#before anybody “but what about”isms in the replies

[kosherkept]

the next time i get a jewish novel recommendation and it's about either 1. a jew who is so assimilated and secular that their jewishness is barely if at all relevant to the story, or 2. a jew who does come from a cultural and religious jewish background, but hates it/is majority critical of it/distanced themselves from it with age and act like judiasm is a "silly thing from my childhood that was really weird of my parents to do, theyre freaks and should mature and become secular like me, who is much more responsible and cool"/treats orthodoxy especially with suspicion and distaste..... setting your goodreads account on fire

[rametarin]

I didn’t want to reblog another long post, so I’ll just say my own thing here.

Gatekeeping fandom is good, ackshully.

Especially since we have a certain pattern of person, call them, “SJWs” if you want, that deliberately creep into a fandom with their values and shamelessly, deliberately, use it as a platform. They CONSCIOUSLY do this. They DELIBERATELY do this.

And then they have the audacity to see false positives and imagine dog whistles everywhere of things outside THEIR orthodoxy in the fandom being -isms, or -gnies. Accusing the people already there of being “out of date” and “toxic”, when it’s neither toxic nor uninclusive- it just isn’t rearranging itself to accommodate Intersectional Feminism or giving Intersectional Feminists voluntary control over everything from how something works to how it’s defined.

That to them is tantamount to being Nazis. And that’s kind of how you can tell they’re the same sort of daft, disingenuous fucks that wrap up socialist or ancom shit in supposed social progress. And if they could they’re reshape EVERYTHING to match their sensibilities, because their sensibilities are, “our way or you die.”

If you spend enough time peeking through academic papers and colleges you even learn there’s a thing many of them do. Which is, “Queering,” characters on purpose, to make them unpalatable or untouchable to cis/het people. That’s culturally like raising a flag on something to annex it and landgrab it.

And if you say, “hands off, this character isn’t gay?” They pivot and declare you’re just a homophobe whom is afraid of change, tell other people that and then talk in the broad bruckstroke about, “society is really so homophobic/afraid of new ideas. :c”

These people don’t even want to be part of that fandom for the sake of being in the fandom. They just want it because they want the fandom to perpetuate their values and parrot their beliefs and spread it to everybody else that wants to participate in that fandom. Do you like this popular thing? Okay, you can have popular thing, but only if you hug this Courtney Love doll and buy it and pet it and love it as part of the package deal!

And as part and parcel of the demanding to not just define the fundamentals and parameters of a fandom, they also demand to reinterpret the history of said fandom based on how out of orthodoxy to their values they find it to their own beliefs. So, was the hobby primarily done by white men in the past? Then naturally they’ll automatically paint it with a broad brush and say, “this hobby was very unwelcoming to non-whites and women in the past because of icky homophobic and misogynistic men!” Regardless of how many authors were beloved by the fandom that were female, regardless of how many women were equal fandom members before- they weren’t the Intersectional Feminist types of fans, so clearly they were “closer to the Daughters of the Confederacy than real people,” right? That’s how that works, apparently.

So yes. We had a taste of this in the 90s, but the feminists/radfems at the time weren’t trying to infiltrate the fandom and take it over to be about feminism. They were shaming boys and other girls for liking the big booby comic book girls as sexist and objectification and trying to get comic fans to abandon comics in order to pressure the companies economically into changing.

“These comics are written and drawn by MEN! MAAAAALE GAAAAAAAAAZE!!! Sexualized girls are only okay when WOMEN are drawing them and writing them for the authenticity!” And there were not many women that either liked comic books or wanted to BE in them, so they’d maintain that impossible standard to try and coerce the boys to FIND women for the sake of having a woman on staff, just to assauge their, “icky boys aren’t allowed to do this without me declaring it wrong” qualm.

And true to form for Progressives, give an inch and within a short period of time they just want more, and declare what was offered before was just to mollify or patronize them. “Oh so women can tidy up and do the low work. Why no female CEOs in the company yet? Why not Editor in Chief?”

But the way the Intersectionals do it is new. Rather than just stay outside the fandom because “yuck it offends my sensibilities, it shouldn’t exist,” they try and appropriate the fandom and then contribute rules and policies for it.

We saw this in the years leading up to Gamergate. The Subverters infiltrated video game journos, got incestuous and buddy-buddy with both Triple A industry people and independent game creators and traded favors, financial, sexual and other, for good reviews. Folks like Anita Sarkesian trying to make a name for themselves by already being insiders and getting plugged by the conspirators to LOOK like she was anything more than a plant for that cause, using other peoples video game playing footage in her critique videos, styling herself a holistic “girl gamer” and waxing poetic about “those awful neckbearded dudebros questioning my gamer cred! Tch!”

And so that romantic boogyman became a thing that they perpetuated. “The gatekeeping, woman hating, manbaby Gamer.” Where they then added in racism and male chauvinism and traditionalism and transphobia because you know you can’t just leave it at “misogynist.” Not, “in this society.”

Gamers protesting and demanding that game journalist magazines state their relationships to the creators for full disclosure got them retaliating asymmetrically, though. The FBI investigated all those, “threatening and trolling social media messages” that supposedly got Zoe Quinn and Sarkesian to leave their houses, “for fear of an attack,” and they got nothing. A few of them were caught doxxing themselves on purpose on 4chan. Quinn herself being part of the SomethingAwful’s Crash Override forums, where they’d do shit like this to troll and harass people for fun. They KNOW how to false flag and make it look like a bunch of angry dudebros did it.

Statistically the number of harassing egg names was far lower than the messages either girl received that was NOT harassment or threats, merely replies they didn’t agree with or didn’t appreciate. And yet they still ran around screaming about “all those misogynistic dudebro gamers” that were “harassing and doxing them.” And that boogyman became the party line. That Gaming and Gamers were full of toxic, misogynistic, racist manbabies SOooOoOooOO intimidated by, “women finally in what they feel are THEIR spaces,” that they’d try to run them out.

That’s how they interpreted it and that’s how the history books they write will repeat it.

They try and make a great big public show about “entering this toxic space” to flip it and civilize it, but what they’re really trying to do is officially own it. As a fandom, as a space and as a culture. And that entails being able to say what goes, what’s acceptable and what’s not, and set the tone and culture for that space. Meaning, to be able to gatekeep the product.

Rather than just decry the product, they decide they’re just going to mutate the product by slow assimilation, until the product doesn’t even resemble the original product anymore. They do this shit with comic books, videogames, and now they’re working on doing it to beloeved novels and their fandoms. It’s like forcibly marrying them to terrible people, so you can never have a fandom WITHOUT those people in your space trying to insist their interpretations of things are original canon, ever again.

And the sickest part is, these people DO NOT stop at fiction. That’s why this shit is called Cultural Marxism. Because it’s not much different from the way communists and socialist guerillas act and operate when it comes to land, resources and industry. They take over public spaces and forums and use a combination of instittional corruption, terrorism and violence and vandalism in order to destroy or silence competition.

They’ve even infiltrated the Linux community and taken over most of that, via Linus Torvalds’ daughter. You can’t have ANYTHING around these people, because they just sit and wait and conspire to come in and make even a simple community mural to revolve around whatever social issue and specifically their philosophy’s take on it being THE only valid take on it that everybody else must now interact with, good or bad, but they can’t ignore it anymore.

This is, also, partially why they hate it when fandoms are gatekept by singularly powerful individuals. Like say, authors of their own works. They don’t like singular owners of enterprise and property, because it prevents the mob from taking them and then dictating TO the creator, “this is the PEOPLES property now. WE decide, as the most powerful clique, what is true and real with it and what isn’t.”

Because like what happened with Frank Oz of Jim Henson Studios. An activist gay writer declared that Bert and Ernie’s relationship was “canon gay,” because he wrote them as canon gay lovers. There was a great big information cascade as all these affiliated journo companies published articles about how “happy they were to see Sesame Street and the Children’s Television Workshop as representing LGBT people in public!”

Frank Oz spoke up, set the record straight, “These characters were made by me and a friend and were meant to depict a platonic male-male relationship. They aren’t gay but I’m glad you could identify with them.”

That poor old man caught so much shit. They called him a homophobe, said he was, “stealing Bert and Ernie from them,” that he should just shut up and “let people have this.”

No. Fucking no. These people are fucking conspirators, believe wholly in dominating and taking shit over by moving their people into a thing until they have the warm bodies and the institutional authority to crowd out oppositional voices, then have the audacity to SCREEEAAAAAAM bloody murder about the dangers of anybody else organizing to contest them because, “The Nazis are gathering to attack us poor innocent minorities!!” Counting on the ignorance and unsuspecting nature of people to not know such a thing is fake or the totality of the situation.

That’s why they’ll keep this shit on the downlow and call anybody that accuses them of doing shit like this a liar or a tinfoil hat wearing conspiracy theorist. Demanding evidence, in bad faith, knowing there’s little to no way to PROVE any of this UNTIL they’ve done it, and then declaring you to be invalid since you can’t prove the conspiracy.

Because if you can’t prove it with evidence, they’ll simply say you’re a Nazi trying to smear “good people.”

[monkeebratz]

Bio!Dad Bruce Wayne AU - Super Meet

Initial idea | How it Happened | Addition by iggy-of-fans | Reply to iggy’s Addition | Summer Begins | Summer Part 2 | Supers Meet (you are here) | Scarecrow Interlude |

SO we have two ways that the Parisian Super Squad meets the Batfam. 

The first, which I’m only writing down because I cannot forget about it, and its hilarious is: the Super Squad gets to Gotham, gets Mari’s texts, gets to their hotel room, throws their stuff in, transforms, and starts running around looking for her. They find her walking around the fashion district with the Wayne’s. Adrien, as Chat Noir, spies Marinette first. And, in typical fashion, acts first and thinks later. 

