse of it when he's buying dinner or buying M&Ms at a gas station in Roscoe, Illinois. He sees it when he's buying Franny a stuffed animal from the Lincoln Park Zoo. It dulls the ache when he sleeps with it that night. Maybe he's always been childish and never grew out of his twin-sized bed or Franny has just woken the little boy inside him, but he hugs the stuffed polar bear close to his chest that lonely night in Chicago.

It helped that within a few days, they'd all reunite in Montreal, where Lottie could check out how her French compares with the Quebecois. She's never been to Canada before. It reminded Alex of the lack of travelling they had done together. Other than spots around Europe, which nowadays have been reserved for visiting family, he and Lottie have never been on a trip together, non-work, non-family related. 

Perhaps because the first "trip" they took together in Brussels couldn't be topped romantically, however, they didn't even have a honeymoon. Alex insisted against it, knowing he'd be gone soon, and not wanting to be away from Franny for too long and Lottie agreed. 

They will have to do something like it soon or maybe just start with being in the same city. There's something he longs for, wishes he could be better and not do this, but he is pulled in two, even if Lottie says otherwise. He likes going swimming with Lottie. They've only done it twice, both in a pool, but he'd like to do it again, maybe soon on a Californian beach.

A few years back, when Franny was just a babe and everything about being a parent they were struggling to figure out, Alex and Lottie talked about everything and nothing. The mundane helped pass those sleepless nights. It helped their relationship stay afloat and not drown around the strain of their crying child.

Lottie was breastfeeding Franny on the couch. It was sometime around 3:30 in the morning. Franny woke up crying and Lottie insisted it was her turn. After ten minutes of no return and no noise, Alex went out to the living room where the television was on but muted and Lottie looked a second away from dropping dead. He probably did too, except, you know, he didn't just have major surgery to remove a human being from him.

She gave him a wordless smile as he sat beside her and placed his arm around her, squeezing her shoulder. "I'd kill for a coffee," she said. He doesn't offer because she'll refuse, she's breastfeeding after all.

"Maybe we should go out tomorrow. We've all been cooped up for too long." He had been the only one to go out and that had been for a limited time running to grocery stores and the bakery on the corner that has donuts Lottie loves.

She shook her head. "Too much work." She hates the idea of Franny crying in public. She gets so worried about inconveniencing people that she inconveniences herself instead.

Franny unlatched and Lottie handed her off to Alex to burp her. His palm almost completely covered her back. When she was so little like that he had a hard time believing she was real and belonged to him. She sometimes felt like a doll. He always thought the hospital messed up and gave them the wrong baby. She felt too perfect to be his.

"Maybe you should go out for a walk. I can keep Franny company," he offers.

"Who's gonna keep me company? It's boring to walk alone."

They had become so accustomed to that shared space. In the first few months of Franny's life, they were on top of one another and it never bugged them. They liked those early morning couch talks. Sleep suffered but they were fortunate enough to not have to worry about work the next day.

Lottie's mother came a few weeks after the couch talk. Alex and Lottie went on a walk while she watched Franny. It was cold and Lottie curled her arms around his right arm, stuffed away in his coat pocket.

"I love her as my little baby," Lottie said, "but I can't wait until she's a little older and can do all this stuff with us. Can you imagine her walking? We'll each hold one of her little hands and swing her between us. I always wanted to do that."

She had a thoughtful look on her face. Her smile had become a slight frown. She told him about halfway through the pregnancy that she felt like she was rewriting her history. She was so happy Franny would have a loving, present father, but now he's nowhere close to her.

Lottie will say he's nothing like her deadbeat dad, and sure he might at least be around sometimes, but what's the difference if he's not there to hold her other hand?

When he goes to bed in Toronto, he dreams about Paris. They were all together there in May. First for two shows, then during the tour break. They visited Lottie's family and had romantic evenings where Francoise spent the night with her grandmother.

Francoise swung between them as they walked through Luxembourg Gardens. She splashed her hands softly against the fountain waters with infectious giggles. She squealed and asked, "Can we get a frowntain?"

They got her a mini plastic toy fountain and placed it in their small backyard. In late July, the period before he left for North America, he watched her splash in it. They have these metal tables out in the yard that he and Lottie both shamelessly smoked at in the evening after Franny had gone to bed.

He misses that backyard so desperately. The summer air, the smoke that somehow made the air more breathable, the city groaning in the distance. Lottie would sit out there in a shirt and underwear claiming it was too hot for anything else. 

They spoke in short sentences, sometimes tossing the conversation back and forth, sometimes in simple junctions one at a time. Usually, they talked about Franny and their days, ignoring the impending doom of his leaving.

The weather was sweet with a breeze and Lottie looked over at him and he could imagine her at every point he had known her, all combining into the woman in front of him. She giggles at the attention but doesn't ask anymore why he's staring, she knows. 

He laughed with her, just wanting to savour a piece of this, any piece of her for a breath more. It swelled around him. It's still swollen in this waiting process. He hopes they slept on the flight.

He twists his wedding band on his left ring finger. He wears his because he wants to. He loves that kind of thing, loves thinking of her all the time. He likes it when it glistens on stage or he knocks it against the bathroom sink. He twists it when he's anxious and when they're together, having sex, she kisses it like he's the Pope.

It's probably the other way around. He told her once that if he were to ever pray, he'd be praying to her. He says things like this usually post-orgasm, so maybe it's truthful, or maybe he's feeling faint but a blowjob is a very powerful thing.

He used to think he'd spend his whole life waiting for her in the metaphorical sense. He thought one day she might come backstage to a show or when she's hard pressed for cash she'll write a book about their time together or one day in a Parisian cafe she'll walk in. Part of that was true, but now he waits for her—them—in the literal sense. Or she waits for him.

Lottie and Franny arrived in Montreal yesterday. She wanted to get everything settled and try their best to be caught up in the different time zones before they spent a day walking around the city. Franny can be fussy without her sleep and they're still unsure how she'll react to jetlag. This is her first time on a plane.

Montreal is supposed to be their special day. They'll be going to Boston the next day, something Alex keeps joking about even if Lottie doesn't find it so funny. He keeps saying they'll run into her ex-fiancé and Lottie gets increasingly pissed every time he says it. He won't anymore because the joke is getting old, especially when he's her husband now.

Today is a reunion, although, as always, it's mudded with obligations like a concert in the evening. He'll linger the best he can to avoid being pulled away from them. He's sick of other things taking priority. It's his fault anyway. He brought this suffering on himself.

Back during the start of the tour, Lottie flew out and joined him for the short first leg in North America. It started in Vegas where he initially joked that if Lottie blew on his pair of dice they might get lucky (this sounds like a sexual euphemism but seriously it was just a game of crabs) and then they actually won. They kept doing it until they lost all the betting money and vowed to never gamble again.

Unsurprisingly, in Los Angeles, Lottie wanted to go to as many art museums as possible. He lived in that city for so many years yet he's not sure he saw as much of it as he did with Lottie. She kept going on about how Young Man at His Window by Gustave Caillebotte reminded her of him. Alex still doesn't understand this. The back of the man's head looks nothing like him. As always, Lottie says it's not what you see it's what you feel.

In New York, they went to more museums. She'd never been to The Met so he took her to The Met. It was partially a surprise. He said he wanted to take her somewhere and she wasn't shocked when they landed on The Met steps. She became obsessed with The Costume Institute and kept pointing at garments and shoes, saying, "I'd like you to buy something like that for me." As if Alex is able to obtain a 17th-century wool mantua and as if Lottie would wear it. She sometimes struggles to just wear a skirt.

They returned to London after that, had a week together, and then he left again. She joined him at other points in the tour. She flew with him to Australia, tour dates that were right after Christmas and took place on New Year's Eve. He said it would be bad luck to not be able to kiss one another and since she had never been to Australia, she left Franny with Alex's parents and joined him. 

Montreal is warm but not hot. It's the ideal temperature for walking. Lottie says he gets clinical about those things. She says he sounds like how she has always imagined a father to sound. He's concerned with weather patterns and the best route to get somewhere but struggles to use Google Maps. When he yells at the GPS directions someone else might take that as an overreaction but she laughs every time.

He grabs a coffee before he's driven to the hotel. He sips it quickly knowing that'll mean he will have to pee all day, but he needs it to stay on his feet. Then, he's at the hotel. It's nice, but modest looking. A place with room service but not an extravagant spa.

He opens the hotel room door and it looks empty minus a carry-on suitcase and the kid-sized suitcase they bought for Franny last Christmas. It's pink and has a rainbow butterfly printed on it. Franny fell in love with them when they went to Horniman Butterfly House and one landed on her arm. 

She tells everyone about that. She taps on the spot it landed on her and tells them a butterfly kissed her there. Whenever he sees butterfly or caterpillar imagery, he thinks of Franny. Chrysalis is his new favourite word. His notebook is covered in butterfly stickers. He knows what they eat, the different species, and that they can tell time. 

The bathroom door opens. Lottie stands, still in her pyjamas, smiling. "Oh, hi." She looks like she's just woken up. Her eyes are light and her smile feels like laying your head on a pillow after a long day of work. Her words are spoken with a crackle in them and her hair is occupied with fly-aways. 

