#anyway then we come to Jack which is far less complicated . I needed a good Jonsi song that gave my jack's vibes and this is always my go t

[royal-tea-blogs]

HiJack Week Summer 2023 Playlist

July 22nd- Universe Swap

(tada! it's a double feature, two songs to represent each charcater/movie)

Hiccup as a Spirit

"Tell me once again I could have been anyone, anyone else Before you made the choice for me My feet knew the path We walked in the dark, in the dark I never gave a single thought to where it might lead”

Jack as a Berkian:

"You will survive, will never stop wonders You and sunrise will never fall under We should always know that dreams can do everything!

Go do!"

Find the entire completed playlist here!

[sequinsmile-x]

Stained Glass Windows - Chapter Twenty Six

Life was complicated, but they wouldn't have it any other way.

-x-

Hi friends!!

As always, thank you so much for the love on this fic! This chapter is much softer than the last couple, giving our favs a well earned break from what I am putting them through in this story!

Please let me know what you think, your reactions genuinely mean the world to me!

-x-

Words: 3.2k

A full list of warnings for the fic can be found on the Series Master List and will be updated as we go along.

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

“I remember when our girl's days started with shopping and then ended in a bar, not the McDonalds in the mall’s food court,” Penelope says, smiling as she pops a fry into her mouth.

Emily chuckles, “It’s in the rules that the pregnant woman gets to choose where we eat.” 

“That’s true,” JJ chimes in, having a sip of her soda, “I always got to pick when I was having Henry.”

“See,” Emily says turning back to Penelope, “If you want to pick you have to have a baby of your own.”

Penelope visibly shivers, shaking her head, “No thank you, I am more than happy being the cool Aunt to Henry and Nugget.”  

Emily frowns, scrunching up her nose as she smiles at JJ before turning back to Penelope, “Why are you calling my baby ‘Nugget?’”

“Well since you refuse to find out what you are having I’ve had to improvise,” Penelope replies, nodding towards the box of McNuggets in Emily’s hand, “Plus chicken nuggets seem to have become one of your main food groups lately.” 

Emily clears her throat, her cheeks red with embarrassment, “I’ve been craving them.” 

“All I ever wanted to eat when I was pregnant was this one particular taco from Taco Bell,” JJ says sympathetically, smiling wryly, “Poor Will went out to get it for me so many times in the middle of the night.” 

Emily laughs, “Aaron has half-filled our freezer with nuggets, Jack is always delighted when he comes over.” She knew that Aaron was, at best, a few weeks away from hiding vegetables in her food just like he did for his son.

“Did you get everything you needed, Em?” JJ asks, looking at the bags of clothes on the spare chair at their table.

Emily nods in response, “I got a new bra and a couple of pairs of pants,” she says, scrunching her nose up, “None of my actual clothes fit me properly anymore but I’m going to try to put off buying maternity clothes as long as I can.” 

“Just think, before we know it we’ll be throwing your baby shower,” Penelope says, her excitement clear, and Emily chuckles wryly, “Which reminds me, I’ll need your mother’s number so I can contact her about that. I tried looking for it but it’s listed as classified.” 

Not for the first time, she finds herself grateful for the way she was raised, the way she can hold herself together in moments like this. It had been just over a week since she had seen Elizabeth, and it still stung when she thought about it, about how everything had gone south so fast. She was grateful that her mother had, so far, stuck to what she had asked and not contacted her, but it also hurt. An unspoken confirmation from her that she had chosen alcohol over her daughter. Over her grandchild. Despite everything, she still didn’t want anyone else to know, her need to keep it private, even from the people she considered her extended family, overriding anything else. 

She supposed, on some level, it was probably a good thing she’d never seen her mother that often anyway. It would make things less suspicious, but she’s sure questions would come further down the line when the baby arrived. 

When she and Aaron decided to finally get married. 

She twists her engagement ring around her finger and smiles at her friend, “That’s not really her kind of thing,” she says before reaching for her drink and taking a sip before she expertly, switches the conversation “I’m only 17 weeks Pen, let's not wish the time away. There's a lot to do before then,” she finishes her fries and sighs, the salty food taking the edge off of her rising panic for everything she and Aaron needed to organise before the baby was born, “Like finding a place to live.” 

It was a discussion that she and Aaron had started having when they found out she was pregnant. She loved her apartment, it had been her home for longer than anywhere ever had been before, but she knew it wouldn’t be enough for their growing family. Whilst the baby would be sleeping with them for the first few months after they were born, she didn’t want to eventually force Jack to share a bedroom with his sibling when he was with them. 

She wanted a house, a home. Somewhere her kids could grow up and run around together. Somewhere they could get covered in mud in the backyard. Everything she’d watched in the movies when she was young and convinced herself she’d never have herself. Aaron, despite having moved into her apartment less than a year ago, agreed, and part of her wondered why they hadn’t just bought a house then. If she was honest with herself, she knew it was because a part, a very small part, had still wanted some kind of control of the situation. 

“Have you still not found something?” JJ asks, well aware of the difficulty, and stress, of finding somewhere to live when pregnant. 

Emily groans, shaking her head as she places her hand on her stomach, her almost constant indigestion bubbling away, “No. Aaron is insistent on splitting everything down the middle which is insane,” she exclaims, blowing out a breath, “I have all of this money just sitting in my trust fund.”

They’d been disagreeing about it almost as long as they’d been talking about buying a house. She wanted to use her money, to buy them somewhere they could live forever, but Aaron was hesitant. She could never quite figure out if it was incredibly misplaced machoism that made him feel like he had to be the provider, or if he was just uncomfortable with the amount of money she had, or if it was both. 

Either way, it was frustrating, and she knew this was something they would likely run into a lot over the years. 

“And you have how much in that trust fund?” Penelope inquiries, making both Emily and JJ laugh, the question a regular one on every girl's night since she’d first confirmed their suspicions that she had a trust fund at all.

“Pen, if you can’t get that information out of me when I’m drunk, you have no chance when I’m sober.” 

___

Emily sighs as she slumps back on the couch, rubbing her hands over her face as she takes a break from looking at real estate listings. 

“It can’t be that bad,” Aaron says as he sits next to her, handing over the ice cream she’d requested after dinner. She sits up, making Sergio who had been curled up in her lap, his head on her bump, jump up, meowing as he walks away. 

Emily grumbles as she takes the bowl from him, narrowing her eyes as she takes a bite, moaning at the taste of chocolate, “It is almost impossible to find a house that has everything we want within the budget we have.” 

Aaron sighs at the mention of it, familiar dread that what had so far only been a disagreement between them could easily transform into a full-blown argument, “Em-”

“I have the money, Aaron,” she says, placing her bowl of ice cream down on the table in front of them, her appetite for it gone.

“It’s your money, sweetheart.” 

She scoffs, shaking her head at him. “We’re having a kid. We’re going to get married. What happened to ‘what’s mine is yours?’” 

“I don’t know if that applies to literal millions of dollars,” he replies, remembering how he’d had to sit down when she originally told him how much money she had, a fearful glint in her eyes that it would change the way he viewed her. He sighs and places his hand on her thigh, squeezing it gently, “It’s just…I spoke to Dave and-”

“You listened to Dave about this?” She asks incredulously, cutting over him, “He’s been divorced four times, I don’t think he’s exactly the person to go to for relationship advice.”

“Three times,” Aaron corrects, a wry smile on his face, “And he’s the only other rich person I know.”

“I’m richer than him,” she grumbles under her breath as she crosses her arms over her chest. She looks at him and sees the flicker of amusement in his lips, the way his eyebrow arches, and she clears her throat, “Right, not helping,” she sighs, “Why are you so hesitant to do this my way? Is it some macho bullshit that you need to be the provider? Because if it is-”

“No,” he replies, squeezing her leg again, “I promise you it’s not that.” 

She stares at him for a moment, desperately trying to see if he’s lying to her, but she’s satisfied he isn’t and she places her hand over his on her leg, “Then what is it?” 

He doesn’t want to upset her, to make things harder on her than they had been since what small part of the relationship she had left with her mother had collapsed around her, but she deserved the truth. 

“I’ve been divorced once already, sweetheart,” he says carefully, hating himself as her eyes go slightly wider, “I need to be practical. If you buy us a house-”

“It will be our house,” she says, cutting over him, “Not mine. And if anything happened between us,” the thought of it alone makes her breath catch in her throat, “It would still be our house. We’ll have both of our names on the deeds. I wouldn’t just screw you over like that.” 

“I know,” he assures her, squeezing her hand, shaking his head at himself, “Why is this so important to you?”

She sighs, “That money in my trust fund came from my parents, and their parents, and the jobs they chose that meant we were never really a family,” she blows out a shaky breath, the wound from the conversation with her mother the week before still fresh, “And I always told myself that if I got married and had kids I’d use it to buy my family a home, to make something good out of the very thing that made my childhood miserable,” she places her hand on her bump, “For a long time I convinced myself I’d never have this and that I’d end up donating it all to a charity that would make mother furious, like a cat sanctuary or something, but now I do have you and Jack and Nugget.”

“I can’t believe the Nugget thing is catching on,” Aaron says, and she smiles at him, her eyes soft and full of love. She’d told him about their friend's nickname for their unborn child the moment she got home, and the confused look on his face had made her laugh so much she’d started to jokingly use it herself. 

“What can I say, Pen is persuasive,” she replies. She cups his neck, her thumb brushing over his jawline, “Please let me do this for us. If it makes you feel better you can pay all the bills when we do find somewhere, or we can keep this place and rent it out and that can go into an account for the kids, but…just let me do this.” 

He looks at her, and he isn’t sure he’s ever seen her so raw, so torn open. Her honesty a gateway that let him see the parts of her she still hid even from him sometimes. He picks up one of the more expensive listings she’d been looking at, far outside o the budget they’d tentatively agreed on and looks it over. 

“You like this one?” He asks, and she nods, her lower lip in between her teeth as if she was trying to keep her hope contained. It was a beautiful home, a large colonial-style house with a brick facade, the interior was largely open plan on the first floor, with large archways separating the rooms, letting natural light filter throughout the house. The bedrooms and bathrooms were all a decent size, especially the master bedroom and its adjoining ensuite, and there was plenty of space in the backyard for Jack, the baby, and any other kids they may have to run around. 

He finds himself mostly drawn to the huge, immaculately decorated, kitchen and he can picture himself making pancakes on a Sunday morning in there for his family.

“It’s a beautiful house,” he says, smiling at her and raising his eyebrow, “5 bedrooms?” 

She rolls her eyes at the suggestive tone in his voice, hearing exactly what he hadn’t said, and pats his chest, “Easy there tiger, at least let me have this kid before you start thinking about filling up the spare rooms.” 

Aaron chuckles and pulls her in for a kiss, “Let’s go see it.” 

The way her eyes light up tells him he’s made the right call, that putting aside any deep-rooted concerns and misplaced fear about letting her do this for them, for their family, is exactly what he should have done weeks ago when she first brought this up. 

“Really?” She asks, her smile wide, any ability to hide her emotions well and truly lost in the first trimester of her pregnancy. 

“Really,” he confirms, kissing her again, “I can see our family growing up there.” 

She throws herself at him, wrapping her arms around him tightly as she kisses him, the action lost in her wide smile, “I love you so fucking much.”

He chuckles and wraps his arms around her, pulling her so she was straddling his waist, her knees on either side of his hips, “I love you too.” 

“I’ll call the agent in the morning.” 

He nods and pulls her in for another kiss, smiling at the feel of her bump pressed up against him. “We won’t be able to do this for much longer,” he says, moving to kiss her cheek and then her neck, “We won’t have room.” 

She pulls back and smiles at him, and she runs her fingers through his hair, “In that case,” she says, leaning in to kiss him again, “We’d better make the most of it before we’re regulated to just the bed.” 

___

Cases with children were always harder. 

The desperation to solve the case, to find the bad guy who was doing the worst of things possible to the most innocent, more intense. She’d always felt great empathy for the parents in these situations, but now she could put herself somewhat in their shoes, her love for Jack, for the baby in her belly, enough to make her feel sick at the mere thought of something happening to them. 

She watches Aaron from her desk, her focus on her paperwork limited at best as she keeps looking through the blinds in his office, desperate to go check on him. She knew he found cases like this harder too. 

There were survivors this time, a little girl and a teenage boy reunited with their parents, the recovery from all that they had endured only just beginning, and that was something they could cling on to. Evidence that they all needed sometimes to remind themselves of why they did this. That didn’t make it any easier, and she knew they’d all remember the wails of one of the victim's fathers when he realised his son had been alive only one day ago. 

She blows out a breath and looks back at her paperwork, determined to get a little more done before they headed home, when she is distracted once again, but this time it wasn’t out of concern for her fiancé. 

It feels like tiny bubbles. Bursting against the inside of her belly, as if tiny butterflies were floating around, their wings delicate. She places her hand on her stomach and gasps, choking on a laugh. 

“Are you ok, Em?” Derek asks and she turns to look at him, nodding as she laughs again. 

“Yeah. I…I think I just felt the baby move for the first time,” she says, her hand still on the bump as she continues to feel the movement on the inside, “It feels weird.”

Derek smiles at her, his eyes soft as he nods towards Aaron’s office, “Go tell Hotch, we all need something good after today.” 

She nods, not needing any other encouragement, and she stands, almost bounding up the stairs as she approaches his office. She knocks on his open door and waits for him to look up. He looks exhausted, the lines in his face deeper than usual, as if they’d been carved in. 

“Do you have a minute?” She asks, and he smiles at her, already standing up from his desk.

“For you, always.”

It makes her smile, and she knows it’s one of the things he’s learnt from his past mistakes with Haley. He always made time for her, and in turn, she knew that was because she understood the job, the work that could sometimes consume them both. It was yet another way that, if she believed in fate, would make her think they were made for each other. 

She takes a seat on the couch in his office and waits for him to sit next to her, his arm automatically around her shoulder. She knew they couldn’t be seen from the main bullpen here, only if someone was on the walkway, but she was sure no one would begrudge them this after the last few days. 

“I just felt the baby move,” she says, her throat closing up as she says it outloud, her hormones getting the better of her as she fights back tears. 

“What?” He asks, his voice full of wonder as he presses his hand into her bump, and it makes her laugh.

“It will be a while before you can feel anything from the outside honey,” she says, resting her head against his shoulder. She feels the movement again, and she smiles, placing her hand over his, “I wish you could feel it though it's amazing. And really fucking weird.” 

Aaron laughs and kisses her temple, keeping his lips against her skin, “Nugget is the size of a pomegranate this week.”

She snickers at his use of the baby’s newfound nickname and pulls back to look at him, “I know, I’m reading the same book as you,” she says softly, “Spencer told me today that the baby weights as much as a mozzarella ball,” she crinkles her brow, her stomach rumbling at the thought of food, “Which, strangely, really made me want Italian food.” 

Aaron kisses her, eternally grateful for her, for the life they were building, “Sweetheart, I’d go to Venice to get you pizza right now if you asked me.”

She chokes on a laugh, but it comes out as more of a sob, her happiness overwhelming in a way she didn’t know was possible. “That’s sweet, but I’m totally content with that place down the street from our apartment.” 

“Whatever you want, Em,” he says, kissing her again, wiping a stray tear from her cheek, “Whatever you want.” 

-x-

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[five-rivers]

All These Scattered Gems

For Dannymay 2021 Day 4: Stars

.

“They can’t be real stars,” insisted Maddie, her voice tinny and static in Danny’s ear.

He paused, grimacing, and adjusted the frequency again. Something must have gotten knocked loose inside the Fenton Phones in the last fight he got into. “I didn’t say that was what they were,” he said, “I was just telling you what they look like. And they look like stars.”

Danny did tend to consider himself a bit of an expert when it came to whether or not something looked like a star. Astronomy was a special interest of his, after all.

(Despite the best efforts of both his parents and the doctors of the Far Frozen, efforts to decide whether or not he had a true, ghostly Obsession had been inconclusive. Danny was okay with that if he was being honest. Which he usually wasn’t.)

“Hm,” said Maddie. “That isn’t coming across very well in the video.”

“Mads, our video is half static that far from the portal.”

Maddie sighed. “Make sure you take pictures, sweetie.”

“I remember,” said Danny, who had forgotten. “The sky looks darker over there, too. It almost looks like real night. I wonder if someone did it on purpose?”

When Danny had first come clean to his parents about being half-ghost, he hadn’t really had any expectations that it would change his probable future. Which he had predicted to consist of a series of depressing, minimum wage jobs that he would keep losing due to ghost hunting.

His parents had something to say about that however, and although Danny had never really wanted to inherit Fentonworks or ghost hunting as a profession (ironic, he knew) he did like the exploration and science parts. Quite a bit, actually. And since he’d never be able to become an astronaut… Well. This was pretty good, too.

Especially since he was getting paid.

(All the extra equipment he had to bring with him to make forays into the Zone ‘experimentally useful’ was a bit of a drag, though. Literally, sometimes. The stuff was heavy.)

“Okay,” said Danny. “I’m going to get closer.”

The lights ahead of him really were starlike… but they were, as expected, much closer. The nearest of them stopped being pinpricks and started looking like tiny disks after just a few minutes of determined flight.

“Danny? Sweetie? You might want to slow down a little. Those speeds are rough on our sensors.”

Danny sighed, but complied.

.

Ghost cores were weird. Really weird. At least part of the weirdness was that, most of the time, they didn’t exist in either the Ghost Zone or ‘normal’ reality, but instead were tucked away in private self-generated pocket dimensions.

Ghost bodies were formed around the entrances to those pocket dimensions and would shift to accommodate the core that generated them, but usually didn’t actually house the core. It was a safety thing, and the reason ghosts could have their entire body destroyed only to pop up a few days later, perfectly fine.

Danny’s parents had been studying the phenomenon off and on, trying to compare it to ghostly lairs, which were also pocket dimensions. Or universes. The distinction was unclear. They’d been having trouble collecting data, however, as most ghosts would not blithely give such intimate information to ghost hunters, no matter how reformed they claimed to be.

After all, ghost cores were the equivalent of a ghost’s brain. One might even say their soul.

Danny was getting off track.

All this to say that Danny really should not have been able to physically feel his core.

He braked, ‘skidding’ to a stop.

“Danny?” said Maddie, sounding concerned. “Are you alright? Our instruments picked up a power spike…”

“I’m fine,” said Danny, pressing his fingers to his chest. Whatever he had felt was gone. “Just… a weird feeling.” He looked back up at the ‘stars.’ Some of them looked like little coins, now.

“How weird?”

“Like, I could have imagined it,” said Danny. “Timing is a bit strange, though, with that power surge. This might be a ‘Fisher Kingdom’ area.”

Some places in the Ghost Zone had such a strong feeling about how things should be that anyone or anything entering them was altered to fit. Some were generated by an actual ghost, but usually those ghosts just had very specific ideas about death and ghosts that didn’t quite mesh with the Zone at large. A few gave the impression that they had been carefully constructed and then more or less abandoned. Others didn’t seem to have any intelligence behind their existence, were random, almost natural.

Generally, the effects of Fisher Kingdoms were strictly physical, the average ghost’s core being safe in its aforementioned pocket, but even with that limitation, Fisher Kingdoms could be… difficult. Dangerous.

But they were also interesting. And Danny didn’t mind. He had the Ultimate Cheat Code when it came to dealing with Fisher Kingdoms. He could just turn human and float away. No problem. (In theory, anyway. In practice… Sometimes it was more complicated than that.)

“Alright,” said Maddie. “If you feel safe doing so, keep up your approach, but slowly. We want to monitor your vitals.”

Danny kept going, if at a greatly reduced pace.

His core pulsed again, and he stopped, hissing. This time, the sensation didn’t go away.

“Danny?”

“I’m okay,” he said. “I just…” He took a deep breath, feeling icy pressure on his lungs. “Oh, that’s weird.”

“What happened? Are you safe?”

“I think so. I think… I think this turned off my, uh, pocket dimension thing. You know, what my core goes in.” He blinked at his feet and the tips of his fingers, which were wisping away. The glow around his chest was bright and was becoming brighter. Something started beeping in his ear.

“Danny,” said Maddie, sounding alarmed. “That’s the stability alarm. Your numbers are dropping rapidly.”

Danny looked up, back at the not-stars. “I think I know what they are, now,” he said.

“What? Danny, you have to get out of there. Whatever is happening is seriously disrupting your ability to maintain your form.”

Danny brought his hand to touch the surface of his chest, which rippled as if made of water. The surface of his suit had started showing cracks. Even so, Danny was frozen in place by a thought:

Would it be so bad, to become a star?

His rings shuddered into life around him, forcibly and painfully returning him to human form. His heart stuttered at the ball of utter cold pressed against it. Every breath he took burned.

He cursed under his breath and followed his mother’s instructions, floating away from the field of false stars as quickly as he could. Despite how his core seemed to want to pull him back.

Eventually, the pull lessened.

“I guess,” said Danny, with extreme regret, “we should put that on the list of places I shouldn’t go.”

“Already there, kiddo,” said Jack.

“Come straight back,” said Maddie. “We need to give you a check, make sure there are no lasting effects.”

“Alright,” said Danny. “I’m on my way.”

Being a star… A shining beacon in the night…

It wouldn’t have been all that great, anyway, he was sure.

(He could settle for just chasing after them.)

[tchallasbabymama]

M’Baku’s Love- Chapter 6

Here’s the next chapter of M’Baku’s Love. Check out my masterlist HERE to catch up and read my other stories. Let me know what you think or if you want to be tagged. Hope y’all enjoy!

Word count: ~6100

When M’Baku picked Niecey up for their date, the first thing they both noticed was that his dark brown tuxedo with gorilla fur sash clashed with Neicey’s low-cut black sequin dress. The two of them obviously hadn’t discussed what they were wearing and it showed, which irritated Niecey to no end. M’Baku really couldn’t care less, but she was seriously upset about how they’d look together in pictures.

“You couldn’t find a black tux?” she asked him just before they walked in after seething in the car the whole twenty minute ride over. 

“I had plenty of options, but I wore this because it reminded me of formal Jabari attire.” he fought to keep his eyes from rolling. 

“Ugh fine, hopefully we won’t look too bad. Come on.” she walked ahead of him as he handed the valet his keys and they entered the gala. People mingled about, eating and drinking and no doubt opening their pocketbooks. Even the dance floor had a decent amount of people swaying to the jazz music coming from the live band.

However, nothing could have prepared M’Baku for how beautiful Monae looked that night. She happened to be looking towards the door at the moment he walked in and their eyes met from across the room. She had paired a spaghetti strap bronze silk gown with a split up her left thigh with strappy nude heels that made it look like she was walking on her tiptoes all night and her favorite delicate gold drop earrings that dusted her collarbone. They held each other’s gaze for a little too long, and both of their dates noticed but chose not to say anything.

M’Baku and Neicey made their way through the crowd, stopping periodically to speak to their colleagues. She tried to avoid Monae by ignoring that side of the room entirely, but M’Baku eventually steered them right in her direction.

“Monae, Darrin. How are you two this evening?” he asked as they approached the couple.

“It’s actually Derrick-”

“Oh, my apologies.”

Monae fought to keep a laugh in.

“I’m Neicey,” she inserted herself in the conversation with an attitude that rubbed both Monae and M’Baku the wrong way. 

“Nice to meet you Neicey,” Derrick responded before taking a sip of his champagne.

“Thank you... Derrick, was it?”

“That’s me. So do you work here with these two?”

“I do, but we’re in different departments. Although I guess M’Baku doesn't really have a department,” she laughed and Derrick was the only one that joined her. The two of them continued to get acquainted while M’Baku and Monae tried to avoid each other's gaze. However They were unsuccessful and ended up locking eyes across Derrick and Neicey’s conversation, but when Derrick looked up to bring in M’Baku he saw the look of adoration on the man’s face as he stared longingly at Monae. Derrick couldn’t believe this man was so bold as to stare at his fiancee like that right in front of him.. 

“Hey man, so I hear you’re only in town  for a short while. When are you leaving?” Derrick asked with a certain gruffness in his voice. 

“Derrick, don’t be rude,” Monae whispered to him, shooting an apologetic smile M’Baku’s way. Derrick brushed her off and continued his line of questioning.

“I’m just curious. When are you going back to Wakanda?” 

“I will be here two more months,” M’Baku stood tall. “And you?” He threw back.

“We’ll be moving in a couple weeks actually,” he looked down at Monae as her jaw clenched. “Monae’s still not happy about it though, are you Momo?”

She gave him a forced smile, “We don’t need to talk about that right now, let’s just have a good time.”

“There you are! Damn, y’all clean up nice.” N’Jadaka said as he and T’Challa made their way over to greet M’Baku and company. Both Udakus had on black tuxes with silk scarves draped over their left shoulders, the prince’s a shiny gold and the king’s a bold purple. 

“Thanks, so do you two,” Neicey responded. 

“I wouldn’t be brave enough to rock a scarf like that.” Derrick added.

“Yes, well you-“

“Look nice in your tux,” T’Challa cut off M’Baku, shooting him a look.  “Actually Derrick we were wondering if you would give us some, uh, legal advice. We have a few questions about opening a pro-Bono legal clinic.”

“That’s not my specialty, but sure.”

“Fantastic!. We need you to meet some people. Monae do you mind if we steal him away from you?”

“By all means…”

The three men walked away as M’Baku caught Shuri’s eye across the room. She and Nakia were slowly making their way over to them, but kept being stopped and roped into conversations with various prospective donors.

“So, Monae. Where are you moving to?” Neicey asked, hoping it was somewhere far, far away.

“That’s a complicated answer right now-“

“So you’re staying?”

“Like I said, it's complicated,” she deadpanned and grabbed another flute of champagne from a passing waiter, placing her empty one back on the tray.

“I guess.” she shrugged before turning back to her date. “M’Baku let’s get a real drink from the bar, not this bubbly mess.” She tried to pull him towards the bar, but he didn’t budge.

“Monae, would you like to join us? I do not want to just leave you here all alone,” he offered as Shuri and Nakia came up behind him.

“Thank you, but I’ll let the two of you spend some time together,” she said with a sarcastic tone that only M’Baku picked up on. “Besides, these gorgeous ladies just showed up to keep me company.” She gestured to the royalty in their presence and M’Baku turned around to greet them.

“My Queen, Princess, you both look lovely this evening.” 

Nakia wore a floor-length eggplant gown with a sweetheart neckline with matching opera gloves and emerald jewelry. Shuri surprisingly had on heels with her black jumpsuit that was covered in gold embroidery. They both looked regal, even more so than usual.

“Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself. And Monae, this bronze is stunning! Did you two come together?” Shuri asked, accidentally stirring the pot. M’Baku could feel Neicey seething on the other side of him.

“No, we did,” she said as she grabbed onto his arm.

“Oh I’m sorry, I just thought with the outfits- nevermind. I love the sequins.”

“Thank you.”

An awkward silence followed, but Nakia broke it before it could go on too long.

“How has your class been going? I hear great things from the kids,” Nakia asked, declining a flute of champagne from a passing waiter. 

“Oh they’re a dream to work with. Have you seen their latest project? Last week I taught them about revisionist history and they’ve been researching real historical facts and performing skits based around their subject. You have to come by and see it. They’re so good!”

“I’ll stop by on Monday for sure,” Nakia responded. “Since your class is so popular I’d love it if you could come with me to talk to some of our donors.”

“Sure but M’Ba-“

“He’ll be fine. Plus I think the Princess needs him for something anyway.” Nakia led her away from her date and over to the only group of rich Black folks in the room.

Shuri turned to wink at M’Baku and tried to slip away before Monae could notice her escape since she had turned to talk to one of her art teachers and his wife, but Monae caught her at the last second..

“So, princess, quick question-“

“Princess? You know I’m just Shuri to you, Monae.”

“Not when you look like that you’re not. Did she say yes?”

“Yes! She’s right over there mingling with some of the other tech nerds,” she pointed to a short, shapely, bald girl in a jumpsuit just like Shuri’s. “Her name is Tae. Isn’t she just the cutest?”

“Absolutely adorable,” M’Baku smiled at his friend, happy she had finally been able to make a move. 

“Well, I should go mingle some more. I’ll catch you two later! Again, love the matching outfits,” Shuri said as she skirted away. She picked up a champagne flute, but before she could even bring it to her lips, her brother came out of nowhere and snatched it from her grasp.

“You’re too young.”

“Oh come on, I can drink at home!”

“This isn’t Wakanda, and you’re not 21. We have to present a good image for the donors-“

“We don’t even need donors, we have more than enough money to fund the center.”

“Yes, but people want to have a say in what goes on in their communities and rich people like to throw money around. Who am I to deny them that right?”

“You just like taking colonizer’s money,” she whispered to him and he responded with a wink before sipping from the confiscated champagne flute. 

“You’re starting to get it.” He walked away with a smug look on his face to find his wife in the crowd. Shuri rolled her eyes and went to go keep Tae company.

Meanwhile, Monae and M’Baku finally got a moment alone. 

“You look absolutely beautiful tonight. This dress is very distracting.”

“Thank you. You know, sometimes I forget you’re a chief but right now you really do look like royalty. Hell, all you Wakandans do.”

“You say that as though you do not look like a queen yourself.”

Monae blushed and he held out his arm towards her.

“Want a real drink?”

“God, yes.” 

He laughed and led her to the open bar, ordering them both whiskey, his neat and hers on ice.

“How did you know I was a whiskey girl?”

“I did my research on your home, too. I figured Jack Daniels was a safe bet.”

“And the ice?”

“You ask for extra ice on everything, so I just assumed-“

“Correctly.”

They smiled at each other and continued flirting back and forth by the bar until they caught the eye of a jealous lover. Derrick stormed over to the bar and stood between them.

“Are you having fun?” he asked Monae, back turned to M’Baku.

“Derrick stop being rude, we were in the middle of a conversation-“

“Yeah I saw. I’m ready to get out of here, let’s go.”

“We haven’t been here that long-“

“I said let’s go.”

M’Baku didn’t like the tone of voice he used when speaking to her, so he stepped in, squaring up with Derrick

“I think the lady-“

“Did I ask you?” he raised his voice as he turned to face the chief. “No, I didn’t. Monae, let’s- fuck, where’d she go?” When turned back around she was gone.

“I will go find her.”

“Nah big man, you’ve done enough. I’ll go find my girl.” And with that, he was off, leaving M’Baku at the bar alone. He threw back his drink right as N’Jadaka approached.

“Yo what’s up with you?”

“I am going to kill him.”

“Who, Demarcus?”

“Yes. He is too controlling of her.”

“Well it’s not like you’ll have to deal with him much longer.” The prince said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Hey where’d your date disappear to?”

M’Baku shrugged and N’Jadaka chuckled before something caught his eye.

“There’s your girl.” He nodded towards the entryway, and M’Baku turned around to see Monae and Derrick having what looked to be a very quiet heated argument. As luck would have it, Neicey reappeared at that moment.

“Hey cutie, miss me?” She clung to his arm and he felt his blood pressure rise. She noticed the tension in his shoulders. “What’s up with you?”

“Monae’s fiance is being a dick,” N’Jadaka answered for him, prompting Neicey to roll her eyes.

“Again with all the Monae talk? I’m so tired of hearing about that bitch-”

M’Baku’s head had never turned so fast, and N’Jadaka was seriously concerned for Neicey’s safety for a moment.

“What did you just call her?” M’Baku asked for clarification, making sure he heard her right.

“How about we all chill out. Neicey, wanna dance?”