So basically the Wayne’s watch a young, blonde, male version of catwoman throw an incredibly expandable baton between them and Mari, jump down, pick her up. Say “Bonjour. Au revoir.” And then make his expandable baton extend again and carry the now screeching Marinette to the top of the building where the rest of the Super Squad is waiting. Luka is going to strangle him. Holy shit. Chat Noir? More like Chat NO-ir!

The Batfam, of course, suits up and starts chasing after them. In full daylight. (These are the perfect opportunity for “Only in Gotham tweets” tbh) They catch up to Marinette berating all of them in incredibly loud and frantic French. As Multimouse. Going on about how irresponsible it was to leave Paris unprotected! Yes she knows Hawkmoth was defeated but it is the principle of the matter!! And they left BEFORE she told them about what happened with her bio!family and Batman! ALSO THEY KIDNAPPED HER IN BROAD ASS FUCKING DAYLIGHT IT DOESN’T MATTER IF THIS IS GOTHAM YOU SHUT YOUR TRAP CHAT! 

The whole squad looks so defeated but then Mari starts crying and throws herself into Chat’s arms going on about how good it is to see them and she’s so happy they’re here and they’re so so stupid! And then its a hug pile. Big hug pile. The Batfam looks on in utter confusion bc, again, only like. Two of them know French. Then Batman coughs and they all look up and just. Don’t move. Maybe if they don’t move he won’t see them. 

“... I need to be taking Miss Dupain-Cheng back to her family, now.” 

“But-!” WHACK (why yes that’s the sound of Marinette kicking at them all)

“You kidnapped a girl in front of her family with no warning, in a very dangerous city. I’m sure her family would like the reassurance that she’s safe.” 

So Batman and the Robins take Marinette back to Wayne Manor and Alfred clings to her (like he totally didn’t put everything together already they’re all so obvious). And then the Batfam, minus costume, comes barreling down the stairs and they all tackle Marinette and its another hug pile. Bc holy shit Mari why did you get kidnapped by your so called friends? Oh, they’re stupid? Can relate. 

And then. Of course. Guess who shows up at the door. Just peeks their heads in, detransformed of course. “Uh, hi? We’re friends of Marinette? We’re here to visit her?” 

Bruce is shrieking like WHY. WHY IS THIS SHIT GENETIC?! Internally. Can’t spill the beans QUITE yet. 

Anyway, INTRODUCTIONS GALOR, YADA YADA, Dick and Adrien get along so well. Too well. Kagami and Damien also get along well too (they’re both ready to stab a bitch, don’t test them). Luka is too chill NOT to get along with anyone, unless they insult his friends and partners. Chloe is ready to throw down but also holy shit that’s Bruce fucking Wayne? Damn, Mari. DAMN. Already on social media about this. 

(Also listen, I am shipping trash so I’m going to be vague as hell with things but in my brain this will be a poly!partners au so the Super Squad is just dating each other. But for the sake of everyone they could also just be really good/close friends, as they’ll be sharing rooms and be very touchy feeling and such. Its up to you. But just know, I’m just. Like this.) 

So it basically just devolves into story sharing and puppy piles and the Wayne’s all looking at the Super Squad with side eyes bc HM. HOW FAMILY. ALSO STOP TOUCHING THE BABY! NO CORRUPTING THE BABY!! THAT’S OURS!!!

WE SAW HER FIRST SO FUCK YOU!

I’M LITERALLY? HER FATHER? FUCK? YOU? YOU CATWOMAN KNOCK OFF???

This is all happening with their eyes btw

And of course. The whole squad follows Marinette out as Multimouse to go meet batman, who Bruce told her had something to talk with her about. And she kinda cries bc SHE’S GOING TO GET KICKED OUT OF THE CITY BC OF HER IDIOTS!

Its not, its the Batfam taking the Super Squad to the Justice League tower. They weren’t expecting so many people but its fine. They’ll make it work. 

Because Bruce had called the Justice League for an emergency meeting that night with the tone of voice that clearly said anybody who didn’t show up would have a bat hunting them down and shoving his foot up their ass so far they’ll taste patented leather for the rest of their life. They’ve almost never seen him so angry? And he’s bringing guests? What? The fuck?? 

Multimouse Marinette gets briefed that, as the current Guardian of the Miraculous, and a hero of Paris, she’ll be there to get a formal apology and an explanation about why a bunch of teenagers had to fight an emotionally manipulative super villain by themselves. Chat Noir is maybe hiding behind the rest of the Miraculous Crew and they’re only kinda notice but don’t think much of it tbh. Adrien does NOT want to be the one to explain that his FATHER was said super villain. save him. 

Btw the whole group is having mixed reactions to the idea of meeting the Justice League. Adrien wants to run away but he also doesn’t care? Like. They’re all superhero’s, he gets that they can’t always help, but also. Fuck. He loves being a superhero but having someone with actual experience might have saved them all a lot of heartache. Chloe, meanwhile, doesn’t give a sINGLE SHIT about the JL. Fuck them. Fuck them so hard, so assholes ignored them and they’re going to be high and mighty. She may be a better person now but she will not put up with their nonsense. Not now. Not ever. Fight her. Luka is that sort of calm angry? He’s pissed that they brushed them off but since everything’s over there’s no point in holding onto his anger. There may or may not be a lot of meditating in the Bat Plane on the way there so he doesn’t use his lyre like a fucking BOOMERANG AGAIN and smack them all upside the head with it. Kagami doesn’t care? She’ll threaten them to the ends of the earth should they ever blow off such messages again, but she also just. Has very little emotional investment in them otherwise. 

Marinette, of course, is freaking out and pacing and trying to channel her inner ladybug and screaming internally bc why. WHY. She’s angry but she also understands, but she’s still so stressed. just. please. Tiny squeaks. 

And okay, they get there, and Batman comes in with ALL the Robins AND all these new kids? 

Flash: I’m sorry, you called an emergency meeting because of your extended family? 

Diana: HUSH

Because Diana, of course, recognizes them what and who they are. And is screaming bc holy shit? The Miraculous Holders are active again? Do they need their help? Where is Ladybug? Who is the Guardian? She just has. so. many. questions. 

And Captain Marvel/Shazam (seriously wtf IS HIS NAME) is fangirling HARD. Because that’s the Miraculous Holders! The ORIGINAL magic users! SEVERAL of his people (Hercules/etc) were Miraculous holders on top of Shazam and HOOOLLLY SHIT THEY’RE HERE! IN FRONT OF HIM! HOLY SHIT!!!

Superman, Green Arrow, and several others are sweating bc uh. UH. OH SHIT THOSE MESSAGES WERE REAL?

Yes. They were real. And now they have Batman in full dad mode demanding an explanation. Several people (Superman, other mutation/alien esc powers) claim they went to Paris to check on the damage but they couldn’t find any, OR the supposed supers of villain. 

Multimouse steps forward and starts explains how the Ladybug powers work and if they had bothered to contact them beyond telling them this wasn’t a line of communication to be used for PRANKS, they would know better. Diana chimes in with how she was helped created BY the Ladybug miraculous, etc, why did nobody ask her about this? Hell, why did nobody ask their resident magic user, Captain Marvel/Shazam??? 

Green Lantern: No offense, but doesn’t this all seem a little far fetched? 

Chloe: ... Bitch, you have an alien ring that gives you powers. Shut the fuck up. 

So there’s some arguing, back and forth, and Bruce looses his temper a little bit. Smacks his hand HARD on the table. “Enough. It is your job to investigate. It is not your job to leave the saving of an entire city to my fucking daughter, who was barely thirteen at the time this all started. As far as I’m concerned, this can never, ever, happen again. Wonder Woman, Captain, I assume you’d be willing to go through our notifications for any discrepancies?” 

And there’s a huge moment of silence. Everyone’s staring at him. Multimouse squeaks. Red Hood just. “Good going, Bats. Real smooth.” 

Chat: OH MY GOD YOUR DAD IS BATMAN? WHY DIDN’T YOU SAY ANYTHING, WHY- HOOOOO OH MY GOD YOUR DAD! BATMAN! IS DAD! YOUR DAD WHO IS ALSO-!

Viperion is making wheezing noises and covers Chat’s mouth and then there’s even more yelling and arguing and finger pointing, and Bruce wants a drink. And a nap. In whatever order he can get them. 

Basically he gets Wonder Woman and Captain Marvel/Shazam to agree to looking through messages but also gets the hell out of dodge. 

Next in, the reactions to all this tomfoolery. Also apparently superhero-ism is now genetic. 

Tag List! (Please remember to send me an ask if you want to be added!)

@mystery-5-5 @mariae2900 @vgirl-10123 @iglowinggemma28 @deredereart @synnesstra @dahjokester @destinationdesignation @lordsmeldingtonthethird @emjrabbitwolf @unabashedbookworm @saphiraazure2708 @rhub4rb @romanoff-queen @octoberscorn@littleblue5mcdork @foxyrelina @severelyenchantedwonderland @dast218 @ace-aro-agender​ @rogueptoridactyl​ @kitkatcatfangirl @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @poshplumcot  @iggy-of-fans @schrodingers25​ @two-faced-biatch​ @moonlitarchangels @vixen-uchiha @rikku052 @elspethshadow

People who should be tagged but may not? So sorry, I’m still going to add you until tumblr stops being a dick about this.

@tbehartoo  @wuvpancakes

[illyrianwingspans]

Do Not Go Gentle: Don’t Know Who I Am

Link to song 

Synopsis: An intro to Feyre’s life in the city of Prythian. Check it out on Ao3 here. 