He reaches out and pats them down. "Hi." Neither move closer. He holds her cheek in his hand and rubs his thumb along the bone. It feels like he is holding the weight of her. Her skin is blessed with a softness he has only felt elsewhere in Franny's cheeks. "Where's Franny?"

"Sleeping under that pile of blankets. She was cold last night."

"Flight okay?" He asks.

"Yeah. Yours?"

"Yeah." He smiles. "Kiss me."

He wants to feel her lips but doesn't want to move from holding her in any single way. It's perfect and it's smooth and this is all he needs. He'd stay and camp out in this hotel room as long as they didn't leave. He hates himself for ever wanting anything other than this.

When they part, he asks, "Should I wake her?"

Lottie pouts. "Am I no good?" She's needy and if he's been feeling lonely she's probably been feeling it tenfold. He gets to be with his best mates every day and her only freedom is her independent work. She would say he's feeling sorry for her when there's no need to be. She likes her work, she loves being with Francoise, and she has plenty of company in London. He tends to view her as a lone soul but she's had friends in London long before him.

Her bottom lip is jutting out towards him and he feels like a magnet is pulling his hips to her hips. "I don't think you're trying to be." His hand has fallen from one cheek to another. His thumb rubs her waist. She, of course, keeps her hands to herself.

"Sometimes I need attention too, you know." She pulls her face away but moves her hips closer.

He's falling over himself trying to get closer to her. "Yeah, I know how needy you are."

She rips herself away. It's either a game, a joke, or something to prove a point. He can't read that part of her. She goes further into the bathroom over to the sink where she is getting ready. "I'm not needy. You're needy."

That's always been the case. He begs. A lot. He got down on his knees once, placed his hands together, and begged at her knees. They were both laughing the whole time but he still wanted her all the same. 

He moves into the bathroom and closes the door behind him. "Maybe." He wants her. He wants her in every way. He wants to take her up against the sink from behind. He wants her on her knees. He wants to be on his knees. He wants her in the shower. He wants her on the floor. He'll take her to the toilet if he has to. "I missed you."

She brushes her hair and looks at him through the mirror. "Don't get all schmaltzy on me." Her smile quirks in the mirror, much like when they were held up in her Parisian apartment. They spent hours in glances. They felt as sexual as being inside one another. A look meant so much. 

He wishes she was naked now like that morning in January right before they found out she was pregnant. They slept naked. It used to be the only way they did sleep before they had to worry about a child climbing into bed with them. She'd get up and make coffee or tea, sometimes toast or a bagel and she'd never put a piece of cloth on her.

He used to feel so hunched over in his body, desperate to hide parts of himself from the morning light. But she didn't care, so why should he? He would get up behind her body and would be rubbing against her in such a sexual sense but never try anything. It was just nice to feel her skin on his. It felt the same as holding Franny for the first time. It was this precious thing that was somehow chosen to be his.

He'd kiss her shoulder and she'd pour him a cup of coffee. It felt like no one else in the world existed. He didn't want anyone else in the world to exist. It was Lottie and that was it. He hadn't felt that way with anything before, not even the projects he created. It made him believe in God in some way because there was no other way to explain how this worked out for him.

Lottie finds that to be dumb. She doesn't believe in soulmates. Probably because of her mother and the years of loneliness their family had. She doesn't like the idea of someone choosing for her. That there was some fate out of there deciding her every move. She finds it more romantic that two people found each other all by themselves. They worked through everything and made things work because they wanted to for each other. He agrees but still believes that they were shaped into puzzle pieces for each other.

Now, he comes up behind her in the same way. It's his way of reminding her. Remember this. Remember when it was just the two of us in a place smaller than this hotel room. Remember how nothing was between us.

She smirks, knowing what he is going for when his hands bring her butt into his groin. She lowers the brush from her hair and stares at him through the mirror. "What are you doing?"

He leans down and kisses her neck. He wishes she had more bare skin to kiss. "Being needy."

She turns around in his arms. She hooks her arm around his neck and slots her knee in between his legs. "It's too early for that."

He brushes his nose against hers. "It's never too early."

She sighs and lets go, returning to brushing her hair. "Not with Francoise in the next room."

He kisses her clothed shoulder. "Does that mean no sex at all?"

"Not now. Later," she promises. Her smirk tells him she wants it as badly as he does. It's like being a teenager and having to hide from your parents all over again. It reminds him of the excited feeling when the house was empty. Or when he got his first blowjob in the backseat of a car. It makes the idea of sex adventurous all over again. 

Well, except they're in their thirties, they have a kid to take care of, and he only sees her occasionally these days. It's awfully painful for his sex drive, always having to hit the brakes. The end is in sight. He can't wait to pull off the exit and get that blowjob.

"What do you want to do?" He asks.

"Get breakfast first. I only ate a bag of peanuts and a packet of Biscoffs yesterday."

"Why didn't you get dinner after you landed?"

"Too much work. She was already asleep by the time we got to the hotel." She has that habit. He worries she'll wither away one day. She just forgets to eat and then nighttime hits and she's beyond starving. It's something in her DNA and if he's not there she just won't bother with dinner.

"I'll get you a nice breakfast," he promises. He kisses the top of her head before sitting on the closed toilet seat. "What about after? Other than some art museum."

She turns around with a scowl. "Don't mock me."

"I'm not mocking you."

"I like things other than art, you know." She's sensitive about this. He's never gotten to the bottom of why she always feels he's making fun of her when it comes to her love of art. The passion she has for it inspires him. She's educated him and made him fall in love with it too. Still, she's on the defensive.

"Well, all I want to do is go to the art museum," Alex tells her as he slides off his shoes. 

She tosses a smile over her shoulder. She pats her hair down, sweeping it over her shoulders. He watches her and every slight movement she makes. Her legs are bare, she's wearing underwear, a shirt, and a smile. She taps each finger on the marble countertops before she walks over to him and sits on his lap.

Her arms curl around his neck and his arms around her waist. "If you believe me, I missed you."

Alex chuckles. "Yeah. I believe you."

She kisses him with a tight hold. She hops off his lap. "I think you can wake her now. I'm too hungry to wait."

He stands up and kisses her cheek. "Alright, then."

Franny sleeps with these quiet snores. They're cute, not the kind that prevents sleep, the kind that soothes sleep. Her mouth is in a small 'o' shape. Her head hangs back and her hair hangs in two braids, rustled from travelling and sleep.

She likes sleeping more than anything. She whines when anyone wakes her up and clings to the blankets for dear life. Alex's hand covers her back. She's bigger now but still so small. He gives her a light rub, rattling her awake. She groans just like Alex does and rubs her eyes.

"Stop," she tells him.

He chuckles. "Come on, Fran."

Her eyes pop open. Usually, they flutter like those butterflies. She can be slow-moving like a sloth but today she pops up like a rabbit and starts jumping on the bed. "Maman, you were right!" She shouts. Lottie always reminds her, "One sleep until you see papa."

Lottie insists Franny looks like him. Alex knows she's just being polite. She looks exactly like Lottie, besides her hair. Her face is still so small. He can't bear to think of the day she grows old enough to not fit just under his hand. It's getting harder for him to pick her up. Maybe he's the one getting too old with the slight strain in his back.

Franny collapses on top of him, tugging on his neck. He finds himself laughing, so overjoyed by her excitement. "I love planes," she tells him. "Are we going on another one?" That's the best outcome they could have asked for. 

Franny is scared of a lot of things. She grew out of her fear of the vacuum earlier this year, but she's still terrified of thunderstorms, monsters under the bed, Snow White, and grapes (they are still unsure of the origin of the latter). He feels bad for liking it when she has bad dreams because she'll wake them up, usually by tugging one of their hands, and ask to climb in bed with them. They slot her in the middle and that's when he feels they are truly a family. He always wishes to protect them.

They go to a cafe near Mount Royal Park and the Museum of Fine Arts. Franny insists on sitting next to Alex in the booth. Lottie is across from them, on her own little island as she puts it. She looks down at the menu, her hair cascading around her. She brushes one side behind her ear. Alex stares at her, rather than his menu.

Franny tugs on his arm. She got a mean pull for a kid who is only four. "Will you order for me?" He's comforted by this, knowing that while she has grown, for now, she's still his tiny little girl who gets nervous talking to strangers like their waiter. 

Her hair is in fresh braids. Lottie told him that for the past month that's the way she's insisted on wearing her hair. She's got these overalls on. Blue denim with a sunflower embroidered on the front. Underneath she has a white shirt with purple short sleeves, her favourite colour. She smiles up at him, hoping to charm him into getting her all the treats she wants. She still has all her baby teeth, even though she desperately wants to lose one so the tooth fairy will visit her.

"Can you order for me too?" His other girl requests. Lottie is resting her head on her hand. There's pink in her cheeks and a smile that doesn't show her teeth, something she's still insecure about. Her two front teeth are crooked, turned slightly inward toward the other. It's unnoticeable unless you stare at it for an extended period of time. Everyone calls it cute but she says that it's a clear sign she grew up poor.

She wears a white linen blouse that was made for breezy weather. The front of it hangs open enough that he can see the charm of her two necklaces, one with a small blue pendant, the other with St. Michael. Her shoes have a slight heel to them. She jokes that they wear the same shoes, although he would like to point out that they are different sizes.