“Sure, why not. It’s not like he was gonna ask me anyway.”

N’Jadaka gave M’Baku a look that told him to relax before escorting Neicey to the dance floor. 

M’Baku looked back up to find Monae and she was nowhere in sight, so he made his way towards the doors to see if she had maybe gone outside for some air. She hadn’t, they had just gone around the corner to argue in peace. Yet again, he caught the tail end of their disagreement.

“You never want to support anything I do, Derrick. I’m tired of it.”

“Well I’m tired of you flirting with that chief guy.”

“That ‘chief guy’ has a name-”

“Do I look like I care? Look, we’re leaving for LA in two weeks. Do you think you can keep your legs closed until then?”

Monae was stunned, mostly because she had no comeback. She had already opened her legs for M’Baku, but Derrick didn’t know that. Thankfully he took her shock for offense and tried to backtrack.

“I didn’t mean it to sound that way-”

“Yes you did.”

“Monae, I-”

“No. Derrick I’m tired of doing this back and forth. You don’t respect me and you never have. I can’t keep doing this-”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying we’re done, Derrick. You can go to LA and be this big, successful entertainment lawyer all you want now. I’m done.” She took the ring off her finger and handed it back to him.

She crossed her arms over her chest and glared at him, waiting for a response.

“You think you can live the  life I could provide for you on your teacher’s salary?” his voice was low and full of rage.

“Oh honey, I make way more than the average teacher. They actually pay us here, so I’ll be fine. You’re not needed.”

He was fuming.

“Fine! Don’t come crawling back to me when he leaves you behind.”

And with that, Derrick turned and left the gala.

M’Baku wasn’t sure of what to do, should he go to her or give her space? He heard her sniffles and quickly made up his mind.

“Monae-”

“What?!” she yelled before she could register the voice that was speaking to her since she kept her back towards the door so nobody would see her tears.

“Monae, I am sorry.”

She broke down upon really hearing his voice.

“It’s not your fault, it was bound to happen anyway. It’s just hard to let go of so many years, you know?”

“I understand, I have been there. I am still sorry for my part in this and how it led to hurting you.”

“You’ve been here before?”

“Yes, she broke my heart so I had to let her go, but the situation was very different. Can I get you anything?”

She smiled through her tears at his attempt to be helpful.

“No I just need to clean up, and get back out there.” she pointed to the restrooms. He waited for her while she went in to dry her tears and fix her makeup. As he did, he caught sight of N’Jadaka and Neicey sneaking out together and let out a chuckle. At least that situation was taken care of, now he could focus all his energy on Monae.

When she emerged her makeup was once again flawless and M’Baku couldn’t help but stare at her beauty.

“What? Did I miss a spot?” she panicked

“No, just taking it all in,” he said with a whimsical smile on his face.

She blushed and reached to grab his arm before stopping herself.

“Where’s Neicey? I don’t want her chomping my damn head off for being within a 5 foot radius of you.”

M’Baku laughed. “Oh, she will not be a problem anymore, I just saw N’Jadaka take her home for the night.”

“Of course he did,” Monae wrapped her arm around M’Baku’s large bicep. He led her back into the gala just as T’Challa was finishing up his speech.

“-and to the donors, we raise our glasses to you for your continued support and interest in bettering the community. We couldn’t do this without you.”

Shuri scoffed and Nakia fought to hide a smile, nudging her sister-in-law to keep her quiet.

“Please, continue to utilize our open bar and try some of the hors d'oeuvres our wonderful wait staff are carrying around the room. Enjoy your night, and we appreciate your generosity.” Nakia added.

Everyone clapped as the three royals exited the stage.

“Where the hell is N’Jadaka?” T’Challa asked M’Baku when he made his way over.

“Oh he’s busy with Neicey.”

“N- ohhh. That’s great!” he noticed Monae's confused face and dialed it back a little. “I mean, good for him.”

Monae could tell something was up, but she’d get it out of M’Baku later. 

“Nice speech, T. I can already see the money rolling in. You know, rich white folks love easing their guilty consciences.” 

“Thank you, Monae. The more they give us, the less we have to put up, and the more centers we can open and do the same thing all over again.” T’Challa said softly through a fake smile as some of those rich white people walked within earshot of the conversation.

“Have you looked at other locations?”

“We have, it is difficult to narrow down cities. We want to stay in the US for now, but eventually we could become global.”

“You should look into Nashville. It’s crawling with gentrifiers, and North Nashville has one of the highest incarceration rates in the country. For Black folks, of course.”

“Really? I was unaware of that. North Nashville, you say... I am assuming that is a Black neighborhood?”

“Not for much longer,” she said with a deep sadness in her face that the king took note of. “But an Outreach Center could really help the community.”

“I will keep that in mind, thank you. So….” The king looked on expectantly.

“Sooo…?” Monae asked back before he gestured to the two of them. She playfully rolled her eyes. “I don’t know what you mean.”

M’Baku chuckled at both of their antics.

“I’m sure you don’t…” T’Challa said as he walked away to go mingle with the crowd some more.

“How long do these things usually last?” M’Baku leaned down and said with his lips grazing her ear. 

“I don't know, this is my first gala. Why, tired of it already?”

“Honestly, yes. I would much rather be on my couch right about now, the collars on these button up shirts are extremely uncomfortable.”

“Let’s go then. I’m not in the mood to deal with people, and that couch sounds real good right about now.”

-------

Had she been thinking, Monae would’ve run home real quick to change, but there she was barefoot in an evening  gown  in M’Baku’s kitchen going through his fridge to find something to eat.

“We should order in, those hors d'oeuvres weren’t enough.”

“What do you have a taste for?” M’Baku rounded the corner in grey sweatpants and a black tank and it took everything in Monae to not jump him right then and there.

“Honestly? You, but I’m also not in the mood. You can’t just walk around looking like that, it’s not fair.”

He cornered her against the counter, arms on either side of her.

“And you walking around here in this gown is unfair to me, yet here you are.” he looked down at her erect nipples, stiff from the chill of his loft. He had turned the thermostat up to 70 for her, but that was as high as he was willing to go.

He kissed her forehead and backed up, trying not to stare too hard at her heaving chest.

“M’Baku, I might need some time. I’m still kind of in a weird headspace right now and-”

“I understand, which is why I have a surprise for you.”

Her face lit up like a kid at Christmas. “What is it?”

“You will have to come over here to find out.” He said with a chuckle, walking towards the living area and plopping on the couch. She joined him shortly after and he picked up the remote. When he pressed play tears came to her eyes as she heard the twinkling sounds of the opening to her favorite movie.

“You remembered?” she asked through the couple tears that had escaped her eyes. One day during their many lunches, she had mentioned that her favorite feel-good movie was The Wiz and since he had never seen it, she vowed to change that. Now here he was, pulling out all the stops.

“Of course I did, I have been making my own ‘Captain America’ list.”

“So have I! It’s on my phone, I’ll grab it after the movie.”

They decided to order pizza and she settled into the couch, but couldn’t get comfortable in her dress.

“Let me get you a change of clothes. It might be a little big-”

“A little? I’m like a foot shorter than you, I’ll be swimming in whatever you give me.”

He chuckled and motioned for her to follow him. She paused the movie right as Toto ran into the snowstorm and got up, trying not to trip over her dress since she no longer had on her heels. 

M’Baku found a t-shirt for her to wear and got to looking for pants when she stopped him.

“This should be fine, you’ve already seen everything and this’ll be like a dress on me anyway.” she said, undoing her side zipper and letting the gown fall to the ground before reaching for the shirt. He snatched it away from her and held it up high, forcing her to either climb him or jump for it. She chose the latter and he was too distracted by her bouncing breasts to keep the shirt out of reach. She snatched it from his hand and threw it on, sticking her tongue out at him in the process.

“Do that again, and I will find a much better use for your tongue.” he warned her as they made their way back to the couch.

Monae blushed and plopped down next to him, tucking her legs under her and leaning into M’Baku. He put his arm around her so she could lean in closer and his hand rested on her waist while his fingers mindlessly traced patterns into her side. They stayed like that until the pizza arrived and got right back into position after they ate.

She knew every line and lyric, and M’Baku found himself watching her more than the movie. She was beaming the whole time except when sang along to “Home” through her usual tears.

“Why are you sad?” he asked, wiping them away. She smiled at his concern.

“I’m not sad, it’s just an emotional song. It always gets me” she spoke while dabbing her eyes with a clean napkin. “Ready to see my list?”

“I was born ready.”

She grabbed her phone from the charger while he grabbed a notebook off the coffee table. When she returned, she got right back into the same position tucked into his side and turned her phone on to see several voicemails from Derrick. She rolled her eyes and unlocked her phone, going to her notes app and pulling up her very own “Captain America List”.

“Ok, you go first!”

M’Baku opened his notebook and flipped through the pages for a moment before he found what he was looking for.

“Well I can cross off The Wiz. It is an excellent movie by the way, but I already knew you had good taste,” he said cockily. She nudged him in his side. “This is what I have so far: The Autobiography of Malcolm X, Lemonade (but not the drink), spades, Roots, The Color Purple, and Friday.”

“Ok, ok, good start. Here’s some more, and this is not an exhaustive list. I will be adding more.” She cleared her throat, “So far I have: The New Jim Crow, Homecoming, “the cookout”, the Harlem Renaissance, Kindred, Alvin Ailey American Dance Theater, Pose, and T’Challa’s Black Jeopardy sketch.“

M’Baku scribbled it all down as she spoke, and she was tickled by his intense concentration. 

“Anything else?”

“That’s it for now. Where did you get yours from?”

“N’Jadaka and Deontae. Tell me about what’s on your list.”

“Well first we have The New Jim Crow by Michelle Alexander. It’s a really depressing book, but if you want to understand white supremacy in this country and how it still operates today, this is a must. Homecoming because not only is it a flawless performance by Beyoncé Giselle Knowles-Carter-”

“I believe I have heard some of her music, she is very talented.”

“Oh-ho-ho, just you wait. It’s not just about her though, you’ll get a feel for the HBCU experience and that’s important. You have to go to a cookout at least once. I’m gonna try to convince N’Jadaka to throw one at his place, I can’t describe in any other words than Black as fuck. The only thing that beats it is a family reunion. Next we have the Harlem Renaissance which is a whole time period of Black creativity. Authors, artists, musicians, you name it. Kindred is one of my favorite books, it’s sci-fi and has time travel but as I’m sure you can guess, that doesn’t work well for Black people in this country.”

M’Baku could listen to her talk for days and almost got lost in her lips until she caught him and shocked him from his daze.

“Are you listening?”

“I-I am sorry, you are just so beautiful. Please, keep going, I want to hear more.”

“Where was I?” she asked as a heat crept up her cheeks. “Oh, um, right. So, Alvin Ailey because I’m a dancer so obviously I would pick that, and Pose because it’s a really good show and you’ll learn some about the AIDS crisis and how Black and Brown queer and trans people are treated here. Newsflash: not that good. Last, we have T’Challa’s SNL sketch. Oh my god, you have to watch it, he’s actually really funny. That’s all I have for now, but I’ll add more as it comes to me.”

“Tell me about my list.” he requested, continuing to stare at her lips as she spoke again.

“Your list?”

“Mhm.” he said, looking at her dreamily. It was late so she couldn't tell if he was simply tired or enamoured by her. Probably both. 

“Ok, well, let me see here…” she looked over his list. “Autobiography of Malcolm X, another must. Do you know who he is?”

“Yes, I learned of him when I was researching your people’s history. He was quite a polarizing character, but I agree with his stance.”

“I actually have all of these books, I’ll bring them to you on Monday. Next up is...Lemonade! This is from Deontae, isn't it?”

“How did you guess?”

“He’s a huge Beyoncé fan and I know damn well this didn’t come from Prince Charming.”

“You think he is charming?” M’Baku asked with a raised eyebrow.

“It’s a character from some old story...and Shrek 2. Anyways, yes, Lemonade the movie not the drink. Spades? Oh, N’Jadaka’s trying to get you killed. Black people do not play when it comes to spades. It’s a card game, I’ll teach you. Roots is a book and a miniseries about a family going through the horrors of slavery. The Color Purple...now reading the book is recommended, but you have to watch the movie. References galore, same with Friday. It’s hilarious, quotable, and about smoking weed. What more could you ask for?”

“Weed?”

A slow grinch-like smile crept up Monae’s face.

“Have you ever smoked before? Eaten an edible?”

“No, it never appealed to me.”

A belly laugh erupted out of Monae and M’Baku stared at her in confusion.

“Oh my god, you got me feeling like Smokey, but my nigga...I’m getting you high. You gotta do it at least once.”

“I will try it for you.”

Monae was giddy and although he couldn't understand where her excitement was coming from, he was looking forward to finding out. 

-------

The next morning M’Baku woke up to the feel of movement on his left side. His eyes slowly blinked open as he watched Monae attempt to sneak away from him.

“Where are you going?” he asked, stretching his body and sitting up from the couch. They had fallen asleep around 4am after talking and drinking wine all night, and although the couch was not the most comfortable to sleep on, M’Baku was. Monae slept like a baby, but M’Baku’s neck would probably be hurting for the next day or so.

“As much as we drank last night, where do you think?”

“Someone is feisty in the morning.”

“No, I’m feisty when I’m trying not to pee on myself.”

M’Baku chuckled as she ran down the hallway towards the bathroom. A couple minutes later she poked her head into the hallway.

“Do you have an extra toothbrush I can use?”

“Bottom drawer.”

“Thanks!”

The chief had just finished his morning stretches when Monae reappeared and he took her place. When he emerged, she had eggs and vegetables sitting on the counter and was rummaging through his cabinets. He saw her standing on her tiptoes trying to grab a frying pan that was just out of her reach and he came up behind her to grab it for her. He handed it to her and bent down to lightly kiss her on the neck and whisper in her ear.

“Good morning, beautiful.”

A chill went down her spine as she fought to focus on the task at hand.

“Good morning, handsome.”

He turned her around to face him.

“So you think I am handsome?” he teased, leaning in closer to her lips as her arms made their way around his neck.

“Of course.” She closed the distance and gave him a soft peck, and he responded by pulling her in for a real kiss, tongue and all. 

“You know…” she started.

“What?”

“I’m single now…”

“Really? I was not aware,” M’Baku said sarcastically. She playfully hit his chest and his deep, rumbling laugh filled the room.

“Ok, ok I will stop,” he grinned at her.

“As I was saying, since I’m single now I can do whatever I want.”

“Whoever, you mean.”

“Exactly, and it’s a very short list,” she gave him a light kiss. “But first, breakfast!” she pulled away, much to his dismay, but he let her turn back around towards the counter. He held her waist and rested his head on top of hers.

“You know, the more you distract me the longer it’ll take to eat.”

“I do not care,” he said, squeezing her tighter. “Unless you want help, in which case I can be an excellent assistant.”

“I’d like that, actually. Grab a knife and start cutting up the onion while I put on some music.”

The two of them danced around the kitchen to Monae’s “Good Morning” Spotify playlist, M’Baku catching everything she threw back at him and surprising her by being light on his feet. After he finished chopping up the onions, mushrooms, spinach, and tomatoes, he tried to reach for the pan, but Monae’s hand was quicker and beat him to it.

“Nope! I’m cooking breakfast as a thank you.”

“For what?” his head tilted to the side and he gave her a curious glance. 

“For...well, everything. It’s been a good month and you’ve been a good friend to me, even though we both know you were always more than a friend...the point is, thank you for being there for me and for making me laugh and for letting me stay the night.”

“Of course, that is what friends do.” he kissed her on the neck again as he walked by to grab dishes from the cabinet. Monae took the apple slices she had just cut and covered them in cinnamon and nutmeg before tossing them in the now-hot skillet. The coconut oil popped her a little, but she was used to it since she had been cooking for years. She let the apples cook down and continued to dance on her own while M’Baku recorded her moves on his rarely-used kimoyo beads.

She put on a show for him, rolling her hips and bouncing her ass extra hard, his t-shirt flying up so that he could get a glimpse of her pussy. She dropped it low to Megan Thee Stallion’s “Cry Baby” before bringing it back up slowly and checking on the apples, which were just about done. She started sauteing up the chopped vegetables and cracked a few eggs into a bowl before whipping them up and pouring them into the skillet. She scrambled up the eggs while she cracked open an avocado and placed slices of it on toast on both plates. M’Baku watched her make herself at home in his space and he wondered for a moment what it would be like to wake up every morning to this, and not just for the next two months.

His thoughts were cut short by her calling his name.

“Are you ok?”

“Yes, I am sorry, I just...you really are enchanting.”

Her bottom lip found its place between her teeth as she handed him his plate. He dug into his honey avocado toast, vegetable scramble, and fried apples like he hadn't eaten in days. When he finished he leaned back and rubbed his stomach in slow circles.

“You are the second best cook I have ever met.”

“Second? The first better be your mama-”

He chuckled at how easily she gets riled up.

“In fact, it is. You two would get along great, she is feisty just like you.”

“No wonder you have good taste in women,” she winked at him as she got up to grab their dishes. He reached for them, but she swatted his hand away. “Aht! This is a ‘thank you’, remember? You can wash them next time.”

She put the dishes in the sink before rinsing one off and placing it in the dishwasher when M’Baku came up behind her, holding her hips and grinding into her.

“I cannot wait to thank you,” he said slowly as he kissed from her ear to her collarbone. Monae was frozen on the spot, stuck under his spell, pussy throbbing more with every touch of his lips and every whisper. 

“What are you waiting for?” She pushed her ass into him, feeling his thick, juicy dick sitting on her lower back. Those sweatpants weren’t holding anything down, and she was thankful for the print she saw when she looked behind her, prompting her to turn around and grab it, forcing the chief to let out a rumbling moan.

“N-not now, I want to take you out first on a real date.”

“Ugh, then why are you doing this to me? I’m horny as fuck, M’Baku.”

He chuckled and leaned in to kiss her softly, speaking against her lips, “Because I want your body ready for me.”

She shivered as he backed away from her and left the kitchen, heading towards the dining area to finish clearing off the table.

“So about this date. When are you free?”

“I’m free all weekend,” she said as his gap toothed smile grew bigger across his face.

“Well then how about this: I take you home, then I come back for you later and we go to the festival you mentioned last night.”

She did a little celebratory dance before jumping up to kiss him on the cheek and running to his room to put her dress back on. They both slid on their shoes and were out the door in minutes, Monae extra excited to get their date started.

 On the way to Monae’s apartment, they both ignored the confused looks from the passersby as they took in the sight of a man in sweatpants walking hand in hand down the street with a woman in a shiny evening gown. When they reached her building, M’Baku held the door open for her as they entered. He walked her to her door and gave her another featherlight kiss.

“See you soon.”

“See you soon.”

She unlocked her door and stepped in, closing it behind her and taking a deep breath before leaning her back against it and letting out a dreamy sigh. She couldn’t believe it was finally happening.

Next Chapter

Taglist:

@maddeningmayhem, @theblulife, @devnicolee

[forestwater87]

How did you become a university Librarian? Did you do an English degree? Sorry if this is a weird question it just really interests me as I’m not sure what to do when I’m older

Eeee I got really excited about this question! 

Okay, the fun thing about librarianship is that all roads can lead to it: as long as you get an ALA-approved (assuming you’re American; if you aren’t I cannot help you) graduate degree you can do just about anything for undergrad. English majors are extremely common, just by the nature of who’s into the job, but literally it doesn’t matter; in fact, weirder and more specialized degrees can actually help in certain jobs, because they give you a ton of background info and qualifications than most of your contemporaries have.

I fell into it because I worked at a library in high school and fell in love with the environment, and when I realized I’d rather die than work in publishing (my previous life’s goal) I gravitated toward library school. I knew from the beginning that I’d need a Master’s -- and a very specific one at that -- so mostly my undergrad was just “grab a foundational degree and have fun with it.” That was really freeing, honestly. I had a ton of fun in undergrad.

Now, if you, Anon, were interested in getting into librarianship I’d have a handful of recommendations. These are all based on my very American experience, and there are probably smarter people than me with better advice but I’m the only one on this blog so heeeeerrreeeee we goooooooooo!

Undergrad

You need a 4-year degree. Full-stop. It doesn’t matter what kind, but you gotta have one to get into grad school.

Like I said, you can do just about anything for an undergraduate degree. Most of the time English is the BA of choice, because librarians love them some books, but some far less common ones that I think would be hugely helpful to a hopeful librarian would be:

Computer Science: Oh my god you need at least a baseline competency in computers/technology please you don’t have to code but you need to be able to turn a computer on and navigate just about any website/office application on just about any device at the very least you need to know how to Google

Business/Marketing: Particularly if you want to work in public libraries, where a bunch of your funding comes from begging politicians and convincing taxpayers to donate/vote to give you money

Law: If you want to be a law librarian

Medical . . . whatever, I don’t know what fields of medicine there are: If you want to work in a hospital or other medical library

History or Art History: If you’re interested in archives or museum librarianship

Education: School librarians in my state require you to be a certified teacher, and no matter what kind of library you end up in, you’ll end up teaching someone something a decent amount of the time

Communications: You’ll be doing a lot of it. Public speaking, too

Spanish/ASL/any not-the-common language: Hey, you never know what your patrons speak

Literally fucking anything I promise it doesn’t matter what you major in you will use it in a library at some point

Just be aware that you will need more than an undergrad degree. You’ll need probably 2 years of postsecondary schooling (more for certain types of librarianship), so get yourself comfortable with the idea of college.

If you’re like me (please don’t be like me), you might toy with the idea of getting a minor or two/double majoring to round out your skill set. Honestly I’d encourage it if you’re comfortable with the workload and have the time or money; like I said, there are no skills or educational background that won’t come in handy at some point. I promise. We see it all.

Along those lines, a wide expanse of hobbies can be hugely helpful too! You never know when your encyclopedic knowledge of Minecraft will be useful to a patron, but it absolutely will be.

Graduate School

All right, you’ve got your lovely little Bachelor’s Degree, maybe in something weird and esoteric for the fun of it . . . now you’re off to do more school!

It’s a bit complicated, because there are a handful of different titles an appropriate degree could have; my school called it “a Master of Science in Information Science” (MSIS), but other schools might just go with “Master’s of Information Science” (MIS), “Master’s of Library Science” (MLS), “Master’s of Library and Information Science” (MLIS) . . . it’s a mess. 

What you need to do is make sure the degree is approved by the American Library Association, who decides if a program is good enough to make you a librarian in the States. (Again, if you’re not American, good luck.)

Here’s a list of ALA-accredited programs and the schools that offer them.

The nice thing is accreditation has to be renewed at least every few years, so that means your program is always updated to make sure it’s in line with national standards. I’m not promising you’ll learn everything you need to be a librarian in grad school (oh my god you so won’t not even close hahahaha), but at least in theory you’ll be learning the most up-to-date information and methods.

(I’m curious to see how things have changed; when I was in school from 2015-17, the hot topics in library science were makerspaces (especially 3D printing), turning the library into the community’s “third space,” and learning how to incorporate video games into library cataloging and programming. No idea if those are still the main hot-button issues or if we’ve moved on to something else; I imagine information literacy and fake news are a pretty big one for current library students.)

Anyway! You pick a school, you might have to take a test or two to get in -- I had to take the GRE, which is like the SATs but longer -- almost certainly have to do all that annoying stuff like references and cover letters and all that, but assuming you’re in: now what?

There are a couple options depending on the school and the program, but I’m going to base my discussion around the way my school organized their program at the time, because that’s what I know dammit and I will share my outdated information because I want to.

My school broke the degree down into 5 specializations, which you chose upon application to the program:

Archives & Records Administration: For working in archives! I took some classes here when I was flirting with the idea, and it’s a lot of book preservation, organizing and caring for old documents and non-book media, and digitization. Dovetails nicely into museum work. It’s a very specific skillset, which means there will be jobs that absolutely need what you specifically can do but also means there aren’t as many of them. It makes you whatever the opposite of a “jack of all trades” is. You’re likely to be pretty isolated, so if you want to spend all your time with books this might be a good call; it’s actually one of the few library-related options that doesn’t require a significant amount of public-facing work. 

Library & Information Services: For preparation to work in public or academic (college) libraries. Lots of focus on reference services, some cataloging, and general interacting-with-the-public. You have to like people to go into library services in general, heads up.

Information Management & Technology: Essentially meaningless, but you could in theory work as like a business consultant or otherwise do information-related things with corporations or other organizations.

Information Storage & Retrieval: Data analytics, database . . . stuff. I don’t really know. Computers or something. Numbers 3 and 4 really have nothing to do with libraries, but our school was attempting to branch out into more tech-friendly directions. That being said, both this and #3 could definitely be useful in a library! Libraries have a lot of tech, and in some ways business acumen could be helpful. All roads lead to libraries; remember that.

Library & Information Services / School Library Media Specialist: This was the big kahuna. To be a school librarian -- at least in my state -- you need to be both a certified librarian and a certified teacher, which means Master’s degrees in both fields. What our school did was basically smushed them together into a combined degree; you took a slightly expanded, insanely rigorous 2-2.5 years (instead of the traditional 1.5-2) and you came out of it with two degrees and two certifications, ready to throw your butt into an elementary, middle/junior high, or high school library. Lots of focus on education. I started here before realizing I don’t like kids at all, then panicked and left. Back in 2017 this was the best one for job security, because our state had just passed a law requiring all school librarians to be certified with a MSIS/MLS/whatever degree. So lots of people already in school libraries were desperately flinging themselves at this program, and every school was looking for someone that was qualified. No idea if that’s changed in time.

No matter what concentration you went in with, you automatically graduated with a state certification to be a librarian, which was neat. You didn’t automatically get civil service status, though; for some public libraries you need to be put on a civil service list, which means . . . something, I’m not entirely sure. It involves taking exams that are only available at certain times of the year and I gave up on it because it looked hard. 

No one did more than 1 concentration, which is dumb because I wanted to do them all, but it takes a lot of time and money to take all the classes associated with all of them so I personally did #2, which was on the upper end of mid-tier popularity. School library and database services were far and away the most popular, and literally no one did the business one because it was basically useless, so library and archives were the middle children of which the library one was prettier.

THAT BEING SAID! Some forms of librarianship require a lot more education. A few of those are:

Law librarians: At least in my state, you gotta be a certified librarian and have a J.D. This is where the “big bucks” are -- though let’s be real, if you want to be a librarian you have zero interest in big bucks; reconcile yourself to being solidly middle-class and living paycheck-to-paycheck for the rest of your life or marrying rich -- which I guess is why it requires the most work.

School librarians: Like I mentioned, depending on the state you might need two degrees, and not all schools smush them into one. You might need to get a separate Master’s in education.

College librarians: Now, this depends on the college and the job; some colleges just need an all-access librarian, like mine. I didn’t need to specialize in anything, I just showed up with my degree and they took me. (Note: these sorts of entry-level positions tend to pay piss. Like, even more piss than most library gigs. Just a heads-up.) However, if you’re looking to get into a library of a higher-end university, you might be asked to have a second Master’s-level or higher degree just to prove you’re academic enough to party at their school. (Let’s be real, Harvard is almost certainly gonna want someone with a Ph.D. at the very least. That’s just how they roll.) Alternatively, the position might be for a specialty librarian, someone in charge of a field-specific library or field-specific reference services; if you’re being asked to head up the Science & Engineering Library at Masshole University, it’s reasonable to expect that you’ll be bringing a degree in engineering or some sort of science to the table. Colleges have so many different needs that predicting what kind of experience/education you should get is a bit of a challenge. Good luck. Some schools will help you out a bit with this; my grad school had dual degree programs where you could share credits between the MSIS and either an English or History Master’s so you could graduate with both in less time. I . . . started this, and then panicked at the thought of more school/writing a thesis and bailed, but it’s great if you’re into that idea!

What’s the point of the Information/Library Science degree?

You have to have the degree. If you don’t have the degree, you don’t get the job and you don’t make-a the money. Resign yourself to getting a Master’s degree or you’re gonna be bummed out and unemployed.

In terms of what you learn? Well, obviously it depends on the program, but I found that a lot of what I learned was only theoretically related to what I do on a daily basis. My instructors were lovely (well, the adjuncts anyway; the full-timers really didn’t want to be there and wanted to be off doing research and shit), but every library is so idiosyncratic and there’s such a massive umbrella of jobs you could get in one -- god, I didn’t even get into things like metadata services, which I learned basically nothing about in grad school but are super important to some positions -- that it’s hard to learn anything practical in a classroom.

However, besides the piece of paper that lets you make-a the money, there are two important things you should get from your grad school education:

Research skills: My god, you’re going to be doing so much research. If you’re a public librarian, you need to know how to Google just about anything. And if you’re a college librarian, being able to navigate a library database and find, evaluate, and cite sources . . . I mean, you’re going to be doing so much of that, showing students how to do that. Like a ridiculous amount of my day is showing students how to find articles in the virtual library. Get good at finding things, because much like Hufflepuffs, librarians need to be great finders.

Internship(s): Just about every library program will require an internship -- usually but not always in replacement of a thesis -- and if the one you’re looking at doesn’t, dump it like James Marsden in a romantic comedy. Internships are hugely important not only because they look good on a resume and give you some of those delicious, delicious references, but they are a snapshot of what your job is going to look like on a day-in, day-out basis; if nothing else, you’ll learn really fast what does and doesn’t appeal to you. As I mentioned, I wanted to be a school librarian for about half a semester. You know what changed my mind? My class required like 40 hours of interning at schools of each level. Being plopped into that environment like a play you’re suddenly acting in? Super helpful in determining whether or not this shit is for you.

What else should I learn, then?

Besides how to research basically anything? Here are some useful skills in just about any library:

Copyright law. Holy shit, do yourself a favor and learn about publishing/distribution laws in your state. Do you wanna show a movie as a fun program? You need to buy a license and follow super specific rules or it’s illegal! Does an instructor want to make copies of their textbook to give to the students? Make sure you know how much they can copy before it’s no longer fair use! Everything in my life would be easier if I’d taken the time to learn anything about copyright. I did not, and now I’m sad. (I lost out on a job opportunity because they wanted the librarian to be particularly knowledgeable in that kinda thing, and I was very not.)

Metadata and cataloging. In theory, you should learn this in grad school, but I was only given the bare basics and it wasn’t enough. Dublin Core, MARC-21, RDF -- there are so many different kinds of metadata schema, and I took a 6-week class in this and still don’t understand any of the words I just used in this sentence. But basically, to add items to a library catalog you often need to know how to input them into your library’s system; to an extent that’ll be idiosyncratic to your library’s software, but some of it will be based on a larger cataloging framework, so familiarity with those is very useful.

Public speaking and education. You’re gonna do a lot of it. Learn how to deal.

General tech savviness. Again, we’re not talking about coding but if you can navigate a WordPress website? If you know how to troubleshoot just about any issue with Microsoft Word, PowerPoint, etc.? If you can unjam printers and install software and use social media you’re going to be a much happier person. At the very least, know how to google tutorials and fake your way through; your IT person can only do so much, and a lot of it is probably going to fall on you.

Social work, diplomacy, general human relations kinda stuff. You’re going to be dealing with all sorts of people from all sorts of backgrounds, with every political view, personal problem, and life experience under the sun. You need to get very good at being respectful of diversity -- even diversity you don’t like* -- and besides separating your own personal views and biases from your work, you’ll be much better equipped to roll with the punches if you have, for example, conflict resolution training. Shit’s gonna get weird sometimes, I promise. (Once a student came in swinging around butterfly knives and making ninja noises. You know who knew how to deal with that? Not me!)