Chapter One: Don’t Know Who I Am

One Year Later

I wiped my hands against my apron as the orders kept tumbling through. Though it was still early in the morning, the coffee shop was packed, and would stay packed until morning rush hour subsided and everyone got their caffeine fix. Then the lunch rush would come right back around and I’ll want to curl into a ball behind the counter and yell at people to leave. This is how most shifts went, usually. But that doesn’t mean I don’t love my job.

Nobody wants to make coffee for a living. It’s not some life-long dream that a kid would aspire to. At least, I haven’t encountered anybody in a kindergarten class vehemently wishing to master the art of barista-ism when they grow up. Because making coffee for people is a shitty, shitty job. In some ways, I’m just a glorified drug dealer dispensing everyone’s morning fix.

But it makes the time go by. And it keeps me near Tamlin.

Not long after we moved in together, I wanted to get a job. Though Tamlin had profusely refused anytime I mentioned working, I kept pushing because I couldn’t stay in the house all day. Though I may have given up on schooling, I refused to become a stay at home trophy wife making crockpot dinners and resorting to ‘wine nights with the girls’ as a weekly ritual (because really, that’s just a fancy term for alcoholism to drown out the mind numbing loneliness that would indefinitely plague me). I couldn’t. I needed to stay busy and I needed to stay working, not only to make money, but to feel like I’d earned my place here.

Defining ‘here’ was always the issue. I didn’t know what ‘here’ was.

Here was in our spacious three bedroom apartment in downtown Prythian. Here was designer clothes and weekend galas and two hundred dollar steak dinners. Here was dating Spring Corporation’s newly adorned CEO, Tamlin Ivy, and living the upper 10% life.

Here was…comfortable. Easy. But also completely, awfully wrong.

I’d made no effort to be here, and everyone knew it. Hell, I knew, and nearly saw it written in the mirror’s condensation every morning after my shower. What I’d done, what’d happened… that shouldn’t have lead me to where I was today. No, that should have lead me down, down to the place I really deserved.

Nonetheless, I liked it here. I loved Tamlin and I wanted a future with him, ‘here’ being good or not.

“That’ll be six fifty,” I said hours later as the pale skin man pulled out his credit card in the empty shop. He’d said his order so quietly I had him repeat it twice, and tried to keep my face as neutral as I could when he’d said only a few decibels louder, “Large caramel frappucino, extra pump of hazelnut and double whip.”

He even brought his own cup to hide the monstrosity of an order from his colleagues. I never minded the complicated orders, though. They spiced up the routine.

As the blender sounded off in the shop, and pale frappucino dude moved off to the pickup side of the counter, I turned towards the order station armed with my usual garb. “Good morning, what can I get you today?”

Only instead of blearily listening to another business exec’s daily dose, I paused where I stood as my eyes settled upon the customer behind the counter.

I blinked, as before me stood the most beautiful man I’d ever seen.

I hated saying that—mostly due to my current relationship status—but it was undeniable that the man before me was science’s only known example of perfect genetic combination. With his jet black hair, terra-cotta colouring, strong jawline and eyes so blue they hovered on—on amethyst—I was trying to hide the creeping blush crawling up my neck. Every ounce of him oozed grace and swagger and confidence, from his immaculately fitting suit to his subtle but enticing cologne, and though those things were incredibly sexy—they could also be vile.

And he must’ve seen it, too, because he shot me an easy smirk that’s definitely gotten him laid before. “Good morning, darling. How are you?”

The endearment, the smirk and the swagger, though, are what made me stop short. There were two kinds of beautiful people in this world: the ones who knew they were beautiful, and the ones who didn’t. This guy so obviously fell in the former category, and lucky for him, it was the type of person I tended to not get along with.

Instead of pushing it, though, I merely asked again, “What can I get you?”

Again, that feline smirk. He knew I was avoiding him. “You can get me an answer to my question.”

“I’m fine,” I ground out. “Would you like a coffee or would you like to piss me off?”

The words came out before I could stop them, and for a second I held my breath. I never, ever was rude to customers. Well, at least, I tried not to be, because there was one thing about the placement of Hum’s Coffee: it was on the ground floor of Spring Corp and nearby all of Prythian’s other biggest industries. This meant that the clientele was nearly exclusively office people, high ranking business execs and other prestigious titles—people I really shouldn’t piss off. But there was something about this guy that seemed to set me off today.

Thankfully, the only other person in the shop was frappucino dude, and he was far enough away that the blender faded out the conversation between us.

Except the man before me did not balk. He did not scowl. No, he wasn’t offended at all by my rather aggressive comment. In fact, he… he smiled. A fuller, genuine smile that showed off his white, straight teeth.

“Why not both?” Was what he said, and I fought against the grin that crept to my lips. Instead of answering him, I turned away to get frappucino dude’s frappucino, who was seeming more impatient by the second. Not forgetting his double whip, I handed over the man’s metal mug and he quickly screwed the top on, mumbled a thank you and sped away. Which left me turn begrudgingly to Mc Dreamy who waited patiently behind the counter, a look of feigned innocence on his face.

For the third, and what I decided was my last time, I asked, “What can I get you?”

“Large Americano with almond milk,” he said without thought, as though it rolled off his tongue every day. “And a smile, darling. Dazzling eyes and all.”

My fist clenched at my side while the other punched the order into the computer. Though I didn’t usually asked, my curiosity bit at me and urged the question from my lips. “Name?”

This guy must’ve been a Brad or Chad or Brent. He had that Frat-Boy-Daddy’s-Money look to him.

His perfectly tweezed brow arched in surprise. “Rhysand.”

My head angled to the side, mirroring his shock. Though I guess I shouldn’t really be, because Prythian was full of odd, unique names. Including my own.

“Four ten,” I growled, and he handed over a ten dollar bill. I quickly handed his change back to him and he merely put it in the tip bucket. Though I would’ve normally said thank you and showed my genuine appreciation—nobody tipped baristas anymore—I only turned and dispensed the espresso beans into the group head, thankful that my back was to him and he couldn’t read the seething hateful expression on my face.

Once I put the almond milk away and secured the lid, I grabbed the sharpie out of my apron and scribbled across the top. I usually didn’t take names because of this step, but I figured my shaky block letters didn’t look too embarrassing. And, with the fakest, widest smile I could muster, I slid the coffee across the counter to Rhysand, who merely grinned at me.

Until he looked down to his coffee and read the name I’d spelled out with a shaky hand: PRICK.

Rhysand’s eyes met mine and they blazed with a challenge, shock and… something else I couldn’t quite put my finger on. Lust? Attraction?

“Have a wonderful day, darling,” he said, and began to walk away, until he stop mid-stride and turned on his heel. “I didn’t quite catch your name, though. No tag.”

I crossed my arms. I didn’t wear my name tag because I didn’t want people knowing who I was or searching me up online when they had no business to, like Tamlin mentioned. And it served me well today, because I replied, “Be more polite, next time, and maybe I’ll tell you.”

“Next time? Is that a date?”

That blush came back once more. How could he? “What? No—”

“I just wanted coffee, but I’m open to anything you suggest, darling,” he smirked once more as he pushed the door open.

I glared at him and said, “In your dreams, prick.”

“Yes, you will be there tonight, darling.” With one last wink, he was gone.

I released a breath I didn’t know I was holding. Then, I laughed.

A chest-opening, heart-lightening laugh, something I hadn’t done in a long, long while. Thank God the shop was closed, because people definitely would’ve thought I was hysterical as I clutched the counter and laughed, and laughed, and laughed.

+

“Medium hot chocolate please, extra whip and chocolate sprinkles.”

“Sir, we’re closed—” I said over my shoulder, but turned when I saw the blonde hair and easy smile. My face, ready to be stern and scowling at whoever saw our closing hours and decided to walk in anyway, melted into a smile as Tamlin leaned onto the counter with a lazy grin on his face.

“Hi,” I said, and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “I’m almost done. Just have to lock up.”

“Take your time,” he said “I ordered us Chinese for supper.”

I resisted the urge to wrinkle my nose. American Chinese food was his favourite, and I tolerated it because I knew he liked it. I didn’t say anything though as I fished the key from the back room and locked the cash box and the front door, the bell sounding out its final ring as night swept across the city leaving streetlights and headlights to illuminate the dark. Tamlin’s elbow hooked into mine as we made our way down the sidewalk to the parking garage where his Beemer stood in the reserved parking spot.

The echo of the doors closing bounced off the wall of the parking garage and I settled back into the leather seat, sighing as the muscles in my neck finally unclenched after standing all day.

“Long day?” Tamlin murmured. He reached over the console and grabbed my hand. I hummed when his thumb brushed along the skin of my palm.

“Yeah,” I said, “asshole customers.” It was my usual excuse, but today it was pointed at one person in particular. Someone whose smirk was burned onto the inside of my eyelids by sheer arrogance.

“Mh,” he grunted in agreement. “Had a few assholes today as well. Seems as though I’ll be dealing with some miscreants for the next little while until the deal finally blows over.”

The thing about Tamlin’s business is that he kept things very vague. I knew he managed real estate and invested in other startup companies, but he always seemed to keep what he did private. Not that I wanted to hear about all the legal jargon and property wars, but it would’ve been nice to be involved in some of it. Only when I’d initially asked him about it, he’d just smiled and said, “Feyre, it bores me to tears most of the time. I don’t want to put you through that.”

True, I’d never had a knack for business, but it did interest me. I was in the arts program and wanted to get a minor in business, but my college days did not last long enough for me to actually learn anything of value.

Our routine was nearly clockwork. Park the car in the garage, go to the entrance to the private elevator and ride up to the fifty ninth floor where our penthouse waited. It was weird to call it ours, because I’d never paid a cent towards it, but it was our home. Either he’d cook or Alis made something before she left for the night or we’d both give up and just order in, which happened most nights. As it did tonight with the Uber-Eats person waiting at the entrance to the elevator. The smell of chicken fried rice wafted through the small space as we rode up floor by floor, curdling my stomach with each increment of elevation.