Lottie gets two eggs and a chocolate crepe, Franny gets waffles, Alex gets another coffee and Franny's leftovers. He cuts her waffles for her because she still hasn't mastered the grip of a knife. He tries to sneak a bite of Lottie's crepe but she slaps his hand away. "Get your own."

Right after they relocated to London and all of Lottie's things mixed with all of Alex's things, they had the question of possession. In other words, he learned Lottie likes to claim things. They shared shirts, kitchen utensils, and shampoo, but while Alex lost track of what fork was originally owned by who, Lottie still refers to things as yours and mine. 

Her possessive pronoun usage was exact. She calls the bed they share your bed, she calls their dining table my table. When she was further along in her pregnancy and refused to buy ugly maternity clothes, she took to wearing more of his clothes. It only lasted for about a month. She's a tad smaller than him but he's no six-foot giant. She still wears some of his jeans to this day and will say, "I'm going to wear your jeans" just like she did back at the hotel.

He doesn't know why she does this. Maybe because English is her second language or she spent her whole childhood getting hand-me-downs from her brother. Either way, what once confused him, now is just amusing. It might be his favourite of her quirks.

"On the plane ride here, Francoise and I watched Toy Story 2," Lottie says to him, but she's prompting Franny to talk. Franny's quiet and keeps to herself. He recognizes that to be a quality she inherited from him. She often hesitates but she differs from him. Once you give her permission to talk, she rambles.

"What'd you think, Fran?" He asks.

She finishes chewing her waffle. She's a proper young lady. "I liked it a lot. It was funny, it was scary. I liked Jessie the best but I want a Woody doll or a piggy bank. I can put my tooth fairy money in there. I don't think my toys come to life. They're too lazy. But it was a good movie. Maman cried but I didn't. I still give it a thumbs up." She gestures the thumbs up with a head shake before returning to her waffle bits.

Alex contains his laughter. "I'll have to see it then, especially if it made maman cry."

"Shush," Lottie signals.

"We can watch it tonight!" Franny suggests with a big smile.

Lottie answers for him, "We're going to papa's concert tonight, remember?"

"Oh, yeah!" She excitedly tosses her head back and forth. Her braids jiggle around like two jump ropes playing a game of double Dutch. "I like your concerts."

It's a genuine compliment, Franny still doesn't know how to give fake ones. She told him after the first show she saw that she found him to be too loud and that they should turn the volume down. Still, she danced around like the music was being played just for her. She's never been to any other concerts and says she wants to go to more.

For her third birthday, Lottie gifted Franny a toy microphone. She didn't like it and handed it to Alex instead because he'd use it. Franny doesn't like singing or the guitar or even banging on drums. She doesn't like loud things.

She's quiet and conserves her energy. She likes the flowers they grow in the backyard. She likes to paint with her maman. She likes doing somersaults in the grass. She likes the smell of honey. She would one day like to bake cookies by herself, but she's too young to turn on the oven. She's a flower child.

They walk over to the Fine Art Museum, Franny swinging between them. "You know, this is the oldest art museum in Canada," Lottie says.

Alex nods. "I did my research."

Lottie rolls her eyes, convinced he's pulling her leg. "You did not."

"Yes, I did." Alex quickly nods. "I got one of those Blue Planet books."

Still not believing him, she says, "No, you did not." He snorts at her jaw dropped open, the disbelief smothering her face.

"How else would I know where Leonard Cohen is buried?"

"'Cause you're a dork."

He's baffled at the accusation, tapping his chest. "I'm a dork?" This is coming from the woman who has a membership at nearly every art museum in London despite the majority of them being free. 

"I'm a dork," Franny cheers. She eases tensions. She came along so early in their relationship that it's hard to judge how their dynamic would have developed without Franny. Alex has no doubt they'd still be together but things would be different without her.

He imagines Lottie would join him for more legs of the tour if they didn't have to worry about Franny, but that's probably not true. Lottie has a job that she's passionate about. She's more filled with drive and love for it than he has seen anyone else in any other profession. She loves observing art, she loves writing about art, she loves creating art.

They'd probably still be in Paris. Lottie agreed to move to London because Alex had a larger living situation there that would fit a growing family. Her boss had friends in London that he recommended Lottie for, allowing her to make the move.

He knows she longs for it. London isn't her favourite. But Franny loves it and Alex loves being home and she's willing to make that sacrifice for them. He worries that he's allowed her to give up so much. One day she'll see that she's let go of things she's loved for him and she'll hate him for it. They've fought about it before. They'll probably fight about it again. 

But she does love it there. She loves their house and their neighborhood. She loves that she's four blocks away from Leah and on the corner of their street is her favourite bakery. She loves the London art scene and she loves that she has enough space to make her art. She loves the way people admire her slight French accent and finds her to be cool from that alone. She hasn't felt cool most of her life.

However, he knows she misses her mother. She has friends in Paris that she rarely sees now. She only speaks her mother tongue to their four-year-old. For that, he'll always feel guilty.

"I've always wanted to go to Monet's garden," Lottie says as they stand in front of A Cliff at Pourville in the Morning. "It's only about an hour outside Paris, in Giverny, yet I never went."

Franny's eyes gaze up at the painting completely lost in it. She's getting to the age when she understands the beauty in these things. She'll marvel at it and understand the gravity of what is in front of her. Or she's just copying her mother, she likes doing that too.

"We can go when we go to Paris in December," he offers. 

"It's closed in the winter."

He can't control the weather and yet it feels like he should be able to. He wants so badly to give her what she wants but it feels like it falls flat all the time. Every gesture falls at her feet with a disappointed thud. A gift she is forced to fix all the broken pieces he created.

Lottie bends down to Franny's ear. She grabs her arms, holding her in place. "Do you like this one?"

She rapidly nods her head.

"It's an exchange between the ocean and the sky," she talks to Franny like she's an adult. "The fleeting beauty of dawn before day sweeps it all away." Alex doubts Franny knows what dawn is but she nods along enthusiastically.

They move quickly, not soaking in nearly enough art as he's sure Lottie would want. They have a tight schedule before they have to be at the venue. He'd apologize for it but he knows she'll be more annoyed by that than actually having to leave the museum. 

They take a walk through Mount Royal Park. Lottie takes pictures of Franny as she goes up the Grand Staircase. Franny taps her shoe on each stair. She likes to hear it knock against the wood, the crick each step makes. She stands proudly at the top of the stairs with her hands proudly tugging on her overall straps. You'd think she climbed the mountain itself with how much pride she and her parents have.

She doesn't like to walk on the established path, so she decides to walk ahead of her parents on the grass. Alex walks with his hands in his pockets. Lottie walks with her tote bag over her shoulder and a light-knit black sweater in case it gets cold (it never does).

"Does it remind you of France?" Alex asks.

"Um." She thinks for a moment, looking around at the greenery. "No." She doesn't explain further and Alex doesn't ask for more. "Does it remind you of France?"

Alex chuckles. "You'd know better than me."

She shrugs. "Maybe I'm too snobbish or too filled with nostalgia to decide whether this does measure up with France."

"A little, but maybe it's just the French part."

"You gonna go se branler in the bushes?"

He tosses his head back. "Hush."

She giggles and moves closer to him, knocking shoulders with him. "I think Francoise likes it more than either of us." The little girl is examining flowers, sprouting between the grass and the concrete. She doesn't pluck one, just looks at it from all angles.

"I wish I had an attention span like both of you," Alex says. He tries for both of them but staring at a painting as long as Lottie does is a near-impossible task. Franny has inherited all of those traits. He loves it, but there's no way he can do it.

Lottie curls her arm around him. "You have other talents." 

He raises an eyebrow. "Like?"

"We are going to your sold-out concert, Al. There's no need to be modest."

"I'm not trying to be."

She smiles. "I know." She brushes the side of his head, pushing back his hair off of his forehead. "You have blinders on to all your achievements. You forget that you're the most talented person I know."

He scoffs. "Don't lie to me."

"You don't have to believe me. Just think of all the people that are probably jealous of you."

He tosses his head from side to side. That convinces him. She giggles and kisses his cheek.

Leonard Cohen's grave is covered in small stones. Some are painted, some have writing on them, some are blank. It's weird. It's someone he's admired all of his adult life and he's right in front of him, buried in the ground. He doesn't think about death much, but he's thinking about it now.

He hasn't been to many cemeteries. Lottie has been to more than she can count. France is covered in them. She used to walk through Cimetière du Père-Lachaise with her mother every Saturday, finding a new corner of it. Her mother also had a thing for Jim Morrison.

Alex wonders if they should have brought Franny here. If she knows enough about life and death to understand what stands before her. As always, she's well-behaved, admiring the sculptures that stand above the gravestones. 

Cohen is buried with three generations of his family. He thinks that's what he'd like. He'd like to be buried in the same coffin as Lottie, disintegrate into one another. That would probably disgust her. She hates the smell of fish. He can't imagine how she'd react to rotting flesh.