Standard English writing and mechanics. It’s not fair, but in general librarians are expected to have a competent grasp on the Standard English dialect, and others are less likely to be appreciated by the general populace. Obviously this differs based on your community and environment, and colloquialisms are sometimes useful or even necessary, but as a rule of thumb it’s a good call to be able to write “properly,” even if that concept is imperialist bullshit.

*I don’t mean Nazis. Obviously I don’t mean Nazis. Though there is a robust debate in the library community about whether Nazis or TERFs or whatever should be allowed to like, use library facilities for their own group meetings or whatever. I tend to fall on the “I don’t think so” side of the conversation, but there’s a valid argument to be made about not impeding people’s access to information -- even wrong or harmful information. 

Any other advice?

Of course! I love to talk. Let’s see . . .

Get really passionate about freedom of information and access: A library’s main reason for existing is to help people get ahold of information (including fiction) that they couldn’t otherwise access. If you’re a public librarian, you have to care a lot about making sure people can access information you probably hate. (If you’re an academic librarian it’s a little more tricky, because the resources should meet a certain scholarly threshold, and if you’re a school librarian there are issues of appropriateness to deal with, but in general more info to more people is always the direction to push.) Get ready to defend your library purchases to angry patrons or even coworkers; get ready to defend your refusal to purchase something, if that’s necessary. Get ready to hold your nose and cringe while you add American Sniper to your library collection, because damn it, your patrons deserve access to the damn stupid book. Get really excited about finding new perspectives and minority representation, because that’s also something your patrons deserve access to. Get really excited about how technology can make access easier for certain patrons, and figure out how to make it happen in your library. Care about this; it’s essential that you’re passionate about information -- helping your patrons find it, making sure they can access it, evaluating it, citing it . . . all of it. Get ranty about it. Just do it.

Be prepared to move if necessary: One of my professors told us that there was one thing that would always guarantee you a job that paid well -- this was in 2016 but still -- that as long as you had it you could do whatever you wanted. And that was a suitcase. Maybe where you live is an oversaturated market (thanks for having 6 library schools in a 4-hour radius, my state). Maybe something something economic factors I don’t really understand; the point is that going into this field, you should probably make peace with the idea that you’ll probably either end up taking a job that doesn’t make enough money or struggle a lot to even find one . . . or you’re going to have to go where the jobs are. It’s a small field. Just know that might be a compromise you have to make, unless you can get a strictly remote job.

Read: This sounds stupidly obvious but it’s true! Read things that aren’t your genre, aren’t your age range; patrons are going to ask you for reading advice all the goddamn time, especially if you’re a public librarian, so the more you can be knowledgeable about whatever your patrons might ask you about, the easier your life will be. If you’re considering librarianship you probably love to read anyway, so just ride that pony as hard as you possibly can.

Learn to be okay with weeding -- even things you don’t think deserve it: You are going to have to recycle books. You’re going to have to throw away books. You’re going to have to take books out of the collection and make them disappear in some fashion or another. There are a lot of reasons -- damage and lack of readership are big ones -- and there’s no bigger red flag to a librarian than someone saying “I could never destroy a book.” That kind of nonsense is said by people who’ve never had to fit 500 books onto a shelf built for 450. Archivists are different, of course, as are historians, and everyone should have a healthy respect for books both as physical objects and as sources of information, but you’re going to have to get rid of them sometimes, and you’re just going to have to learn how to do that dispassionately.

Have fun! No one gets into this because they want money; if you want to be a librarian, or work in any library-adjacent field, it’s because you really care about the values of librarianship, or the people in your community, or preserving and sharing as great a wealth of information as possible. Your job will often be thankless and it’ll sometimes be exhausting. There will be times where it’s actually scary. And unless you’re rich as balls, it will make you stare at your student loans and sigh with despair. (You may be living in your parents’ basement while you sigh at your loans because you can’t afford to live on your own, for an example that has zero relevance to any authors of this blog, living or dead.)  I can’t tell you if it’s worth it -- though you’ll probably find out pretty quickly during your internship, because that’s what internships are for. All I can say is that I love it, and I can’t imagine doing anything else.

[dreamii-yume]

Ohh Queen Yume you've opened the floodgates!! Which guys would be head over heels over a gorgeous, kind sensei!MC?? Who would feel conflicted about their feelings and who are shameless enough to try to pursue her?

“Tell the guards to open up...THE GATES~”

EVERYONE (΄◉◞౪◟◉｀) fight me with this one, Darlings.

Everyone would be up our Darling Sensei’s ass, I BET YOU MY LIFE SUPPORT. The better question at this point would be asking which wouldn’t be attracted to a beautiful Sensei lol

Riddle would act as if it’s the end of the world as falling in love with a teacher is a huge violation of many rules. Though he sometimes slips up with little gestures that makes him stutter and blush uncharacteristically, he can hide his emotions very well. He will try to kill these forbidden feelings, but doing so just breaks his heart. He secretly wants you to come and save him, recognizing him like he does withyou.

Deuce would be ashamed for falling in love with a teacher, how can he tell his mother about this? He came here to become a model student, not to become so attached to his own instructor. He tries to hide as much as he can but he’s a blushing mess with just the slightest attention from you, anyone could instantly tell what’s up. It’s just a matter of time before Sensei herself realized this precious boy’s feelings.

Jack is conflicted. Why was he feeling this way towards his teacher out of all people available? I see him as someone who fully respects you, he’ll be less violent and even if you haven’t noticed, you already got him perfectly tamed. He’ll keep his feelings for himself and wouldn’t ever plan to tell anyone. Though people have been noticing how slightly protective he’s being with you, of course he’ll violently deny them all. But sometimes it can’t be helped, his own tail would involuntary sway back and forth so excitedly if you go as far as to graze him.

Sebek doesn’t seem to like it, poor boy is just really confused. He should already be dedicated to his young master, he doesn’t need these silly feelings to add to his plate! You’re a teacher! You’re a person that he should respect and pay attention to for knowledge but instead, he’s disgusted at the way you haunt his dreams every night! He can’t believe he’s already falling in love with a human like you! Stop making him feel all giddy on the inside, it’s some sort of spell, isn’t it!?

Poor Idia just can’t take a break, can he? When he’s already stuck in a school full of self-centered brats, how dare you come and knock at his closed-off, introverted heart? He knew these kinds of scenarios from all the dating sims he’ve played but never in his life had he thought that he will find himself in the same situation. That being said, he’s still anxious to come and talk to you personally, his tablet was one way but even that doesn’t feel enough. He might really be going crazy as he starts to want to go outside just to meet you...

Silver can’t seem to put two and two together, he couldn’t quite figure out why his heart was beating so fast for his Darling Sensei. He would ask his father for any explanation but wouldn’t get anything out of it but a simple chuckle. That’s fine, something tells him that he wouldn’t be able to trust his advices anyway. Whatever it is, he’s quite fond of it and he doesn’t seem to care much, he does become really sad when you’re away though.

As we already established, Ace can be quite shameless when it comes to his feelings. He won’t outright say what he feels for you, but he’ll constantly flirt and tease you when he has the chance. Don’t be surprised when you begin to notice him actually trying to cope a feel or looking up your skirt because that’s just him. Also, be careful, he’s very prone to using dirty handed tricks to capture your attention.

Leona is another shameless one, he doesn’t care about status, if he sees a prey, it’s just natural for him to bite from the neck, right? What’s wrong with being a little older? He’s not even that young compared to these useless herbivore, he’s the best that you can get. It wouldn’t be much of an exaggeration to say that your class might just be the only class that Leona wouldn’t skip. Mainly because he might miss some exclusive view of you, like when your skirt would hitch up every time you bend over to grab something. He wouldn’t hesitate to grope either, that ass is just too tempting not to bite to at least once.

Floyd is difficult to deal with, since he’s likely the most shameless one out of the bunch. He doesn’t care about you being a teacher, Sensei is Sensei regardless! He’ll bother you at every opportunity he gets and at every place he sees you at. He’ll make excuses to meet you up, even going as far as to skip class just so you could take the effort and search for him. It bothers you a little that this particular student of yours constantly keeps asking questions about your lectures even if he always seems to already know the answer.

I’d say Malleus would also be shameless but he doesn’t actually realize that he’s being one. Forgive him for acting so strangely possessive and clingy around you, following you everywhere like a lost baby animal. It’s just that he’s not familiar with having romantic feelings with someone, let alone a mere human. He doesn’t see anything special in your role as a teacher, he had lived much, much longer than you after all.

Lilia is amused, to think that someone as wise as him had actually fallen in love with someone who was supposed to be his ‘teacher’. Never in his long life had he found himself in this kind of situation, it’s interesting! It’s not like it’s a problem anyway, you are nothing more than a child compared to his actual age, you’re just a mortal teaching him stuff that he already knew. But it doesn’t hurt to take advantage of his youthful appearance now, does it? Lilia’s excited to know where this relationship can go.

Sometimes, Trey and Jamil just doesn’t feel like a student to you. Being a lot more mature than the other students, you just can’t help but to rely on them for a lot of things. Maybe that’s probably why you’ll never notice how deeply in love these two are with you, they’re just that good when it comes to hiding emotions. They’ll give subtle hints here and there and Trey, most likely, might even flirt with you at some point but you’ll be so familiar with him by now that you wouldn’t even mind. I’d say Trey’s a bit on the shameless side, but not in a way that makes him clingy while Jamil is the type to just keep quiet but secretly and skillfully making moves.

Cater is categorized as shameless when it comes to expressing his feelings, but when Darling’s a teacher, things becomes a little...complicated. Don’t get him wrong, he’ll be the same as always, so talkative and energetic around you, even calling out for you with a cute nickname. He’ll even flirt like you’re the same age as him but he would always make it seem like a joke. If you’re a teacher, he’ll also be very careful about posting something about you in his Magicam, he knows how this works anyway. One word out that you’re becoming too close with a particular student, you’ll risk losing your job. Cater doesn’t want that happening anytime soon, but just know that he can make it happen too if he absolutely needs to. Until then, it’s all good and dandy!

Ruggie wouldn’t be guilty nor conflicted about his feelings, but he wouldn’t be as shameless as to scream out his feelings to everyone around him. No, only an idiot will do that and it’s embarrassing so, no thank you. Instead, he can play the long game, he’s a patient guy despite how he looks. Besides, he’s used to these kinds of stuff by now so it’s not that much different~! Expect many coincidences with him in it though!

Azul appears to be very calm on the inside, always helping you out whenever you need him without asking for anything in return. That’s what he is, a simp a gracious student ready to help his dear teacher out any time! But that’s what you think, in reality, he’s just desperately trying to earn your favor by being your “Yes-man”. He believes that if he became the goodest boy in your eyes, you’ll be able to love him as much as he does with you. Although, just expect a few tears and tantrums when he doesn’t get his way though.

Jade is so different from his brother that it surprises you that they’re even twins in the first place. He respects your boundaries, even if he wanted nothing more than to become as shameless as his other half. He’s very active when it comes to your lessons too, always paying attention with the greatest interest. He even serves you tea as refreshments and helps you with work if he feels as if you’re overworking yourself. He’s not really the type to care whether you’re a teacher, “I wonder~?” He’ll be very vague about it if anyone dares to ask but if you look closely, that smile says it all.

Kalim wouldn’t be able to recognize his feelings for a really long time. He’ll think it’s just normal to feel this way, for his heart to beat this fast, for his face to heat up, for thoughts of you to flow through his head even at night. But when he does, all those times he shamelessly clung to you and talked to you will come back to attack him all at once. He’ll actually lower down his affection levels because he was told that liking a teacher is bad and it might actually cost you your job. But it’s so difficult! It wouldn’t hurt to spend...a little more time with you, would it!?

Vil thinks it’s stupid of him and of you. He thinks he’s stupid for falling in love with someone like you, his own teacher, it’s unbelievable how low his standards had become. But at the same time, he thinks you’re stupid for not being able to understand why he fell in love with you in the first place too. Despite the salt of falling in love with someone like you of all people, it doesn’t change the fact the he’ll keep on striving to become the best for you. He wants you to notice him, notice his improvements, and make you feel how lucky you are for catching his attention, so would you try and look at him in a different way for once?

Rook just loves anyone and anything, does he? Everything is beautiful in his eyes and yet, there was something about you that shines the brightest amongst all others. There should be no shame in expressing his feelings, he’ll shout it out loud to world. His eccentric personality is working against his favor too, even if honestly and openly admitted his feelings towards you with everyone, no one will actually take it seriously. But what others perceives to be true isn’t always true, Darling.

I’m not quite sure where to put Epel in all of this, something’s telling me that he would be on the shameless side only if he’s willing to show his much more aggressive side. However, I can imagine him being worried to show that side to you, since you were already put under the impression that he’s a dainty, gentle boy. Although he doesn’t like being treated like he’s the most fragile thing of all people, he can’t deny the attention he gets from you whenever he’s acting like this. Epel doesn’t really seem to care if you’re a teacher in all of this, he knew that it’s not good but he’s determined. Once he graduates, he’ll definitely make a move on you so, just you wait...!

Before I knew it, I made something for every character holy shi- my teacher kink is terrifying.

Also, yes, Darlings! Yume changed her usename from “amai-no-yume” to “dreamii-yume”! ( ＾∀＾) To tell you the truth, I didn’t expect to like posting sins in tumblr this much ヽ(；▽；) So I ended picking such a half-ass username! But now, I decided to change it to something hopefully cuter and more appropriate! ( ´ ▽ ` )

Nice to meet you again, Darlings~!

[darks-ink]

Darkness - Ectoberweek 2020

Yes I wrote this one because I just really wanted to write Vlad and Danny meeting in Antonym-verse, shh. Don’t say anything.

[first part]

Rating: Gen Warnings: - Genre: Supernatural Words: 2,147 Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Sequel

[AO3] [FFN]

---

“Well,” Danny said, humming thoughtfully.

“Well,” the other person agreed, his bright red eyes absurdly visible in the dark room they were in.

Since the man didn’t seem inclined to talk, Danny didn’t bother to, either. Instead he started peering around, blinking his own vivid green eyes. Even though his retained night vision usually did him little good, he was glad to have it, now. He highly doubted ordinary humans would’ve been able to see in the pitch black they were in.

Unfortunately, the room did not include any hints as to where he was, nor why he was here.

“You’re Danny, aren’t you?” the man suddenly asked, his red eyes narrowed. “The Fenton’s adopted son?”

Danny hummed. He wasn’t sure if he was legally adopted, the human world had so much complicated paperwork, but they certainly seemed intent on counting him as their son. “Yeah,” he finally agreed, figuring he should vocalize. “But I don’t think I know you. Do I?”

The man visibly considered that, weighing options against each other. Finally he offered a hand to Danny. “Vlad.”

“Well, you already know my name, obviously.” Danny shot him a grin as he took the hand and shook it. “But I’m Danny.”

“And you’re half-ghost,” Vlad said, a strange emphasis on the ‘half-ghost’. “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah, well, so are you,” Danny pointed out with a shrug. “I think that the more pressing questions are “where are we?” and “how did we get here?”, don’t you?”

Vlad hummed at that, expression somewhere between pleased and aggravated. Someone was digging for information, huh? “Yes, I suppose you’re right. You don’t know either, then?”

“Nope,” he agreed easily, taking his eyes off of Vlad to look around again. The room was empty and featureless, absolutely non-distinct in how bland it was. “But! I don’t think we’re in the Ghost Zone.”

“How can you tell?”

“Not nearly enough ectoplasm in the atmosphere.” Danny leaned over to knock on the wall. “And these are solid. Humans can go through walls in the Ghost Zone.”

“You seem to know a lot about the Ghost Zone.” Vlad’s eyes narrowed once more.

“Yeah, well.” Danny paused, reconsidered. Vlad didn’t seem like a ghost, not like him. Vlad seemed like a human. If Danny could become part human as a ghost, why couldn’t a human become part ghost? “I guess I spent a good bit of time there.”

“And your parents?” Vlad pressed, cold disinterest in his voice.

Danny snorted, dismissive. “You mean my biological parents? Dunno. Can’t remember them. That’s why the Fentons took me in, y’know? Now can we please focus on getting out of wherever this is before we continue the interrogation?”

“Yes, of course,” Vlad said, graciously. Like this was anything to be gracious about. Danny bet that if he’d been in full control of his powers he could’ve beaten the other half-ghost easy. But, alas. He was still fighting to control his core, never mind use his powers properly. He would have to settle for civilized human behavior.

“Good.” Danny turned away from Vlad, walking along the wall, one hand trailing over it. The whole thing felt solid in a uniquely human way. Definitely no ghosts involved here.

The door, when Danny reached it, was no less solid. He grabbed onto the rounded doorknob and jangled it, but there was no give. Definitely locked. “Yeah, we’re not getting out this way.”

Vlad, who still hadn’t moved, the ass, hummed thoughtfully. “I suppose we will have to use our powers to leave, then. I see no cameras of any sort, do you?”

“No,” Danny admitted, releasing the door and looking around just to be sure. “I suppose you’re right. Some intangibility and invisibility should get us out.”

“Yes, indeed.” Vlad crossed his arms, waiting for a moment before arching his brow at Danny. “Well, go on then.”

“Me?” He scoffed. “It was your idea. You go first.”

The man stared at him for a moment longer, his red eyes boring straight into Danny’s, before he sighed. “Fine, then. But only because I suspect I cannot hope to out-stubborn a teenager, let alone one raised by Jack Fenton.”

Danny quirked an eyebrow at that unexpected hostility. Sure, he’d only known Jack for a month or two, but still. He seemed like a good man.

Vlad’s transformation was similar to Danny’s own. A spark of light from the chest, from the core, forming into rings which passed over the body, and shifted it from one state to the other. Admittedly Vlad’s were bizarrely black, while still giving off light, but it didn’t really matter. Not now, at least.

No, Danny was far more interested in Vlad’s ghost form. He looked rather like a typical ghost, up to and including a thematic appearance. And what an appearance. Vlad had gone full vampire on his looks, with pale blue skin, empty red eyes, pointed ears and sharp fangs. His hair, black in ghost form, was swept up into gravity-defying points, and his clothing did not match the suit he’d been wearing at all.

Hell, the guy even wore a cape. What kinda person did that?

But… Vlad had gone and shifted to his ghost form, so Danny supposed he’d better follow suit. Mentally crossing his fingers that his powers would hold—his core was still settling back into proper stability after his accident—he called his core to the forefront of his existence. Light flashed as he, too, transformed into a ghost.

Vlad quirked an eyebrow at him, judgment heavy in the air. “A jumpsuit, boy, really? You are certainly a Fenton, aren’t you?”

“It’s Phantom, actually,” Danny correctly idly. “The jumpsuit is just a coincidence.” He lifted up from the floor, trying to judge how well his core was doing that day. “Now come on, I don’t have all day.”

“And you think I do?” Vlad scoffed, but started floating as well. “I will go first. I expect I will be more likely to recognize where we are than you.”

Well, he wasn’t wrong, but he didn’t have to be so haughty about it. “Sure, knock yourself out.” Danny swept out an arm in a wide arc to underline the statement, throwing in a sarcastic bow as well.

The gesture clearly wasn’t lost on Vlad, but he apparently made the choice to ignore it, flying towards one of the walls and flickering invisible before he hit it. With a roll of his eyes, Danny followed, focusing his senses on the feel of Vlad’s core so he could track the man while invisible.

Outside it was… also dark, admittedly, but not as hopelessly pitch-black as inside. A glance upwards confirmed that it was a regular dark—stars barely visible due to a nearby city, and the new moon that was supposed to come that night.

Vlad was still nearby, although invisible, so Danny let himself drift over. “Well,” he said when he was close enough, keeping his voice low since they were still invisible. “I don’t think we missed much time. The moon phase is correct.”

“Hm. And what do you know of where we are?” Vlad asked, a tone of curiosity layered under the smarminess of his voice. “Or have you spent all your time looking up?”

“I thought you were going to focus on our location?” Danny shook his head, realized Vlad couldn’t see, then decided to look around anyway.

And, huh.

“Well, at least we’re not far from home,” he said, feebly.

They were on the outskirts of Amity Park.

“You aren’t, no.” Vlad huffed, a sound of displeasure. “Unlike you, however, I live in Wisconsin.”

Cool. That meant very little to Danny. He was pretty sure that it was a state in the country he was living in, but where, or how far away it was? Absolutely meaningless.

“Okay, well… If you know the Fentons you can probably stay over?” He let his invisibility drop, since the strain on his core was rather unnecessary. The people of Amity Park didn’t look up enough to care about ghosts in the sky. “And if you didn’t… Well, they probably would let you stay over anyway. They’d love to talk more about your half-ghost-ness.”

“Joy,” Vlad muttered, and he could not possibly have put more distaste in the word. “And you do not care to stay invisible, then?”

“I can’t keep it up forever, dude.” Danny shrugged, letting his legs blend away into a tail as he drifted in the direction towards home. “Besides, I know Amity Park. It’s a safe place to fly without invisibility, trust me.”

Vlad scoffed, but dropped his invisibility as well. “Very well, then. Lead on.”

Danny nodded back, then shifted into proper flight, making sure to keep his speed fairly low. As annoying as it was to have to hold back, he knew he couldn’t make full use of his powers, not while his core was still recovering from the transition. One day, hopefully, he’d get back to his prior strength.

Still, that did make him wonder. It definitely seemed like Vlad was a human who’d become half-ghost. How did that work, compared to Danny himself? How strong was Vlad? Did he need to wait for his core to mature the usual way? That almost seemed easier to Danny than what he was going through. A slow progressive growth, rather than having all these powers and not having the power to use them.

And Vlad had conveniently skipped around explaining how he knew the Fentons, too. Honestly, he was kind of giving Danny the creeps. Something about his behavior was just… off. Weird.

Or maybe that was just how slimy he was, how haughty, how superior. Yugh.

Vlad didn’t try talking to him while they were flying to FentonWorks, although he did raise a questioning eyebrow at the neon sign when they landed behind it.

“The glow of the sign will hide our light,” Danny explained with a shrug. He’d been told by Jazz that the sign was an oddity among humans, but he didn’t think it was that weird. “We can enter the house through the door up here.”

“Why not phase inside?” Vlad asked, crossing his arms. “That way no one will see us.”

“True. But it’s also rude to go inside without announcing yourself.” Danny grinned at Vlad, displaying his own sharp teeth, before releasing his core to shift back to human form. The flashing light was barely visible beyond the glow of the sign. “Coming, Vlad?”

The other half-ghost sighed, making a motion like rolling his eyes—despite the fact that they were empty in his ghost form—but transformed back into human form as well. “I would’ve thought that using ghost powers meant we were no longer following human sensibilities, but it’s your house.”

Human sensibilities? What, has no one ever told this guy the rules of lairs in the Ghost Zone? Yikes. “You do realize that it’s a thing in the Ghost Zone too, right? Not randomly wandering into people’s lairs?”

“And how would you know?” Vlad sneered back, his eyes dark for the first time since Danny had met him. “You’re what, fourteen? And clearly new to being half-ghost, too.”

“Yeah!” Danny snapped, feeling his core kick up a notch. He was so tired of this asshole. “Yeah, I’m new to being half-ghost! Because I was a full ghost before this!”

He leaned in closer to Vlad, seeing the reflection of his glowing eyes in Vlad’s. “Just because you think you’re a big deal doesn’t mean you are. You don’t know shit, Vlad.”

Satisfied that he’d gotten his point across, Danny whirled around, pulling open the door and climbing down the stairs. After a moment, he heard Vlad follow.

“You are… a ghost turned half-human?” Vlad asked, quietly. “Not the reverse?”

“Not like you, no,” Danny confirmed, opening the door to the upper floor hallway. “But the Fentons will still want to talk to you.”

“No.” Vlad stopped before crossing the door. Danny, too, stopped, turning around to face Vlad again. “No, I don’t think that that’s going to happen.”

“What?”

“I thought I had found someone like me. For that, I was willing to put up with Jack Fenton, at least for the moment. But now?” Vlad scoffed, a derisive sound. “For a poor ghostly imitation? No, certainly not. Goodbye, Phantom.”

With that, Vlad whirled around, vanishing from sight. Danny could still track his core—apparently Vlad had shifted forms almost immediately—but he was, in fact, leaving.

“Well. That just happened,” Danny muttered to himself as Vlad left the premises entirely. “Wonder what the chances are that the Fentons know more than one guy named Vlad.”

He shrugged to himself, continuing down to the living room, where his family waited. Guess he had some more mysteries to solve now.

Like that room. What the fuck was up with that?

[allsassnoclass]

Meet Me Under the Mistletoe

Ficmas Day 1 for @calumsclifford <3

Pairing: Michael Clifford/Ashton Irwin

Rating: Teen and Up

Key Tag(s): Fake/Pretend Relationship, Office Party, Pining, Fluff, no warnings needed

Word Count: 15,665

Read on AO3

—

“And you asked Luke and Calum, but neither of them could do it?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you asked some other people, who also said no?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there a reason you didn’t ask me?”

Michael had not come up with a reason beyond I’m in love with you and that seems like a recipe for disaster.

“Uh,” he says. “I didn’t think you’d want to. I mean, I already ask you for so much.”

“That’s stupid,” Ashton says. “I like fancy parties, and spending time with you, and helping you. If you’re really set against telling them the truth, then I can be your fake boyfriend for the night.”

Michael has been letting everyone at the office believe he has a boyfriend for the past few months. Things become complicated when they ask to meet his boyfriend at the company winter party.

—

“I need you to be my boyfriend!”

It’s a testament to their experience as friends that neither Calum nor Luke look surprised to have Michael burst through their door haphazardly.  He knows his cheeks are flushed from the cold and running up the stairs and his coat probably isn’t buttoned properly and he only has one mitten on, but he’s in a crisis.  Calum and Luke don’t even bat an eye, although Luke lifts himself up from where he was tucked against Calum and frowns.

“Which one of us were you talking to?  Also, Calum and I are in a monogamous relationship already.  Sorry, Mikey.”

“Not my actual boyfriend,” Michael says, kicking off his shoes.  There’s snow clinging to the sides, and he steps gingerly over any damp spots in the entry before flinging his coat down on the armchair and flopping right next to Calum on the couch.

“What other type of boyfriend is there?” Luke asks.

“A fake one.”

That finally gets Calum’s attention, who had been pretending that the news was somehow more riveting than Michael’s crisis.

“What did you do?” Calum accuses.

“Nothing!”

Calum’s eyes narrow.

“I maybe have let everyone at work assume that I have a boyfriend and now they expect to meet him at the company holiday party.”

Calum sighs heavily, as if he hasn’t been Michael’s accomplice in far worse situations.

“How did that happen?”

“It just did,” Michael shrugs.  “Someone asked if I had a girlfriend back in September, and I said ‘boyfriend’ and they took it to mean that I have a boyfriend rather than want one.”

He had only been working there for three weeks when someone asked the question, and he had been so tired of not setting the record straight at the first possible opportunity.  It’s tedious to laugh off something like that and then have to come out later, and Michael figured that if anyone was going to be homophobic at least he would find out then instead of later when he had time to possibly grow to like them first.

Thankfully it hadn’t been an issue, as two other people in the department have same-sex partners.

Everyone there respects his privacy, so he hasn’t had to make up too many details, and it’s been nice to not have to acknowledge just how long it’s been since he last got to kiss a guy, let alone date one.

“Just tell them you don’t have one,” Luke says.

“If I was planning on doing that, I would’ve done so three months ago when this whole thing started.  Besides, I think there’s a betting pool involved, or at least a lot of behind my back speculation.  There are stakes now.”

“This is what you get for lying,” Calum says, shaking his head.  Michael pouts.

Michael was always told that one day, his little white lies would come back to bite him in the butt.  He doesn’t make a habit out of fibbing, but sometimes it’s simply easier to say something less-than true in order to save further pain down the road.  Insisting that he had done all of his homework by himself was easier than admitting that he and Calum did half each, and he got more free time out of it.  Telling Calum that Luke ate the last cookie instead of him saved Calum from a foul mood, because he’s unable to stay mad at Luke.  Telling Ashton that he was not, in fact, planning him a birthday party made the surprise that much sweeter.

When he told his coworkers that he has a boyfriend, he had expected this to be like every other little, insignificant lie he tells.  Now, he is paying the price.  He’s probably paying the price for every single lie he’s ever gotten away with in the past.

“This is a bit extreme for karma,” he says.  “Anyway, it’d be one night only, and apparently the party is pretty fancy.  Since headquarters is just over in Minneapolis, we’re invited to join theirs.  There’s a raffle with big prizes, plus a free catered dinner.”

“If it’s with headquarters, neither of us can go,” Luke says.  “My cousin works there.  She’d recognize me or Cal, and she definitely knows we’re dating each other, not you.”

“Really?” Michael asks.  “Shit.  You two were my best bets.  I needed to pick someone who wouldn’t fall in love with me.”

“You know,” Luke says.  “We do have another friend who is single and who you want to fall in love with you.”

“No,” Michael says.  “Absolutely not.”

“Come on, just think about it,” Luke says.  “Ashton would probably have a great time, and you’d get to show him off, maybe kiss him under the mistletoe...”

“He’d do it,” Calum says.  “He bends over backwards to help you already, and he loves schmoozing at fancy parties.  Plus, depending on how fancy it is you might get to see him in a suit.”

“No,” Michael repeats.  “The last thing I need is to have Ashton pretend to be my boyfriend.  If he was going to fall in love with me, he would’ve done it by now, and I don’t need a taste of what being with him would be like without any of the substance.”

Luke huffs and sits back.  Calum merely raises his eyebrows.

“Good luck finding someone else to go along with this.”

Michael flips him off and gets out his phone to start making calls.  He gets through seven refusals before he finally considers that Ashton may be the best viable option.

“No luck?” Calum asks, smirking.  Michael slumps against the couch and rubs at his eyes.

“Roy said that this is probably the universe giving me a sign.  Also he’s busy on the night of the party.”

“I can’t picture Roy and you pretending to date, anyway,” Luke says.  “Honestly, I think all of those would’ve failed.  Your coworkers would see through you in an instant.  You’d become the laughing stock of the office.”

“I could’ve at least had fun with Jack,” Michael says.

“He would’ve been laughing at you and texting Alex the entire time,” Calum says.  “Call Ashton.  Better yet, go to his house and talk it out in person.  Luke and I are supposed to be on a date in 30 minutes.”

“He’s expecting you,” Luke says, typing out something on his phone.  “He made baked ziti and needs you to help him eat it.”

“Did you tell him?” Michael asks, sitting up so fast he gets dizzy.

“I just said that you’re in crisis and will be coming over.”

“He’s going to laugh at me.”

“You deserve it,” Calum says, placing a hand on his shoulder.  “But you also know that he’s going to do everything he can to help you, and he’ll have better suggestions than me or Luke.  We’re good at getting you into trouble, not out of it.”

Michael sighs.  It’s not that he thought he could somehow keep this situation a secret from Ashton, but it’s still mortifying to consider confessing to him that he’s done something stupid enough to require finding a fake boyfriend in order to continue a long con he’s pulling on his coworkers.

He should probably tell everyone that he never had a boyfriend to begin with, but that seems like too little, too late when he has already panicked and told everyone that his boyfriend will come to the holiday party.  Michael is not a quitter.  This may not be a competition, but he will win, and winning means not facing the embarrassment of admitting the truth.