The elevator opened up to the apartment, and the grandeur of it never failed to make me feel like I’d gotten off on the wrong floor. With the floor to ceiling windows, ambient cool lights and modern decor, I felt like I was walking into an overpriced hotel. Like the furniture was for show, not for living.

Tamlin didn’t echo the feelings, even when I’d voice them to him. He only laughed at how ‘quirky’ I was. I reminded myself that he’d grown up in spaces like this his entire life. This wasn’t the South Side anymore where we’d shared a two bedroom with four people.

No, I’d escaped that life. I’d burned away the moment I left that hospital, and I’d never looked back.

We settled in front of the TV and I curled into Tamlin’s warmth, savouring the feel of his arm around me and the smell of his skin, like rosemary and fresh rain. The food tasted ashen in my mouth but I downed it with a glass of water. Tamlin looked into the container and back up at me. “You not hungry?”

I didn’t have the heart to tell him I hated Chinese food, so I opted for a half truth. “Not really. I’ll take it to work tomorrow.”

He nodded and his eyes waded back to the TV. “Don’t forget, we’ve got that gala tomorrow night.”

I sighed. “Do we really have to go?”

“Yes,” he chuckled into my hair and set his empty container onto the coffee table before us, “I’m kind of hosting it, so it would be appropriate if I made an appearance.”

“You mean Ianthe and Lucien are hosting it.” I deadpanned.

“Well, yes but—” Tamlin stumbled over his words until he saw the smirk on my face, then smiled. “Look, I don’t like these things either but they’re part of the job description. Plus, with everything happening with Night Industries, it’ll be a chance to get them off our scent.”

“You have a scent?” My brows furrowed. “Who are the Night Industries?”

He waved me off. “Doesn’t matter. But,” he hedged, his eyes dimming, “I talked to Ianthe. About what you’re wearing.”

The breath squeezed from my lungs. We didn’t talk about this. Not in the open; not in casual conversation.

“She made sure to get something longer this time. It should be—”

“As long as it covers them, I’m fine,” I muttered—more like bit out. I couldn’t meet his eyes. He shifted next to me, like the proximity between us was no longer a comfortable, familiar thing.

“I didn’t mean to upset you,” he murmured, and he pulled me closer to him. Despite the reluctance blossoming in me, I settled into him again and we found bliss in the mindless activity of staring at an information box.

After a while, though, my thoughts reverted back to the conversation and got caught on the words. Covers it, covers it, something longer to cover it—

Cover up the fact that I was crazy. Cover up the fact that I was off the deep end and everyone knew it, cover up the fact that I evidently did not belong amongst them, cover up the fact that I was a fraud and a liar and a murderer and that I didn’t deserve any of this, that I should be gone like the rest of them—

“You okay?” Tamlin asked from the kitchen. I hadn’t even realized he’d left the couch. I hadn’t noticed the absence of his warmth.

The entire space was open and I could see him standing behind the marble counter that could probably pay for many years’ worth of food for my family and I in the past.

I swallowed hard. “I’m gonna go take a shower.”

He didn’t answer as I pushed myself off the couch and padded away down to the narrow hall branching to the rooms and our offices. As I passed Tamlin’s office, I sighed, knowing he’d probably be holed in there for the rest of the night. Then I passed my office.

Office was a loose term. There was a desk somewhere in there beneath the newsprint and old bedsheets and paint cans. Art studio was the better fitting name, but seeing as though I no longer used it, maybe museum was the best way to describe it. Museum of the life I’d left behind.

I left my things in our bedroom and pulled my robe from the back of the door as I settled into the washroom and began to strip.

Looking at myself in the mirror was a draining thing.

Which was why I ignored it and slumped my clothes in the corner before stepping into the boiling stream of water. It burnt my skin red and splotchy but I didn’t care as I rubbed a day’s worth of sweat and grime off of me.

And when I got to my scar covered thighs, I paused. Then scrubbed them furiously anyways.

Like that could ever make it go away. Soap and exfoliation didn’t erase fuck up.

Nonetheless I scrubbed and scrubbed until my thighs were raw, and when the water turned cold I slumped onto the shower floor and closed my eyes as the stream fell onto my shoulders. It was the only time where I felt like I had some sort of hold on myself; when the world wasn’t just a blur, and the silence could reign.

“Feyre?” A voice called. “Is everything alright?”

My eyes opened and I sighed, staring at the water collecting on the tiles. The silence never reigned long before interruption. “Be out in a minute.” I called.

The water still dripped from my body when I stepped out into the dim hall and Tamlin stood there, arms crossed, eyes snaking up my body like he owned every inch of it. There was that familiar hunger in his gaze. The one I let devour me. The one I wore when I wanted to devour him.

His lips found my skin before either of us could say anything, and before I knew it the towel was off of me and we were stumbling towards the bed.

Chills trembled across my skin as his mouth came down on me, and I let out undignified sounds when he plunged his full length within me. Thrust by thrust, the aches went away, the pain fled, the silence was broken—the void took a step back and waited patiently as I got my fill. As my thoughts left my mind, and as my mind left this body, if only for a few passionate, glorious minutes of pleasure.

Tamlin rolled off of me after I’d screamed out my climax. I stared up at the ceiling, catching my breath, counting the flickers of light protruding in from the window’s diluted city glow. His weight shifted next to me, and I felt his lips press a kiss to my shoulder before he got off the bed, pulled his pants on and left the room, presumably to resume work in his study.

I didn’t even have the energy to get up and dry my hair. I only curled further into the sheets and made sure my alarm was on before letting my eyes fall closed, and sit back as the void, along with the thoughts, creeped back in.

+

“I’ve got to head straight to the gallery after work so I’ll get somebody to pick you up, alright?”

My fingers fumbled as I neared the ends of my hair I was trying to braid. I lost them and shook out the rest of my hair before starting again. “I can just catch a ride with someone. Or walk, it’s honestly not that far.”

Tamlin waved the thought away. “Don’t worry about it, besides I wouldn’t want you to scuff up your dress. I’ll text you the information.”

I licked my lips and nodded once. He pressed a kiss to my cheek and I gave him a grin before we parted ways at our usual location of divide on the ground level of Spring Corporation. He headed for the executive elevator while I headed to Hum’s. The world still slept at five thirty in the morning, but they’d be awake soon and demanding their morning prescription before I knew it.

The day passed in a blur of whirring machines, bills and change and grounds. Sweat beaded on my brow and my feet ached, but I carried on despite the exhaustion wearing on my bones. The fog in my mind seemed to thin out when the rush came in and consumed my focus and attention. But when the lulls came, and I was sweeping around the few tables, my mind wandered. Far. My hands were rope-burnt from trying to reel it back in.

But I did. Because tonight was important for Tamlin, and I couldn’t break down. There was no room for error when your life was centred on appearances. Everything was always good and perfect and lovely, even if it wasn’t.

A familiar face appeared at the door, and I smiled as Lucien’s golden red hair gleaned in the sunlight. He reciprocated the smile as he revealed what he’d been holding behind his back: a hanger supporting what must’ve been a lush gown concealed by black material.

“Is it hideous?” Were the first words out of my mouth. Lucien laughed as I took the hanger from his hands across the counter and set it in the back with the rest of my things. We had a running joke between us about the dresses Ianthe had put me in before that made me look no less than an exotic bird. Some were gorgeous, though, and I loved putting on the lavish materials—but most of the time, they felt like a waste.

“You look gorgeous in anything,” was all he replied with his usual dripping sarcasm. I rolled my eyes and began whipping up his usual: chai latte with oat milk and extra cinnamon on top.

“So what’s this one for tonight?” I wondered aloud. “New partner? Company morale? Charity dinner?”

At the mention of this, Lucien’s face turned neutral, his stance uneasy. One thing about Lucien that I picked up quickly was that you could always read how he felt by his stance. And now, I could tell he was lying, or hiding something, as he did often when discussing company business.

“Something like that,” was all he vaguely answered. In the past, I may have interrogated him until his ears bled, as he put it, but I let it go. Another charity ball wasn’t going to kill me. My feet and knees, maybe, from wearing the heels Tamlin loved, but not the entirety of me.

Over the whirring of the milk steamer, I called, “I don’t get why we have these anyways. He sneaks off half of the time to discuss with people and leaves me with the rest of the sharks.”

“Firstly, we’re under a lot of pressure right now with our competitors. People are trying to snoop where they don’t belong. And before you ask, you know I can’t tell you anything.” I sighed. The one golden rule Tamlin and I kept in our relationship: work stays at work. “And secondly, they are not sharks, Feyre.”

“They damn well might be,” I countered. I removed both tea bags from the piping water and poured the warm milk into it, the spicy scent caressing my senses. “They’re all numbers and business and exponential growth. What am I supposed to say to that?”

“Ianthe will be there,” Lucien supplied, licking his lips as I sprinkled copious amounts of cinnamon atop the foam of his drink. “And Bron and Hart.”

“They have eleven brain cells combined, if that.”

Lucien shot me a pointed look as I slid the drink across the counter to him. “That’s six more than you’ve got, Fey.”

I bit back a grin as I shoved his shoulder from across the counter. “Get out of here.”

“I’ll see you tonight. Clean yourself up a little.”

I didn’t have time to bite back a retort before the door closed behind him. Clean yourself up, I scoffed. I had my makeup kit in my bag. And I showered last night. I looked fine.

Probably not as dashing or pristine as Ianthe will, but my hair’s clean. And I smelled good. That right there was the height of my presentability.