Still, he thinks about losing this one day. He'd like to go before her, of course. He probably couldn't function without her. Poor Franny would have to take care of him, remind him of his appointments, tell him to take his meds, and remind him that the sun still exists. So, he'll go first. He smokes and drinks more than her anyway so it'll probably work out that way. He should stop thinking about this now. 

"You want to go to the Basilica now?" He asks her. 

She smiles softly. It feels like a kiss upon his soul. A blessing he feels so lucky to receive. "Sure."

The bus is close to empty but they sit in the back because Franny likes that it's higher than the rest of the bus. She used to like sitting on one of their laps when riding public transit but she doesn't like that now. She likes to be viewed as a big girl but she wants to sit between her parents so she can touch both of them.

She rests her head on Lottie's shoulder. She's growing tired of all this walking. They aren't doing funny little kid things here but he promises that they'll do it in Boston. Lottie already plans to have fancy afternoon tea at the Boston Public Library, which Franny is already super excited about.

The altar of the basilica is centered by a golden Jesus. The spires strain Lottie's neck as she gazes up at them. He tries to figure out what the wood carving below Jesus is for so long until Lottie tells him it's a high relief of the Last Supper. His eyesight is getting pretty bad.

The spiral staircases captivate Franny. She wants to climb and descend them, waving her hand like she's a royal. Alex wants to know about the organs. There are thousands of pipes, varying from some of the tiniest he's ever seen to the biggest. He's definitely a dork.

He leans next to Lottie's ear and whispers, "They've got some big pipes here."

She laughs in anticipation. "Don't you dare make a sex joke in a church."

Alex contains his laughter. "Wouldn't be the first time."

They walk along the St. Lawrence River because Lottie likes the water and Franny likes quays with ships docked in them. She becomes occupied in her own world. She likes running ahead but not out of sight. She's too well-behaved, it's strange.

Alex holds Lottie's hand. "If I die—"

"Jesus, Al!" She drops his hand, already shaming him for bringing it up. "I don't like talking about that."

"Fine, if you die—"

"Stop it."

"It's a serious question. I'm curious."

She frowns and crosses her arms. "Fine."

"Would you want to be buried in Paris?"

She shakes her head. "I don't want to talk about this now."

"Okay."

Franny tugs on his hand. He looks down and she pats her stomach. "I'm hungry."

They walk down Saint-Paul Street, stopping at a place called Modavie because Franny likes the live jazz music that's flooding out onto the streets. The kind they listened to when they were building the crib in what would be Franny's room. Well, he built the crib, Lottie yelled the instructions at him.

The room was painted lemon and the rocking chair in the corner was an old wood with a pink seating pad. It had been the same chair Lottie was rocked to sleep in. They never used it; instead, they always sat out on the couch. They finally got some use out of it when Franny was old enough to climb in on her own and rock it back and forth.

While Franny said she was hungry, it's actually Alex, who had only eaten scraps of waffles and two coffees. The place is too nice for a quick meal before the show but it's French and he likes the sound of lamb chops. Franny gets calamari because she likes the pronunciation and she's had it before so they know she won't hate it. Lottie gets mussels and fries because Brussels.

Lottie orders for them in French. The waiter says something back to her that makes her laugh but Alex has no clue. He's tried to learn more but he hasn't practiced on the road. It's not his fault his own private tutor won't come with him.

They don't talk. It's far too loud to hear each other over the music, which is nice, but he'd prefer conversation over it. Lottie leans over and whispers straight into his ear, "I bet you she likes this more than your show."

He turns to speak into her ear. His skin brushes against hers. His stubble scratches her jawbone and his lips lightly touch her earlobe. "Yeah, this one has food and mine will be 'too loud.'"

Lottie turns back to his ear. "It's good. I want her to protect her ears." Alex agrees but he's almost certain this jazz band will do more damage to her ears than his band. Their table is right near the stage. Her ears are so close to the saxophone.

Franny pops calamari into her mouth so quickly he worries she'll choke. Granted, he does inhale the lamb chops. Lottie hasn't even had a fry yet by the time he's finished. He snags one of them and she allows it. She then drops a mussel shell into his lap just because she wants to see him squirm. (He does and she giggles almost as loud as the music).

They take the metro to the venue, Bell Centre, or Centre Belle as Lottie calls it because she's French and difficult. The second they step on the platform and wait for the 2 train Alex asks, "Is there something special about Montreal trains I should know?" He speaks quietly so as to not expose his shame.

He truly never got the hang of the doors of Paris's Metro. Either it took him too many tries to open or his arm would get ripped off, eventually, he refused to do it and forced Lottie to do it every time or they wouldn't get off the train. She'd laugh hysterically. 

The last time they were there and Lottie was sad they were leaving, Alex opened the door to cheer her up. He tripped and almost fell face-first on the platform. Suddenly, Lottie wasn't so upset anymore.

Now, she laughs at his question. "I don't know. I've never been here before."

"We'll just have Francoise take care of everything," he says.

She smiles and leans her head on his shoulder as they wait. Franny is holding his hand. He doesn't care how long the train takes. This is a nice place to be.

When it comes powering through the station, Franny jumps up and down, beyond excited by the mode of transport. The doors automatically open and Franny leads the way, hopping on the train. She sits on Alex's lap because it's only two seats per row and she doesn't want anyone to be separated. She kicks her feet out and the heel of her shoes beats against his shins.

"These are sleek," Lottie says while looking around the train car.

"Much nicer than London," he says. Lottie rolls her eyes. "What?" He asks.

"This is what happens with a French regime," she says.

He makes an amused noise, somewhere between a laugh and a sigh. "What? Nicer subways?"

She shrugs. "I don't know. What was Toronto's metro like?"

"I didn't go on it," he says. "Are we comparing French imperialism and British imperialism right now?"

"No, I'm just saying it's a nice subway."

"Okay."

It's silent between them for a moment. Another train whooshes past and they stop at Station Côte-Vertu. Once the doors close and the train sets in motion again Lottie says, "Not everything is a jab against you."

His eyes widen. He didn't think they were fighting. He needs to be more aware of his tone. Lottie tells him that all the time. "I never said it was."

She rolls her eyes and turns away, looking out the window. He stares at her. She reflects onto the window, her soul staring back at him. He's thinking of her blue bandana and those sunglasses that she used to hide herself with. He thinks of that saddle bag. All those saddlebags that have been left behind in Paris like shedding a piece of who she used to be. 

She is every version she's ever been right in front of his eyes. He knows every stretch of her. He memorized it long ago back when they were in Brussels. He was dumb then but he knew that there would be a chance he'd never see her again. So, he brushed his finger on every nanometer of her and swore he would remember it. Has she forgotten that? He's overthinking, he knows. Besides—

"This is our stop," she says. 

They walk off the train and up the metro steps. They make it one block before she tells him at a red traffic light, "I'm going to go to the cathedral for a bit."

It's clearly not an invitation for him to come. "Okay."

"You keep Francoise," she requests. "Is that okay?"

"Yeah, of course."

She bends down and kisses Franny's cheek. She rises to his level and does the same. It's rushed. She says her goodbyes as she tries to make it across the street before the light changes. "I'll see you in an hour."

Then, it's just Franny's hand in his. She tugs on it. "Dad. The light's green."

He nods. "Right." They make their way across the street and Lottie isn't in view anymore, already ducked in Mary, Queen of the World Cathedral. He wonders if Lottie ever prays. She's not religious—that was beaten out of her by the nuns at her Catholic school—but she loves all places of worship. He knows this comes from being an aesthete but something about the Catholics always draws her back. He'll have to ask her.

Franny skips through the venue halls. "It's big."

"Yeah."

"It's bigger than me."

"I think it might be." 

He picks her up and she's squealing and flinging her arms and legs around. He made those legs and arms, well, half of her, maybe just the right arm and left leg. Still, it hits him sometimes just as hard as the way her heels kick against him.

He releases her and she goes off giggling. He can't tell if she enjoyed today or not. She enjoyed it enough not to complain about it, which is a relief to him. She can whine. She may be well-behaved and not throw tantrums but she's still four and has a habit of whining and crying and tugging on his arm until he gives in because he always seems to give in.

Franny hangs out backstage while they do soundcheck. He comes back to her drawing with crayons on a coffee table and sipping on a juice box. Lottie still isn't back. He squats down to sit on the couch with the crack of his knees. "Whatcha working on, lady?"

She lifts up the paper featuring a purple creation resembling a butterfly. "I'm not finished."

His grin is unstoppable. He loves all these little creations. They're plastered all around their home from her first work (her handprints) to the latest craze (butterflies). He'll have to make sure this one is packed away safely. "I'm liking it so far."

Alex leans back and watches her. The stroke of her crayon is wild and unstoppable but somehow lands in the form of butterfly wings. She stops, takes a sip of her juice box, and asks, "Are you ever coming home?" 

His eyebrows jump and an ache hangs upon his heartstrings. This has gone on too long, he's known this. He knows Lottie shields him from this. It's impossible that Franny doesn't ask why he's gone for so long or that she misses him. "Yeah. In about a month. I'm sorry."

She shrugs and continues drawing. "It's fine. I like mummy a lot."

There's remorse in his smile, but he tells her, "Me too." He can't remember the last time he and Franny were alone together like this. There were plenty of times at home when it was just the two of them but he can't recall the last time the two went somewhere together. Every museum, every playdate, every grocery trip has been handled by Lottie. He can't remember the last time Lottie did something by herself.