“Okay,” he sighs.  “I can’t believe you two are kicking me out in my time of need so you can go on a date.”

“Talk to Ashton and you might get a date for the holiday party,” Calum says.  “Then you can stop being a third wheel and we can double date instead of kicking you out.”

“I hope this works out for you, Mikey,” Luke says.

“Don’t give me false hope, please,” he says.  “It’s been years.”

Michael stands in silence, the others knowing better than to try and convince him Ashton could possibly like him, too.  He ran out of hope for that a long time ago, and he’s been attempting and failing to get rid of this pesky crush ever since.

“Stay warm out there,” Calum says, standing and following him to the door.  “Tell Ashton we say hi.  If there’s anything else we can do to help, just ask.”

“You’re sure that neither of you can be my boyfriend?” Michael asks one last time, slipping his arms into his coat and fighting with the zipper.

“Sorry,” Luke says, not sounding very sorry at all.  “Ask Ashton!”

“Fuck you,” Michael calls back cheerily, stepping out the door.

Leaving the sanctuary of the apartment complex for the cold of a Minnesota winter sucks, especially since his car has cooled down almost all the way again, but Ashton’s house isn’t too far away.  Michael is the outlier, living in a suburb while the others stayed closer to the heart of St. Paul.  He likes being close enough to the cities to easily commute for work and have access to all of the events happening, but it’s nice to not have to fight traffic for every little thing, even if the roads outside his house aren’t always plowed as nicely as the ones outside Ashton’s.

He traverses the familiar streets until he finally pulls into Ashton’s driveway with just enough room behind Ashton’s car that he’s not blocking the sidewalk.  Ashton has some Christmas lights up, just a string of simple blue ones following his roofline.  Michael sits in his car and watches them blink on and off, giving the impression of the stars they can’t see from light pollution, or of gently falling snow.

Ashton appears in his kitchen window, reaching into the cupboard next to it, surrounded by warm light.  He glances out and spots Michael’s car, face splitting into a smile and giving him a wave.  Michael has been in this position a million times before, but he wonders what it would be like if Ashton was calling him into their house after a long day, without having to leave at the end of the night.

He’s been spotted now.  Michael has no choice but to get out of the car.

“Hi,” Ashton calls from the kitchen when he lets himself in.  “Make yourself at home!  Dinner’s almost ready!”

Michael likes Ashton’s house.  It’s small, but in a way that mostly feels cozy rather than cramped.  The outside is white but the door is a light red, verging on pink, and each of the rooms inside is painted a different color, something which Ashton always says he’s going to change but has never gotten around to doing.  Michael hangs up his coat on one of the many hooks by the entrance, then toes off his shoes and flexes his fingers, trying to get some warmth back into them.  He runs cold, so winter is a constant struggle to keep his fingers from freezing off.

He steps into the living room, painted a pale green with mismatched furniture and warm blankets thrown over every surface.  Michael helped pick out the rug that dominates most of the floor space, and it makes him happy every time he comes over to see it.  Ashton doesn’t have a tree yet, but there’s a space for it cleared in the corner.  The dining room and kitchen are one room right off the living room and painted yellow.  Michael wanders over to the baking pan covered in foil, lifting up the corner to inhale the scent of freshly-cooked pasta, cheese, and sauce.

“Hey, no premature tasting,” Ashton says.  “If you’re going to be in the kitchen, make yourself useful and set the table.”

“You could say hello before you start ordering me around,” Michael says.  Ashton stops flittering around long enough to pause in front of Michael, hands on hips and smile on his face.  There’s steamed broccoli on the counter that definitely added to the current frizziness of his hair, and he’s wearing an off-white cable-knit sweater with the sleeves pushed up.  Michael hates himself for the way everything about this situation makes his heart flutter.

“I said hello when you first got here.  You’re the one breaking in to eat my food without a word of greeting.”

“Hi, Ashton,” Michael says, accepting the brief hug Ashton offers.  “You’re welcome for helping eat your food so the leftovers don’t overtake your fridge.”

“If I knew how to adjust the cooking times on this recipe for smaller portions, I would.”

That’s a lie.  Ashton enjoys feeding his friends.  Michael has at least one dinner a week at Ashton’s house under the excuse of him making too much food for one person.

Michael gets out two plates and the appropriate silverware and sets the table.  He gets out his favorite glass, a novelty Star Wars one with art of the celebration of Endor printed on it, and gets the matching Tatooine one for Ashton because he knows it’ll make him roll his eyes.  There’s apple juice and water in the fridge, and by the time Ashton has brought all of the food over Michael is sitting patiently at the table, hands folded neatly in front of him.

“So,” Ashton says once they both have a good helping of baked ziti, broccoli, and garlic bread on their plates, “Luke said you’re in crisis?”

Michael sighs.

“Promise you won’t laugh?”

“I’ll try,” Ashton says.  Michael shamefully recounts the sticky situation he has brought upon himself, avoiding eye contact the entire time.  Ashton chews slowly once he’s done, taking his time swallowing before he figures out what he wants to say.

“Hm.”

“Yeah,” Michael says, for lack of anything else.

“And you asked Luke and Calum, but neither of them could do it?”

“Yeah.”

“Then you asked some other people, who also said no?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Is there a reason you didn’t ask me?”

Michael had not come up with a reason beyond I’m in love with you and that seems like a recipe for disaster.

“Uh,” he says.

“If you don’t think you could pretend to like me, that’s fine.  I was just curious,” Ashton says, stabbing at his broccoli.

“It’s definitely not that,” Michael says.  “I didn’t think you’d want to.  I mean, I already ask you for so much.  I’m eating your pasta right now.  It didn’t seem fair to ask you to do this, too.”

“That’s stupid,” Ashton says.  “I like fancy parties, and spending time with you, and helping you.  If you’re really set against telling them the truth, then I can be your fake boyfriend for the night.”

“Oh.  Okay.”

Ashton smiles, all dimples and sunshine.  Michael wants to bask in Ashton’s smiles forever.

“Awesome.  Crisis averted.”

It can’t be that simple, but Ashton’s easy confidence makes it feel like it is.  Michael doesn’t know why he was freaking out about the situation.  If anything, his crush on Ashton will make everything more believable, and Michael can pass himself off as a really good actor if questioned.

The rest of the night passes like every other dinner they’ve had with the two of them.  They talk about their weeks and about any random topics they choose, then Ashton picks a CD and they do the dishes, Ashton washing and Michael drying.  Ashton convinces him to stay later and watch a movie, and Michael lingers too long afterwards.  When he eventually tears himself away, it’s only after a late-night cup of hot chocolate and multiple uncontrollable yawns.

When he goes to bed that night, he steadfastly does not think about how he will be calling Ashton his boyfriend in a few weeks.

-/-

Michael doesn’t talk to Ashton about fake dating again until the day before the party.  He’s been forwarding the office emails about it, so Ashton knows the date and time, that this is a suit-worthy event, and what the food options are.  Otherwise, though, their time together has been filled with everything except mentions of the party and the con that will go down there.  Michael has been avoiding Luke and Calum due to all of the teasing, so he and Ashton go shopping for Luke and Calum’s presents together, Michael pointing out things that Ashton’s family might like on the way.  Ashton has a list of Christmas movies he wants to watch that they begin steadily working through, and Michael begins a snowball fight one day that Ashton wins.  Thankfully, Ashton agrees to make him cocoa and cuddle him after stuffing snow down the back of his jacket.  Michael’s face gets red enough that Ashton frets he might be coming down with something.

The something is being hopelessly in love.

Ashton texts him on Friday asking if he wants to come over early so they can get ready together and talk through their boyfriend story.

Boyfriend story.  He’s supposed to refer to Ashton as his boyfriend tomorrow.

He shows up at his house as requested, and Ashton greets him with a cup of hot cocoa, freshly made just the way Michael likes it.  Ashton stocks up on cocoa mix as soon as it hits October, making it at any and every opportunity.  On days when multiple people are over, sometimes he’ll make it from scratch, breaking out the cocoa powder, sugar, milk, and chocolate to create the best beverage Michael has ever tasted, sometimes with a secret ingredient Ashton makes him guess.  Michael rarely gets it right, but the praise he gets from Ashton on the days where he does manage to identify the extra flavor makes every loss more than worth it.

Ashton takes his with marshmallows, but Michael prefers whipped cream.  It warms him more than the beverage to see the pile of whip on top, stocked just for Michael.

“You put up your tree!” Michael calls while Ashton prepares his cup.  There are no presents underneath nor stockings on the wall since Ashton spends Christmas day with his family, but the small fake tree is erected every year to help him get into a festive mood.  Michael steps closer and recognizes most of the ornaments on it, either from previous Christmases or because he was there when they were bought.  Pieces of a tiny drum set hang from a set of branches near the front, each part paid for by a different member of their friend group as a gift after Superbloom Studios opened.  Michael bought the high hat.

“Second week of December.  It’s tradition,” Ashton says, shuffling into the room carefully with a mug in each hand.  Michael reaches for his, careful not to spill when he takes it from him.

“I saved your ornament,” he says, nodding to the coffee table where a small wooden “M” sits, painted to look like the torso of a snowman.

“Thanks,” Michael says, setting down the cocoa and picking up the ornament.  It was originally a joke gift, but now every year Ashton ensures that he puts it on the tree.  There’s a nice open branch near the bottom that he takes advantage of, giving himself time to admire the tree once more before finally sitting.

“So,” Ashton says.  “How did we get together?”

Michael takes a sip of his cocoa, burning his tongue just slightly.

“You have whip on your nose,” Ashton says, just like he does every time.  Michael sighs and swipes a thumb across it, sucking the whipped cream into his mouth so none of it goes to waste.

Ashton clears his throat.

“So.  Boyfriend story.”

“Boyfriend story,” Michael agrees.  “We have to have been together in September, but otherwise I’ve been really vague.  We can make up whatever we want.”

“Okay,” Ashton says, nodding.  “We should probably stick as close to truth as possible, so our meeting story can still be the same, but maybe we started dating mid-summer?”

“The lake trip?”

“Yeah!” Ashton says.  “Do you remember that night, it was like our second night there, where we just sat at the end of the dock and looked at the stars?  Everyone else was at the bonfire, so it was just us.  Maybe I asked you then.”

Michael remembers that night clearly.  He had gone down to the dock to get some space, needing a breather after all of the activity of the day and Ashton walking around without a shirt basically since they got there.  Even so, when Ashton eventually joined him it was like a sigh of relief.  He knows more about stars than Michael does, so Michael leaned back and let him point out different constellations and make up stories for unfamiliar ones, trying not to stare at the shadowy profile of Ashton instead of the sky.  The small waves of the lake rose and fell, covering his ankles then dipping lower in a steady rhythm mimicking his heartbeat.  Ashton kept their arms pressed together almost the entire time.

He had wanted to kiss him, so he pushed him in the lake instead.

“Yeah,” Michael says.  “That sounds good.”

“Okay, good.  Great!  What else do we need to figure out?  How serious are we?”

“Uh, medium?” Michael asks.  “It’s been five months, so nothing too daunting but more than just a casual thing.”

“What’s the PDA going to look like?”

“Uh,” Michael says.  Ashton takes a sip of his cocoa.

“I mean… are we still in the honeymoon phase?  Will we be holding hands a lot?  What’s our game plan if we somehow end up under the mistletoe?  I don’t think anyone can make us kiss without opening themselves up to a workplace harassment suit, but are we going to do a cheek kiss?  Are you okay with me kissing you?  What about--”

“You need to slow down,” Michael says.  “Give me some time to think, jeez.”

“Sorry,” Ashton says.  “Boundaries are important.  I don’t want to cross any.”

“You won’t.  I’m down for anything.”

“Really?” Ashton asks, skeptical.  He sets his cocoa down and moves until he’s right next to Michael on the couch, then slings an arm around his shoulder, tucking him close.  Michael melts into his side easily.  “So something like this would be fine?”

“You mean what I do with you, Calum, and Luke at every opportunity?’

“Okay,” Ashton says, adjusting so his hand is now on Michael’s thigh.  It’s more unfamiliar, a different weight in a more intimate spot, but not unwelcome.  Michael suppresses the shiver it sends through him.

“Still okay,” he says.

“Alright,” Ashton says.  After a moment of consideration, he takes Michael’s mug from him and replaces it with his own hand, clasping them together palm to palm.

“Wait, I don’t like this,” he says, adjusting so their fingers are threaded together instead, then undoing it and just holding their hands flat against each other.  Michael lines their hands up, fingers following the same lines.  He wonders if Ashton can feel the calluses that form whenever Michael has time to pick up a guitar.  The metal of his rings is warmer than Michael anticipated.  Every moment that they stay frozen like that makes Michael’s heart pound harder, even though they’re simply touching hands, something ordinary and barely worthy of comment.

“Your hands are freezing,” Ashton says quietly.

“Your hands make mine look so tiny,” Michael says.

“They are tiny,” Ashton says.  “I’m trying to figure out how to hold them.”

“Like this.”  Michael laces their fingers together again gently, one space over from how Ashton had done it.  “Who knew that holding hands would be the thing to trip you up?”

“I guess I haven’t had anyone’s hands to hold in a while.  I’m out of practice on this whole romance thing.”

“You’re doing alright so far.”

“Well, this is the easy stuff.  Are you sure you’re down for anything?”

“Yeah,” Michael says, heart leaping into his throat at the possibility of what that could mean.

Ashton hums, then shifts so he’s facing Michael.  His eyes search his face and Michael does his best not to show any of his thoughts, especially how much he wants Ashton to do one particular thing.  He steadfastly keeps his gaze locked on his eyes instead of letting it flicker down to his lips.

Ashton leans in slowly, telegraphing his movements, and presses a lingering kiss to his cheek, nose pressing into his cheekbone and breath against his face.  Michael can’t stop his inhale, catching a whiff of Ashton’s favorite cologne, just from the proximity.

“Still okay,” he manages to say.  Ashton doesn’t lean back, comfortable staying in Michael’s space, probably close enough to hear how loudly his heart is beating.

“And if I moved a few inches to the left?”

Michael swallows.

“Still okay.”

For a moment he thinks that Ashton might do it, just to see how far he can press.  Michael will always meet him challenge for challenge, and he has the perfect excuse for it.  Ashton’s just so close, and Michael might never have this opportunity again despite fantasizing about it for years.  It would be so easy to now.  He almost turns and presses their lips together himself, but Ashton pulls away right before he finds the courage to do so.

“Okay,” Ashton says, picking up his cocoa again.  “We can play it by ear.  We’ll just do what feels natural and appropriate for the situation.  Sound good?”

Michael nods.  Ashton glances at him over his mug.

“Are you sure?  You’re in charge here, Michael.  I’m willing to do whatever you want me to.”

“No, that’s good,” he says.  “That’s the best way to do it.”

Ashton observes him for a moment longer, in that way that makes Michael feel like he’s revealing too much.  Secrets from Ashton are the hardest ones to keep, but he’s had a lot of practice.

“If you say so,” Ashton says.  “If I do something you don’t like, just tell me.”

“Yeah, same to you.”

Michael picks up his mug again.

“What do you think our worst date was?” Ashton asks.  Michael snorts into his cocoa, because only Ashton would put that as a high priority part of their boyfriend story, but they spend almost all of the time until they need to get ready coming up with increasingly ridiculous scenarios and arguing over whether either of them would plan that as a date in the first place.  Michael has long since finished his drink by the time Ashton checks the time and says they need to get ready.

Michael doesn't start to feel nervous until he's standing in front of the bathroom mirror, struggling with his tie and feeling ridiculous for it.  The office encourages business casual, so he rarely has to wear one, but apparently because the party is joint with headquarters the dress code is stricter.

Michael was not made for formal wear.  He feels best when he gets to dress down, and he knows that his preferred hairstyle doesn't always align with a clean suit and tie.  For a long time, he didn't even have a suit coat that fit right, but his parents paid for one for his birthday over a year ago with the idea that it'd help him get a better job.  It did eventually work, but he never breaks it out unless he has to.

“Hey Michael?" Ashton calls from outside.  "Do I need a tie if I wear a red shirt instead of a white one?"

"Do whatever you want," Michael responds.  "Just be sure you're not showing all your chest hair.  Can you tie my tie?"

Ashton pushes the door open.  Michael catches a flash of red out of the corner of his eye before he turns and takes in the full picture.  Ashton looks stunning, and even though Michael expected that it takes his breath away.  His suit fits his shoulders nicely and tapers at the waist, and the red compliments his skin tone well, bold and vivid.  Michael is pleased to see that only the top two buttons are undone, keeping things appropriate, but there's a thin gold chain peaking out just below his collarbones.  He wants to trace it with his finger, then let his hands wander lower.

"Wow," he says.  "You clean up nice."

"My hair is a mess.  I need to put some gel in it before we go," Ashton says, batting Michael's hands away from his tie and taking over.  "Are you nervous?"

"A little," Michael admits, tilting his chin up to give Ashton better access.  "This would be a bit nerve-wracking even without the fake boyfriend thing.  I don't think I'm going to know many people there."

"Well, you'll have me."  He tightens the tie, then cups Michael's cheek.  He leans into it, leaching the comfort provided.

"There," Ashton says.  "I have the most handsome boyfriend tonight.  He was even considerate enough to match his tie to my shirt.  Everyone is going to be jealous."

"Thanks," Michael says.  He steps back and hands Ashton the container of hair cream on the counter, watching him rub a bit of it between his fingers then comb through his hair, adjusting the way it's artfully tousled and smoothing the sides until he's satisfied.

"Maybe I have the most handsome boyfriend tonight," he says.

"Now you're just trying to butter me up," Ashton replies, grinning at him.  "I already agreed to this.  The flattery is unnecessary, but not unwelcome."

"Can't I just think you're a good looking guy?" Michael asks, trying to keep the tone teasing like he would with Luke or Calum.  "You're a sexy motherfucker, Irwin; I hate to break it to you."

"That's rich coming from you."

"We don't have time for this," Michael laughs, pushing him out of the bathroom.  "I can't show up late to my first office winter party just because you won't take my compliment without trying to one-up me."

"There are worse reasons to be late," Ashton protests, planting his feet so Michael has to actually put in an effort, stumbling when Ashton suddenly relents.  He catches Michael with a cheeky grin.

"Move," Michael laughs, savoring how close they're standing, tethered together by Ashton's hands on his elbows.  "We have to go."

Ashton’s eyes search his face, suspended in the moment like he knows that Michael wants nothing else than to live here forever.  Michael sways forward, magnetic pull too strong, but Ashton steps back in the same moment, moving them out of the bathroom and tugging him towards the door.

“Bundle up,” Ashton says.  “I hear it’s cold outside.”

-/-

The venue is simultaneously huge and very difficult to find.  Ashton puts the address in his phone, but he’s a bad navigator and recent snowfall makes the roads slick, complicating the driving process more.  They’re supposed to get more snow tonight, but Michael can find Ashton’s house in any context and situation, like a homing pigeon on the return journey.  It would be his most useless skill if he didn’t end up in the driver’s seat after almost every gig they go to, Ashton always too hyped up and focused on the music to enjoy driving home.

The nearest place to park is a block away and lands Ashton in a snowbank.  Michael gets out first and offers him a steadying hand, and Ashton beats him to paying the meter.  He links their arms as they walk, breath fogging in front of their faces.

“It’s a beautiful night, sweetheart,” Ashton says.

“Sweetheart?”

“Just trying out some pet names, seeing what fits, honey.  Darling?  I feel like I shouldn’t be saying babe if we’re both wearing suits in front of your fancy work friends.”

“I hadn’t thought of that,” Michael says, as if he hasn’t bit his tongue against calling Ashton babe before.  He’s not the type of person who can pull off platonic pet names.

“We’re really flying by the seat of our pants here.”

“It’ll be fine, right?” Michael asks.  “No one has a reason to think I’m lying, so they’ll believe us even if we mess up.”

“They will,” Ashton says.  “I’m going to be so in love with you they’ll wonder if we’re eloping tomorrow.”

Michael’s heart leaps into his throat.  When Ashton puts his mind to something, it happens.  He might really have to watch himself to ensure that he doesn’t fall for their lie, too.

“Is this it?” Ashton asks under his breath as they arrive at the doors.  A couple in front of them pull them open, the woman in a longer dress and the man wearing a peacoat over his suit.  “Damn, Michael, maybe I should’ve worn a tie.”

“It’ll be fine,” Michael says.  “No one is going to be paying attention to us.  Besides, you never have to see these people again.”

Ashton hums, holding the door for Michael and following him into the venue entrance.  He lets out a low whistle once he sees what’s inside.

The floor looks like it’s marble.  There’s a chandelier, golden light reflecting off of crystalline shards to pepper dots like stars across the space.  Evergreen trees stand in the corner, gold and silver lights hidden within the branches and surrounded by red and blue baubles. If this is the entry, Michael can’t imagine what the actual event space looks like.

“Hey.  Coat check,” Ashton says, nudging Michael out of his chandelier-induced trace and towards the area where an employee waits to take their coats in exchange for a numbered ticket.  A different employee at the entrance then asks for their names, because apparently this party needs a guest list , before they finally enter the main event space.

It’s just as stunning as the entry.  There’s a larger chandelier in this one, hanging over rows of tables with red and gold tablecloths.  Each table has a centerpiece, some with evergreen boughs and pine cones, some with ribbon and candles, each one stunning.  Near the front of the room, Michael thinks he can make out an open dance floor and a small stage through the clumps of people in suits and fancy dresses.

“I shouldn’t be here,” he says.  “This is a party for people who make six figures.  I do not belong here.”

“I thought you audit a bank for farmers,” Ashton says.  “Don’t normal work parties include ugly sweater contests and too much eggnog?  Why the fuck do farm bankers need suits and chandeliers?”

“I have no fucking clue,” Michael says, eyes scanning over the people he can see in a desperate attempt to find a familiar face.  Only half of these people are from headquarters, but Michael still only knows the people in his department.  He doesn’t have much contact with people outside of it due to the variety of companies making up their conglomerate, each with a different set of staff.

“Michael!” someone calls.  It takes a moment to spot Harry coming towards him, which shouldn’t be possible because Harry’s suit has colorful flowers on it.  He’s holding hands with a man Michael recognizes as his husband only because Harry never shuts up about him, making his way through the crowd with a level of enthusiasm that Michael can feel himself automatically mirroring.  Harry’s joy has always been infectious, getting Michael through a few long days since he got hired.

Ashton shifts closer and Michael’s adrenaline spikes with the knowledge that the ruse starts now.  Harry is Michael’s favorite coworker: if they trick him, they can probably trick everyone.

"Hello," Harry says once he gets close enough to be heard over the sound of everyone else in the room talking and what seems to be faint classical music in the background.  "You're the first person I've recognized here."

"Same," Michael says.  "I wasn't expecting it to be this crowded."

"Headquarters is big," Harry says.  "At least we get free food and to see Lou in a suit."

Harry's companion rolls his eyes.

"You haven't even introduced us and already you're objectifying me.  I'm Louis, Harry's husband," he says, sticking out a hand.  Michael takes it.

"Michael," he says.  "This is Ashton."

"Michael's boyfriend," Ashton adds, taking Louis's hand next and making Michael’s heart stutter.  It rolls off Ashton’s tongue so naturally.  He’ll probably be hearing him say that in his dreams for the foreseeable future.

Harry lights up like a Christmas tree.

"Ashton," he enthuses.  "It's so good to meet you.  Alexis owes me fifty dollars."

"What for?" Michael asks.

"Well, we were betting if Ashton was your boyfriend or not.  You never actually told us which one of your friends it is, but I could tell by how you talk about him.  She thought that was too obvious for how cryptic you were being."

"You talk about me to your work friends?" Ashton asks.  Michael tries to shrug nonchalantly.

"All the time," Harry says.

“Do I need to be worried?” Ashton asks.

“Yeah,” Michael says.  “I’ve revealed all of your deepest, darkest secrets.”

“It’s cute,” Harry says.  “You can tell he thinks the world of you.”

“I don’t even mention Ashton that that much,” he protests.  “Not nearly as much as you talk about Louis.”

“No one can top Harry for that,” Louis snorts.  “I swear, no one I meet through him ever needs an introduction, because he’s probably already told them everything they could possibly want to know.”

“If it makes you feel better, I know nothing about you,” Ashton says.  “You can introduce yourself to me.”

“Well, don’t mind if I do,” Louis says cheekily.Ashton easily sweeps him into conversation, listening intently to his stories as a drama teacher and asking the right questions to keep things going.  Michael has heard half of this information from Harry already, but Louis breathes a new life into it.  Michael watches him speak, noticing the way that Harry easily leans into him, how they seamlessly finish each other’s sentences and subconsciously know exactly how they fit together.  Louis gestures and Harry shifts so he won’t get hit, leaning back into his space with a hand on his back within the next second.  Their eyes light up when they glance at each other in between breaths, and Michael feels a pang in his gut.

He wants something like that, someday.  It’s the same thing that he sees with Calum and Luke, or Jack and Alex.  He wants to share those small touches and brief looks with someone else and know that they’re returned fully.  He knows that he sometimes displays his fondness all over his face when he looks at Ashton, but it’s not the same when he has to look away to keep from getting caught.

At least he doesn’t have to look away tonight.  He can probably spend as much time as he wants admiring Ashton’s smile and eyes and jawline and everything without repercussions.  After all, he’s supposed to be in love, and someone should appreciate that one stubborn strand of hair brushing Ashton’s forehead.

“...Right, Michael?” Ashton asks, words finally reaching Michael’s ears.

“Yeah,” he says, blinking himself out of his daze.  He feels his cheeks heat up in a blush.  It probably won’t be the last time tonight.  “Sorry, what were we talking about?”

“I was telling Louis about Superbloom Studios,” Ashton says, bumping their shoulders together.  “Mentioned how you helped Matt and I learn how to use the equipment way back when we first bought it, and now there are secret Michael Clifford demos that legally can’t see the light of day without copyright infringement.”

“You’ve had much better musicians pass through your doors since,” Michael says.  “Want to reveal who your most recent client was?”

Ashton mimes zipping his lips.

“You know I can’t until they announce the album.  We’re trying to make the Twin Cities a hot spot for Top 40s artists to record, not chase them all away by breaking confidentiality.”

“But a song you produced could be on Top 40 radio soon?” Louis asks.  “That’s impressive.”

“We’ll see,” Ashton sings.  “I’m not in the habit of counting my chickens before they hatch.”

“No, you’re just in the habit of being a tease.”

Ashton quirks an eyebrow.  It makes Michael itch to do something, although he doesn’t know what.

Eventually, he decides to just roll his eyes and cross his arms, pouting a bit.  Ashton slips an arm around his waist and presses a kiss to the side of his head, the first real point of contact since entering the event space, and his stomach somersaults multiple times in a row.

Harry and Louis look amused, not suspicious.

“I like this side of you,” Harry says.

“What side?” Michael asks.

“The in-love one.  You’re… lighter.”

Michael opens his mouth, but ultimately doesn’t know what to say to that.  Ashton replies instead.

“I like it, too.”

They spend the next few minutes talking to Harry and Louis, filling time while other people who seem leagues more comfortable with this event fill the space.  Eventually the clock must tick over to the starting time, because someone steps up to the podium at the front of the room and taps the microphone asking for attention.

“Is that our president?” Michael asks Harry, completely not paying attention to the short opening statement about the “success of the company” and how it’s been a “phenomenal year full of milestones and achievements.”

“Yeah,” Harry whispers back.  "He'll get up and talk again later, after dinner.  Speaking of, we should find a table."

Harry looks over everyone until he sees someone he recognizes, grabbing Louis's hand to start covertly making their way through the crowd, glancing back at Michael and nodding in the direction he's going.  Michael grabs Ashton, who seems like he was actually trying to listen, and follows them.  As weird as holding his hand earlier had been, weaving through the people standing around with a hand around Ashton’s wrist is comfortable and familiar.  It's nothing that they haven't done before at crowded shows pushing towards the barricade or particularly busy streets, but Michael doesn't have to let go once they reach their destination if he doesn't want to.

Their destination ends up being a trio of tables near the center of the room flooded with people that Michael finally recognizes.  Alexis, Miranda, Dalmar, Imani, and Jason all wave when they arrive, surrounded by who Michael assumes are their own plus-ones.  They slip into seats next to Alexis and her partner, trying to make as little commotion as possible with the president of the company still talking at the front.

While Harry is his favorite coworker, Alexis is arguably the most entertaining.  She gets away with pranks and backtalk that Michael is too worried about job security to ever consider, but her after-work gatherings are always a highlight of the week.  It would be possible that management is keeping her around solely to boost morale if not for her eye for detail that has saved mistakes from appearing in many projects and reports.

"Hey," Alexis whispers, leaning across Michael to grab Ashton's attention.  "I'm Alexis.  What's your name?"

"Ashton Irwin," Ashton says, giving her a smile.  Alexis swears, dropping her head down to the table.

"You owe me money," Harry stage whispers.  She takes a few bills out of her purse without looking and throws them in his general direction.  "Thank you!"

"I want to be included in the next office betting pool," Michael whispers.  "I want to cheat you out of fifty dollars next time."

"It's not hard," Harry says.  "She always bets to lose."

Alexis flips him off.

The president continues to drone on, and Michael starts bouncing his leg up and down out of boredom until Ashton places a hand on it to stop him.  He mouths an apology, but Ashton simply slips off his puzzle ring, handing it over.  Michael hopes his smile conveys how grateful he is to have something else to fidget with.

When the president finally stops talking, Michael pays attention to his surroundings just enough to realize that tables are being dismissed to go get food one by one.  It looks like they won't get to join the line for a while, to his great disappointment.  He's getting pretty hungry and the thought of Alexis interrogating Ashton without a distraction makes him nervous.  He hands back the ring and switches to tracing the poinsettia pattern woven into the tablecloth, trying not to fidget more while Alexis introduces Jamie and points out the rest of his coworkers at the other tables to Ashton.

"So," Alexis says, leaning on her elbow and propping her head up with her fist, "Michael has told us a few things about you, but how did you meet?"

"At college," Ashton says, draping his arm across the back of Michael's chair as he turns to face Alexis more fully.  "We met at a party once, but we didn't really talk until a mutual friend brought us together.  He's been one of my best friends ever since."

"Oh, you two have been together a long time," Alexis says.

"We didn't get together until this summer," Ashton corrects good-naturedly.  "It was a lot of pining before that.  I mean, you've met Michael.  I never stood a chance."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Michael frowns.

"Falling for you was inevitable, sweetheart."

Michael blinks at him.  That's not something he ever expected to hear, a little over the top even for their fake romance, and he absolutely does not have a response prepared.

"Aw, that's sweet," Alexis says.  "Please tell me you guys are actually a normal couple and not a pile of goop like those two over there.  Believe me, I love love as much as the next person, but if Jamie and I are the only two here who aren't completely and grossly obsessed with each other we're going to move to the straight coworkers’ table."

"Hey," Harry says, breaking his conversation with Louis to flip her off.  Alexis returns it without even glancing at him, an ingrained part of their banter by now.  It’s surprising that they haven't gotten reprimanded for it in the office yet.

"If we were as bad as them, you wouldn't have lost fifty dollars just now, don't you think?" Michael asks.

"He has a point," Jamie says.  "Besides, everyone is entitled to a honeymoon period."

She takes Alexis's hand on the table and squeezes.  Alexis rolls her eyes but squeezes back.