The clock ticked closer and closer to five, the end of my shift. There usually wasn’t many people past five, seeing as though Hum’s wasn’t much of a student-oriented establishment. The last hour was always the longest, watching as every second brought me closer to the gala. My stomach felt like it was crawling. I hated these events.

The door opened along with the chiming bell, and my head snapped up from my phone to see an all-too familiar face already set in a smirk. Only this time, his suit was immaculate, even more so than yesterday’s, and his hair was parted differently, gelled back with little dangling strands around his face that brought out he midnight blue of his eyes.

I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to face this prick again, but damn was he so good to look at.

“I should put your picture up on the board with the rest of the banned customers.” I said as I turned to the espresso machine. I hated that I remembered his order. His eyes even showed surprised as I pulled out the almond milk and boiling water for his Americano.

“Wouldn’t you love to stare at me all day long?” He mused. “They better keep that board near the front so you don’t hide back there all day looking at me. Maybe tape it right here to the cash register.”

“Prick,” I murmured under my breath. I didn’t want to meet his eyes, and I didn’t want to seem like I had any interest in what he did whatsoever, but I couldn’t help myself. “Why the expensive suit today? Hot date?”

“All of my suits are expensive. And unless there was a date and time written on the bottom of my cup yesterday, I don’t recall you asking me out.”

My cheeks heated. “Oh, screw you.”

“You wish.”

My cheeks were probably the colour of traffic lights as I poured the almond milk into his coffee. “Four ten.” I ground out.

“Where’s that dazzling smile today, darling? Really, you must give me your manager’s contact information. I demand better service than this.”

“I’ll read it out to you: 514-829-suck my dick.”

Rhysand stood before me, a startled look on his face, like he couldn’t believe the words I’d just said.

I couldn’t believe the words I’d just said. This man was rich. Probably high, high up in the corporate rank. A phone call from him to anybody’s boss would definitely get them fired.

But he let out a startled laugh. A full, rich laugh that only made me swallow hard.

And bite back a smile.

“Four ten,” I said once again, and he only handed over yet another ten dollar bill. He didn’t even acknowledge my hand when I gave him his change and I begrudgingly put it in the jar.

But he didn’t leave. No, he stood there in front of me sipping his coffee like this was a normal, casual thing we did.

“You make a killer coffee, darling. Really.”

“It’s just an americano,” I scoffed. I turned and began wiping down the espresso machine and milk steamer. But really I was hiding the blush on my cheeks. God, look at me. Gawking over a stranger because they complemented me. An annoying stranger at that. One that knew exactly how to get under my skin.

“Don’t you have better things to do with your time than flirt with baristas?” I threw over my shoulder. He still wouldn’t leave, despite the silence between us.

“Yes of course I do, but flirting with you is by far the most enjoyable.”

My eyes narrowed. “You don’t even know my name.”

“You could easily fix that by just telling me.”

“Not going to happen.”

“Darling, I just don’t think it’s fair. You know my name. All the mystery is demystified. You’ve got the upper hand. Help me out a bit, here.” He shot me a pout and those brooding eyes, but I couldn’t be bothered. Instead, I pointed to the clock.

“We’re officially closed, and I don’t have to put up with you anymore.”

He only smirked and began walking away from the counter with that same graceful swagger. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning bright and early, darling.”

“There’ll be a restraining order by then!” I called back.

The door swung shut with the chiming of the bell, and I sighed.

I told myself the smile on my face wasn’t because of him. But I was never really a good liar.

+

The gown wasn’t hideous. Hideous was too strong a word.

I was just grateful, though, that my scars stayed out of view. Last time, things got…ugly.

Nonetheless, it sure as hell wasn’t my style. I sighed as I walked up the avenue, chiffon balled tightly in my fists, and tried to calm my nerves as I saw the pillars to the Prythian art gallery crawl into view. The lights they’d set up made the entire white-marble building seem like a dream. The gala tonight was for company morale, a sort of way for all of them to clap themselves on the back for the hard work they’d done. I’d lost count of how many I’d attended since I’d known Tamlin.

Usually I could nose my way out of them. When I was in school, before the accident, it was easier to use that out and have a night to myself in the apartment. Now that I was only working at Hum’s, I didn’t have any excuse anymore.

Every step ached in the heels. This was going to be a long night.

The bouncers didn’t even need to ask for name as I walked in the main front doors. The lobby was teeming with people I didn’t know, most likely all of them employees or people from business circles. Faces swam in and out of view, and I felt like I’d seen many of them before, but without Tamlin at my side I had no reason or courage to approach them.

He could’ve been anywhere. I had no idea where to even start looking.

The dinner was at seven, so I supposed I had a few hours to kill. I glanced over my shoulder for a moment then weaved my way to the back of the room where the museum branched off into different wings. Tamlin did pick the best venues, I had to concede. Always something for me to distract myself with.

This month’s exhibition was Paris’s post-impressionism era in the 1900s. Arguably my favourite period in art, the museum was lucky enough to snag some lesser-known Van Gogh and Monet. There was one piece, an early morning sunrise flecked with pinks and oranges that caught my eye. I stood before it, staring at the brushstrokes and blending of colours and hues, amazed. My fingers itched. I wanted to memorize the colours to memory in hopes that I could ever possibly recreate such a piece.

Before I realized it, I looked down at my fingertips and took a step back from the piece. I wanted to paint. It was a sensation I hadn’t felt in so long.

It’d been months since I’d painted. Tamlin wanted me to keep painting, said it would be good for me, but that studio haunted me. I couldn’t go back. There was nothing left for me in there.

One thought of trying to mix the red and white had me exiting the the showroom. Tears burned behind my eyes, and the last thing I needed right now was to make a scene at Tamlin’s party.

After a while of meandering, drinking alone and making several trips to the washroom to check my half-assed hair and makeup, Tam’s blonde hair came into view and it was seven o’clock.

His arm slid around me, too tight, and the easy grin on his face didn’t reach his eyes. “Where’ve you been? You’re late.”

“I’m late? Where have you been?” I retorted lowly. “I’ve been here looking for you for hours.”

“Have you been talking to people?”

I remained silent. The round tables were amply decorated with flush, exotic flowers that probably cost my yearly salary. Everything was gold-trimmed, pastel and proper, the usual colours of Tamlin’s personal assistant’s palette.

Tamlin ground out, “You can at least try, Feyre. For me.”

“I have been for the past year.” I snapped.

It was all we had time to say to each other before somebody came to shake Tamlin’s hand and bellow some inside stock-trading joke I didn’t understand before bursting into laughter. They followed us until we reached our table, right near the front of the room before the stage. Lucien and Ianthe were already seated, the former looking pale and tense.

He shook his head when I shot him a questioning look. When it came to Ianthe, Lucien was always tense.

The night passed by dreadfully. Making conversation was painful. Ianthe and Tamlin had plenty to talk about, though, with the drama in their elite circles that I didn’t care enough to be a part of. I’m sure most of the people here tonight were kind and interesting and wonderful people, but there was still that innate part of me that clung to the belief that most businesspeople were sucked dry of their souls.

I looked to my boyfriend. Most being the operative term. Not all.

Tamlin, though, began to grow tense. His head kept bouncing to the back of the room to a set of doors. His leg was bouncing beside me. It was so bad I had to put my hand on his thigh to calm him down. He put his hand on top of mine and shot me a grateful look, and I kissed him on the cheek. I knew he hated these things too.

Lucien looked to Tamlin. “Have your friends showed up yet?”

Tamlin shook his head. “Any minute.”

“What friends?” I wondered. I knew most of Tamlin’s friends and business partners. They were all neatly classified under the rich white guy identification part of my memory.

He shook his head, though. “You haven’t met them. You don’t want to meet them. They’re not necessarily good friends.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Are you in trouble? Is something wrong?” Nervousness bloomed in my stomach. We couldn’t repeat last time. We really, really couldn’t repeat everything that happened last time.

“It’s okay, sweetheart,” he murmured in my ear. I sighed but leaned into his warmth anyways. Then suddenly he was up, and I scrambled to stay seated without falling out of my chair from the abrupt loss of contact.

“I’ll be right back.” He declared before storming off to the set of doors off to the east wing of the gallery. There were three sets of feet. My stomach grumbled. Everything about this was off.

I looked down to my plate and couldn’t finish it. Too rich. Too buttery. Everything, it was all closing in: the people, the finery, the utter lack decency…it was like being completely and truly alone in a room full of people. At a table filled with friends.

Lucien laid a hand on my shoulder. “Fey? Are you okay?”

“I need some air,” I muttered, before stalking out to the gallery’s main lobby. I stared at the map before throwing myself into the twisting hallways, and cursing myself for wearing high heels as I climbed stair after stair. But finally, I found myself on the gallery’s rooftop, looking out over the water of the Sidra and wishing I was anywhere but here.

Only I wasn’t alone.

I nearly flinched when I saw who it was leaning across the building’s cement lipped edge. The city lights made his face seem older. Deep-set. Like life had dealt him yet another shit hand and he was wondering whether to go all in or just fold.

I mean, I was near the point of folding. I really, really was.

Especially since I thought I was going to finally get some damned peace, yet now I had to face this prick. For the second time today.

“Stalking me, darling?”

“Could say the same for you, creep,” I called across the landing. He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. Apparently in the mere hours we’d been apart, life had taken a wrong turn for him. Probably didn’t happen too often judging by the look on his face.

“All dressed up. Tell me, what are you doing here darling? You look like a minnow in a sea of sharks.”

I scoffed. “What are you doing here?”

“Are you going to keep answering my questions with questions?”

“Are you going to keep asking me questions I don’t want to answer?”