It makes him want to slap himself like no shit, not everything is about you. Except it kind of is. He has been the reason she hasn't gotten a moment to herself. She locks things behind a door and says what's going on behind the door is so much fun, but he's never been on the other side of the door so he doesn't know the full truth.

"What juice are you drinking?" He asks.

Franny holds the box up. Elmo faces him with wide arms and a big, wide-open-mouthed smile. "Apple. Want some?" She walks over with the box and holds it out to him.

He almost says no but she pushes it toward him, willing him to take it. His mouth covers the tiny straw and he can't remember the last time he had apple juice but Elmo has good taste. "You can have the rest," she decides. Franny leaves the box with him and trots back to her drawing station.

"Thanks, Fran." He continues to sip on it. The tiny size of it and his hands back him feel like when Franny was a baby. It makes him remember Franny still is a baby and he should savour this time rather than worrying about not having that time back. 

He leans his elbows on his knees and drinks the juice. The taste makes him think of his childhood home and how his mum used to give out apple juice boxes whenever his friends came over. Now, well, he's still drinking them.

"Hitting the hard stuff?" Lottie asks as she walks in. She looks brighter as if she went to the beach and got a tan. She's joking, she's smiling, she sits right next to Franny and kisses her left cheek and then her right cheek from behind.

Alex chuckles and places the empty box on the table. "Just trying to calm the nerves. How was the cathedral?"

Her cheeks look like they ache. "It was lovely. The statues, the paintings, the cupola. I'll show you pictures later."

It makes him nearly as happy as her, though that doesn't seem possible to meet. "That's great. I'm excited."

Lottie wraps her arms around Franny's stomach and hugs her back to her chest. "No you're not," she brushes off, looking down at Franny's paper.

He furrows his brows. "I'm not lying."

She looks up, smiles, and does a single nod. "Okay."

Alex can't see them when he's onstage. He imagines they are either dancing or Franny has fallen asleep. He tries not to think about it much when he's playing. It makes him too nervous. He feels the need to be impressive and grab their attention. Plus, if he messes up and falls on his face in front of Lottie she'll make fun of him forever. She'll mock him later anyway.

After the first show she went to on the tour, she stood up on the bed with a bare chest, only wearing his boxers, and started imitating him with a crooner voice and all. Her impersonations aren't just for the present day. In the shower, she'll comb her hair back to look like she's slapped a pound of gel in it and do a horrible impression of him in 2013. She can't sing so it's pretty funny to watch.

When the show ends he waits for them by Franny's purple butterfly drawing. They open the door with Lottie giving Franny a piggyback ride and Franny shouting, "You were great!"

"Really?" He asks, hands on his hips as they reach him. He grabs Franny and holds her on his hip. Her braids have been messed with like she was thrashing in a mosh pit.

"You weren't too loud or quiet. Just right!" She emphasizes her opinion with her hands, adding punctuation with each word.

"Well, thank you, Goldilocks." Alex's eyes shift to Lottie. "Mama bear?"

Lottie wrinkles her nose. "Ew, don't call me that." She cackles loudly as if he's the first person who has ever told her a joke. "You were lovely. Very energetic but not overtly."

He's not sure what she exactly means but he takes it with a chuckle. He takes a big yawn, throwing his head back for extra emphasis. He looks at the little girl. "I'm tired. Are you tired, Franny?" 

Lottie makes a pointed look at him. "Francoise, remember?"

"Francoise," he corrects.

Franny giggles and clutches his neck tightly. "You guys are funny."

"Francoise." Alex pops her on his hips, making her laugh more. "What do you think about hanging with Matt and Amanda?"

She shrugs. "I guess so. They want to be my friends soooooo badly."

Lottie has to turn around her as laughter bursts out of her, lips flapping, and in desperate need of taking a deep breath. Alex turns his face to the side, not wanting to laugh straight into Franny's face.

"What?" Franny questions, having no idea of the hilarity of her words.

Lottie covers her mouth as she looks back. Her words come out muffled as she says, "Nothing, honey. You'll have a great time with them."

Alex can't control himself and has to place Franny down in order to contain his laughter. Franny ends up running over to Matt and tugging on his arm saying how excited she is to hang out like they're two guys getting beers together.

On the ride back to the hotel, Lottie nearly falls asleep against the window. She would have if the van hadn't hit a speed bump and knocked her head up against the glass. She walks into the hotel hanging off his side. She bends down and hugs Franny good night before bidding farewell to the rest of the group and escaping into their hotel room where she promptly rushes into the room, kicks off her shoes, and takes her clothes off.

"Geez," Alex says at the sight. "Are you rushing to bed or just excited to see me?"

She moves over to him and kisses him full on the lips. He nearly falls over. His arms flailing at his sides. He feels like he's hallucinating from exhaustion. "Excited to see you." She's unlatching her bra and throwing it at him. The sight of naked boobs should arouse him but leaves him as perplexed as when a woman threw a bra at him in Athens.

"Alrighty. Were you not just about to fall asleep two seconds ago?"

She rolls her eyes, sits on the edge of the bed, and takes off her socks. "It's called putting on a show, Alex," she says to him like he's their four-year-old daughter.

"Right."

"If Francoise thinks I'm tired, she will believe she should be tired. She fully believes my bedtime is 8:30 and that I don't stay up watching television until midnight. It works every time so you should work on your tired look for the next time."

Alex blinks slowly, still fully dressed. "I am tired."

"Oh." She's sitting in her underwear. She sits up straight and crosses her arms. "So, you didn't pawn off our daughter to have sex with me."

"Well," he sheds his jacket and tosses it on the sofa chair, "I never said that. I'm not an idiot."

She smirks and stands up. "I know." She turns her back to him and slowly begins to pull off her panties. Alex rushes to grab her hips and do it himself. He crashes into her, forcing a giggle out of her and landing them flat on the housekeeping-made bed. "Stop. You're gonna break one of my ribs."

He lifts himself, allowing her to breathe again. He stands up and begins to remove clothing items starting with his shoes. Lottie flips her body to look straight at him while he does this. She bites her thumbnail like she needs something between her teeth while she waits for him.

She then takes him off guard, "Do you jerk off?"

He's kicking his trousers off when she asks this, stopping with them pooling around his ankles. "Why do you want to know?"

She shrugs. "I'm just curious. That's all." There's something more to it because if Lottie there's always something more. She's made with ulterior motives.

Alex steps out of his pants. He smirks as he stands over her. His penis hanging near her cunt. "You want me to jerk off."

"What?" She awkwardly giggles. "No, I don't."

"Yes, you do."

"No, I don't," she insists. "I was just curious if you had time for that kind of thing."

He chuckles at her. "Lot, I've got plenty of time to se branler."

She reaches out to slap his stomach, right above his evidence. "Shut up. What kind of foreplay is this?"

Alex stares at her in disbelief. "You asked the question!"

"Did you forget how to have sex? Is that how long we've been apart?"

He rolls his eyes. And just to see her squirm he asks, "Do you watch porn?"

Her jaw drops. "Shut up!" After that, he does because it's much more fun to fuck your wife than to talk about fucking your wife.

The first time they had sex after having Franny, Lottie wanted to go slow. It was foreign and sore and filled with uncertainty for the first time in their relationship. But it was a lovely affair, a reunion of sorts. 

This is different. It's a reunion but it's quick and attacking. He feels like they're a step away from eating each other (and not in the eating out kind of way). He's in her and they're together on the edge of the bed, their feet hanging off onto the floor, but neither makes a move to decide whether they should fuck on the bed or the floor.

And they're embarrassingly loud. Or at least she is. He can't keep track of himself. All he knows is he's moaning in her ear and the volume could be a small whisper or a full release. It's like when they were stuck in her Paris apartment that was so tiny you had to fuck in such a confined space and it might have been the hottest sex they ever had because of that.

He feels sweaty for the first time that night. Her hands are grasping on his shoulders, imprinting fingernail crescent cuts. He pushes his mouth directly next to her ear. "What if we had another baby?"

She pushes him up off of her chest, desperate for air, for some release from this heat. "You carry it." Yeah, he probably shouldn't be asking for things like that. He's barely been around this past year for the one they already have.

"Sorry," he pathetically mumbles.

She's not listening. She's busy getting ready to come. "Just fuck me." She's sick of him. He's convinced. 

But at least he can fuck her. He knows he's good at that with the way she moves, arches, and clamps around him. She pushes him back further and tells him, "Jerk off now."

He listens, obedient as always to her orders, and pulls out. He would have come on the carpet, completely unsure of where to dispose of himself, but she gets down on her knees and opens her mouth. He moves closer. "Don't put it in my mouth," she says.

He lays the tip on her bottom lip, which seems to be okay with her. His fist is quick because he feels he'll burst into flames at the sight of her right now if he doesn't come into her mouth. So, he does. It takes him a while to relax and he's unsure if she swallows it or spits it into the wastebasket.

Lottie throws her hair up and stretches her back in front of him, bending back and forward. He feels old all the time, it rarely registers that she's the same age as him. She’s getting older too. She's more youthful than him, that's for sure. There's a reason women live longer than men. 