Ashton asks them how long they've been together, then effectively keeps the focus on everyone else at the table instead of them.  One of his many skills is making everyone in the room feel like they are the most important person, and Michael is glad that he doesn't have to try to deflect or make up stories right now.  Maybe it'll be easier later.  Ashton already has everyone he's met wrapped around his finger and hanging off his every word, drawn by the magnetic energy he carries that made Michael first talk to him at that college party all those years ago, but some part of Michael still feels like everyone is going to see through their facade.  He knows that theoretically no one cares, but the confirmation of the betting pool makes him jittery.  It shouldn't be a big deal, but now he hasn't just lied about having a boyfriend, he's lied about the boyfriend being Ashton , and somehow that's worse.

Still, he can't let Ashton pull all of the weight.  He needs to start selling this, too.

Should he initiate some sort of PDA?  It's not like he can naturally grab one of Ashton's hands, because he's still leaning on Michael's chair, and anything else feels out of place.  Besides, they said that they'd do what feels natural, and none of this is natural to him.

He's overthinking this.  He should just pay attention and try to enjoy the night, but that seems like an impossible task with Ashton and Alexis boxing him in on either side.  One of them is significantly more distracting than the other, but Michael finds himself wishing that they could just be alone, enjoying one of Ashton's home-cooked meals and the next Christmas movie on his list.  Whatever catered dinner they have here isn't going to compare to the way any food tastes when Michael knows that Ashton is the one who made it for him while they enjoy it at his dining room table, and as much as he feels lucky to get on so well with his coworkers, he can do without their company if he has Ashton with him instead.

“Mike,” Ashton says, nudging him out of his thoughts.

“Yeah?”

“Time to get food,” Ashton says, standing.  Michael looks around the table and sees that everyone else is already making their way over to the buffet line.  Ashton waits for him and sets a slow pace on their way over.

“You’re really spacey tonight.  You okay?”

“Yeah,” Michael says.  “I’m fine.”

Ashton gives him an unimpressed look.

“Seriously,” Michael says.  “I’m just overthinking.  I’ll be much more enjoyable once we eat and I relax a bit.”

“What can I do?” Ashton asks.

“You’re really playing up the doting boyfriend thing.”

“Hey, no,” Ashton says, pausing.  He looks around, then lowers his voice.  “I’d ask that even if we weren’t boyfriends right now.  You’re important to me, Michael.  If I can do something for you, I want to.”

“Thanks,” Michael says.  “It’s not a big deal, though.  Like I said, once we’re eating and I have other things to focus on it’ll be fine.”

“Okay.”  Ashton nods once, then takes Michael’s hand.  It feels more natural now than it was earlier, smile breaking out unbidden on his face as he squeezes back.

“Come on,” Ashton says.  “Food time.”

The buffet is full of delicious options, with pit ham, chicken, pasta, potatoes, roasted vegetables, fruit, hummus, different breads with various spreads, and a cheese platter.  Michael and Ashton collaborate to get a little bit of everything, something Ashton probably is only doing to make Michael happy given how closely he guards his food whenever they eat out.  If that’s the intention, it works.  Michael wants to taste everything, and he can only do that with two plates.

The soft instrumental music makes a return for dinner, gentle conversation starting up at the table once they sit and a staff member brings water around.  Michael samples each dish on Ashton’s plate, letting Ashton take what he wants from his, finally settling enough to keep up his typical banter with Alexis, Harry, and their partners.  He talks a bit with the other table, settling another bet between Imani and Dalmar and watches Imani collect twenty dollars for having the closest answer to when Michael and Ashton started dating.  Her absolutely gleeful expression makes Michael snort, erasing some of the discomfort of the lie.

Staff members for the event space come around with options for dessert, and Michael is once again delighted when Ashton chooses something different from him, an apple crumble while Michael gets a slice of cake.  Ashton pushes the plate towards him when it arrives, encouraging him to take a bite.

“Thanks,” he says, taking a forkful.  The sweet tang of the fruit doesn’t compare to the sweetness in Ashton’s expression.  Michael gets distracted by the pleased noise he makes at his own first bite and the way he licks his spoon after the last one, watching entranced until someone taps a microphone at the front, cutting the background music off abruptly.

“Before we get the party portion of the evening started, I want to make a few more quick announcements,” the president of the company says.  He continues to prattle about numbers and figures that Michael can’t follow without them written out in front of him, but he understands as well as everyone else what “winter bonus” and the amount that come after it means.

“Are you going to use that on my Christmas present?” Ashton whispers, leaning close to speak into his ear.

“Shut up,” Michael says, elbowing him.  “Maybe I’ll use it to get away from Luke and Cal for a bit.”

“Lake trip part two, this time just me and you?” Ashton asks.  Michael doesn’t let himself consider what it would be like to exist at that same cabin from the summer alone with Ashton, with no other people or endless summer fun to distract him.  The central heating is awful, so they’d probably spend a lot of time by the fireplace, possibly getting cozy under a blanket.  They’d be able to go skating on the lake near shore, maybe after a late brunch.  Ashton might sleep in for once in his life.  Michael would love to be sleeping in the same bed instead of confined to one of the other rooms, cold and alone.

He’s not considering it.  Instead he smiles, shakes his head, and gently pushes Ashton away, trying to refocus on what the president is saying rather than the man next to him.

“The raffle will take place at the end of the night, so be sure to stick around if you want a chance at any of the gift baskets or certificates.  We have a beautiful backdrop for photographs in the back corner if you’d like a memory from the night, and leftovers from the buffet are now open.  We’re lucky enough to be joined by one of Minneapolis’s fantastic live bands for the dancing portion of the evening, so please enjoy yourselves!  Take time to celebrate, enjoy each other’s company, and make the most of this beautiful night.  Here’s to many more like it!”

Michael applauds politely along with everyone else, sipping his water while he watches the band set up.  Based on the instrumentation, he has absolutely no idea what genre of music they’ll be playing.  The only thing that makes sense is the piano and vocalist, but there are also two electric guitars, a drummer, an upright bass, a cellist, a saxophone, and a trumpet.  The singer introduces them as Eds and the Airplanes, then they launch into something between 1940’s big band and modern bubblegum pop.  Somehow, everyone in the room seems to be in favor of it.

“Huh,” Michael says.

“I know these guys,” Ashton says.  “They recorded with us in October.”

“Oh, so you can tell us that but you can’t say who else records with you?”

“They tagged us on Instagram,” Ashton says.  “They don’t care if anyone knows what they’re up to.  Besides, their manager loves me.  It’s fine.”

“Must not love you that much if you’ve never told me about the band.”

Ashton shrugs, but before he can elaborate Harry is there, tapping them both excitedly on the arm.

“Let’s go dance!” he says.  “Lou can teach you how to swing dance if you want.  I think you can cha-cha to this song.”  He does a quick few steps in place on beat, then smiles.

“You can cha-cha to it,” Louis says, appearing over Harry’s shoulder, “but that doesn’t mean that you should.  Swing is the way to go here.”

“We’ve taken ballroom dancing classes,” Harry says, pleased.  “Come on!  Alexis said she’d only get up and dance if you two do, and if Alexis does it the rest of the department will.”

Michael will take every opportunity to push Alexis out of her comfort zone, so he gets up and pulls Ashton with him.  There are a few other people doing some semblance of dancing on the outskirts of the dance floor space, mostly older couples, but as soon as Louis and Harry step onto it everything livens up, Louis twirling Harry around and then both of them move around the floor for a few seconds before Louis breaks their hold and rounds on the group.

“Okay, pair up!  One of you has to be the lead, aka me, and the other gets to be the follow, aka Harry.  Ready?”

“I’ll lead.  Good rhythm,” Ashton says, intently watching Louis and trying to mimic his position. He takes Michael’s hand and puts a tentative hand on his waist.  Michael does his best to focus and follow the intense three minute crash course that follows without stepping on Ashton’s toes.  Ashton catches on right away, and Michael finds it easy to follow him once he gets the basic step down.

“Think you’ve got it?” Louis asks when the next song starts, something around the same tempo and equally as peppy.

“Hell yeah,” Ashton says.  He starts the basic step, then twirls Michael and get him to move his feet.

“I think you’re enjoying this too much,” Michael says.  He’s led in another spin, Ashton switching hands and Michael trying to remember which one he needs to grab to set them back to rights.

“No such thing,” Ashton replies.  “I get to listen to music, be close to you, get the heart rate up a bit… what’s not to enjoy?”

“There are other ways to achieve all of that,” Michael says.  Ashton wiggles his eyebrows, and Michael laughs and stumbles over the next few steps.  They wait a few bars, then start again in rhythm, four steps with and around each other, Ashton tugging Michael across his body in circles, spinning him out only to pull him back in again.

“Maybe we should go ballroom dancing,” Ashton says.  “This is fun.  Harry and Louis might have the right idea.”

“I wasn’t expecting dancing tonight,” Michael says, “but I do think we’re the best-looking couple on this dancefloor.”

“Want to try a lift? Dirty Dancing style?”

Michael laughs so hard at the image that they have to pause in their dance, and by the time he recovers the song has ended and transitioned into something slower.

“Come on,” Michael says, leading Ashton back to the edge where the rest of his coworkers have congregated.  They pass Harry and Louis on the way, both of them locked in a different style of dance to match the new tempo.  Harry winks at him when they catch eyes.

“You didn’t tell us he could dance,” Alexis says to Michael.

“I’m a man of many talents,” Ashton says.  “Michael can’t be expected to remember all of them.”

“He’s humble, too,” Michael says.

"Ashton Irwin, I thought that was you!"

Michael turns to find an unfamiliar woman approaching.  Her hair is dyed with blues, greens, and yellows, a mixture that's both artistic and striking, especially when paired with the tight black dress she's wearing.  She's pretty, with dark lipstick and a gold necklace drawing attention to her bust.  If Michael didn't have the most beautiful person in the room next to him, he probably would give her a double take.

"Ashley!" Ashton says, immediately sweeping her into a hug.

"Can’t say I expected to see you here," she says.

"Me neither!  I didn't realize your band would be playing tonight," he says.  "Guys, this is my friend Ashley.  She manages Eds and the Airplanes.  We met when she booked our studio a couple months ago."

"Met, went on two dates, became friends instead, you know how it goes," Ashley says.

Michael's heart plummets, then completely stops when he sees the panicked expression on Ashton's face.

"Dates?" Alexis asks carefully.  "When was this?"

"Summer," Ashton says quickly.  Ashley frowns.  "Back in the summer.  June, I think.  Before I started dating Michael, obviously."

"Dating Michael?" Ashley asks.  "When the fuck did that happen, because it sure wasn't while my band was recording."

Oh holy shit.  Their entire story is going to get blown apart because Ashton went on some dates with this incredibly attractive, music-smart woman, dates that Michael had no idea about despite theoretically being one of Ashton's best friends.  They've seen each other consistently each week since college.  When did Ashton have time to sneak around on dates?  More importantly, why would he keep this from Michael?

Ashton is floundering for an explanation.  Michael can't hear any of his attempts over the ringing in his ears.

"I have to--I have to use the bathroom," he says.  He's leaving before anyone has a chance to try to stop him, weaving in between the tables as fast as he can without breaking out into a full-on sprint.

Everyone is going to know that he lied.  Even if Ashton manages to charm his way through a salvageable story, why would anyone believe that Ashton would go for someone like him if Ashley is right there?  If they didn't work out, why would he and Ashton be able to make it a full five months?

He pushes open the bathroom door, thankful that all of the stalls look empty.  It's the type of fancy bathroom with a small armchair in the corner, and he sinks into it, cradling his head in his hands.

Fuck.  What if everyone thinks Ashton is a cheater?  What other reason would his coworkers have for Ashton's panic and the way Michael ran away?  Why else wouldn't Michael know who Ashley is, if her relationship with Ashton was completely innocent?

Why didn't Ashton tell him about her?

The door opens again and Michael jumps.

"Michael?" Harry asks, eyebrows drawn together in concern.  "What's wrong?  I saw you leave the dance floor pretty quickly."

"I--"

He lets out a shaky breath, running a hand through his hair then rubbing at his face, hoping desperately that Harry isn't going to laugh at him.

The cat's out of the bag, anyway.  There isn't any way for them to recover from this.

"Ashton's not my boyfriend," he says.

Harry shuffles closer and crouches down by Michael's chair.

"He's not?" he asks slowly.  Michael shakes his head.

"I don't have a boyfriend.  I never have.  I just didn't want to correct you guys when you all thought I did.  I don't know, I guess it was nice to pretend for a bit, but everyone was so eager to meet him here, so I asked Ashton to fake it with me."

Harry hums.

"There's a woman here he went on some dates with.  I didn't know about them, but they didn't meet until October, and I think she just accidentally busted the whole thing."

Harry hums again.  He’s frowning, mouth turned down in a way that makes Michael scared that he just lost his best work friend.

“Sorry.  I shouldn’t have lied.  This is probably just karma.”

“It’s okay,” Harry says.  He stands, then leans against the arm of Michael’s chair, putting an arm around his shoulders.  “If it makes you feel better, you had me fooled.”

Michael laughs mirthlessly.

“That’s because I’ve been in love with him for years.”

“Oh, Michael,” he says, squeezing him tighter.

“Yep,” he says, popping the last consonant.  “Haven’t had time to get a real boyfriend when I’m hung up on him.”

“I’m sorry,” Harry says.  There’s nothing else to say.  

“And the worst thing is,” he starts, words falling unbidden now that he’s let himself speak, “now that I met her it’s like, how could I compare?  I mean, she’s beautiful, and her hair is so gorgeous and fun and mine’s been dull and blonde for so long because otherwise it’ll fall out, and she obviously knows a lot about music while I’ve barely picked up my guitar in the past few weeks and just--”

He sighs and stands, shrugging off Harry’s hands and heading towards the sinks.  His hair is a bit messy, resistant to his efforts to comb through it.

“Nothing anyone can do,” he says.  “I can’t hide in the bathroom all night.  Do you think Alexis and the others are going to hate me?”

“No,” Harry says.  “They might think it’s weird for a little bit, though.”

Michael focuses on his hair again, trying to stop the subtle shake in his hands.  He and Ashton can just leave early, photo-ops and the raffle be damned.  Michael can work around awkwardness, but if that’s all that this night is going to turn into he’d rather be back home playing video games.

The door opens again.  Michael tenses, only to see in the mirror that it’s not some stranger or his boss, but Ashton.

“Hey,” Ashton says.  He looks at Harry and nods, then turns back to Michael.  “You okay?”

“Fine,” he says, messing with the knobs on the sink.  “What’s happening out there?”

Ashton glances at Harry again.

“Do you two need a minute?” he asks.  Ashton nods, but Harry waits until Michael does too before he leaves.

“I, uh, had to tell Ashley about what’s going on, but I don’t think anyone else knows.  Everything is okay.”

“Really?” Michael asks, turning finally.  “How did you talk your way out of that one?”

Ashton shrugs.  “I’m good with words.  Ashley caught on pretty quickly, too.”

"Did you really date her?" he asks before he can stop himself.  Ashton sighs.

"We went on a few dates, yes.  Two of them.  Well, more like one and a half before we decided we were better suited as friends."

"Oh," Michael says.  "Why?  She seems nice and fun.  She obviously likes music, and she's pretty.  You'd think you two would be a good match."

"Well, we aren't," Ashton says.

"Okay," Michael says.  Ashton nods once.  It feels weird and tense, an unusual dynamic for them that Michael doesn't know how to fix.  "Sorry, I guess."

"Don't be," Ashton says.  "I never should have started it.  It's a good thing it ended where it did."

"Why?"

Ashton sighs, coming over by the sinks to lean against the counter.  The bathroom isn't that large, but Michael hadn't realized how far away he felt before he had him within arm's reach.

"I... was just using her, I think.  I was hung up on someone else and thought that if I dated her, I'd be able to get over it.  That wasn't fair to either of us.  She caught on and said we should be friends instead."

Michael's breath catches in his throat.  Ashton has been doing his own pining, going so far as to try to date other people to get over this mystery person, and he's been doing all of it without Michael's knowledge.

"Why didn't you tell me any of this?" he asks, hoping that it doesn't sound hurt.  "I didn't even know you liked anyone.  I could've tried to help."

Ashton takes a breath, tracing the marble pattern on the countertop with his finger for a long moment, close to where Michael is resting his own fingers.  He wants to reach out and tie their hands together, but Ashton looks up at him before he can.  There's something heavy in his gaze that makes Michael feel like whatever he says next could break him if neither of them are careful.  Still, he leans closer, trying to let Ashton know that he's listening.  He's always listening to him.

"The person I was hung up on... or, well, am still hung up on, I suppose, he--"

The door opens again and both of them spring back, breaking their bubble like they're school kids caught skipping class to make out in the bathroom.  Michael's cheeks flame, but the man who enters doesn't spare them a glance, headed straight to a stall.  

"We should rejoin the party," Ashton says.  Michael can't stop the disappointment that fills him, despite knowing that Ashton is right.  Besides, public restrooms aren't exactly the most pleasant hangout, not even one fancy enough for an armchair in the corner and little vials of lotion by the sinks.

"Okay," he says.  "Everything's good?"

"Everything's good," Ashton replies.  Michael nods and squares his shoulders, following Ashton out of the bathroom and back into the bustle of the party.  The band is still playing at the front, but Michael drags his feet, pausing and tugging Ashton with him towards the beverages to get another drink of water.  Ashley intercepts them on the way over.

"Michael? Hey," she says.  "I'm sorry about what happened back there.  I obviously had no clue what you two were doing and I didn't mean to throw a wrench in things.  I think we covered it pretty well, though.  You're secret's still safe."

She winks, charm oozing out of her in a way that partially reminds him of Ashton.  Once again, he wonders why they didn't work out.  Whoever Ashton likes must be pretty special.

He pushes the thought away.  There's no use getting upset over it when he still has to put on a show of being happy for the rest of the night.  He has to at least be able to fake it, and that means distracting himself until he can get home and wallow.

"It's okay," he says.  "You didn’t know.  It's not like you could’ve guessed what was happening."

Ashley laughs.  "You're right about that.  Still, I support it.  You two make a good pair."

Michael glances at Ashton, who looks like he's either trying to psychically communicate with Ashley or gut her.  Michael clears his throat, trying not to wonder who Ashton wishes he were a pair with, instead.

"Thanks," he says.

"Well, I need to get back to the band in case they need me.  I'm sure I'll see you both sometime later."

"Yeah, later," Michael says.

"See you, Ash," Ashton adds.  Ashley smiles and gives them both a small wave with her fingers as she turns.  Michael watches her walk away.

“Come on,” he says eventually.  “I want some water.”

The band transitions to another slower song, something jazzy featuring the piano and upright bass.  Ashton puts a hand near the base of Michael’s spine as they walk, finally getting little plastic cups of water and wandering to an empty space to sip it.

“This isn’t how I expected the evening to go,” Ashton says.  Michael snorts.

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s not you,” Ashton says.  “But I do think we need to raise your spirits a bit.  It’s your holiday work party!  You’re with friends, enjoying live music and getting to dress up.  Come dance with me again.”

“You think very highly of your dancing skills,” Michael says.  “Don’t let it go to your head.  You’re no Fred Astaire.”

“I’m impressed you know who that is,” Ashton says, downing the rest of his water and throwing it in a nearby trash bin.  Michael makes an affronted noise that goes ignored.  “Regardless of you insulting my dancing, it was making you smile earlier.  Come on.  You can’t let one false alarm ruin your night.  Dance a few songs with me, then we can take ridiculous pictures with their winter backdrop and wait for the raffle before heading back out into the snow.”

“I don’t want you to step on my toes,” Michael says.

“I promise I won’t,” Ashton pleads.  “Please?”

Ashton peers at him earnestly, eyes soft.  He starts to smile, knowing that Michael is going to cave against his best attempts, and when he takes Michael's hand and starts to walk towards the dance floor, Michael unsticks his feet and follows him.

"You're lucky I like you," Michael says.  He tries to sound begrudging, but it probably doesn't work.  Ashton can read him too well.

"I am," Ashton says.  He stops abruptly, making Michael run into him, and turns.  "Seriously.  I'm lucky to have you in any way you let me.  You're so wonderful, and I'm grateful that I can call you one of my best friends."

Ashton brings their hands up to his mouth, pressing a kiss to the back of Michael's palm, watching his reaction through his lashes.  Something indescribable lodges itself in Michael's throat.  For a moment, he wonders if he can tell Ashton all of the ways he wants him without messing everything up.

"Come on," Ashton says, breaking the moment.  "Let's dance."

Another slow jazzy song is playing when they make their way to the floor, and they join other couples in an embrace.  Ashton keeps their hands together but slides a gentle hand around his waist to his lower back, resting heavily there and pulling them closer together.  Michael finds a spot for his hand on Ashton's shoulder, but with how close they're standing it's more like a hug than anything else.  Ashton starts them in a gentle sway.

"Hey," Ashton murmurs, close enough that Michael feels his breath puff against his cheek.  It reminds him of the moment after Ashton kissed his cheek on his couch this afternoon, when Michael thought he might try to kiss him on the lips next.

"Yeah?"

"Harry and Louis are making out in the corner.  It's very unfitting for a work function."

"What?" he asks.  Ashton turns them so he can see, and sure enough his eyes find Harry's floral suit near the edge of the room, the man himself locking lips with his husband.

"Huh," he says.  "I hope our manager sees them and says something about it.  You'd think after being married for a few years they'd have calmed down."

"It's kind of cute," Ashton says.  "It's nice that they're still that in love with each other."

"I guess," Michael says.  "I don't know.  I don't think I'd want to be that gushy with someone, you know?  I don't need to always be touching or making out to know that we like each other, hopefully.  I don't know if I'd enjoy that, especially somewhere as public as this."

"What would you enjoy, then?" Ashton asks.  Michael shrugs.

"What we're doing here, I think.  It's nice, but not suffocating.  We're enjoying each other's company and all, but what would be the point of even going out if we were going to be hanging off each other the entire time?  We could just do that at home."

"I thought you'd be a bit more cuddly."

Michael will be the first to admit that he loves a lot of physical contact, and back in college he probably would have said he wanted it all the time.  He would love to show off his partner and relationship as much as possible.  Now, though, it's a bit different.  Ashton doesn't hang off people as much as the rest of them do, but that's okay.  Michael has learned to read him over the years, and there's something to be said about subtle glances and soft words kept between just the two of them, tucked close to Michael's heart, things Michael has stopped mentioning in his lovesick laments to Calum and Luke.  Some things are made more special when they're only shared between two people.

"In private, yes.  Of course I'd want to be as close as possible to you.  But I don't really want everyone else seeing that, I guess.  I want some things to be just for us."

"I understand.  I like that better, too."  Ashton clears his throat.  "Theoretically."

"Theoretically," Michael says, thankful that his face is partially hidden from the angle that they're dancing.

That's the type of relationship he would want with Ashton.  It's been too long since he thought about what he would want in a relationship with anyone else.  It could be different, but it certainly wouldn't be better.

"I hope you get that," Ashton says suddenly.  "I know we're pretending now because you didn't want to tell your coworkers that you don't have anyone, but I hope you find someone soon.  I want you to be happy."

"You too," Michael says.  It’s not a lie, even if it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.  He's not going to get a happy relationship until he gets over Ashton, and he's already spent so many years liking him that he doesn't know how to stop.

Ashton hums.  Michael thinks he might understand, given his own secret pining that he's been doing.  He wants to ask again why Ashton didn't tell him.  He doesn't know if he's ready for the answer.

The song ends, transitioning to another upbeat number that has younger people jumping and older people shuffling along together.  Ashton suddenly swings Michael out in another twirl, and then they're back to swing dancing, two steps and a ball-change keeping them on beat.

"Warn a guy next time," he says when he comes back to him.

"Spin incoming," Ashton says, sending him right back into another twirl.  Michael laughs through it, and Ashton's responding smile is the best thing Michael has seen all night.

-/-

Michael ends up dancing with Ashton for the rest of the night, losing track of fast songs and slow ones with intermittent breaks to bother his friends and catch a breath until the band announces that it'll be their last one of the evening.  It feels strange that Michael has spent so much time stressing over this night only for it to be nearly over.  When the song finishes, Ashton dips him like they’re in a movie.  Looking at him framed by the overhead lights, Michael can almost believe he has a halo.

They make their way back to the table they started at for the raffle, Michael sitting and Ashton making a detour to get water.  Everyone in attendance got their name put in as part of the RVSP, but Michael doesn't even know half of the prizes.  In reality, he's ready to stare at Ashton and trace individual strands of hair through his curls with his eyes rather than listen, memorizing every detail he can.

"Hey," Alexis says when he sits down.  "You looked like you were having a good time."

"I was," he says.  "Dancing is more fun than I thought, but don't tell Harry I said that."

“I already know,” Harry says.  “You and Ashton should join us when we go dancing.”

Michael gives him his most sarcastic smile.  Alexis studies his face, eyes looking for any signs of deceit in a way that makes him sit up straighter.

"Does he treat you well?" she asks.  "Things were really weird once that Ashley girl showed up."

"He does," he says.  "I promise."

Alexis continues her scrutiny, but she must be satisfied with her findings, because she nods.

"Good," she says.  "I like him, but I like you more."

"Thanks," he says.

"What about me?" Harry asks.  Alexis flips him off, and things at the table are back to normal by the time Ashton returns with two cups of water, one that he hands to Michael.  The president taps the microphone again before Michael can properly thank him, so he elects for squeezing his hand and hopes it suffices.  From Ashton's smile, it does.

The first few raffles are for various baskets following themes like movies, a taste of Italy, and art.  Michael zones out as people he doesn't recognize get their names called (and sometimes butchered), thoughts wandering to his expectations of the night and what actually happened.

He and Ashton never got their picture taken with the backdrop.  It's not the end of the world, but Michael wishes they had thought to do that.  It may be fake, but it'd be the only couple's photo of them that Michael may get, and he'd like to remember some things about the night, like the feeling of dancing in Ashton’s arms and how radiant he looks.

For all of the fuss about PDA and mistletoe, they didn't have to contend with any of that, either.  Michael's not sure if he's relieved or disappointed.

"Ashton Irwin!" the president calls.  Michael startles as the rest of their table erupts in cheers.

“Huh,” Ashton says, standing.  “I didn’t know I was included in this.”

“Go get your prize,” Harry says, shooing him forward.  Michael watches him make his way to the front and come back with a basket.

“You can probably have half of this,” Ashton whispers to him, showing the basket.  There are two mugs in it, but there’s also a lot of coffee, and Ashton doesn’t care about how fancy his caffeine is.  He takes it black the majority of the time and uses it more as a tool to wake up than an enjoyable beverage.  They ignore the rest of the raffles in favor of pawing through the basket, taking out items to pass around the table when the others ask about them.  There’s some fancy hot cocoa mix that makes Ashton’s eyes light up, but the majority of it is coffee that Michael has to resist the urge to open up and smell.  Knowing him, he’d make a mess.

Michael is so focused on the coffee that he barely registers the end of the party, the president’s words going in one ear and out the other until everyone starts standing and shuffling towards the door around him.

“Hey,” Alexis says.  “You can’t leave until we take a picture.  Dalmar wants one of the whole department.”

“I want one of us,” Harry says.  They wait a minute to let some of the crowd clear out, then Michael is swept up in the tide heading towards the photo backdrop.  There’s cotton on the ground to give the impression of snow, and one side has pine trees decked in gold and a starry landscape behind while the other has silver accents and a sparkly wire reindeer.

“Very thoughtful of them to coordinate a gold and a silver option, I assume so everyone can choose the backdrop that best matches their outfit,” Ashton says, voice low.  Michael snickers.

Ashton joins the other plus-ones off to the side while Michael is corralled into a department picture, sandwiched between Alexis and Imani.  Once Dalmar promises to email it out, Harry makes him stay for a picture with him and Alexis, then another one that includes their dates.

“Do you want one with just you two?” Harry asks him after.  Michael glances at Ashton, then nods, handing his phone over.  He hasn’t checked it all night, and there are a few messages from both Calum and Luke that he’ll probably ignore until morning.

Ashton puts an arm around his waist for probably the last time tonight and decides to use the privilege for evil, jabbing him in the side and making him squirm and involuntarily laugh.

“I hate you,” he says.

“No you don’t,” Ashton responds cheekily.  Michael turns back to where Harry already has the camera up.

“Say cheese,” he says.  Michael smiles.  Harry gets a few shots in before Ashton presses a kiss to his cheek.  Michael hopes he doesn’t look too startled before he starts smiling again, letting himself relish in the moment.

“Got any good ones?” Ashton asks once he pulls away.

“Yeah, I think so,” Harry says.

“Ashton,” Ashley calls, appearing in the crowd and waving him over.  He glances back at Michael.

“One moment,” he says, then heads towards her.

“So,” Harry says casually, handing over Michael’s phone.  “There’s really nothing going on with you two?”

Michael lets his gaze land on Ashton, locked in what looks to be a serious conversation with Ashley.  She gestures and he makes a face that she returns, but he can’t tell what they’re discussing.

“No, not on his end.  He has someone else he’s after.”

“Someone who isn’t you?”

Michael shrugs.  “He didn’t say.  There’s no way, though.  I think I’ve used up all my luck for the night.  Karma says nothing else good can happen now that the lie worked.”

“It’s Christmastime, Michael,” Harry says.  “Maybe you’ll get a miracle.”

Ashton hugs Ashley.  She says something into his ear and he nods.  Michael sighs and forces himself to turn back to Harry, who is still looking at him with his head tilted like a puppy.

“He cares about you a lot; it's been obvious to all of us here tonight.  Don't discount that just because you're scared.  Maybe it's time to tell him," Harry says.

"I've been doing this for years," Michael reminds him.  "It's never time."

"Hey," Ashton says, reappearing.  "Ready to go?"

"Yeah," Michael says.  "See you later, Harry.  Tell Alexis I say goodbye, too."

"Good luck, Michael.  Remember, Christmas miracles!"

Michael gives him a tight smile and starts towards the coat check.  They killed enough time with the pictures that they don't have to wait in line too long before they're bundled up and ready to leave.

"What did Harry mean about Christmas miracles?" Ashton asks, putting on his gloves.

"Nothing," Michael says.  "He's just being optimistic.  What did Ashley want to say to you?"

"Oh, you know," Ashton says.  "Just that it was good to see each other and finally meet you."

"Meet me?" Michael asks.  "She didn't even talk to me.  Why would she want to meet me, anyway?  I'm just an auditor."

"You're not just anything.  Besides, I've probably talked about you a lot.  Come on.  Time to brave the cold."

Michael frowns at the abrupt change, but Ashton is already heading towards the entrance, so he scrambles to catch up.

A gust of wind greets then outside, thick snow swirling in the air around them.  Michael braces himself against it, huddling down in his coat and shoving his hands in his pockets.  Ashton leans close, flexing his fingers where he's gripping the handle of the basket, and they shuffle down the sidewalk as one.  Once Michael gets to the car, he immediately turns on the defroster and heat, hating the first few minutes of cold air until the car warms up properly.  Ashton grabs the scraper from the back before Michael can, brushing snow off the front windshield and scraping away the frost that had gathered in the time they were at the party.  When he gets to the driver-side window, he makes funny faces at Michael while clearing it off.  It warms him more than the heater does.

"Thanks," Michael says once he's done.  "I hate scraping.”

"I know," Ashton says, brushing snow off of his coat where it had gathered on his shoulders.  "Hey, I got a gift card in my basket.  Let's swing by before you drop me off."

"It's a little late for coffee," Michael says.