Rhysand’s gaze held mine. We were only feet apart, but it was like a current ran between us. My mouth, puckered in a frown, only ignited the ever-lasting amusement in his eyes. That same electric, tension-filled feeling I felt in the coffee shop, like I didn’t know whether to throttle him or run my hands across his chest.

I blinked. I couldn’t believe I’d just thought of that. I brushed it away, telling myself just because I wasn’t ordering didn’t mean I couldn’t look at the menu.

Admitting defeat, my stare broke from his. Instead, I took position leaned against the cement railing, and marvelled at the city, the sea of lights and beauty before us.

Before I knew it, Rhysand was beside me, the arm of his expensive suit nearly brushing mine. The warmth nearly leeched from his toned body. I wanted to press myself into him as the breeze flew over us, leaving goosebumps in its wake.

“I’m not gonna lie, darling, I’ve had a shit day.”

“I didn’t ask.”

“I know. But I’m going to talk anyway. Because I need someone completely objective to discuss with.”

The silence stretched on with my muteness. Half of me wanted to listen, half of me wanted to walk away before I was in too far over my head.

“You know when everything feels like it’s stacked up against you? Like nothing more could possibly go wrong, and then you turn around and it does?” He sighed. “I blink and days go by. I have no idea how I get here; half of the time I have no idea how I even get out of bed. It’s like I’ve made my way here to the top, I’ve got everything I could imagine.” The rush of the city cars filled in the quiet between us as he paused for a moment. “But I’m still fucking empty inside.”

I told myself it was the breeze that sent the shiver down my spine. Not the aching feeling I had as he said those words, as he described everything I’d been feeling over the past year of my life.

Then Rhysand chuckled. “By the Cauldron. I’m sorry. You must think I’m crazy.” His breath fogged as he laughed again. “Guess I’ve got to find myself a new coffee shop.”

“No,” I replied instantly. His eyes flicked to mine, the surprise only presenting itself with the gentle up-flick of his eyebrows. “No. I know how you feel. I get it.” I cleared my throat. “It’s either completely normal to feel this way, or we’re both anomalies.”

“Honestly, I hope it’s the latter. I promised myself I wouldn’t end up like those people milling around downstairs. But here I am, fraternizing among them like we’re old friends.”

I shrugged. “Whatever keeps the roof over your head and food on the table.” I knew too many days with food on the table to deny that the money we had was extremely comforting.

He grinned, but it was sad. Morose. “That’s one way to put it.”

More silence ensued, but it wasn’t awkward. It was…peaceful. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d been out on Tamlin and I’s balcony at home just to watch the world spin and move and whirl around me. Most definitely because I couldn’t trust myself on a balcony anymore. My mind was a thing of its own; moving in toxic ways the rest of me balked at.

“How long have you been a barista?” Rhysand wondered softly.

“A year,” I supplied, “can’t go back to sugary drinks now, though. Not after all the shit I see going into them.”

He chuckled, and I asked, “How long have you been empty on the inside?”

This time, the smile was full and bright, and it did reach his eyes. Rhysand said, “My entire life, darling. My entire damned life.”

“Well—”

The sound of metal screeching interrupted me, and a breathless voice called, “Feyre?”

I whipped around to see Lucien there, hand on his knee hunched over, trying to catch his breath. My heels echoed across the rooftop as I jogged towards him without toppling over. “What is it? What’s wrong?”

“What are you doing here?” He sneered. “Why are you speaking with him?”

I wrinkled my nose and turned back to Rhysand. “You know him?”

“Doesn’t matter,” Lucien said, but threw a look Rhysand’s way nonetheless. A look about as unfriendly as they go. “We need you downstairs, Fey. Let’s go.” And with that Lucien began pounding down the stairs.

But I looked back at Rhysand. He only waved lazily my way, and called, “Until next time, Feyre darling.”

I bit back my smile as I in turn began thundering down the stairs. Prick.

+

It appeared as though the banquet went smoothly considering the near empty glasses—being quickly refilled—and the laughter-filled, red-tinted faces that beamed as Tamlin took the stage. Under the lights, his golden hair looked smooth and gleaming where it fell naturally down to his ears, and his tuxedo highlighted his muscled body in all the perfect places. His face was flushed as well, and I knew we’d have to call an Uber tonight by the looks of it. I’d never learned how to drive—never needed to with public transportation and Tamlin—which meant me driving home was out of the question. Better to put Tamlin at the wheel despite the state he was in than to even attempt letting me near the driver’s seat.

“As you all know, tonight is a celebration of the success of this company, of which you’ve all contributed immensely to, thanks to your handwork and dedication to our mission.” Applause erupted, and Tamlin’s smile brought my own grin to my face. To see the pride in his face…I knew despite all the complaints and exhaustion, he still liked what he did.

“Spring Corporations has never seen better days, and for that, you all have my utmost gratitude and admiration.” More applause, to which Tamlin patiently waited to pass before adding, “but tonight is more than just our corporate success.”

My eyebrows raised in surprise. What else could Tamlin have to announce?

“Personally, things have been hectic. It’s been a good, prosperous year, but that doesn’t come without life’s ups and downs.” His eyes wandered through the crowd, until they finally befell me, and his eyes sparkled. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen my boyfriend so content. “Life has thrown a lot of ups and downs at me, and I wouldn’t have been able to handle them without my girlfriend.”

My heart was pounding in my chest. Oh Gods. I had no idea where he was going with this.

Scratch that, I knew exactly where he was going with this, and it made me nearly sick to my stomach.

“Feyre Archeron,” he said, “you are the true one and only love of my life. There’s nobody, no one else on this earth that brings me joy and understands me like you do.”

Tamlin took the microphone, and murmurs began spreading across the crowd as he wandered down the steps right before our table, right before me.

I wasn’t breathing.

Tamlin got down on one knee, and joyful gasps echoed through the room. With one hand, he fished a dark velvet box from his inner suit pocket, and cracked it open to present the largest emerald stone I’d ever seen, set onto a golden band. So typically Tamlin that I grinned.

“Feyre,” he murmured into the mic, his golden eyes brimming with silver as we stared at each other, “will you marry me?”

Fear paralyzed my body, yet I still choked out, “Yes. Yes, a thousand times yes.”

The microphone screeched but I didn’t care as I leaned down and pressed my mouth to his, sealing our lifetime together, with a little voice in my head echoing, There’s no going back now.

[aimhleas]

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Feel free to add onto the lists! Mark with an “ x ” !

I allow my partners and future roleplay partners to do:

[ X ] Like RP’s       [ X ] Reblog RP’s [ X ] Send questions for the muse or mun      [ X ] Send headcanons, drabbles, etc [ X ] Reblog art the mun has made     [ x ] Reblog drabbles and writing the mun has made ( Mutuals only. Please do not reblog if the content does not involve your muse. ) [ X ] Talk to the mun       [ ] Reblog headcanons  [ X ]  Ask the mun or muse for advice     [ X ]  Reblogging headcanons and adding to them  (if discussed) [ X ]  Ask mun for a starter        [ X ] Make a starter or greeter post [ X ] Message mun        [ X ] Ask for roleplaying advice [ X ] Plotting with mun      [ X ] Asking mun for contact information [ X ] Open for partners to talk to me if they are uncomfortable with anything I have done [  ] Open for constructive criticism   [ X ] Allow partners to tell me if I have done something wrong

Things I do not allow: [  ] Like RP’s     [  ] Reblog RP’s [  ] Send questions for the muse or mun      [  ] Send headcanons, drabbles, etc [  ] Reblog art the mun has made      [  ] Reblog drabbles and writing the mun has made [  ] Talk to the mun       [  ] Reblog headcanons   [  ]  Ask the mun or muse for advice     [  ]  Reblogging headcanons and adding to them [  ]  Ask mun for a starter    [  ] Make a starter or greeter post [  ] Message mun       [  ] Ask for roleplaying advice [  ] Plotting with mun       [  ] Asking mun for contact information ( Skype, Kik, ISM, ect) [  ] Open for partners to talk to me if they are uncomfortable with anything I have done [ ] Open for constructive criticism  [  ] For partners to tell me if I have done something wrong

Things that I am willing to roleplay:

[ X ] Blood     [ X ] Cannibalism     [ X ] Domestic Violence        [ X ] Gore [  ] Incest     [ X ] Mental Issues      [ X ] Murder       [ X ]  Rape ( Only if discussed and plotted) [ X ] Suicide    [  X ]  Torture      [ X ] Violence in General       [ X  ]  War [ X ] Sex      [ X ] Romance      [ X ] Angst        [ X ] Comedy    [ X ] Drugs       [ X ] Rivalry    [ X ] Unrequited love     [ X ] Fluff

Things that I am not willing to roleplay: [  ] Blood     [  ] Cannibalism     [  ] Domestic Violence        [  ] Gore [ X ] Incest  [  ] Mental Issues      [  ] Murder        [  ]  Rape [  ] Suicide    [   ]  Torture      [  ] Violence in General       [   ]  War [  ] Sex      [  ] Romance      [  ] Angst        [  ] Comedy    [  ] Drugs   [  ] Rivalry     [  ] Unrequited love      [  ] Fluff Unspoken rules on this blog:

[  ] Multiship        [  ] Semi-Multiship       [  ] Selective-Muliship [ X ] Single-ship      [  ] Semi-single-ship       [ X ] Selective single-ship      [  ] Non-ship [ X ] Allow reblog karma      [  ] Don’t allow reblog karma   [  ] Allow forced relationships     [ X ] Allow long development   [ X ] Allow quick relationship establishments / Insta-ship  (If discussed) [  ] Don’t allow quick relationship establishments     [  ] Will ship with anybody [  ] Only in for the ships (As in will drop all other RPs just for ship opportunities) [  ] Warp my muses’ canon personalty for ships   [  ] Dislike those who do not ship with me       [ X ] Flexible with replies [ X ] Allow our muses to be friends       [ X ] Do not mind our muses to be rivals [  ] Will only be a shipping blog       [  ] Will ignore roleplayers who are non-ship [  ] Will ignore roleplayers who are single-ship      [  ] Will ignore roleplayers who are multi-ship [ X ] Allow our muses to be rivals         [  ] I play very out of character [  ] I play close to canon as possible         [  ] I strictly play based off of canon [ X ] Semi-personal blog       [  ] Strictly a roleplaying blog     [ X ] tag ooc posts and non-rp related posts       [ X ] Play as an original Character [  ] Allow people to force fandom popular options on my muse   [ X ] Do not allow people to force fandom popular opinions on my muse [ X ] Very slow with replies     [  ] Very quick with replies    [  ]  Am bothered with slow repliers [ X ] Am not bothered with speed of partner’s replies    [ X ] I’m a laid back roleplayer [ X ] am not bothered when my partner goes on hiatus [  ] Am bothered when my partner goes on hiatus       [ X ] Am a Selective RP blog [ X ] Am an open RP blog         [  ] Am a private RP blog    [  ] Am an Indie RP blog   [  ] Am an RP blog within a group    [  ] Prefer memes over plots    [ X ] Prefer plots over memes [  ] Am an self-insert RP blog      [  ] Am a semi-self insert RP blog   [ X ] Am open to people sending me in character asks even if we haven’t interacted before [ X ] Is anon-friendly      [ X ]  Is open to starters aimed at them     [ X ]  Is willing to respond to open starters      [ X ]  Is open to questions about headcanons [  ] Is bothered by partners dropping threads   [ X ] Is not bothered by partners dropping threads    [ X ] Encourage people to actually read my rules page before interacting

Note from mun:

( I am incredibly slow with replies and will at times prioritize certain threads / characters over others. Please do not take this personally. I’m willing to talk OOC, however I find it hard to befriend others. )

[ravenclawsjourney]

the Draco x Harry AU we all need

pleasant visit

after hogwarts they lost sight, both have enjoyed the beautiful night together, but both also think it just isn’t meant to be. harry works at hogwarts as professor in dark arts and draco becomes a journalist, after his hard work in a small book shop in London. he wants to have a normal life, a life without magic where he can be judged by his cover, or recognized for “the-son-of-a-death eater”. nobody knows he really hadn’t had a choice in his quest for The Dark Lord, better away then. but after a while the past always catches up, as it always does. his face wasn’t unknown by the daily paper, and even though he tried his best, the gossip spread like the flu. and before he could try to undue the damage, he got a particular job. to go to hogwarts and gain information about the progress of wizards for the government. because he worked unpredictable hard and it could be his job on the line, he accepted to return to his youth. the youth that spit him out. the youth that he wouldn’t want to remember. the youth that connected him to Harry, the one man he dared to touch.

the trip with the Hogwarts Express presued smoothly. he chatted a little with the train operator, wrote some things down, but he couldn’t push away the shaking in his hands and the compulsion to glance at the door every minute to check for any students who might recognize him, but it stayed quiet. also, the heavy air of the machine made him think of his own trips here. the secret glancing at the blessed man, only a boy, then. the childish bullying, and turning around afterwards to spot him already looking. it wasn’t hunger between them, it never was. pure, it was, but they both didn’t dare to tag it. yes, some people might’ve called it love, but it never left their lips. frightened. frightened of what his family might think, what his mates would think, what he would think.

the Hogwarts Express arrived at the exact time, as always, and the children tall and short cheered out, ready for this school year. Draco never did such thing, he was spelled. spelled in the doomed world of Lord Voldemort, either called Tom Riddle. Voldemort always had a hand around his wrist, always pulling him in the dark, to later spit out, leaving him for nothing more than dust. luckily for Draco, a certain spark kept him away from the dark pit Voldemort called his heart. he used to believe the spark was himself, his better half, but it never really was. only Harry could’ve been that spark, and he prayed for so long for it to come back.

where the celebrated students go right, Draco turns otherwise, as he knows the way so well. the castle fooled him when he was younger, a student himself, with its changing stairs and misleading riddles, but not now. as the stairs change he gets reminded by the fact that the stairs represented his life, as it took many turns. harry wasn’t the first turn, not by far, but it made question every day since he felt his heart glow as the young Potter walked by. he never considered himself gay, but heterosexual wasn’t an option either. yes, he was gay, as hard as that felt on his chest. in 2018 it’s supposed to feel normal, feel good to be who you are, but Draco had been hiding for too long to unfold his true self. oh god, how bad he wanted to join those happy, living people dancing down the street with their rainbow flags and all kinds of statements, but he couldn’t let himself. it would feel like a sin.

the eagle connected to, if he was correct, Mrs McGonagall’s office opened up and he stepped into the still unsettled place. it’s been seven years since Dumbledore died, on his hands mostly, and the room was still full of closed boxes and unopened memories. the fenix still sat on his stick and the books still opened. like he left it a minute ago. Draco’s palm opened and closed roughly, twitching with sweat. his black suit creeped up and he loosened his tie, she wouldn’t mind.

she look formidable herself, not green this time, scarlet red with black accents. her wrinkles had deepened, grove into her skin and her veins stood up like straws, but her posture was the same. hands folded on her belly, pointy hat on her head and a serious look, even though she could do nothing better than smirk a bit at his sight. he pressed down the urge to hug her, “long time, no see”, and walked up to her and shove her his hand. she grabbed it gracefully, without breaking the gaze, and her lips pressed into a smile.

‘Draco, you look pleasant.” she told and she nodded at his closed fists. he immediately unfolded and smiled awkwardly.

‘it’s a surprise to be back.’ his answer was and she wrapped her second hand around his.

‘it’s a pleasure to have you back here, we’ve missed you.’

Draco smirked at the thought, nobody had missed him. he burdened all the teachers and caused trouble at school with his upened chin. he’s glad that attitude flew away when he became vulnerable, soft. obviously, the humans here did not know of any of this change. at the time he didn’t see it as a positive turn, turning soft was not what his dad has taught him, in difference, he hardened him every day.

‘what’s that?’ his old professor spotted and she raised her almost invisible eyebrows.

‘not to doubt you, but i’m not sure if anybody missed me here.’ Draco blushed, trying to sound as comfortable as he could.

‘he did.’

Draco first tried to confess himself “he” was not he, THE he, just a “he”. nobody special, maybe a professor or an old friend, reminding himself he didn’t have any long lasting friends here. or anywhere in that matter. but he didn’t work here, Potter probably did some highly interesting work. Draco doubted that Harry would go back to this place, ever, not after everything he went through. he had told Draco all about it, after Voldemort had been killed, in the library at night. they’d spread their thoughts and demons in the air and dug through them together. it could’ve lasted millennia for Draco’s matter, but his real friends Hermoine Granger and Ron Weasley had other plans.

‘i’m sorry, who’s he?’ Draco asked, perplex. McGonagall could only create a smile and tuck her grey, thin hair behind her ear.

‘Mr Potter’s in the great hall right now, you should go interview him, mr Malfoy.’

oh, many times Draco had wished to hear something from Harry, an owl or a call, it didn’t matter, just something. how many time Draco had looked back, how many times Draco “by accident” took a train to London, hoping to run into him. how many times Draco laid on his bedroom floor, wondering what would happen if Harry was here. how many times Draco had hungried to hold him. some moments he got sick in his stomach from such thoughts and hopes, other he prayed for them to come true with all his heart. and now, it came true. it has been seven years till they last saw each other and they never had a glance of one another after that, until now. he had to go. he had to.

‘go, Draco. go.’ McGonagall pushed and as rude as it must’ve been, he turned around and ran out of the room of a ghost.

the whole castle eyed silent, not a feather would go unheard. the only sound to drop, besides Draco’s rudely fast steps, tipped over the stairs, muted by hair. the known cat of this castle should be dead by now, so probably a animal of a student lost in the mazes. before Draco could take a deep breath and onverthink the situation, what to say, what to think, what to do, he opened the door to the great hall and with that about two-thousand eyes. two-thousand and one. even though he must’ve been fifty meters away, his eyes were impossible to miss. beautiful green, like a serpent. his hair still brown locks, lashing in the light of candles. he was taller, not much, maybe one inch taller than Draco now. he wore the same blouse as seven years ago, or Draco just imagined him that way. slowly, but certain, Draco nervoulsy walked through the hall of children, all’s eyes burning on him. He heard Harry catch his breath sharply, almost cutting. 

oh, please, tell me you thought about me too, tell me you didn’t forget about me, about what we had, Draco thought, as Harry shifts in his seat to stand up. Draco is risking it all, no doubt people recognize him, no doubt people judge him, no doubt the news papers will tell a twisted story. and still, here he is. 

like calming a wild animal, Harry stood up, still gazing at his old “friend”. Next to him Hagrid jumps in the air too, messy, grey beard holding its way. Draco feared he’d tell Hagrid to take him away, to never see again, but instead Harry walked around the long table with rich and tasty food, past the sorting hat, who looked at him coldly and stepped of the standard. There they were, eye to eye, like two ghosts. two man with a broken past and an unsure future, now more than ever. Harry must decide what he’d do now, Draco locked in his position. the air in the room muted most noise, accept some gossiping, obviously about their past. as much as they tried, some things can’t be hidden, not completely. as far as Draco knows, Harry hadn’t been active in his gay-ism as well, but how would he know? maybe the whole school knows and Draco imagined the very tension, or it was a secret he kept hidden at more costs. Harry mouth opened mechanic and a second before he spoke,  he puffed out a short breath. 