She laughs at him still catching his breath as she hides herself under the blankets, waiting for him. "Come here," she reaches out.

He straightens out. "I'm coming. I'm coming."

She curls her lips, refraining from the sex joke. He stretches out on his stomach beside her. She has to tuck him in. It's cozy and soft. She moves him like a doll by grabbing his arm and curling it over her stomach. He moves closer and lies his head on his shoulder, brushing his nose against her jugular.

She moves down and even with his eyes closed he feels her eyes gazing at him. Her breath is so close to his. The tip of her nose carefully brushes his. "I missed you."

He slowly opens his eyes. He longs for her so much. He doesn't think he could've survived another day without her. She's as necessary as food and water. It's a hunger and a desire but it's sustenance and nourishment. Yet, he chose to starve himself. "I'm sorry for doing this to you."

She grows concerned, shifting over to her side. Her brows furrow and she is completely lost. She puts her hand on his upper arm, rubbing it in a soothing manner. "Doing what?"

"Being away. Being absent. Taking things away from you."

She shakes her head with confusion. "You gave me my whole life, Al."

"I gave you a whole different life."

"I'm quite happy with the life I have," she assures him. He goes through phases like this before where he covers himself in self-doubt. But this is different. There's a reason to be concerned because it's hard to question what is in front of your eyes, it's easy to question what you don't see.

"You've given up too much, Lot."

She doesn't refute him. She looks around but doesn't make eye contact with him. She's thinking. She gives his arm a squeeze to calm him. "I'm a very lucky girl." She hesitates before deciding to tell him the truth, "But I sometimes get jealous of you. I give in to you a lot and it's my own decision. You didn't force me into this. I'm going to spend my whole life missing out on things but I don't want to miss out on you. Believe me, I'm very happy right now."

She curls closer to him, needing the comfort, needing the love, needing him. He tries to soothe her the best you can. "I'm gonna take care of you for the rest of my life."

"I believe you."

He's never been great at compromise. He's gotten his way. Lottie gives in. She's the one willing to give things up. It's his turn. It should have been from the beginning. "Do you want to move to Paris?"

She gives him a small smile and a light shake of the head. "I just want you to come home."

"We should spend every summer in Paris. Get a little place there."

"I have work," she points out.

He groans and falls on his back. "Fuck work."

She giggles and lands on top of his chest, lying there. "I appreciate the sentiment though."

Alex brushes her arm. "I'm going to give you what you want. I promise. I'll learn French, I swear."

She kisses his cheek, a smile placed on his skin. "Thank you. I just want us all to be back in our home."

It grows quiet, both just feeling the other's presence, relaxing into it for the first time in forever. Her skin is so soft and her body is a comforting warmth on his skin. A feeling he's felt since the first night he slept beside her. They keep each other close because there's no other way of doing it.

Lottie breaks through the quiet. "Are we going to sleep naked?"

He grins with closed lips and turns to her. "Like the good ol' days."

"Something like it."

He squeezes her butt and she teases the skin around his dick but never touches it. They fall asleep a half hour later. He always thought it was bullshit that people slept better in the presence of someone else but it's true.

Then, there's a knock at the door. He awakes before the noise gets to Lottie. The room is dark and he stubs his toe on one of the bed's legs. He manages to find boxers to throw on before opening the door. It's early and he might be sleepwalking. His eyes squint and he manages to make out the sight of Matt with Franny in his arms.

"What's wrong?" Franny is curled into Matt's shoulder so peaceful looking that she could almost be asleep but she clearly isn't. Her eyes stare straight at him.

Matt looks tired. He's in his pyjamas too. "Bad dream. Sorry for waking you but she's too scared and I just thought..."

Not wanting to trouble Matt more, he reaches out and takes Franny from him. She grabs his neck so tightly she's almost choking him. "Don't worry. Thanks. Sorry about all this."

Matt shakes his head and pats Alex's arm before shuffling his feet back to his own room.

Alex quietly closes the door as best as he can. He whispers to Franny, "You okay?"

"Just don't leave," Franny tells him.

He rubs his hand up her back, holding her the same way he used to burp her. "I'm right here," he reminds her. She squeezes him tightly just to make sure. He reciprocates, holding him close to him. "Mum's still asleep."

She nods against his neck. "I'll be quiet. Swear."

"I know you will." He carries her to their bed, lying her between them. Her arms stay curled around him. He rubs his hand up and down in the hope she will fall asleep before he does.

"I'm happy you're here," she whispers to him.

He smiles because for once he is here. "Me too."

*

a/n: did not think it would be this long. i didn't think i'd ever write another part to this but i wrote the first 3k words in pencil on random sheets of paper and then the rest just happened. i hope it translates well.

[showerthoughtsofagoldengoose]

why Okarun is a real g

-he was bullied and had no friends and somehow came out of it without any exceptionally strong feelings of hatred or resentment towards his peers.

Trust me as someone who has been in that position (minus the bullying) it is SO easy to hate everyone. From what I’ve heard we learn very little abt this character’s life but I’d assume he might have at least had a good upbringing to turn out like this. I did not so that might be part of why I literally despised everyone and became a bit of a femcel for a while…

-polite, puts others first.

Legit who doesn’t like someone like that? I see no need to even elaborate on this point.

-he respects women’s boundaries.

It’s so common for boys in shounen to be creeps and so seeing a male shounen protagonist who actually is decent towards women is really refreshing! Especially one from a show whose premise revolves around him losing his dick and balls! (The only other shounen I really like is chainsaw man which takes an incredibly nuanced approach to a perverted male protagonist, and I wouldn’t really call Denji perverted as much as he is horny, desperate, and a typical teenaged boy. He reminds me a little of my boyfriend when he was younger lol)

unrelated but even tho the “scenes” of creepiness in the show are kind of unnecessary (I think they’re there so turbo granny can come in clutch and save Momo from whatever is happening to her, since turbo granny’s whole schtick/initial redeeming quality is protecting girls from those kinds of threats. That and the series is batshit insane and needs ridiculous ways to get from point a to point b. I still see why people don’t like these scenes tho) it is kinda interesting to me that the most pervy fuck it I’m gonna use the real word RAPEY literal attempted sexual assault moments in the show seem to be used to make us dislike a character and view them as fucked up. (Allegedly they stop being used which thank God but I digress I’ve been talking abt them too long lmao)

the good guys in the series are like, actually pretty innocent. Aira looks at her dad’s porn to figure out how romance works, Momo and Okarun have this incredibly sweet and innocent romance, and don’t make it weird or creepy when they see eachother in a vulnerable position, Jiji is just a very close childhood friend of momo’s and while he might like her he seems to be pretty respectful and again, innocent. Have yet to meet the rest of the cast but I do hope to see this pattern of innocence continue.

I might also be reading into it too much idk

[sirhamburrger]

Can I get a earl grey with 100% sugar and a crossiant on the side for Rin Itoshi 🙏(the link didn’t work for the post 💔)

sure! let's double-check your order first, shall we? ➼ earl grey -------- friends to lovers ➼ (100% sugar) --- fluff ➼ croissant -------- drabble/oneshot ➼ for r. itoshi ------ who's only ever got soccer on the brain... and you! ➼ total ------------- 649 words ➼ contents -------- slightly possessive rin, pda, bad pacing, pda at the end, it also probably doesn't get good until the end alright, here you go! presenting...

on soccer and you (r. itoshi x reader drabble) courtesy of kai’s cat café! - 150 followers event

café menu || order progress asks closed.

rin itoshi's life revolves around soccer. if he’s in a good mood, soccer is probably the reason why - a good game, maybe, or a new skill learnt. if he’s in a bad mood, it’s probably also to do with soccer. busy? likely busy with soccer. even if he’s not busy, his mind is probably fixated on his next game or practice session. rin itoshi lives his life as if the world were a soccer field and every moment, a match waiting to be played.

so, naturally, he does everything like he plays soccer.

he does his schoolwork like he plays soccer. cautious, careful, calculating. you see it in every clinical movement, every learned thought spoken aloud, every smooth glide of his pen across paper. his handwriting is as precise as his passes, sharp and deliberate. he doesn’t rush, doesn’t stumble; every stroke of his pen carries the weight of strategy. 

he eats like he’s fueling for a game. every meal is a calculation, a perfectly balanced equation of proteins, carbs, and nutrients. there’s no indulgence, no whim - just discipline. he knows his body is his weapon, his tool, his masterpiece, and he treats it as such.

even in casual moments, when others laugh and talk freely, rin is observing. his sharp teal eyes scan the room like he’s analyzing a pitch, reading movements, predicting plays. it’s not that he doesn’t want to relax; he simply doesn’t know how. soccer has taught him to always stay one step ahead, to think three steps forward - a permanent lens.

and his relationships with other people? they may as well just be another match to him, since he approaches them with the same mindset: cautious, intentional, always thinking about the long game. emotions aren’t things he shows easily; they’re like the ball at his feet - kept close, controlled, never exposed unless absolutely necessary.

and then there’s you.

if he’s the star player, you’re his number one fan, his cheerleader. always watching from the sidelines, supporting him. this is how it’s been since the two of you met in elementary school. people might think rin's more than a little scary, but that’s not true; he’s the best friend you could ask for. you go to all his matches, and if you have some kind of play, or art exhibition, or piano recital, he’ll be there. 