"This place is open until midnight, and they have great hot chocolate.  Come on.  You got me a free meal tonight, so let me give you a free late-night cocoa."

"Fine," Michael says, as if he wasn't going to cave as soon as Ashton suggested it, as if he himself wouldn't mind prolonging their time together if it's just the two of them.  "Put the address in.  The roads aren't that bad yet."

-/-

The coffee shop is a small place on a corner, one of the only shops still lit up at 9:30 at night.  Snow has gathered on the window ledges and the corners are blocked by frost, but warm light and swashes of browns and yellows still spill out, giving the entire building an inviting atmosphere.  Ashton holds the door for him on the way in, the bell above the door tinkling a greeting with the welcome rush of heated air.

The inside is just as cozy as Michael's first impressions suggested.  A few mismatched tables are scattered around the room with wooden chairs tucked against them, but it's the armchairs near the back that make him smile, big padded things arranged around a crackling fireplace that would probably swallow him if he sat down in them.  A bookshelf sits off to the side, old paperbacks and worn hardcovers nestled amongst other trinkets on warped wooden shelves, sinking under the weight of the years.  A Christmas tree stands in the corner, what looks like homemade ornaments adoring it and a few boxes in shiny wrapping paper underneath.  Calm Christmas music plays faintly over the speakers, and a barista calls out from where she is wiping down a table that she'll be with them in a moment.

"I've never been here before," Michael says.

"If you lived with me instead of out in a suburb, you would've by now," Ashton says, brushing snow off of Michael’s shoulder.  "It's one of my favorite places to go once winter hits.  I don't care for coffee, but I love everything else about the place.  It's a great source of inspiration and relaxation."

"Of course it is," Michael says fondly.  "Every place is a source of inspiration for you.  You probably found inspiration at my work party."

"Maybe that was more about the company than the location," Ashton says.

"I guess there were a lot of interesting people there, like Ashley.  You can probably get some material from Harry and Louis, too."

Ashton stares at him for a long moment.

"Are you being deliberately obtuse as a way to let me down?  Or do you really not know yet?"

"Hi, what can I get you?" the barista asks.  Michael is getting really sick of people interrupting Ashton when he's about to tell him something.

Ashton orders two small hot chocolates, one with whip and one without, then leads Michael to a table in the back corner.  It's an odd choice when they have the entire shop to themselves, but Michael doesn't fight it.  He's too distracted by the tantalizing smell of the hot cocoa and the mountain of whip on top of it, so much so that he burns his tongue on the first sip.

"Careful," Ashton laughs.  He reaches forward and swipes the whip right off Michael's nose, popping it into his mouth.  Michael's brain shuts down and takes its sweet time restarting, staring at Ashton gently blow on his own cocoa and take a much more cautious sip.

"So," Ashton says.  "I had an alternative motive for getting you to come here tonight."

"Is this payback for making you come to the party with me?  Are you going to ask me for a favor?"

"Not a favor," Ashton says.  "Well, I suppose you could come to the studio's New Years Eve party with me, if you wanted."

"I was already planning on going," Michael says.  I've been there every year since you opened.  I wasn't going to miss it now."

"See, this is what I was talking about with you being deliberately obtuse," Ashton says.  "Do you want to go with me?  As my date?"

Michael frowns.

“Did you tell everyone you have a secret boyfriend?”

Ashton sighs and cradles his head in his hands.  “You’re going to make me say it, aren’t you.”

“Say what?” Michael implores.  “Is it too much for you to stop being so cryptic and just tell me what you want me to understand?”

“Michael, I really, really like you.  Romantically.  I have for a long time.  I want to know if you’ll go on a date with me.”

“What the fuck?” Michael asks.  Ashton’s face crumples.  “No, not like--how long?  Because I’ve been in love with you since college!”

“What?” Ashton blinks.  “I thought… I mean, I’d hoped, and there were moments, but I didn’t realize it had been that long for you.”  He smiles, letting it grow on his face until it’s overwhelming.  Michael mirrors it.  “Holy shit.  This is great!”

Michael laughs.

“Do you really like me?”

“Yes, Michael.  Of course I do.  I knew I eventually would as soon as I met you, I just put it off for as long as I could.  You’re magnetic.  It was inevitable.”

Michael doesn’t know what to do with the joy bubbling up in him, threatening to overflow like a volcano with all of the heat of one.

“So, Michael Clifford, want to be my date to the Superbloom New Year’s party?  And my boyfriend?  My real one, in case that somehow wasn’t clear by now.”

“Yes!  Please, yes, I would love to,” Michael says.

“Good,” Ashton says.  “But I do have one more confession to make.  I still haven’t told you why I wanted to come here right now.”

“What do you mean?”

“Look up,” Ashton says, pointing above their heads.  Michael follows his directions and is met with a small sprig of green leaves with tiny white flowers hanging from the ceiling.  “We never did get a mistletoe kiss, which was extremely disappointing to me.  Will you indulge me now?”

Michael turns back to him, seeing hope shining in his eyes, and nods a little too eagerly if the way Ashton giggles at him is any indication.

“Alright,” Ashton says, standing.  “Come on.  I’m not about to make you lean over the table.”

He takes Michael’s hands, tugging him to standing.

“I’m weirdly nervous,” Michael confesses once they’re face to face.

“Don’t be,” Ashton says, taking a step forward.  “If it’s bad, we’ll just try again.  I have the feeling I’ll be kissing you a lot in the future.”

“Yeah,” Michael breathes.

“Ready?” Ashton asks, eyes flicking down to Michael’s lips and then back up.  Instead of answering, Michael leans in, Ashton meeting him halfway in the best kiss Michael has ever had.  In the grand scheme of things, it’s utterly unremarkable, but to Michael it’s everything: the feeling of his cold hands enveloped by Ashton’s, the calm atmosphere of the coffee shop they’re in, the taste of hot chocolate still on Ashton’s lips, and the satisfaction of finally, after years, knowing what this sensation is like all melts together to form something that feels like complete and utter happiness.

Ashton drops their hands so he can cup Michael’s jaw and kisses him again, and then again, and then they stand there smiling at each other until Michael finally starts giggling.

“Our hot chocolate is probably getting cold,” he says.

“God, I love you,” Ashton replies.  Michael knows that he’s blushing, but for once it’s not out of embarrassment or the cold outside.  He’s never felt this level of joyful peace.

Ashton kisses him once more, quickly, before he finally goes back to his seat.  Michael joins him, taking a sip of his drink.  He can’t help but think that Ashton’s homemade cocoa is better.

The man in question reaches out and takes one of his hands, holding it across the table and beaming, showing off his dimples, and Michael once again can’t resist smiling back.

Maybe Harry is right.  Karma stands no chance against a Christmas miracle.

[dotthings]

So let’s talk about Cas’s issues, and how they hit that nerve of Dean’s insecurities. 

I feel like Dean’s personal issues get discussed a lot (by myself included), both from a Dean-positive take and from the pressure placed on this character in a more negative way. There’s a lot of expectation placed on Dean as a character and ironically enough, in that process I feel like even Cas fans don’t do enough digging into what makes Cas tick, what his weak points are, his fears, his cyclical dysfunctional hang-ups. Cas is a layered, complicated, well-developed character with a now 12 season history on the show, as a main character, even if he is less prominent than Sam and Dean, and as such this means there are flaws as well as goodness in him. It does Cas a disservice to paint him as never wrong, as never causing hurt to those he loves. I’m not speaking as a Dean fan here, but as a Cas fan, this just isn’t about fairness to Dean, I feel there is an actual imbalance in how these discussions tend to go and it’s kind of a habitual tendency in the fandom. In part fueled by the fact that Dean is so open with his feelings, shows that he feels things SO hard and so deeply, that’s the character, and that kind of makes Dean a lightning rod to talk about Dean feelings, good or bad.

Canonically, Cas tends to get less pov due to structure, when Cas isn’t in every ep of a season and where SPN structurally puts Sam and Dean as the center spokes of the wheel, no matter how near the center Cas is of that show wheel. Cas has become another core pillar--Dabb referred to Cas along with Dean as a “core character” in his pre 15.09 interview. But because logistically, Dean still carries more pov on the show, we get more looks into Dean’s mind than into Cas’s. Which isn’t as great for Dean fans as you might think because by SPN not giving more Cas pov, it’s putting more and more of the responsibility for making the profound bond work onto Dean and Dean’s pov. While Cas has contributed plenty to this rift that developed.

There’s also the thing about the fandom default perception is that Dean is repressed emotionally. Which, sure, in many respects, yeah. But not in the way it’s popularized in fandom. Dean is actually the more facile, open, raw, vulnerable in expression of his emotions, with big outbursts, of hurt/anger or softness. He goes big. He expresses. He cries easily. He doesn’t exactly hide. He wears his heart on his sleeve. But because Dean is also a character who constructed facades to survive, he puts on facades and one facade is "no chick flick moments.” A facade I’ve pointed out again and again he’s terrible at maintaining, nonetheless it is real and he can be gruff and he does at times try to hide from his own feelings, and avoid, and struggles not to say stuff and then it gets out anyway. But he’s also very openly emotional.

While Cas is actually far more locked up emotionally as a character. Far more repressed than Dean. Look at his background. Millennia as an angel. Shoved back through the angel reprogramming machine every time he displayed an independent thought. Angels have emotions. They are not unfeeling. But they are taught emotions are weaknesses. They are a taint. They are dangerous. A lot of Cas’s arcing over the past 11 years has been about learning what emotions are and how to manage them. Even if we remove that factor, Cas also has a personality of his own, as a character, and is a survivor of trauma and abuse, as Dean is. Cas, like Dean, carries a lot of anger.

Cas is impulsive. Sometimes heedless. Ironically, he often pulls Dean back from heedlessness. But he has that tendency and Cas’s heedlessness tends to result in cosmic level events (leviathans unleashed, angels falling). He has a temper. He will end you if you hurt those he loves. Cas in the past has shown a hubris about how he has to fix all the things because these frail humans he loves can’t, Dean’s “just a man,” and while Cas definitely outgrew that, there are remnants still there. Which isn’t JUST hubris. Cas, being an abuse and torture survivor, being a survivor of emotional neglect, similarly to Dean, also has, similarly to Dean, this thing about needing a mission, a purpose. He needs to be needed. And if he isn’t serving a purpose, if he feels he isn’t being useful, then he feels worthless. The Dean corollary to that is Dean’s lack of self worth in what his father instilled in him--that he has no purpose, no mission, outside of protect Sam, and the hunt.

This need for purpose and Cas’s insecurities powered a lot of his arc with Jack. Cas’s relationship with Dean evolved over time. They didn’t stay just the same. In some ways the bond equalized in good ways, but as part of that, Cas was no longer the “Winchesters’ guardian” of early Cas seasons. That role gave Cas purpose. As Cas drew deeper and deeper into the family, as his character developed and he increasingly got his own arcs, which are all good things, that also meant Cas wondered what his purpose is.

Protecting Jack gave him purpose. A mission. Someone to look after. His relationship with Dean isn’t that. That hit a height with “draped yourself in the flag of Heaven” at the end of S9. By S11 the focus shifted to Dean’s drive to save Cas. Dean and Cas’s relationship is that of peers, fellow soldiers, friends, and yes, on a coded level that’s been harder and harder to ignore in later seasons, lovers/husbands. 

Cas devoting himself all to Dean wasn’t sustainable. Just as Dean couldn’t perpetually be all about Sam, but while Dean and Cas are more peers/husbands role, Dean is Sam’s stand-in parent. Dean was parentified at the age of four. Sam as recently in 15.09 says Dean raised him. Sam knows his actual father figure is Dean, not Bobby, not John. There’s a whole lot about Sam and Dean’s relationship that made a lot more sense to me once I kept that in mind, that symbolically they were parent/child not just siblings/hunting partners. (Their codependency added another complication into the mix) That is not the relationship Dean and Cas have ever had. They are protective of each other. But it’s not a pseudo parent-child relationship. Nor are they codependent. But Dean always had a Sam, while Cas...did not have a Sam. Dean wasn’t his Sam, once he found a Dean. Dean was something else entirely. Not less, but different.

Enter Jack and while I was resistant to that arc initially, in the long game I can see multiple overarching purposes for the story. One of them is Cas’s character development. While the Cas and Jack bond isn’t just like Sam and Dean’s, and I’m not suggesting it is, it has that similar pseudo parent-child aspect. Jack is all of Team Free Will’s kid, but I think the way Jack impacted Cas’s arc made the most seismic shifts. 

The thing about this S15 rift with Dean and Cas is that it’s not really about Dean’s existential crisis about “realness.” It’s not actual about Mary or Jack or that freakin’ snake. Well, it is...I’m not suggesting Dean had no valid reason to be hurt and upset with Cas. That is real. But this was ramped up as a culmination of years of issues. It mashed Dean’s buttons so hard because these are reflective of cyclical behaviors that come from Cas and it hurts Dean every time. Underlying all that, maybe subtextually, Dean’s doubts about realness played into it here as well. But the doubts, fears, insecurities, and hurts Dean feels about Cas are there regardless. Chuck applied pressure points to hasten the rift. To rip them apart because that serves his purpose but all he did was play on their actual insecurities and feelings and then watch them dance to his tune. 

One of Dean and Cas’s issues has been things that have been there a long time, in the relationship, where Dean’s chronic issues play on Cas’s insecurities and Cas’s chronic issues play on Dean’s insecurities. There’s a bunch I could reel off. Dean’s abandonment issues vs. Cas’s tendency to keep things from Dean, not turn to Dean, not trust Dean, for one. This is something Cas has done for years, long before Jack, and it hurt Dean then and it hurt Dean now. Just for example.

I feel like what happened late S14/early S15 is that all these long running issues they never addressed came crashing down on the bond at once. 

The things that are Cas’s issues, Cas hasn’t talked much about. Cas doesn’t talk about his innermost emotional landscape the way Dean does. Sometimes he does speak his feelings, but I wish he’d do it more often. 

The things Cas has done in the past that hit on Dean’s abandonment issues all got ramped up with Jack. And it happened more than once. Why is Dean so hurt. Look at how he responds to Cas keeping things from him, or to losing Cas, or to Cas not reaching out to Dean, trusting Dean enough to go to him in the past. How hard that has been on Dean. Take your pick of plots. Cas teaming up with Crowley. Cas and the monster souls. Cas running off with the angel tablet. 

With Jack there was a string of events. It wasn’t just the one thing. This isn’t my condemnation of Cas or because I don’t get Cas’s motivations and good intentions. Or about Cas being right/wrong. Right or wrong, his actions still hurt Dean. Being a parent added such a completely new layer into Team Free Will bonds, the TFW familial unit shifted. Change can be hard on a relationship anyway.

Quick recap of the sequence of events with Cas and Jack: it was Cas slipping away from Dean as Cas devoted himself to a nephilim in embryo. When Cas bonded with Jack’s grace in the womb. When Dean said he didn’t recognize Cas. There was Cas’s belief in the vision Jack showed him. It was Kelly giving Cas a mission to protect her son. Cas, like Dean, feels a strong sense of duty. Remember Dean’s S2 speech when Sam died? How Dean expressed the depth of his sense of failure? “I had one job, to keep you safe.” And by the end of S14, Cas lost Jack. He had one job. To keep Jack safe.

Cas pretty much thinks he’s worthless without that, same as Dean.

So there’s Cas, taken by Kelly after Dean was begging him--begging him--to return to the bunker with them so they could talk. While Kelly effectively prevented Cas from taking the action he might have done of his own volition since she drove off in the Impala with Cas still inside it and he couldn’t stop the car without hurting her and her unborn child, the element of choice there is murky. But Cas did choose to protect Jack. He did choose to knock out Sam and Dean at the playground. There’s Dean, as he has in prior seasons, seeing Cas walking away again. 

Then it happens again. Cas heedlessly goes after Lucifer, when he should have waited, Cas was so focused on his Jack mission, and as a result, Lucifer stabs Cas dead, right in front of Dean’s eyes. So Dean loses Cas again, and audience gets to see Dean is utterly devastated (but Cas doesn’t). 

But then Dean gets Cas back! His big win...which Dean confesses to Sam but again, Cas doesn’t get to hear it. And then right after getting Cas back, Cas is running off again, due to Jack. Dean begs Cas--BEGS HIM--let me come along, you need backup and Cas says no. Because Cas has to fix all the things himself. So Cas gets kidnapped and locked in an angel proof cell. Dean doesn’t even know he’s lost Cas this time due to voice mimicky plot, but there it is again, Dean loses Cas, again for Jack. Then Cas keeps that detail about Felix the snake from Dean, which wasn’t right for Cas to do, to be so secretive. Whatever his intentions, no that wasn’t right, and it goes right back to Cas’s tendencies shown in earlier seasons. To fix the thing himself. Anael calls Cas on it, even. His fears. Which leads to Cas finally going to Sam and Dean with the information. Cas apologizes and confesses, explains in a rare moment of us actually getting to see inside Cas’s emotional landscape that he was scared what Jack losing his soul would do to tear this TFW family apart. What Cas would lose because of that. A hella lot of that is about Dean, not just TFW or Jack. 

None of this has ever been Cas not caring about Dean. Cas was there for Dean in S14. He fought to save Dean, first from Michael, then the Ma’lek box. But Dean and Cas don’t exist in a profound bond bubble.

Dean doesn’t even know yet that Cas sold himself to The Empty to save Jack midway through S14. Should we start screaming now?

So after Cas’s confession and apology late in S14 about what Jack did to the snake that Cas didn’t clue in Sam and Dean about, Mary is dead, because of soulless Jack, and all hell breaks loose with Jack, and Dean believes the only way out of this with soulless Jack is to kill soulless Jack. Cas doesn’t agree. Dean delivers an ultimatum, my way or the highway and who cares what you think (bad move, Dean). So to save Jack and Dean, because if Dean shot Jack with Chuck’s gun, it would kill Dean too, Cas runs off to get to Jack first. 

From Dean’s perspective he’s seing Cas’s back again, leaving him again. Losing Cas again.

Think about how this steps on the same nerves as Cas’s vanishing acts in earlier seasons, or Cas walking into the lake, or Cas staying behind in Purgatory when Dean did everything he could to save him. Think about Dean’s abandonment issues. Think about how Dean’s abandonment issues and this repeat cycle of Cas’s inherent tendency to not get that he should loop his family into things, that he can’t fix it all on his own, of leaving, even if he always comes back. And no we can’t blame Cas for the times he left when he didn’t want to, when something happened to Cas, but when he vanished into the lake in 7.01, when he insisted on staying behind in Purgatory in S8, when he heedlessly went pell mell after Lucifer--Dean losing Cas was a direct result of Cas’s choices. Where Cas put himself into a position where Dean lost him. 

This has happened again...and again. Imagine the heart-crushing heartbreaking panic for Dean during their Purgatory revisit when Cas disappeared. It’s Dean having to relive his Cas trauma. Because guess what, Dean loves Cas a lot. I don’t know how this even became in question in fandom, it continues to utterly baffle me. 

So it’s not really about Jack though. I’m not blaming the Jack storyline for this. What happened was the Jack storyline brought those issues to a boiling point. Cas’s insecurities and drive to have a mission. Dean’s abandonment issues clashing with Cas’s running off again. Repeatedly. 

What’s going to happen when Dean finds out about The Empty deal, and not just the deal itself but the fact Cas kept that, too, from him. I don’t think it will be rage this time. Not after 15.09. It will however, I suspect, be utterly devastating for Dean...maybe this time he won’t snap at Cas, he’ll just say how devastating it is, before he and Sam get to work on a solution. And Cas will have to witness how devastating it is. Cas hearing Dean’s prayer in 15.09 is such a big deal and I really really hope this hit Cas hard and woke him up to some things. Because with all of Cas’s particular insecurities, despite the fact that Dean has repeatedly shown Cas directly how much he matters, there’s also been plenty audience gets to see (Cas is family/Dean’s grief arc/Cas is a big win) that Cas hasn’t. Cas hearing Dean’s prayer here I think will change things. Cas won’t be the same. Dean won’t be the same. The bond won’t be the same. In a good way. 

15.09 didn’t feel like resolution to me, and I’m glad Dabb confirmed that in his pre ep interview. It felt like ice melting, barriers crumbling. That’s good. It’s a start. That will help them with what’s next. But they have so much to work through still. Because their problems aren’t just from recent plot events, or Chuck. These tap into some fundamental things about them each that affects their bond. I’ve been saying this since before the end of S14, this isn’t hear to destroy their bond, it’s to level it up. It’s to deepen it, to fix what’s been amiss at the root and realize it into something even more powerful.

I need Cas to speak, not just Dean. Not just for my ship but for the character, I need more looks into Cas’s inner emotional landscape and how he feels about his own insecurities and I’d love to see an equally big confession about his Dean feelings.

[xmalereader]

Agent Whiskey X Male Reader

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|| Masterlist ||

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Summary: A new agents comes into the statements, but he’s no ordinary guy. He used to work for the kingsmen of japan before being transferred to work in the states with the others, but this guy is a whole different story and a ver complicated past.

Warnings: Slight gore, language, whiskey being a cerious little shit, flirting, advanced tech, Japanese, slight angst.

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His eyes twitch in irritation, blinking softly he shakes his head as he tries to shake away the dizziness. Blinking again he looks around to see a few screen pop up, giving him information about his conditions. After years of having these eyes he was still getting used to them, the techniology was advanced—way too advanced. But yet again, Japan was always ahead of its time.

He’s been living in japan under a secret organization that saved his life at a very young age. He was twenty-one when he lost his eyes, he had gotten himself into some trouble with some very bad people which ended things in a bloody fight, getting mixed up with the wrong people all because of some money that he needed for himself, he was a homeless guy who was doing whatever he could to survive—even if it meant stealing.

That night he thought it was a good idea to steal some money from a small Gang that lived down his street but in the end he ends up losing his eyes. He remembers clearly that night as they stabbed his eyes out, causing him to go blind and to bleed out. He thought he was going to die in the dark alley all alone.

He thought that he had officially died that night, only to wake up in darkness, not being able to see anything but he was able to hear the sound of mumbling in a foreign language. That same day he was taken in by the leader of a small secret service that helped assist the government in activities that they coulnd’t handle. He was given new eyes that opporated like a computer, giving him the ability to see everything and everyone, with just one glance he could easily get a persons identity information. He was one of their secret weapons and it took him years to master the tech before he could officially become a member of the secret service.

That all happened ten years ago; now as a secret agent he was being sent off to the states to work alongside the statemens. He’s heard about the many different organizations that were around the world and how they were all clsoe allies. Y/n was still getting used to the idea of having allies around the place, the last time he trusted someone he almost ended up dead.

So, he had soem trust issues.

He arrived at the states not to long ago since he was sitting in his hotel room, trying to gather his thoughts and make sure that his eyes were functioning well before he leaves his room to meet up with these new people of his. He wasn’t one for socializing, he liked keeping himself closed and far away from new people but, today he was going to have to change his standers a little bit and speak to these people in order to work with them.

He arrives at the statesmen building in less than a few minutes, taking the elevator up to the top floor he begins to fidget in his spot, slowly growing nervous as the floor number gets higher.

“Fuzakeru no o yameru.”

Stop fidgeting

He tells himself as he hears the elevator come to a stop and the doors sliding open, suddenly being greeted by a young women in glasses. “Welcome Agent Hiro, I hope you didn’t get lost on the way.” She says with a small smile. Y/n smiles back in return. “I found my way around just fine.” He answers back, noticing a surprised look on her face. “Your English sounds amazing!”

He blushes a little and chuckles nervously. “I was actually born in the states before I moved to Japan.” He explains, earning a nod in return as she clears her throat. “Right, anyway—I’m agent Ginger, I control the systems and help around with the tech.”

“So, you’re mainly in charge of everything?” He asks with a raised brow, giving her a small smile.

Ginger chuckles. “No, but I would like to be in the field one of these days.” Y/n hums while nodding. “Don’t worry, you’ll get their soon.” He reassures her, with a small pat to the back as the two enter the main hall where the rest of the agents sat on a long table, wearing glasses to be able to see the rest of the agents that were working around the world.

“Gentlemen meet Agent Hiro, he’ll be working with us for the next couple of days.” Said ginger as she introduces him to the rest of the team. Y/n gives a small nod at the others, properly looking at them as he scans them, bringing up there files and any other information about them.

“I’m Champagne and these are Agent Whiskey and Tequila—you already met ginger.” Said the older man who sat at the end of the table, his accent heavy as Y/n gives the other agents a nod. “Im sure you already know who I am—but again, I’m Agent Hiro and I’m coming from kingsmen in japan.” He says to the others, standing in front of the chair since he was too damn tired to even sit since he’s been sitting all day.

“We’ve heard a lot about you.” He hears Agent whiskey says as he grins at him, leaning forward with his arms crossed over his chest, he was eyeing y/n carefully and chuckles. “They told us you wer special.”

“Did they tell you why?”

Whiskey shrugs, “They just said that you were special and probably one of their most important Agents.” He added, leaning back on his chair as they all wait for an explanation. Y/n bites his lip and sighs in defeat, instead of explaining himself he decides to show them.

Standing up straight he glances to his left to see a file being pulled up about Agent whiskey, giving him all of the information that he needed.

“Agent Whiskey, also known as Jack Daniels—“ He scoffs at the name, of course he would be named after an alcoholic beverage. “You were born in Kentucky, 1970 and you are a fourty year old man who became an agent a couple of years ago because of your high school sweetheart—“ he frowns at the deceased named. “Your wife was pregnant and died in an accident, causing you to join the statesman in order to help those who need helping.” He continues to read out loud, giving whiskey his whole background without blinking.

“How do you know all that?” Tequila asks this time.

“He must’ve read about us before coming here.” Said Whiskey.

“Actually, our files aren’t meant to be shared unless necessary. We usually have it all locked away since it can easily get into the hands of an enemy and that’s something that we don’t want to deal with.” Said Ginger as she adjusts her glasses, looking over to Y/n. “So, how did you know all of that?”

Y/n points over to the screen tv, showing an image of ginger. He turns around to face the others, an image of them showing up too.

“Your eyes.” Ginger whispers out, finally putting the pieces together. “Are you wearing some kind of special contract lens?” She asks, eager to know about this technology. Y/n chuckels and shakes his head. “Its my actually eyes.”

“Wait, so your eyes are like—what? Tech?”

“Yep.”

Everyone stares at him in shock, not believing him. “How is that possible?” Ginger approaches Y/n and looks into his eyes not finding anything unordinary about them. “They look so real.” She whispers.

“Ginger he’s getting uncomfortable.” Said whiskey, causing her to pull away and apologize quietly. “These eyes of yours, how do they work?” He adds, cocking his head to the side. “My eyes are like a computer, I can bring up anything of anyone. I actually scanned you guys when I entered the room, adding your names into my files in case I ever need to bring it up for something.” He shrugs but continues explaining. “I can hack into systems with just a single thought and can also show people my perspective—“ he points to the screen. “just like I showed you awhile ago.”

Tequila plays with his empty cup, raising a hand he asks a question. “These eyes of yours, can they be hacked into?”

“No, its impossible since a chip is technically installed into my brain but it can damage my memories if not used properly. Also, before I was left into the field I was trained on how to use them first and there were times when I lost my temper that my own leader had to shut me down, meaning that I would loose my eye sight for a short period of time.”

“That sounds cruel.” It was whiskey this time. “It may sound cruel but that’s how I learned, I managed to go through with it and was suddenly given the freedom to do as I liked. It took them awhile to trust me with this tech, believe me I didn’t even trust myself with it.” He said, sighing through his nose.

The rest of the agents were taking in the explanation, wanting got make sure that they were ready for anything but of course y/n wasn’t one to easily go rouge and even if he did his own team could easily track him down and bring him back home where his own leader could give him a lesson for trying to do something ruthless, but that’ll never happen, why run away when he already had a home and a family to go to?

“Thank you for explaining, Agent Hiro. At least we now have a hint of what you can do.” Said champagne as he pours hismelf a drink. “Since you will be staying here for the next couple of days, its best that you get to know your partner.”

“Partner?” Y/n questions.

“Yes, you and Agent Whiskey will be working together during missions, so try not to kill each other.” The older man chuckles out as he sits back in his chair.

“Kuso.”

Fuck

He had no problem with having a partner, hell he had three back at his own base! But having to work with Agent Whiskey gave him a worked vibe, already knowing that the two won’t get along at all. “I’ll try not to.” He mutters out as they are dismissed by Champagne. The room slowly clears out, Y/n walks out into the hallway and looks around, wanting to explore the area and get to know it better in case he is ever needed anywhere else.

“Agent Hiro.”

Y/n looks over his shoulder to see whiskey approaching him with a grin on a face, he didn’t like that look. “Tell me more about yourself, darling.” He glares at whiskey and rolls his eyes. “ Theirs nothing interesting about me.” He blurts out and begins to walk forward, looking up and down as he scans a few rooms. “See now that isn’t fair, you got to know alot about me which only makes it fair if I knew a little bit about you.” Sighing in defeat he asks. “What do you want to know?”

“What happened to your eyes?”

Y/n’s body goes stiff as he frowns. “Anything but that.” He growls out, trying to hold back his anger. He didn’t like telling people about his past and especially about his own eyes and how he lost them, it was a memory that he didn’t want to remember.

Whiskey raised his hands in defense, backing up a bit. “easy, ill ask something a little less personal.” Y/n narrows his eyes at him but simply nods, continuing down the hall where he finds the lab room and with ginger sitting in front of her computer screen, typing away.

“Agent Ginger.” He kindly says, gaining the women’s attention as she spins in her chair to face him. “Agent Hiro, What brings you here?”

“Just exploring the place, want to get to know it better in case I am needed in a different room.” He explains, approaching a cabinet full of jars. “Okay, how about you living in japan, what’s that like?” Y/n mentally groans as he rolls his eyes. “I can see that whiskey is being annoying as ever—“

“Hey!”

“—has he started his flirting already?” She asks.

“Yes, is that a normal thing that he does?” Y/n asks as the two agents ignore whiskey who was standing in the same room as them. “He does it all the time, you’ll get used to it.” She spins back to face her computer.

Y/n hums. “To answer your question Whiskey, Japan is my number one home. Even though I was born in the states I would prefer the craziness back in japan.” He turns around to see whiskey sitting on top of an exam table, smirking at him. He opens his mouth to ask something else but is interrupt by y/n groaning, clutching the side of his head as his vision begins to crack up. “Hiro?” He hears the agents faint voices as he tries to focus on repairing his vision.

This wasn’t the first time that his eyes have functioned this way, he just has to get used to the feeling of finally being free. It takes him awhile to repair the situation before holding a hand up to the other agents, “I’m okay just a small malfunction.” He blinks a couple of times as he gains his vision back, a screen appearing in front of him as it reboots the system.

“Does this happen often?” Whiskey asks as he helps y/n sit down on a chair. “Sometimes, I’m still getting used to the fact of having my freedom.” He rubs his temples with a groan. “Freedom?” He looks up at whiskey and sighs. “The one in charge of the tech—kind of like ginger, was the one who controlled my eyesight. They gave me the ability to not only see but to do other things that were considered impossible.” Ginger hands him a cup of water as he thanks her softly and takes a small sip. “You were technically there little Guinea pig.”

He shakes his head no, setting his cup down in the table. “It was there first time using this technology and they wanted to keep me safe in case anything were to happen to me, I wasn’t a prisoner and I surely wasn’t treated differently.” He shot back, giving whiskey a glare.