in a way, he’s your number one fan as much as you are his.

being around you doesn’t feel so much like a game of soccer, and that’s precisely what he likes about your friendship. with you, he can finally be his true self, and not what other people think he should be.

you’re worried that will change when you start dating him. going from being best friends to being in a serious relationship - well, the transition itself isn’t all that hard. but you’re worried that he’ll change the way he sees you, change the way he treats you. and in a way, he does. every date is planned out to perfection, every element falling into place like the pieces of a puzzle.

but, as everyone who’s seen him play knows, he gets unpredictable when he gets excited during a match.

he brings you huge bouquets of flowers sometimes, so big you need three vases to fit them all. you’re craving a really specific food? he’s running down to the convenience store at 2am for you, or looking up a youtube tutorial for it. when guys hit on you - in his presence, no less, the nerve of them - he’s pulling you into a heated kiss that leaves you stuttering and breathless. 

and he kisses you in front of the crowds too when he wins his games, uncaring of hundreds of people seeing your public displays of affection.

so yeah, he’s unpredictable when he gets crazy over you, just as he gets crazy over soccer. but you’re sure not complaining.

end.

a message from the café owner:

this request was pretty fun to work with, thanks for this anon! rin is getting to be one of my favourite characters so i'm probably going to be writing for him more and more (and two seperate times within this event LOL) and sorry about the link 😢

café menu || order progress

© sirhamburrger || [general m.list]

[hunterofartemis7]

Adopted by the gods AU pt.15

Anticlea: *holding an ice pack that Hera gave her to her cheek*

Laertes: *sitting by his wife rubbing her back*

Zeus: I deeply apologize for the way my daughter acted today. She is never like this. I assure you, she will be punished for thi-

Laertes: thank you lord Zeus, but that won’t be necessary.

Apollo: your wife got slapped in the face twice by one of the eldest goddesses on Olympus and you don’t want her punished? Bro you need better priorities.

Laertes: I at the very least want her to apologize for..that and for us to figure what ACTUALLY happened that night. I don’t believe Lady Athena just took him and made up this story of us abandoning our son. Something had to have gotten lost in translation the night she found him.

Aphrodite: found her! *dragging Athena in by her arm*

Athena:🙄

Hera: *crosses her arms* Athena. Do you have something to say?

Athena: I’m only here to find out what really happened my son.

Aphrodite: *elbows her in the ribs*

Athena: ow!

Hermes: *flies in* okay! Got the spell from Hecate!

Anticlea: what does that do?

Hermes: this will show us what really happened, from both your perspective.

Zeus: and when this is over, you will apologize to the queen first the way you acted

Athena: *rolls her eyes* when it shows my son was abandoned, those people will stay the fuck away from my kids.

Hera: and when it doesn’t, you will return both boys back to their home kingdoms.

Athena: THE FUCK I WILL!!

Hermes:….okay! Let’s get this show on the road! *throws the vial on the ground and blue mist surrounds them, showing a vision from the day Odysseus was taken*

*The vision shows baby Odysseus being taken from his crib in the middle of the night by some random man. Laertes sends the guards out to chase the men and they follows him to the waterfall, where he throws the baby off the edge. It then shows Athena catching baby Odysseus and hiding behind a tree when the guards look over the edge for. It shows the guards leaving and Athena taking the baby back to Olympus. She flies to the palace where the captain tells the king and queen that their son has died and his body wasn’t found. What Athena heard made it sound like the king and queen planned to kill Odysseus, but in reality they were just in shocked that their newborn son was dead. She had flown off before she could hear the queen break down in tears*

*the vision ends, and all the gods look between Athena and Anticlea*

Hermes:…….so at least we know this was a huge misunderstanding *laughs nervously*…this is awkward.

Anticlea: I told you I never abandoned my own son.

Athena: he’s not your son

Anticlea: are you still going to be like that!? You just saw with your own eyes what really happened—

Athena: and that doesn’t change the fact that neither you or your husband actually looked for him, and I’ve been the one raising him for the past 11 years! You might have given birth to him but he is my son!

Anticlea: need I remind you that you were the one who hid him when he fell!?

Athena: he would’ve died if I hadn’t!

Zeus: BOTH OF YOU ENOUGH!!!!

Anticlea and Athena: *shut up*

Zeus; where is the boy? He needs to know the truth

Odysseus: *comes out from under the table with Diomedes* right here grandfather, and I heard everything.

Zeus: well that saves me some work.

Athena: Odysseus…

Odysseus:….*runs up and hugs her*

Diomedes: *follows and hugs her too*

Athena; *drops to her knees and hugs them both close*

Hera: Odysseus, since you heard what really happened, it seems you have a choice to make.

Odysseus: *let’s go from the hug* what do you mean?

Athena: yeah what do you mean?

Hera: the boy knows he’s the real heir of Ithaca, and that he wasn’t abandoned as you previously said. So it seems he has a choice; stay with you till he turns 18, or go with his birth parents now.

Athena: over my dead body is he going with them!

Hera: you don’t get a say Athena.

Athena: he is still underaged and I’m still his mother! There is no choice to be made here!

Apollo: wouldn’t Anticlea have a say in this since she’s his birth mother?

Athena: stay out of this!

Apollo: yes ma’am!🫡

Athena: and no she doesn’t because she didn’t raise him!

Laertes: lord Zeus, if I may. I don’t want to lose our son again after just learning that he is in fact alive, but I don’t want him taken away from the woman who’s raised him either. Isn’t there some kinda of compromise we can come to?

Odysseus: how about we forget this whole thing and I stay with my mom and brother?

Hera: the boy needs to learn how to be king Athena.

Athena: I can teach him that. Besides he has 7 more years before he can even become king!

Artemis: than just do that. Both boy stay with Athena till their 18, and in that time she will teach them how to be kings.

Laertes: or at the very least until they need to become kings

Artemis: what he said.

Hera: I suppose that could work. Athena? Could you comply with this?

Athena: *sighs* if I must.

Odysseus: what!? Mama I don’t want to leave you!

Diomedes: me either!

Aphrodite: you won’t be leaving her immediately, just when you become adults. By then you’ll be sick of her and want to leave anyway

Athena: hey!

Odysseus: *clings to her leg* never!

Diomedes: *clings as well* yeah! We’re never leaving mother!

Zeus: you both will when it is time for you to become kings. End of discussion.

Anticlea: wait, does this mean I still won’t get to see my son for another 7 years?

Zeus: well—

Athena: that’s exactly what that means

Hera: Athena!

Athena: I’m not going to make Odysseus go somewhere he doesn’t want to!

Zeus:..*sighs* if the boy wants to visit his birth than he shall, but he cannot be forced.

Athena: *mumbles* thank the gods.

Odysseus: *buried his face Athena’s side* yay

Diomedes: *does the same*

Athena: *holds them close*

Hera: now I believe there’s still the matter of an apology that you owe Anticlea for slapping her.

Athena: *rolls her eyes* I’m sorry I hit you, after you called me a bitch in my own home😑

Zeus: just go

Athena: *takes her kids hands and leaves*

[receivedhope]

I feel like it's pretty undeniable that from Season 3 onwards, there seemed to have been a shift in Blaine's character from how he was in Season 2. While I am not the first to point this out, I do think there are some greatly underutilized traits of Blaine present in S2 that get phased out as he receives more screen time and are not usually brought up in such conversations.

This will unfortunately get long because I love Blaine meta.

There was always some half attempt at making Blaine out to be bossy and while Puppet Master is an episode that aims to address this, I did think it fell a little flat in selling this side of him. He was more whiny than anything lol. This bossy side of him that always wants to be in control of the room and the people around him was... given a better set up, I'd say, while he was in the Warblers. It was more subtly showing than outright telling, though unfortunately we spend so little time in Dalton that it was hard to gauge the inner hierarchy and dynamics of the group accurately since they always presented a united front to outsiders - Trent's betrayal in S4 is a big deal. But I always did find it interesting how hung up they were on Blaine, who at the very most attended Dalton only for two years, as well as that he had no actual title such as a captain or head Warbler, yet was the decided leader of the group not just star performer. (See: Will shakes Blaine's hand after their Sectionals tie. Based on just the Warbler court scenes, you'd assume Wes stepping up here to do so make more sense.)

Though it was not lost completely and I always have been of the opinion that most conflict Kurt and Blaine have stem from their respective control issues. Kurt needs schedules, sufficient space to move on his own and he exercises his need for boundaries freely (see: retreating to his room in Home and asking Burt to leave as well, not allowing Finn to touch him in Theatricality and Grilled Cheesus, scheduling Friday night dinners with Burt, scheduling make outs with Blaine in DWS) while Blaine enjoys being the protector and ultimately having the last word (see: the entire plot of Tested and NNY). It makes a stupid amount of sense that the times they butt heads the core issue stems from an external force limiting their movement, like how in TFT Blaine sees the opening night closing in on him as a deadline and makes him panic, or when Blaine cheats in TBU to gain some control over how to identify their long distance relationship, or how Kurt feels their impending wedding more suffocating than anything pre S6.

However something that unfortunately did seem to get entirely lost from Blaine's character as time went on, that I do think miss from him entirely in latter seasons, is his conformist attitude from S2.

Blaine is almost Kurt's foil during his Dalton arc. While Kurt hates having to fit in (and has never quite succeeded in it at all), Blaine likes moving as one with other people. He likes being a part of a team, being depended on and being liked. And this attitude ultimately is why he is stuck in a rut before he meets Kurt - he retreats to Dalton when real life gets complicated and messy, because he is never challenged by it. Dalton is how Blaine ultimately sabotages himself.

Even his wardrobe in S2 was telling this story - a completely normal guy who likes being only that. The very few times we see him in everyday clothes, they are average with nothing outstanding to note. Dark colors, jeans, simple shirts. A far cry from "I am the center of attention and this primary colors proves it" and wacky bowties. While I always liked that Kurt is most likely the one picking out his clothes, I did enjoy this side of Blaine more, the subdued, regular everyday guy who wears only what his peers do - even if the costume department would have found it painfully boring to stick with in the long run lol.

Why he got so worked up about and increasingly frustrated with Finn actively excluding him from the ND in early S3 also makes sense. While Kurt, as a true individualist with no real desire to fit in is not easily phased by not being included, Blaine takes it to heart.

(I always thought Blaine views having a significant other is like always being in the same team with someone and is why he desires a relationship so much.)

I like this aligned with his hesitance and slight uncomfortableness over Kurt's prom outfit in PQ as well. (Though, I'm sorry to grasp as straws, I also enjoy the thought of Blaine deciding to side with Burt as a way to impress him - if you look closely, Blaine is more impressed and smitten with Kurt's outfit at first... But you are free to disregard this point because this is just me being insane.)

A natural conclusion of his bossy and conformist personality would ultimately result in him also leaning towards being authoritarian, which I think makes great sense for someone who likes being part of a team, knowing where they all stand and making sure he fits in but also preferring to take charge and be the head. I really like that! And I think this all being contrasted with Kurt, who can't blend in, even if he tries (see: Preggers, Laryngitis, his entire dalton arc, I'd argue that even his senior class president campaign as well as starting in NYADA qualify a bit) and always makes his own path to follow is just sooo interesting and can really sell the whole opposites attract thing! Because I do believe that Kurt found it particularly nice that there is this outstanding, well mannered guy who is respected by all his peers and is ready to go to bat for him, helping him push Kurt's ideas as well as using his influence to help him - I think somthing very similar attracted Kurt to Finn as well in S1 - and it is pretty much canon that Blaine finds Kurt's fighting spirit inspiring and something hopeful (I think he was inspired by Kurt to transfer to McKinley, which is why "I did this for me" and "I even switched schools for him" can simultaneously be true), as well as attractive that Kurt is a one of a kind (cut to 'youre the only one...' in DCT). Also put a pin in that last part, because I have so much to say about the consistent bird allegories and imagery associated with their relationship, but maybe at a later date since this is already getting long.

Other times, I also think that S3+ Blaine is not that out of left field if you pay attention to him in S2. Something that gets pretty early established is that Blaine is a rash and impulsive person. When he is hurt, he lashes out. You can see this in NoN when Karofsky picks a fight with them, it gets physical pretty quickly, however you can see Kurt being just... disappointed? Resigned, almost?

Blaine is also quick to react to Sandy's heckling that Kurt shuts down asap.

We later learn that Blaine is also entirely capable of doing things with the intent of hurting Kurt - he sings a Whitney Houston song at him that implies Kurt much less ambigiously cheated than in reality, in front of all his friends, because at the core of it is his anxiety about Kurt leaving him. He cheats on Kurt when he feels neglected.

And I think it is a bit naive to think he dated Karofsky entirely because of a supposed mutual attraction, ignoring the Kurt of it all. The history them three share is undeniable and he did want Kurt to feel like shit about it - which, for the record, I think is understandable since Kurt broke off their engagement rather ungracefully and it pushed Blaine into a depressive state, to the point of getting cut from NYADA and having to move back to Ohio.

All that to say - I always found all of the above very in line with the S2 Blaine who was quick to compare Kurt to Karofsky in BIOTA, just because Kurt said something mildly offensive in a moment where he was also hurt!

I guess this is also the time to quickly, as a sidenote, talk about Kurt's biphobic comment. I think the ultimate, intended purpose of the scene was more comedic. A mean, off color joke, but a joke RIB wanted to make nonetheless. However I do not find it out of character. Firstly: that is a seventeen year old boy who was told his whole life that he is disgusting and sick for liking men by the entirety of the conservative town he lives in. He is sexually assaulted by his closeted bully and has to transfer schools and he was never afforded to be "in" the closet either, because everyone around him assumes his sexuality. How right or wrong that is to do, is another topic. He has a crush on the only other out and proud gay kid in Ohio - who would rather give it a shot with a girl before Kurt. And to add insult to injury, Kurt already lost a crush of his to Rachel!

Of course he is hurt, of course he will say something less than gracious!

And Blaine in the only other person who is fully aware of Kurt's situation - for him to compare Kurt saying something mean and a bit offensive to Karofsky's actions is out of pocket, in my opinion.

I'm not sure how to end this neatly, but I will say this: I do like all of the above about Blaine and would have loved to see these traits more consistently. I do not think this darker side of his negates the good parts of him. If anything, understanding his lows helps me appreciate his highs even more.

[get-rammed]

The idea for this AU comes from the games, but mostly follows after Shadow Generations with some modifications, hence the AU part. It's mostly self indulgent since he's always been my favorite, and I saw an excuse to draw body horror :}

Will contain spoilers for Shadow/Sonic Generations. But whomp whomp, more information for my version of Shadow/the basis of this AU below.

So the main idea for this AU is that Shadow didn't lose his Doom Powers after he defeated Black Doom. He overcame his violent angry nature to remain a morally grey good guy. Who just happens to have sick ass extra powers now. I am unfortunately a sucker for "I was born to be bad, and I do the wrong thing sometimes, but I want to be good and I'm trying my best."

Another large change for this AU is designs and heights. They're super powered aliens. Let em be a lil bit bigger. Plus that's just kind of what I specialize in :')

--

When Black Doom and the Time Eater were defeated, it caused various rifts to be left open with nobody to close them. Which in turn allows anomalies into Shadow and Co.'s world. They can range from simple items (pens, cups, occasionally buildings, things of that nature), to lost and confused people/animals/what have you, to large dangerous beings from other worlds and timelines.

Sometimes the things that comes through the portal, don't want to go back through it, so that's where Shadow found his purpose. He gets to fight and devour the anomalies that won't go home :)

Shadow uses his Doom Morph to consume dangerous anomalies, absorbing their energy in the process. When he's in this form, he's far more reactive and hostile. So they have to clear the area before deploying him. There a handful of people he won't outright attack even in this form, but Rouge is one of the few who can calm him down if he starts to slip too far into the darkness. Because I am a sucker for their friendship :')

There are a number of agencies and world governments who call upon Shadow now for help. Basically if they send Shadow after you, you're not surviving. In a way he does absolutely hate becoming an attack dog for all these agencies, but he also knows he's the only one (sometimes with help) who can stop some of these anomalies.

That being said, if he doesn't agree an anomaly is dangerous, he will not fight as strongly or destroy them. He still maintains his idea of what's right and wrong. It's Shadow, he's not going to blindly follow orders.

--

Shadow has become a little more open after finally getting to properly grieve the loss of his family. Finally got to process everything. He's still standoffish and slow to trust, but he's at least willing to try to trust more people.

--

With his Doom Powers remaining, he has to constantly fight the urges to commit to the chaos and violence he was born for. Most times it just gives him a headache to fight back mentally. But when the urges are very strong, he has to fight the internal war much harder. Which is where he ends up with bloody noses.

The bloody noses can happen suddenly, and be rather aggressive. In the cases of bloody noses, he'll chaos snap out of the room and try to find somewhere quiet and dark until his internals heal themsleves.

It's basically a case of his blood pressure spiking insanely fast and bursting a bunch of delicate vessels in his nose. Also the idea of the darkness inside of him just kinda. Chewing away at him metaphorically and physically.

He's had enough time to figure out what sets him off, but occasionally random things trigger a nose bleed. This has forced him to be more delicate with how he responds to things, but also has forced him to be a bit more open about what's wrong with him.

The bloody noses also help act as a power balance thing so Shadow isn't just all powerful all the time. If he's not careful, he can go too far and hurt innocent people. Which he'd rather not do. It's an indicator of sorts that he's leaning too far in the wrong direction and he needs to check himself.

Lack of inhibitor rings. With the retention of the Doom Powers, Shadow has more going on internally to help balance his chaos energy. More in tune with himself, but not fully connected if that makes sense. Not wearing some of his inhibitor rings allows him greater access to the Doom Powers at all times.

It also happens that if he wears his wrist rings, they limit too much energy and he becomes sluggish and tired. He now requires more energy to function, and all 4 inhibitor rings limit too much.

He keeps the ones on his ankles on as he does still need some kind of a blocker so he doesn't burn himself out. Only having 2 on is a good balance so he can function and fight.