He didn’t take kindly to people who spoke bad about his own family that saved his life and had given him a home.

“I was given my own freedom five years ago, but I’m still adjusting to the feeling so it’s strange for me to control it on my own.” He looks down and rubs his eyes, letting out a deep breath as he feels whiskey shift in his spot.

His hands were on his hips as he eyes y/n up and down.

Y/n lifts his head up and straightened up. “I’m used to the malfunctions, once I return I’ll have Misun check them out.” He stands up from the chair and stumbles a little, whiskey reaches out to help him but he quickly holds a hand out to stop him. “I’m fine.” He hissed out as he holds himself against the table.

“You a really tough partner.” Whiskey says.

“And your annoying.” Y/n barks back but that only get him a laugh from whiskey. “Looks like me and you are going to have a lot of fun together.” He adds.

Y/n groans and whines. “Ie ni kaeritai.”

I want to go home.

—

“I’ve scanned everyone in the lobby, I have the information we need so we’re good to go.” Y/n says through his ear piece as he walks around the lobby, giving people friendly smiles as he passes by.

“Did you get our guy?” He hears whiskey says through the ear piece as he sat on the other side of the lobby, pretending to read a book as he glanced up every once an awhile to spy on their guy.

Y/n sits at a bad, acting natural as the bartender hands him a drink. “Yes but I’m having difficulties with his files—“

“What you mean?”

“What I mean is that his files are locked, can’t see them unless they are unlocked.”

He hears whiskey sigh. “Can’t you unlock it?”

“Nōtarin,” Dumbass. “It’s not easy to hack into something like this, it’ll take me time and that’s something we don’t have so will have to make due with little information that we have about him.” He mutters out, sliding out of his seat as he leaves the bar and begins to make his way upstairs where a second lobby was located.

“Fuck.” Whiskey slams his book shut and sets it on the table, heading towards y/n’s direction. The two meet up on the second floor, with y/n leaning back on a wall with crossed arms. “Now what?”

Whiskey walks towards the balcony, looking downstairs he spots their guy. “How long does the hacking take?” He was still staring down at their guy as y/n pushes hismelf off the wall and walks over to stand next to whiskey. “A couple of hours, give or take. Unless you want me to send this information to ginger?”

“No, we are to handle this alone without gingers help.”

Y/n leans against the rail as he too looks below them. “We either wait until tomorrow to get him or we do it all now.” He mumbles out, turning his head to the side to look at whiskey, waiting for his confirmation since he was the one in charge of this mission.

Whiskey is silent, giving hismelf time to think. “We do it now. We need all the information we can get before we continue on.” Y/n nods in agreement as he walks towards the stairs. “Where are you going?”

“To finish the job, so you stay here and be a pretty little cowboy and let me handle the rest.” He sends him a wink while walking down the stairs and back down to the first floor, he could feel whiskeys eyes on him as he makes his way over to gang. Acting casually he noticed a waiter walking towards him, holding a tray of drinks. As he passes by, y/n is able to snatch a drink, walking over to the gang leader he pretend to trip over his own footing, causing the drink to slip from his hands and to land all over the man, causing their target to stand up in surprise and anger.

“Nantekotta, gomen'nasai!” Oh my god I am so sorry!

He rambles out in Japanese, grabbing something napkins as he tries to pat down the man but only got shouted at. The man tried to shove him away but he stands his ground, continuing on with his rambling, as the two are distracted he is able to snatch his room keycard from his pocket. Smirking to hismelf he steps away from the man and bows in apology before making his way back upstairs.

“What was that?!” Whiskey nearly shouts out, getting ready to throw a fit until y/n pulls out the keycard to show whiskey. Giving him a smirk, “told you I could handle it.” Whiskey snatches the keycard from him. “Come on.”

Y/n follows whiskey towards the elevator. “Is that graditued?” He teases while whiskey ignores him and scoffs, the two entering the elevator as they head up the sixth floor where the room was located at, it didn’t take them long to locate the room. Unlocking it and entering inside they quietly looked around.

“We should hurry before he finds out that his card key is missing.” Said y/n.

“Right, you check the main rooms and I’ll do the living room. See if you can find anything important about this guy.” Whiskey instructs as the two head into separate directions.

Y/n enters the bedroom and scans it, not finding anything in the closet or under the bed, huffing in annoyance he looks over to the cabinets where he picks up a safe, hidden behind some clothes.

He walks over to the cabinets and moves the clothes to the side where he sees the large safe sitting on the corner. He scans the buttons, seeing light fingerprints he smirks and types in the code. Hearing the safe click open he pulls it open to see a case inside, “Whiskey, come check this out.” He calls out as he pops open the case to reveal many different documents and plans.

Whiskey enters the room to see the case open and full of documents. “Looks like our little friend here is planning something pretty important.” He says as he takes some blueprints.

“I’ll scan everything and send it to ginger, see if she knows what any of this could mean.” He flips through various pages as his eyes scan everything, downloading all of the information that he can before a second screen pops up to show him the security footage.

“Shit we have to go.” Y/n stuffs the documents back inside the case as whiskey helps him out, putting the case back inside the safe and closing it up, he makes sure to put the clothes back in its usual spot. “Lets go.” The two rush out of there and head towards the elevators, the two were alone as they feel the elevator moving down.

Y/n checks the camera every once in awhile, he noticed them approaching the second floor where their target was waiting for the elevator. Thinking of a quick idea he grabs whiskeys arm. “Kiss me”.

“What—“

“People get uncomfortable when they around couples who kiss.” He says quickly as he hears the elevator come to a stop, as the doors open to the second floor he pulls whiskey into a kiss, wrapping an arm around his neck as he feels whiskey kissing him back in return.

Their target cringes at the couple and groans, stepping away from the elevator as he decides to wait for the second elevator.

The doors slowly close on the kissing couple.

Y/n was too distracted to even notice the feeling of the elevator moving, the two were still kissing, whiskey had placed his hands on his hips as he pulls him close, licking his lips as y/n lets out a small breathy moan.

He’s the first to pull away, clearing his throat as he licks his own lips and looks away. Avoiding whiskeys cheeky grin, “Don’t Shy away from me darling.” He feels whiskey wrap an arm around his waist and pin him against the elevator wall.

Y/n gives him a soft glare. “Not now.”

“Later?”

He groans and shakes his head. “Maybe.” He mumbles out as whiskey let’s him go. The elevator arrives in the lobby as the two exit the hotel in silence, approaching their car as y/n gets in the passenger seat. He takes the time to go through all the data that they have collected before placing them in a file and sending it to ginger. “I sent all the information to ginger so by the time we arrive to base she’ll have an explanation to the blue prints.” He tells whiskey.

“Does that give us time to finish what we start?” Whiskey wiggles his brows as he drives the car.

Y/n groans. “Baka.” Idiot.

“Sorry darling but I don’t understand, Japanese.”

“Good, that way I can keep insulting you in front of your face.” Y/n gives him a sweet fake smile as he turns his attention back to the road.

“Maybe you can continue speaking like that while you scream my name out tonight.” Y/n’s face heats up at whiskeys words. He leans his head back as he stares at the ceiling.

“Watashi wa nani ni muchū ni narimashita ka?”

What did I get myself into?

[thessalian]

Thess vs Systems of Choice

I know that some people - hell, a lot of people - are like, “Try something besides 5e! It’s not as good for combat as some! It’s not as good for characters as some! You could do better!” Which is a laudable sentiment, for the most part. Trying new things is good. Just ... there’s a focus on “you could do better” rather than “you might find something you personally like better” in these posts that kind of gets to me. So, for the record, a few notes from someone who found D&D late and never looked back.

See, the first system I tried was GURPS, back around 2000. Didn’t do it for me. Was too complicated for most of my players, and didn’t work online back then anyway. Then I got my first shot at an in-person game and we played 7th Sea - first edition, not the Swashbuckling Adventures version made by the d20 rules of the day. Back then, D&D was 3.5 trending to 4. THAC0 was troublesome to calculate for anyone not mathematically minded, and 4 had some balance problems, but honestly, that’s not the moderately tame take on D&D I got from my little Panache System pigeonhole at the time. What I got was, “D&D is only good for dungeon crawls and min/maxers!” and an admonition that “RPers who like actual roleplay and story don’t play that”, more or less. So I avoided it. Instead, I fell into old World of Darkness, and a few other systems for one-shots. Big Eyes, Small Mouth was an interesting one, but the WoD was basically my jam. Even then, I’d argue that it makes combat more complicated than it needs to be, particularly in how it establishes combat order and damage, and Mage in particular was a bit too open-ended for certain sorts of people. I mean, really - you look at a WoD character sheet and there’s a lot going on. Still, with the right group, it can work. Probably a little too complicated for most of mine, though.

I played WoD for a long time and didn’t really discover D&D until 5e hit. And 5e struck a really good balance for me. Compared to what I was used to, things like combat order and action economy, an actual spell list for casters, and a streamlined set of non-martial skills was such a relief. Character creation allows for both the min/max approach and the “character is all“ approach, and just about anything in between those two extremes, and there’s enough wiggle room to do a lot of pain-free homebrew as well as some nice set modules for those who don’t have the spoons to homebrew a campaign but still want to let people make characters of RP awesome and / or just hit monsters until money comes out like squishy, occasionally eldritch pinatas. But I was still up for trying other systems, as much for the settings as anything else.

And then I tried Shadowrun and if that book wasn’t so fucking pretty I’d have thrown it on a ritual pyre by now. The book itself is a problem, because the new edition was written for fans, by fans, and is not laid out for the novice to properly understand. I mean, WoD books used to break up sections with little fiction snippets to give the mood and tone of the setting but then went straight clinical for the descriptions. The Shadowrun book does not do that; the fiction and art are thrown in willy-nilly, they scatter sidebars through the thing like a couple of rounds of buckshot, and it’s just hard to read. Plus, again, you’re getting into issues with action economy, damage numbers ... I’m sure some people love it but dear gods it was not for me. Wasn’t really for my players either.

At the end of the day, I do recommend trying other systems to see what works for you. I just won’t say that any one system is objectively better or worse than any other. Some people want something that focuses combat entirely. Others want one where combat is effectively a sideline. For me? 5e’s approach of “Jack of all trades, master of none” works pretty well for me and my players, because we’re all far away from each other, we have limited play time, we’re not all of us neurotypical and sometimes it’s nice to be able to swap tracks from “Intense RP Scenario” to “Dungeon Crawl” to “Epic Battle Against Huge Loot Pinata” really easily. I don’t need it to be perfect for any one thing; I need it to work well enough to do everything I need it to do. I want relatively minimal maths, a reasonably solid foundation structure with the flexibility to withstand a lot of homebrew, decently balanced action economy that keeps combat moving while still allowing people to do something badass, stuff like that. 5e gives me that in a way I haven’t found in other games so far. It may not work for others, but it works for me. Maybe there’s a better game out there, one that gives me more of what I want ... but y’know? I have such limited RP time and have so few spoons that I don’t have it in me to look for something ‘better’ when what I’ve got works for me.

I mean, I miss WoD sometimes, for all the system got a bit complicated (though I feel that the nWoD setting was great but the mechanics need a serious homebrew before I’ll love them). And I get not wanting to give WotC money; they are not a good company, and a lot of indie companies are better. Thing is, EA’s not a good company either and while I’ll say to try indie RPG video games, I’m not going to say that there’s objectively better games than Dragon Age, or that Dragon Age is somehow bad, while trying to make my point. I just wish people could talk about how much they love a system or believe in having a diverse range of RPG systems without insulting a system that some people love not because it’s popular but because it’s exactly what they or their group needs.

(As for trying older versions of D&D? If you want it, you’re welcome to it, but don’t even think about suggesting that I calculate THAC0. To Hit Armour Class 0 is, in my view, an overly complicated way of figuring out whether or not you hit something.)

[ahgaseda]

two can keep a secret || chapter 07

⇥ synopsis : when your father reveals his intention to remarry, you find an unlikely confidant in Mark, your soon-to-be stepbrother, but what began as a revenge fling ironically becomes far more complicated...

⇥ warnings : this story in its entirety includes but is not limited to strong language and dialogue, recurring alcohol and drug use, and explicit sexual content, and is intended for an adult audience only!

Only the sound of forks and knives clinking against dishes filled the dining room. Your parents always insisted on at least one family dinner per week. It had been less than a day since your fight with Mark and now you were forced to sit across from him until everyone had cleared their plates.

Mark ate like a man starved, uncaring as he stuffed his face. Your father was no different. The men said nothing whilst they filled their stomachs. Meanwhile, you poked at your steak and Mark’s mother kept looking around the table.

“Did the two of you have a fight?” she asked suddenly.

You glanced up, like a deer in headlights. Mark didn’t slow down. He swallowed what was in his mouth and simply shook his head, as if anything between you and him was inconsequential.

His mother turned her gaze to you, expectant.

“I’m sorry. I just… don’t feel very well,” you told her, offering a placating smile. It wasn’t a lie. Your stomach was in knots almost constantly since you saw those positive pregnancy tests.

“You do look pale, honey,” she crooned.

You swallowed nervously. Did you?

Mark looked up at that, giving you a scrutinizing glance. His first instinct was to worry. Had the fight and pregnancy scare stressed you to the point of illness? Before he could say something potentially damning, your father spoke up, “My daughter never complains of being sick.”

You could hear the concern in his voice.

“Don’t force yourself to eat if you feel unwell,” he continued. “You can be excused and go lie down if you need to.”

“Thank you,” you said softly, tears gathering in your eyes. You desperately wanted to get away from Mark. Rising from the table, you grabbed your plate and pushed your chair back into place. After discarding the uneaten food in the kitchen, you placed a kiss on your father’s cheek.

Then, you bolted. Locking the bedroom door behind you, you hid yourself beneath your blankets, crying until you nearly fell asleep. How were you going to tell your father that you were pregnant?

Mark set down his fork and leaned back against his chair. Was being in the same room with him that torturous for you? Because it damn sure was for him, but at least he managed to endure it.

He missed the feel of your skin and his fingers in your soft hair. The way you laughed when he tickled you or showed you something funny on his phone. How you snuggled up to him when you were sleepy and tangled your legs through his when you were cold. And the handful of times you had spoken his name in your sleep, letting him know he was on your mind even in your dreams.

Mark sharply cleared his throat and decided he needed to bury himself balls deep in another cunt until he forgot about you.

Jackson was reliable for two things: hyping up his friends when they felt like dying and organizing booze-filled parties on extremely short notice. Mark was in need of both, though he favored the latter.

When you stepped out of your bedroom, Mark was doing the same across the hall. Another downside you had forgotten about; your rooms faced each other.

You stopped in your tracks, still clutching the doorknob. Mark finished pulling on his leather jacket and met your eyes.

“Jacks is having a party,” Mark said, emotionless.

That stung. Jackson always texted you an invite to his parties. If he hadn’t, that meant Mark told him not to, which meant Mark didn’t want you to know how fucked up he was going to get.

Or that he was going to fuck around with other girls.

Flashing a brief, awkward smile, you told him, “Have fun.” Then, you brushed by him before any more words could pass between you.

Mark stood there, watching you go and battling with himself. Guilt manifested first, but he shook his head, hoping to shake the feeling away.

You hopped in the car and drove off into the night. You wanted to stay at your best friend’s place for as long as you could get away with. You didn’t want to be in the same house as Mark for a while. The secret was smothering you. Only you knew about the baby in your womb. Every time you laid eyes on Mark, you remembered you were carrying a piece of him inside you. And he had no idea.

Mark preferred drowning in alcohol than in his sorrows. Even as he chased another shot, throwing it back with a grimace, he thought about you. He couldn’t shake the image of you in his head, naked in his arms as you lulled him to sleep.

And now he couldn’t have you. He fucked it up.

You had given him a peace Mark didn’t think he was capable of anymore and it was gone as quickly as it had come. Gripping another shot tightly in his hand, Mark stared off into the distance as a realization sank in.

Jackson appeared at this side, clapping a hand on Mark’s shoulder. “How goes it, brother?”

“I’m in love with her,” Mark whispered.

Jackson froze. He knew exactly who his best friend was talking about. Rubbing his chin, Jackson glanced around to make sure no one was listening in and whispered, “I didn’t invite her. Like you wanted.”

“Good,” Mark said, downing another shot.

“Mark, do you need to talk about…,” Jackson started.

Mark rose from his seat and growled, “Where’s Leah? I know she’s around here somewhere.”

“Yeah…,” Jackson trailed, voice sympathetic. Leah was known for being easy. She was also known for having her eyes on Mark since the first time she saw him.

Mark spotted her in the crowd and headed toward her without another word. He approached her while she danced, wrapped an arm around her waist, and whispered in her ear, “Still want me to fuck your brains out?”

Leah couldn’t drag him upstairs fast enough.

Mark kissed her hard and rough, but she wasn’t you. Her hands felt like ice against his warm skin. Her legs were stiff around his waist. Mark could only picture you beneath him.

Leah, on the other hand, was ready to devour him. She stripped down to her bra under him and unbuckled his pants, reaching for his cock and letting out a moan. She gripped his half-hard shaft and nipped at his neck.

Then, Mark did the unthinkable.

He whispered your name.

Leah grabbed his face, pushing him back and scowling at him with wide, shocked eyes. “What did you just say?”

Mark blinked through his tequila-induced daze. “What?”

“Oh my god, you said her name,” she exclaimed in horror and quickly rising jealousy. “Your fucking stepsister!”

“No, I didn’t,” he stammered.

“I heard it, Mark. Holy shit. Are you screwing her?”

“What? No!”

Leah scrambled out of the bed, snatching her shirt and tugging it back on like she had finally discovered shame. “That’s disgusting.”

Rage and hurt boiled inside Mark until it spilled over and promptly exploded. Angrily, he shouted, “She’s not my stepsister!”

Leah blinked, a twisted smile pulling at her lips. Rather than deny, he justified it. “Oh, you are so fucked.”

Mark understood by the look on her face that life as he knew it was officially over. “You have no idea…,” he huffed in defeat.

You were a mixture of relieved and devastated that you didn’t see Mark at classes the next day. There were a few times your schedules overlapped and you would pass each other in the hall. He must have gotten drunk enough to warrant a hangover from hell.

But Leah made sure to shoulder check you as the two of you crossed paths.

“What the hell…?” you snapped, ready to slug her for staggering you backwards.

“Slut,” she snarled back, shoving past you to continue on her way.

You stood there shell-shocked. Leah never went toe-to-toe with you and you were tempted to pound her into the concrete as you protectively put a hand over your lower stomach.

Fortunately, your best friend appeared and looped her arm through yours, whispering, “Honey, haven’t you heard the latest gossip?”

You rolled your eyes. Never did you give a shit about gossip. “You know I have zero social media presence.”

She pulled you behind a corner and spoke in hushed tones, “It’s about you!”

“Me? What did I do?”

She bit her lip and told you, “Mark was in bed with Leah at Jackson’s party last night.”

Your heart sank somewhere below your chest, into some bottomless pit never to crawl back out again. “Oh.”

“And he said your name!”

The world came to a grinding halt around you.

Mark said your name while he was in bed with another woman. For all you knew he was finishing inside her and he literally called out your name.

You would think about the implications of that later, but for now, your focus was on the fact that it was becoming common knowledge on campus. Which meant word was spreading like wildfire.

“Oh god,” your friend murmured, saying your name in disbelief.

Your brow furrowed. “What?”

“I see your face. It’s true. You’re sleeping with him, aren’t you?”

There was a pause while you swallowed the lump in your throat. Eventually, you muttered, “It’s complicated.”

She tilted her head and tried to be gentle. “Sweetie, I know he’s technically not your stepbrother yet, but your parents are getting married. It’s happening.”

You seethed, “I’m well aware of that.”

Your best friend hesitated, watching you carefully and noting the emotions gathering on your face. “How long has it been going on?”

You didn’t hesitate to answer, “Since they got engaged.”

She gaped. “For Christ’s sake.”

“He made it better, okay? We feel the same way about them getting married and it just… we were gonna get into self-destructive behaviors anyway. Turns out fucking each other was the most convenient.”

It was hard to tell who you were trying to convince.

She simpered, but certainly didn’t condone it. “You’re in love with him.”

You wanted to scowl. “Am I?”

“When I said he was in bed with Leah, you were devastated.”

You shook your head and shrugged. “I just felt betrayed, that’s all.”

She placed a tender hand on your arm. “They didn’t screw. Apparently they were about to and he dropped your name. She hauled ass out of there.”

That surprised you.

You held up your phone, expecting a text or missed call from Mark and finding nothing. “I need to go,” you told your friend, bidding her goodbye and heading for your car before she could grill you for more juicy gossip.

Hopping behind the wheel, your phone rang and you immediately answered, “Hello?”

“Hi, we got your message about seeing Dr. James. You’re not due for your well woman’s exam just yet, so I was calling to see what kind of appointment you needed.”

It was your doctor’s office. You forgot you called.

Fighting back tears, you looked around the parking lot and whispered, “I… took a few home pregnancy tests and they were all positive.”

“I understand,” said the receptionist kindly. “I can work you in the day after tomorrow. She can confirm the pregnancy and discuss prenatal care or other options with you. Does that sound alright?”

Voice trembling, you replied, “Yes, that would be great. I really appreciate it.”

Meanwhile, Mark ditched the rest of his classes to drown himself in a video game. He was screwed, there was no doubt about it. He checked his phone again for the thousandth time - still no word from you.

He let his head fall back with a groan. You would have heard by now. The girls you tended to hang with were some of the mouthiest he had ever known. They would be itching to spill the tea all over you.

There was a knock at Mark’s bedroom door. He set the controller down and leapt up anxiously, expecting it to be you. God knows, he just wanted you to hold him and lie to him that everything would be alright.

When Mark opened the door, his heart sank.

There stood your father and his cheeks were the color of the fires of Hell itself.

“Mark,” he said stiffly.

“Yes, sir.” Mark held his breath, his heart beating violently against his ribs.

Your father clenched his jaw and hissed, “How long have you been having sex with my daughter?”

chapter 06 ⇤ chapter 07 ⇥ chapter 08

Hey there, beautiful! If you enjoyed this, please leave a like or reblog or follow me! Or maybe buy me a coffee so I can keep writing? Or check out my masterlist here for more stories! Thanks for reading :) - Katya

This work is fictional and for entertainment purposes only, but is licensed and protected under a creative commons attribution-noncommercial-noderivatives 4.0 international license. Any instances of plagiarism will be dealt with accordingly. Do not re-post or translate without my permission.

{ copyright 2018-2020 © ahgaseda // all rights reserved }

[dreadnought-dear-captain]

The End of the Line – Update and You Asked, I Told (Part 1 of 2)

Hi, friends! I have completed my move and gotten settled in to my new apartment and state and job, so I’m back here to answer some Asks and give a writing update.

In the past couple of months, I’ve somehow managed to crank out about 45,000 words of BW. All the way to the end. Yep. BW is DONE. I literally cannot believe it. It needs some quality time with the beta, and I want to catch up on answering comments, so I’m (tentatively) planning to post the rest of the chapters on Veterans Day, 11/11/2020. I remember commenting to someone that I would have the whole fic done by Veterans day 2018 but hahahahahahaha [sob]. As of right now, I believe it’s going to be three more chapters, and you can decide if you want to binge them or draw it out. I’m also planning to do a select list of works consulted, but I will probably attach that to the BW timeline when I get it done rather than tack it onto the end of BW.

I’ve also started outlining a new fic that I’m excited about. It’s a BuckyCap canon divergence story that’s been percolating in my mind for a few years and has done about 400 evolutions. I was planning to move on to an AIDS fic, but that would require so, so much research, and honestly, I’m researched out after BW. I need a break. But there will be some similar themes, so if you’re here for more emoshy angst, there’s more coming your way. In first person!

I’ve cleaned out my Tumblr inbox and am posting my Ask answers in two batches. I’m feeling less quarantined out and consumed with my move, so I’m going to continue working toward being more responsive more quickly. Moving forward, I might just answer the asks as they come up rather than batching them. I dunno.

The following contain spoilers for everything up to the latest chapter of BW. 

Starting with some love (thank you!) and progressing to questions. 

Oh, thank you so much! I’m thrilled that you’re enjoying it alkfjalfjsakjf!

Thank you so much! It’s something I’m seriously considering, actually. Although I could never publish BW the way it is (it’s far, far, FAR too long for any publisher to pick up as-is), I am planning to go through the manuscript after this and re-write the essential story in hopes of de-Marveling it and shopping it around. I’ve been playing around with the idea of even trying first person, since the character voices are so strong, but I love close third a lot too, so I’ll have to play around with it.

I appreciate your patience, and I’m so happy that you’re into it enough to wait so long for the damn thing to come out!

I’ve written a lot of layers into the story in hopes that it will have decent re-read value – for those brave enough to read a 700k word fic more than once. But honestly, it’s so complicated sometimes that even I lose track of all the things I’ve woven in throughout. Part of it is that it’s a very different animal from where I started, both in terms of story and style, and I had some places I planned to go but then diverted, so there may be artifacts of old ideas floating around, I’m sure!

You’re so right that the avoidance response is unbelievably strong for them, and part of their relationship goals (in my mind, anyway) is for them to be more direct in expressing what’s going on with them and what they need. As for the photo album, I can totally imagine this playing out – a nice family get together, some familial razzing, a highly triggered person trying to keep his shit together, but it’s Bucky, and emotion regulation is still not a very strong suit for him. So, presto. Awful picture night shenanigans.

As for Steve and his judgement call here, I agree that it’s definitely not the best. But I kind of wanted to show him as also being a vulnerable person who is struggling with this and wants relief from it. I think it’s more typical in fic to have one person is traumatized and the other who is this unwavering, grounded rock that is relatively unaffected by their loved one’s trauma and can provide appropriate support. Which is great! People like this absolutely exist. But this stuff with Bucky has really fucked Steve up, too, in addition to having his own trauma. He’s also feeling very distant from Bucky now, and one of the ways that they have historically gotten close is to have sex. It’s their go-to coping strategy as a couple. Don’t talk, fuck. So I thought it made sense that, on this night of vulnerability, they might resort to that.

(See Baghdad Waltz Timeline ) Yeah, he was twelve, which is right before his family moved to New York. I’ve been sprinkling the episode around many chapters and don’t plan to go into a whole lot more detail about it TBH. It’s not essential to know all of the details, I don’t think. However, more will be revealed about Bucky and Jack’s relationship and how Bucky feels about him/felt about him, so hopefully that can provide a little context for it. Bucky has a lot of conflicting feelings about Jack and what happened to him, so we are forced to look at it through the eyes of a highly unreliable narrator. I hope future chapters (or chapters after this Ask was sent), will shed a little light on this.

You’re spot on that Bucky totally minimizes it. Especially with Steve, knowing that Steve both needs to roughly know and probably will lose his mind if he knows the whole story. It was a brutal beating with some significant injuries that needed extra medical attention. As a side note, Bucky undoubtedly lied about having any surgeries, etc. in order to get into the Army.

Thank you so much! I’m fully aware how emotionally exhausting this story can be, and I’m never quite sure whether or not to be apologetic about it. I’m not aiming to sensationalize anything or manipulate feelings out of readers or characters, truly. My guiding star is asking, okay, given everything, what would happen next? Not necessarily what *I* want to happen next, but what would these characters do now? Certainly I throw some circumstances in their way, but a lot of the emotional and relational responses to these are me trying to unflinchingly show what would happen with these two particular people with these two particular psychologies and histories. 

As we can see, for as much as they love each other, this relationship is highly problematic. And these people are really struggling individually. I do try to show the good parts too, to balance things out, because I don’t want to shy away from those either. I’m always hopeful that the balance doesn’t become so out of whack that people nope out of the story.

Oh my God, I know. I think about that sometimes as well. Bucky was a highly skilled military professional, though I do wonder if this is one of the only environments that would have allowed him to avoid his own trauma quite this well. The military is such an all-encompassing career, one where, especially at higher ranks, you work ALL. THE. TIME. When you’re working all the time, when everything is about the men, about these extremely intense deployment experiences, there’s very little room for the past to creep in. It’s the perfect avoidance strategy. 

Moreover, the highly rigorous structure was excellent for Bucky, who tends to spiral out if he’s not operating within very firm boundaries. A lot of people with emotion regulation problems like Bucky’s can do very well in the military because of this. But when he lost that, so violently, it was the perfect catalyst for everything to come careening back to him. Especially when he really toned down the drinking. This is life for a lot of veterans, though certainly not all, or even most. But Bucky’s relationship with the military was absolutely symbiotic, yes. It is sad.

This is one of Bucky’s attempts to earn favor with his new friends in New York, so good catch on the lie. Someone with an affectionate nickname obviously must have been liked, right? The last thing he wanted to do was have a repeat of his experience in Kentucky, so he put on a very good show and bullshat his way into a good social situation in New York. It’s not really bullshit though, because he’s a likable person. But I imagine he assessed the way he was, quiet, thoughtful, sweet, and probably decided nope, I’m not gonna be those things here. Not again. Some of the stuff, like his thoughtfulness and sweetness, couldn’t really be suppressed. But he did a lot of impression management in New York, including the creation of this nickname for himself.

Now, on to Part Two! See you there. 

[magneticmage]

I'm in the mood for it (plus it's Disability Pride month) so here are all my disabled ocs;

Under cut for Length

Additional Notes; Please do not judge me too harshly. While I have a few of these disabilities (most notably PTSD, anxiety-depression, and visual impairments) myself and personally know people who have some others, every person and their experiences are unique. I try my best to give these disabilities the space and gravity they deserve in my writing, but it is difficult for ones that I have no personal experience with. In addition, I am still learning and only human. If I have done something wrong or phrased something badly at any point now or in the future, let me know and I will do my best to fix it/do better. Apologies for the abrupt disclaimer but there we go.

Anyways!!!!

On the the List!

RWBY;

Selene Argent=Has PTSD, one prosthetic eye, and some physical scars on face and torso. I'd safely say she counts.

Baldur's Gate;

Sable Shades=Is an albino and was rendered mute at birth. He sunburns extremely easily and is near-sighted. He also often communicates through sign language.

Roan Roarke=Beyond some minor PTSD symptoms (increased anxiety and stress levels) surrounding fires, he's perfectly fine.

Faenerys Elendir=Has PTSD from her time imprisoned particular involving whips and brands as torture implements.

Rune Mistsea=Post-lycanthropy encounter, he is notably more short-tempered around the full moon along with a distinct craving for meat and violence. Otherwise, nothing else of note.

Lucine Mistsea=Beyond a notable paranoia issue when it comes to demons and cambions (but not fellow tieflings), she's fine.

Lyr(e/a/an) Lovemoor=Autistic. Too much light and noise and surrounding activity is draining and makes them short-tempered with occasional blowouts/meltdowns. Has a Thing about certain textures (very much hates slimes and oozes and squishy things for this reason, likes silks and furs and leathers). Has a fascination for all things shiny and glittery (gems and currencies are a special interest). Also often fidgets with their daggers.

Saga Musehart=Was rendered blind due to torture at the hands of prison guards. She also lost a hand (initially) and a forearm (later due to infection) and wears a prosthesis.

Cei Gloomdraft=Autistic or at least neurodivergent of some kind. Might have some ADHD, it's not quite clear yet in the few pieces I've written so far to help develop her.

Mass Effect;

(Solo Shepard Canon)

Annette Shepard=Has some lingering PTSD symptoms from surviving a raid on Mindoir, then thresher maws in Akuze, and then being spaced at the beginning in Mass Effect 2. She also suffers from some survivor's guilt Post-Virmire due to losing Ashley, and then all of Mass Effect 3 puts such a huge burden on her that she's fighting off some severe depression and despair from all the losses. She's got an old war injury in her shoulder that acts up from time to time, occasionally making her biotics misfire a barrier. She's on immuno-suppressant drugs to prevent her body from rejecting her Cerberus-added cybernetic implants and upgrades, and also some antidepressants for depression and anxiety symptoms for said lingering PTSD symptoms. Girl's a walking disaster-fire mentally but she keeps on surviving and she still looks for the good in life as it comes, so there's that.

(Shepard Siblings)

Joanna=Like Roscoe and Riley, she's also on immuno-suppressants to prevent cybernetic implant rejection. Notably, she's the most well-adjusted of the three mentally, although the losses and struggles of ME 3 start to take their toll due to depression. She spends an awkward month on the Normandy adjusting to the new medication while adjusting the amounts needed. In addition, she also goes through a whole existential crisis come the Citadel DLC about if she is really Joanna Shepard or a clone (which Riley, Roscoe, and the Normandy crew snap her out of). Her survivor's guilt is much less pronounced than Riley's though she does start the early stages of a martyr complex (it's a source of frequent and well-humored debate between Riley and Roscoe if it was already there or not) about the of Thane's death. But she does her best and keeps on going.

Roscoe=Definitely mentally ill. He's got some trauma around abandonment that starts to get fully addressed around ME 2 in part due to Jack and Miranda and is mostly resolved around ME 3 though naturally scars remain. It often manifests as anger, depression, and even callousness. Like Joanna's and Riley, he is on immuno-suppressants to prevent the potential rejection of his cybernetics. He's also got an old wound from Torfan in his abdomen that acts up under stronger pressures like before a rainstorm or different gravity levels as well as drastic temperature changes such as cold (he HATES Noveria for that reason in particular though it isn't the only one, man). Beyond all that, he's very strong-willed and gives no fucks to shit.

Riley=Much like Annette except a bit more well-adjusted due to a larger support network and character drive. Has notable flashbacks/triggers around batarians, thresher maws (this one includes panic attacks once the direct danger has passed), and hardsuit complications (they always makes sure that their helmet and everything is in working and optimal order). Has survivor's guilt from their losses on Mindoir and Akuze but between meeting Talitha and Toombs in ME 1, they confront and deal with it, beginning to heal from it. Even on Virmire with the loss of Honora and all the failures of ME 3, they do better at handling it though it still remains to varying degrees. Like Joanna's and Roscoe (and Annette again), they're on immuno-suppressant drugs to prevent issues with their body rejecting the cybernetics, with the additional ones of antidepressants to help manage some of their anxiety-depression symptoms. They also have some degree of chronic pain (maybe some kind of cystic fibrosis?) due to past overuse of their biotics that damaged part of their nervous system and occasionally causes it to misfire for no reason, often causing intense pain. Rarely and only if the pain isn't treated with extensive biotics-free rest periods and numbing agents in the form of more pills, the biotics will manifest and they'll accidentally move shit around, including themself a few times. This is most notable in ME 3 due to the nature of the larger and longer combat sequences with shorter and shorter rest times between. Though they manage as best they can with the help of their crew and family, it is still a struggle and they notably stop joking about retiring when they're dead and seem to consider it more seriously around ME 3 but save the final decision for the end of the Reaper Wars.

(Shepard Family)

Honora Hartford=She had an eating disorder when she was younger that left some lingering issues with her health but overall she's fine up until her death.

Riley's deceased siblings were overall healthy though Payton had Down's Syndrome and Brooklyn had ADHD. Harley had moderate asthma and used an inhaler.

Clover has anemia quite often and takes iron pills daily

The rest of the Shepard cousins don't have any disabilities to much knowledge though I am still fleshing them out.

(Andromeda)

Sara and Scott Ryder have some lingering damage from their cryopod accident and the Kett leader fucking with them, but otherwise they are okay.

Asher has ADHD while Shiloh struggles with a mild form of chronic fatigue. Evander, Rebecca, and Lucas are all able-bodied.

Dragon Age;

(Fereldan Wardens)

Lynera Mahariel=Dunno if this counts, but am putting it here anyways since it affects her overall health. Occasionally suffers from a type of sleep paralysis that is mixed with night-terrors. It doesn't appear to have a rhyme or reason as to when it occurs beyond perhaps stress and it's only every few months. However, it often leaves her completely drained for at least a week afterwards. She also occasionally has insomnia post-terrors as well which she self-medicates with sleeping draughts. She also has crippling period pains that appear to be consistent with ovarian cysts on her left side (though she later has it removed by Catriona once it ruptures due to injury). She also suffers from bouts of depression during Origins but that could be due to the extenuating circumstances she was under at the time.

Isemaya Tabris=When overly stressed, being exposed to strong amounts of concentrated Taint in a short period of time, or sometimes simply for no apparent reason, she suffers from intense migraines that are often treated with herbal painkillers and lying still in a dark and quiet room. Also due to a past injury to her left eye by humans, she has a harder time seeing on that side but is not completely blind.

Catriona Surana=She seems to be autistic due to her ability and predilection to hyperfocus on various studies (often Blight and magic-related but other areas do occur) as well as her obliviousness to social cues (she didn't realize she was liked by her suitors until Cale outright told her and by then she had decided she liked them already). Notably, she adapts a bit better Post-Origins due to Alistair and Leliana's influences but it still happens.

Cale Amell=Had some minor amnesia surrounding the exact events leading to his magic manifestation but later learned it was because he had set his eldest brother Azul on fire and believed he killed him as Raven helpfully supplied (Azul had instead faked his death as Cale discovers around the time of Awakening).

Fion Cousland=Briefly suffers from a minor alcohol addiction but has treatment while he is still in the functional phase courtesy of Catriona. Since then, he heavily monitors his intake and even helps Oghren get treatment for his own. He also occasionally has painful muscle twinges due to an injury that stretches from his temple to his eye and ear down to his neck on the right side. This is most notable in bad weather or when he is sick.

Barran Aeducan=Suffered from a superiority-inferiority complex towards his siblings growing up though it has greatly lessened with time and experience. It is mostly gone by the time of Inquisition though prominent traces still remain.

Tatha Brosca=She is hard of hearing and has manged to cope by learning to lip-read (not always successful, however, especially with languages she is not familiar with) in Origins and a pair of hearing "horns" designed for her by an admiring Smith caste man by Awakening. She often jokes that now she has even more in common with her Bronto companion, Salroka, due to their shared horns.

(Origins)

Vireth Mahariel=Suffers from epilepsy and often treats it with various herbal remedies, though it is not completely effective and large amounts of intense stress on his body make it worse. He also begins to develop cataracts around the time of Act 2 of Dragon Age 2, though the cause is unknown (presumed genetics or simply age at the moment).

Elthorn Tabris=Has a stutter speech impediment.

Alaros Surana=Unknown at the moment as I haven't written too much about him.

The Amell Siblings=Probably doesn't count but Azul gets motion sickness, especially on boats. Raven, Carmine, and Reed are all perfectly healthy and fine, however the latter two are the ones I've written least at the moment. Marigold has asthma that she treats with herbs.

Aelynne Cousland=Nothing comes to mind. She does have some old injuries (mentally and physically) she acquired from the attack on Highever by Arl Howe that color her later interactions with the family during the Fereldan Civil War.

Valda Aeducan=Has a notable visual impairment that is corrected with glasses, albeit there is nothing to be done for her slight colorblindness (she has a hard type distinguishing between greys, greens, and blues).

(Orlesian Wardens)

Dion Caron=Suffers from sleep apnea that is eased by a special breathing herbal-incense infused mask he wears as well as whomever in his group is on watch to check on him periodically to ensure he still breathes (most often this is either Victoire-Ainsley or Garam). He also snores and coughs due to this. Loudly.

Victoire-Ainsley Caron=Nothing of note.

Isenna Andras=She's an albino and so burns and rashes in intense light and heat. She also has a lame leg that cannot be fixed with magic and so wears a reinforced brace to aid her walk. This creates a noticeable limp.

Garam Kader=Alcohol makes him sick and he suffered from intense gender dysphoria before paying a huge sum to have an ex-Tevinter magister turned fellow Warden help him transition.

(Hawkes)

Jasper, Skye, and Violet Hawke are perfectly healthy. Albeit with some diet restrictions due to various allergies.

Gray Hawke=He is diabetic and so often has to monitor his energy levels to ensure his health. It's part of the reason he doesn't actively endanger his life like his siblings (not that he won't, just less often in comparison). He acquires a truly impressive diet regime and treatment plan upon becoming a nobleman of the Amell family, allowing him much more freedom than before.

(Marquises)

Aurore and Marcel de Serault both suffer from mild hemophilia. Marcel also has a lyrium drug addiction he is trying to break (and is actually doing quite well via weaning himself off it) due to a brief stint as a Templar while serving the Chantry.

(Inquisitors)

Armashok Adaar=Poor eyesight that cannot be fully corrected by glasses and later loses an arm due to the Anchor. He also lost a few fingers and some right hand mobility due to pre-nquisition injuries as a mercenary. He also wears a brace on his left shoulder. He wears a prosthetic eye and replacement arm.

Ransley Trevelyan=Like Cullen, he is working on breaking his own lyrium addiction from his time as a Templar and, like the other Inquisitors, loses his arm due to the Anchor. He had it replaced with a prosthetic arm for his shield side.

Paeriel Lavellan=She loses an arm alongside all the other Inquisitors, but takes the loss much harsher due to her archery skills suffering. While she will wear a prosthesis in battle or when hunting, she doesn't wear it in her day-to-day life, instead preferring to make due as needed. She also has anxiety.

Naranka Cadash=She loses her Anchor-wielding arm and gains a crossbow-and-dagger prosthetic one courtesy of her Inner Circle, much to her delight. She also suffers from some damage to her reproductive tract due to past injuries and is uncertain if she could have children.

(Inner Circle)

Kara Adaar=Beyond an intense hatred of slavery due to being kidnapped and almost sold when she was younger before being rescued by her father, she's perfectly healthy. She does require bedrest for her periods though.

Emilyse Trevelyan=She suffers from some PTSD from her abuse at Templar hands in the Circle, though she begins to recover towards the end of Inquisition.

Samrel Lavellan=Has dyslexia and uses reading aids and memory devices.

Pyrmar Cadash=He might have some PTSD from his Carta days due to a notable cave-in that lasted for a few days before his rescue.

[writing-mermaid]

Shades of blue

Summary : When a young artist is fascinated by the shade of blue in the eyes of the posing model.

Pairing : Bucky Barnes x reader; Steve Rogers x Peggy Carter

Warnings : None

Word Count : 2067

Square Filled : @star-spangled-bingo : Model AU

Author’s note : Also written for @buckybarnesbingo ‘s fluffathon, with the prompts Admire, Art, After, Nuzzle, Cutie and Chocolate. Don’t forget that feedback is appreciated and really important.

Song of the title : Shades of Cool - Lana Del Rey

Masterlist

Star Spangled Bingo masterlist

Bucky Barnes Bingo masterlist

Buy me a ☕

Steve Rogers walks through the room, slaloming between the easels of his “students” of the day, while looking at their paper sheets. In the meantime, he looks at the model, his best friend James Barnes, who accepted to pose a few times a week because he needed the money for college. Steve understood why, because he too, had to look for a job to pay for his school fees. When he found that job, he knew it was the perfect one as he is majoring in arts.

Concerning James Barnes, rather Bucky, he needed it to continue his literature studies, his parents still had to pay for his five little sisters’ studies, and he couldn’t ask for them to have one more loan, since he lost his last job. When Steve told him about the model job, he frowned and said that he would try, even if he doesn’t think that this would be his thing, but he needed to eat and pay for his books. That’s how, for the first time in his life, Bucky finds himself naked in a room full of strangers, drawing him.

Sitting front row, Y/N Y/L/N is studying the handsome model’s eyes color. She cannot decide what color they are. Blue, definitely blue, but what shade ? Because it seems that the color changes when the light changes. At some point his eyes are bright blue, a minute later they can have the color of the sea, and a few seconds later, the color of a stormy sky. She’s concentrated on his face, and his face only, the rest of his body doesn’t interest her, just his face, his blue eyes, his red and kissable lips, that three days stubble, his short chestnut hair, her charcoal scratching the surface of the white sheet in front of her.

Steve stops by the Y/H/C haired girl sitting at the front row. He admires her work. Unlike a lot of people in the room who drew Bucky full or his body, or some parts, she’s only drawing his face. Steve looks at the precise lines she’s drawing. She seems to be mesmerized by Bucky’s eyes and Steve can understand why, his best friend’s eyes are sort of a mystery to themselves. Her gaze doesn’t live his and it seems that Bucky noticed. The way she looks at him above the easel makes Steve think about that scene from Titanic where Jack draws a naked Rose like as she says, “one of his French girls”. Steve works here for a few months now, and it’s the first time that he sees her. She puts down her black charcoal, searching for a blue one.

“This is an amazing work”, Steve suddenly says, making her froze.

“Thank you”, she answers, slightly blushing at the compliment.

“You really managed to capture everything of his face. His gaze, his mouth, nose, freckles. Though, you seem to be in trouble with the color of his eyes. I must admit that I myself never managed to find the good color.”

“How do you know that I have trouble with finding the model’s eye color ?”, Y/N asks, curious to know.

“Oh, Bucky is my best friend, and he was my very first model when I started to draw when I was a kid. Even now, when I happen to draw him, I still don’t find the right color, so I make drawings of my girlfriend Peggy or of landscapes, that’s less complicated”, Steve explains. “I’m Steve Rogers by the way”, he adds, extending his hand.

“Y/N Y/L/N”, she replies. “Sorry, I won’t shake your hand, or you’ll have charcoal everywhere.”

“Don’t worry, I’m used to it. Anyway, if you want to, I can introduce you to him after this session, which will be finished in fifteen minutes”, Steve adds, checking his watch.

“Thank you, Steve”, she smiles at him.

The last fifteen minutes pass like a blink of an eye and Steve thanks everyone for attending to his lesson and listening to his advice. Y/N starts to clean her easel, closes her sketchbook and puts her charcoals back in their box. Meanwhile, Bucky slips back the robe that he abandoned two hours ago on a stool next to him. At the second Y/N left the room to wash her hands, Bucky walks to Steve, who’s cleaning the leftovers.

“Who’s she ?”, he asks his blond friend.

“New one, just like you. Very good one though. She’s the only one that drew your face and not your body. I even saw one or two people very busy to draw your…”

“Please no, this is really embarrassing”, Bucky face palms himself.

“You should wait for her to come back; I think she has something to ask you. I told her that you were my best friend and that I can introduce you to her.”

“Please don’t tell me she wanna draw my wienie”, Bucky whines.

“Who wants to draw your wienie ?”, a beautiful brunette says, entering the room, making a beeline to Steve before kissing his lips.

“A new girl, very good artist, and I really don’t think she wants to draw his wienie”, Steve explains.

Steve tells Peggy about Y/N and her skills, saying he hoped that she would be okay to show her work to them. Y/N finally comes back in the room. Steve introduces her to Peggy and Bucky.

“Do you think you can show us your work ? If you want to of course.”

“Yes, sure, after all this is an art class and you are the model”, Y/N says, motioning to Bucky.

She opens her sketchbook again, revealing a few previous drawings before she finally found the one of Bucky she made barely an hour ago.

“This is really amazing”, Peggy whispers, as she’s afraid of saying this out loud.

Bucky looks at the drawing, speechless. He cannot believe how a drawing could look like him so much. It’s almost like he’s looking at himself in the mirror. Everything his perfect, every line, every freckle, his three days stumble, everything is there.

“May I ask you something ?”, Y/N questions, making Bucky getting out of his bubble.

“Yes, sure.”

“Would you accept to pose for me ? I mean not here but in private, I wanted to work on your eyes and it’s not possible in a room full of people. Of course, I will compensate you for your time.”

“I… I don’t know, it’s the first time I’m doing this, isn’t it unprofessional ?”, he asks Steve, turning to him.

“Not necessarily, you’re free to do what you want. You can pose for Y/N if you want to.”

“So yes, I’d love to”, Bucky says, turning to the young Y/H/C haired woman in front of him.

“Great”, she exclaims, “this is my phone number”, she adds, handing him a little piece of paper with her phone number.

And then, a week later, Bucky finds himself in a tiny apartment, under the rooftop. It’s a very small place but Y/N managed to make it her home. She even have sort of a balcony.

“Please make yourself comfortable”, she says from the kitchenette, “I’m coming as soon as the tea is ready.”

Bucky looks at the room, it’s a medium open space. In a corner, there is Y/N’s bed, a pile of book at its feet, not far from it, her desk, with a laptop and a few pictures of her friends and family, he supposes. In the middle of the room, there’s a couch and a tiny red table facing a small television. In the opposite corner of the bed, there’s an easel, a stool, a tiny chest of drawers and drawing material. A ginger cat walks along the window’s low wall before scratching the pane.

“Oh, that’s my cat, Oliver, can you open the window for him please ?”, Y/N asks Bucky.

Bucky nods and lets the cat in. Oliver rises his head towards Bucky, smells his hand and purrs when Bucky scratches him behind his hears.

“Here we are”, Y/N says, coming back in the room, carrying a tray with two mugs, a tea pot, different flavors of tea, and chocolate biscuits, along with a bowl of milk for Oliver. “Please, serve yourself”, she adds, while putting down Oliver’s bowl.

They talk about everything and nothing, whilst drinking the tea when Bucky finally comes back to the main subject.

“So, tell me exactly why you want me to do for you ?”

“Well, as I told you, I’d like you to pose for me. See last week during Steve’s lesson, I draw your face and I had a problem for your eyes. I mean, the light changed so many times and your eyes color changed with it. I’d like to find the best light to do them justice. Your eyes are really unique.”

The next week, Bucky comes back at Y/N’s apartment, to find her painting on her balcony when he enters her home. A few minutes later, he finds himself sitting face to face with her, under the natural light. It takes a few hours for Y/N to make a new portrait of Bucky with the accurate eye color. But then, it became a habit for the two to have posing seances. First, she works on his eyes, then she moves to his nose, lips, chin, hair after a few seances. During it, they both start to know each other, the more time they spend together, the more they start to fall for one another.

Y/N decides after a few weeks that she’d like to move on to his body if he’s still okay to pose for her. Bucky agrees, without admitting yet that he loves spending time with her. And when Bucky poses half naked, Y/N notices what she didn’t during Steve’s class, Bucky’s broad shoulders, his perfect abs, his strong arms, his beautiful hands. Oh, his hands, Y/N starts to think about what they would feel on her body if he used them on her. Oh jeez, she thinks, I start to have sinful thoughts, this is really no good.

One evening, after a long day of posing, Bucky sits on one of the low walls of Y/N’s balcony, one of his legs hanging in the air, leaning his back on one of the walls. The days has been quite hot, and the evening is still warm. Y/N comes back from the kitchen with two beers, Bucky is partially turned away, Oliver on his lap. Y/N smiles at the sight, thinking that she could get used to this.

“Yes, you’re a cutie”, Bucky is patting the cat’s back. “You’re the best kitty in the world.”

“Don’t start this with him, he’s gonna beg for it the next time you’ll be here.”

“I don’t matter”, Bucky says, “I like this little fellow, after all, he accepted me here, he didn’t have to at first, he could have thought that I would still his pretty mom from him.”

Y/N blushes at Bucky’s word. She sits in front of him, handing him a beer. She mirrors his position on the wall while the sun is going down. In the sunset light, Bucky’s gaze is more intense than in any other light she has seen him before. Oliver jumps of Bucky’s leg when Y/N moves closer to him. Y/N turns her head to the setting sun, her left hand on her leg. Bucky looks at her, she’s glowing in the sunlight and Bucky finds her more beautiful than he did before. She was so adorable with those stains of paint. Bucky moves closer, he wants to kiss her so bad. He extends his hand to lace his fingers with Y/N’s one. Y/N turns her face back to Bucky, their gaze meeting. Bucky leans towards Y/N who meets him halfway. Their lips touch softly, Y/N slides a little closer, climbing on Bucky’s lap. Once there, she deepens the kiss, sliding her fingers into Bucky’s hair. After a few minutes, she pulls away, catching her breath, her forehead against his.

“What about now ?”, Bucky asks.

Y/N doesn’t answer, she just gets up and grabs Bucky’s hand to lead him to her bed.

The next morning, Bucky wakes up nuzzling Y/N’s hair, her bare back to his bare chest. He props his head on his elbow, looking at her peacefully sleeping, silently thanking Steve for the model job.

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[ziracona]

So last night I wound up reading Amanda's wiki and It made me kind of sad for her, because it very much sounds like she was suffering from stockholme syndrome of a kind there, to me, atleast. Which makes me wonder, what do you think of the pig/amanda? What's your Amanda like in your stories? Do you think she had any potential for redemption (with A LOT of work)? I guess I just wanna hear your thoughts on her character because ur always rly good at it?? - Sleepy

Yeah, whoever wrote the Saw wiki loves Amanda and hates Hoffman and it’s genuinely hilarious. They make a lot of assumptions (like that her motive for killing Adam after he won his game was mercy killing, which is a throughly unconfirmed opinion), and use the most sympthetic & extreme language possible. I’ve watched all the Saw films, and as a character, Amanda is a very enjoyable villain, but as a person? She’s a truly awful human being. (Side note—this typed last— So, mentioning certain Saw characters sends me flying into a rage like a D&D berserker, so this is gonna get angry as hell, but 0 of it is at you. I love you. This is at the Jigsaw squad. WHO I FUCKING HATE. Ahem. Anyway. Felt like the level of unbridled and sudden fury needed a heads up lol.) It’s not Stockholm syndrome. In Saw one, she’s a victim who is put in a reverse beartrap and forced to either die, or cut the key out of the stomach of a paralyzed by drugs but very alive (which she knew) other kidnap victim, whom she cut open and killed. After enduring that trauma and barely surviving, she immediately accepted John’s offer to join him. She was not forced, she was not tricked. He asked, and because she wanted to feel special and important, she agreed to inflict suffering she knew goddamn well the horrible level of on others first hand, and went willingly. She is self-centered to her core, and became dependent on and infatuated with John, and obsessed with his approval. She kidnapped Adam and Lawrence with him, who were kidnapped for fuckall reason (literally John just thought photography was pathetic) and for almost cheating on his wife (lol this was John’s ‘stated’ reason—his real reason was John is the world’s pettiest bitch, and Lawrence was the doctor who told him he had cancer. I’m not fkn kidding he’s that level of petty self-absorbed, self-righteous bastard) respectively. Then killed Adam after he won his game, which should have given him freedom but John reneged on like he always does like the pissy little bitch he is, Amanda killed him for reasons up to speculation. However, given John usually tests people who win a second time or tries to get them to join or some bullshit, it’s more plausible to assume her motive was seeing him as a threat than that it was mercy killing, and it’s only stated in-film to be an emotion based decision, not her actual movtive. Everyone’s opinion on this action is just that—opinion. With varying degrees of factual basis behind the educated level of educated guess.

In Saw 2, she helps John kidnap a bunch of drug addicts like herself who all got false arrests by the same officer at one time or another, along with a poor fucking 15 year old whose crime is having that cop for a dad. She then spent the next two hours watching people whose only crime was drug use, like herself, die horribly of organ deterioration, knowing at any time she could have stopped it and saved them all because she knew how to get the antidotes. Bitch even holds one girl in her arms and stokes her head and pretends to care about her while she hacks up deteriorated lung and blood and fucking dies, when at any moment she could have chosen to let her live. Literally no one should be more sympathetic to them than her. She knows how addicted to drugs feels, and the help you need. Anyway, she doesn’t, she lets them die and plays with them, and then when it’s to her, the 15 year old—who multiple times saves or helps her when hurt by other participants, and is nothing but kind—and one other man, the man shows up to kill her to get an antidote, and the poor fucking 15 year old child kills him with a saw to save her, traumatizing himself to a breakdown afterwords, and instead of being even thankful, she attacks and knocks him out, ties him up and attaches an oxygen tank so he won’t suffocate, and locks him in a fucking like tiny ass safe to be a game piece for another trial and leaves him there. His dad, who admittedly needs to serve jail time but isn’t a fucking murderer at least & does love his son, shows up distraught looking for his kid he’s afraid is dead, and she sneak attacks and takes him down, then leaves him chained up in a nasty lost bathroom to starve slowly to death, and doesn’t even do him the decency of telling him his kid isn’t dead. When he breaks his foot to get free and comes hobbling wounded after her, she sneak attacks again and he nearly wins, but she fucks up his broken foot and starts to leave, then comes back and beats him (she thinks) to death becuase he said she would never be Jigsaw, and she’s that petty and proud. Kid never gets to know what happened to his dad, and even alive, will definitely die young from the complications one, you know, gets from almost dying of chemical organ deterioration.

In Saw 3, the main victim is a man whose kid was lost in a hit and run. Jigsaw has Amanda kidnap his wife because she’s a surgeon and also was once not as sympathetic as he thought she should be when talking to him about his cancer at the hospital (I’m not even fucking exaggerating—side note, I will beat John Kramer to death myself with my huge fucking meat fists and laugh as I watch his bones crumble to dust). This poor bitch just lost a kid, then separated from her husband because he was a fucking mess consumed with revenge against the poor college kid who accidentally hit his son & totally withdrew from the world, and she wakes up with a collar filled with shotgun shells basically a 360 gun blow off your head collar deal on, and Amanda wheeling her around in the wheelchair she’s tied to. They tell her if she keeps John alive until the person being tested finishes his test, she can go free. The whole movie, Amanda keeps trying to convince John to kill the poor woman even though she complies just because she’s a throughly selfish, petty, conceited, self-pitying bastard with no regard for others, and wants this “Bitch” to die for fun. She feels she’s a threat for John’s attentions, and John isn’t even romantically inclined toward her, but she’s obsessed and doesn’t care. Amanda decides between Saws 2 and 3 that people aren’t fixable—even though she herself was supposedly “helped” by her Jigsaw game and this is hypocritical as fuck—and just starts straight up fucking torture murdering for fun. To the point even John thinks she has to be stopped. Like if John fucking Kramer thinks you’ve gone to far? Jesus help you because no one else can. She still does the torture, but instead of like, chopping off your own hand with a paring knife and getting to live, you chop it off and then still slowly get your head crushed between two beams being screwed closer and closer together. She kills Kerry for fuckall reason except she wants to (Kerry is a detective who did jack shit wrong—she was just on the case. It’s utter bullshit). Kidnaps her, straps a thing with hooks in her ribs that will tear out her rib cage when a timer runs out, and kill her that way, and had her hung up above the ground tied by chains, and tells her if she burns her hand up in a bottle of acid to get the key at the bottom which is hard period in the suit—never mind losing the hand—she can live. And Kerry fucking does, ruins her hand, unlocks the lock, and the suit won’t come off becuase the cunt rigged it. Then Amanda shows up to watch her die for fun just to smile smugly at her and watch her fear. Because she’s a fucking soulless, sadistic, evil, self-centered, self-important asshole.

Obsessed dad let’s a fucking bystander whose only crime was seeing a hit and run and running off freeze to death stripped naked and sprayed with water in a freezer slowly, saves a judge who gave too weak a sentence to the hit and run kid after the man begs, and then lets the poor fucking college kid who did it and already feels awful get his arms twisted till they snap off, legs twisted till the same, and then his head twisted around back so far it twist snap kills him. The rack is fucking beyond inhumane death. Amanda monitors this while threading Lynn (the poor doctor lady) for fun and crying over poow wittwe John who is dying of cancer (thank you god for doing what we couldn’t), and being miserable. Eventually, Hoffman sends her a letter saying if she doesn’t kill Lynn, he’ll tell John that she was one of the people there to steal drugs the night his wife got injured and miscarried (he probably already knew 🙄), and becuase Amanda cares about nothing more than Amanda, she fucking monolgauges at John about how special and sad she is how he needs to fix her and she’s a murderer but she doesn’t care because you know—she’s depressed : ( so she gets a pass for her self she’s UwU sad so her poor little crisis can have a massive torture body count bc she’s that special UwU and why is Lynn not gonna die even though she did her job!??? So unfair! No one changes kill them all but tell me I’m special I’m symapthetic because I’m sad and that makes it fun for me to tear people’s ribs out :’( —and then she fucking shoots Lynn becuase she cares less about an innocent woman’s life than the potential for John to be mad at her :’-( you know—such symapthetic stuff! And then John is like “Ok then fkn die :’(“ and Jeff/unstable dad/Lynn’s husband runs in and shoots her and then kills John.

Anyway! I fucking hate Amanda with a passion, and John. I cannot stand humans who hurt each other for fun, especially when they target those who most need help. But above all I cannot abide a person who is a sadistic, selfish, wholly self-absorbed fuck of a human, and refuses to take any responsibility for their actions or admit how fucking bad they are and has the goddamn nerve to act like a victim. Like if you’re going to be an evil son of a bitch, at least have the decency to admit it. If you’re a self-pitying “im uwu special and sad and better and more important than everyone else” —double points for “& becuase I am attractive I can get away with being a soulless shit without any being held accountable” from fandom or the media itself, tripple if from both—? I will kill you myself. I will rip out your eyes and chew on them. I will kill my self on a bomb to take you too. I will chew off my left arm for the sole purpose of getting to beat you to death with it. The wiki writer bends over back so bad they’re gonna need a brace the rest of their life to make her sound sympthetic, but they’re just a fan. She’s not. At all. She doesn’t have Stockholm, and I see people say “she got manipulated and used : (“ all the time, but without fail so far it’s people who think she’s hot and just want a reason to stan that because somehow a hot white woman with short hair even if canonically infatuated with John Kramer is somehow both a lesbian, and excusable for every horrible torture murder she ever did to feel uwu special in her depressed sad times. She wasn’t manipualated. It happened fast, she wasn’t courted into it, and she didn’t even hesitate to say yes. He offered her an out, made sure she was serious, and she stayed. And then she escalated to the point John took her out to stop her, because it was worse than what he wanted to do. I enjoyed her as a villain but as a person I fucking hate Amanda, and don’t really want to see her get another chance. Bastard doesn’t deserve one. I can’t say there’s no continuum in which she could never improve or be redeemed becuase who the fuck knows, and I like to think there’s a smidgen of hope for anyone, but that said, I do think the more evil you willfully do, the more you lose your humanity, and you can hit a point there’s just no person left. So. Anyway, hah, I don’t think she’s redeemable and frankly don’t want her redeemed. I want to burn her to death myself if I have to die that way too. Also! This was a wildly angry answer but none of it is directed at you. That wiki writer does make her sound symapthetic, I’ve read the wiki too—just I go into a blind rage any time John or Amanda is even mentioned and it takes me a half hour to come back down. I fly into a rage. If I ever go into anaphylactic shock, all a friend has to do is start mentioning the names of Saw villains and my adrenaline will start pumping like jet fuel and I’ll be fine. I just have a whole lot of righteously just rage at horrible awful self-righteous self-absorbed malicious manipulative dehumanizing self-pity bastards who take 0 responsibility for their evil or admit it, and Amanda & John are two at the way top of that rage list. It’s a dark but powerful headspace when I think of them. I become very powerful...but also very enraged. Lol, anyway, here’s the breakdown you didn’t need, but it is throrough!