‘Draco.’ he breathed, echoeing through the room. his voice trembled a little, but it was the same voice Draco mused about many times. ‘What- what are you doing here?’

even though this wasn’t exactly how Draco pictured it, he took a deep internal breath and replied, almost self-assured:

‘Can i talk to you in private, please?’ 

Harry eyes widened by the invitation, but not fear or anger, pure suprise. he hesitated with his words, then swallowed them and glued his eyes on Draco. for a long moment, all Draco wanted to do was turn around and forget this ever happened. interview a few professors, make sure to avoid the green eyes, go back with information and go on with his life, his hidden, painful, normal life. yes, nothing was to lose here. Draco was about to embarass his ass when Harry jumped in. 

‘Follow me, please.’ 

the invitation back sounded formal, like he didn’t recognize Draco or he planned to set the tone, to keep it on professional level. Draco realised he hadn’t thought over what he’d do when Harry didn’t feel the same anymore, if it was just a “one night-stand” as the muggles call it. for Draco it sure wasn’t. even though he didn’t agree with the tone, he obeyed when Harry guided him to the left, leaving the great hall in silence. the room was about the size of a common room and not close as high, like a hobbit house. seizes books piled on one another in different ways, messy as possible. it’s humid and warm, clumsy with dust. Draco had never been to this room, he didn’t even know it existed. 

Harry closed the door behind him and Draco synchronic jumped around, facing the man he chased in his dreams. the formal edge of Harry’s proposal gets cut off with a single glance at his face. the brown hair is messy, like Draco remembered. his eyes don’t have a stern look at all, his eyes gleam of hope. his eyes brows curled up lazy on the inside, wrinkling his forehead and his lips smooth into a bright laugh. Draco feels his body change into the mood: eyes wide with excitement, teeth showing, hotness creeping up his spine. 

‘Draco, i never expected you here!’ Harry said, his voice rich of enthusiasm. 

‘I came for an interview with some professors, but i didn’t know you worked here.’ Draco replied, body showing his emotion better than his words ever could. the step forward and immediately backwards doesn’t go unnoticed and Harry’s smile fades when the silence grows. 

‘I’m sorry, i’m not sure if i may do that or not.’ Draco stammered, frustrated by his terrible performance. 

‘Why wouldn’t you?’ Harry asked and something in his voice sets of an alarm in Draco. ‘I mean, we have a past, a huge one actually. Draco, i’m sorry i never called, or texted, or send an owl. i guess i was scared of the consequences.’ 

‘We haven’t talked in a very long time, Harry. things have changed, some radically, but that doens’t change why i stand here right now.’ 

Harry was now the one to step forward, nearing the space between them. Draco considered grabbing him by the waist and kiss him, but the seven years of distance had its consequences. Harry is grown up, not out of his feelings for the old Draco, but what about the new one? the one who only exists for seven years? what if Harry morphed into somebody else too? what if they were correct so long ago. it doesn’t seem like it right now, but nothing is perfect. it’s about what you pick to be a problem. 

‘things have changed, that for sure. we’re both different persons, but i’d like to get to know this Draco.’ 

all the nerves he had before, all the insecurities he had before splashed of him like a waterfall and the feeling he had been missing for some time, the feeling that his life was really about to begin, curved around him. this is it. the past that always catches up, and from now on it was the future. for a very long time.

‘I’d love that.’ he smiled and stepped closer, pressuring both their chests. if he’d want to, no, if he could, he’d lean forward and lock lips with his, maybe, former lover. but he didn’t. instead, he wrapped his hands around Harry, not able to resist. luckily, Harry already hungried the same and curled himself around Draco. Harry’s heart bounded fast, and sweat dripped of his neck. how long did he wait for this moment? Harry planted a long kiss on Draco’s forehead  and Draco dreamed over the future like it was destined.

Oh my lord, thank you! thank you for reading this !!<3 i hope i did not dissapoint though :) their story is (obviously) not over, but i’m not sure if i’m going to do a serie or not, depends. anyways, can you, please, leave a comment 'bout your thoughts, good things about it, bad things, the loveliest is both <333 again, thank you and i love you and you can beat the world and believe everything those cringe quotes say. love ya. 

[noctispostmortem-blog]

Roleplayers, repost this and fill out what you would allow in your blog!

Feel free to add onto the lists! Mark with an “ x ” !

I allow my partners and future roleplay partners to do:

[ x  ] Like RP’s       [  ] Reblog RP’s [ x  ] Send questions for the muse or mun      [ x  ] Send headcanons, drabbles, etc [ x  ] Reblog art the mun has made      [  ] Reblog drabbles and writing the mun has made [ x  ] Talk to the mun       [  ] Reblog headcanons   [ x  ]  Ask the mun or muse for advice     [  ]  Reblogging headcanons and adding to them [ x  ]  Ask mun for a starter        [ x  ] Make a starter or greeter post [ x  ] Message mun         [ x  ] Ask for roleplaying advice [ x  ] Plotting with mun      [ x  ] Asking mun for contact information ( Skype, Kik, ISM, ect) [ x  ] Open for partners to talk to me if they are uncomfortable with anything I have done [ x  ] Open for constructive criticism   [ x  ] Allow partners to tell me if I have done something wrong

Things I do not allow: (Unless they directly involve you)   [  ] Like RP’s     [ x  ] Reblog RP’s [  ] Send questions for the muse or mun      [  ] Send headcanons, drabbles, etc [  ] Reblog art the mun has made      [ x  ] Reblog drabbles and writing the mun has made [  ] Talk to the mun       [ x  ] Reblog headcanons   [  ]  Ask the mun or muse for advice     [ x  ]  Reblogging headcanons and adding to them [  ]  Ask mun for a starter    [  ] Make a starter or greeter post [  ] Message mun       [  ] Ask for roleplaying advice [  ] Plotting with mun       [  ] Asking mun for contact information ( Skype, Kik, ISM, ect) [  ] Open for partners to talk to me if they are uncomfortable with anything I have done [  ] Open for constructive criticism   [  ] For partners to tell me if I have done something wrong

Things that I am willing to roleplay: (Some muses may have things in their past that I won’t actually write out in a thread)

[ x  ] Blood     [   ] Cannibalism     [ x  ] Domestic Violence        [ x  ] Gore [  ] Incest      [ x  ] Mental Issues      [ x  ] Murder        [  ]  Rape [ x  ] Suicide    [ x   ]  Torture      [ x  ] Violence in General       [ x   ]  War [ x  ] Sex      [ x  ] Romance      [ x  ] Angst        [ x  ] Comedy    [ x  ] Drugs       [ x  ] Rivalry    [ x  ] Unrequited love     [ x  ] Fluff    

Things that I am not willing to roleplay: [  ] Blood     [ x  ] Cannibalism     [  ] Domestic Violence        [  ] Gore [ x  ] Incest      [  ] Mental Issues      [  ] Murder        [ x  ]  Rape [  ] Suicide    [   ]  Torture      [  ] Violence in General       [   ]  War [  ] Sex      [  ] Romance      [  ] Angst        [  ] Comedy    [  ] Drugs   [  ] Rivalry     [  ] Unrequited love      [  ] Fluff Unspoken rules on this blog:

[   ] Multiship        [  ] Semi-Multiship       [  ] Selective-Muliship [ x  ] Single-ship       [  ] Semi-single-ship       [ x  ] Selective single-ship      [  ] Non-ship [  ] Allow reblog karma       [ x  ] Don’t allow reblog karma   [  ] Allow forced relationships      [ x  ] allow long development   [ x  ] Allow quick relationship establishments / Insta-ship  (Instantaneous ship, if there is chemistry for it) [  ] Don’t allow quick relationship establishments     [  ] Will ship with anybody [  ] Only in for the ships (As in will drop all other RPs just for ship opportunities) [  ] Warp my muses’ canon personalty for ships   [  ] Dislike those who do not ship with me        [ x  ] Flexible with replies [ x  ] Allow our muses to be friends       [ x  ] Do not mind our muses to be rivals [  ] Will only be a shipping blog       [  ] Will ignore roleplayers who are non-ship [  ] Will ignore roleplayers who are single-ship      [  ] Will ignore roleplayers who are multi-ship [ x  ] Allow our muses to be rivals         [  ] I play very out of character [   ] I play close to canon as possible         [  ] I strictly play based off of canon [  ] Semi-personal blog       [ x  ] Strictly a roleplaying blog     [ x  ] tag ooc posts and non-rp related posts       [ x  ] Play as an original Character [  ] Allow people to force fandom popular options on my muse   [ x  ] Do not allow people to force fandom popular opinions on my muse [ x  ] Very slow with replies      [  ] Very quick with replies    [  ]  Am bothered with slow repliers [ x  ] Am not bothered with speed of partner’s replies    [ x  ] I’m a very laid back roleplayer [ x  ] am not bothered when my partner goes on hiatus [  ] Am bothered when my partner goes on hiatus        [ x  ] Am a Selective RP blog [  ] Am an open RP blog         [ x  ] Am a private RP blog    [ x  ] Am an Indie RP blog   [  ] Am an RP blog within a group    [ x  ] Prefer memes over plots    [  ] Prefer plots over memes [  ] Am an self-insert RP blog      [  ] Am a semi-self insert RP blog   [ x  ] Am open to people sending me in character asks even if we haven’t interacted before [ x  ] Is anon-friendly      [ x  ]  Is open to starters aimed at them     [ x   ]  Is willing to respond to open starters      [ x  ]  Is open to questions about headcanons [  ] Is bothered by partners dropping threads    [ x  ] Is not bothered by partners dropping threads             [ x  ] Encourage people to actually read my rules page before interacting

Note from mun:

[  Write what you want to your followers! be it a mini PSA or a little note about yourself or so.]

If you have any questions feel free to ask.

[saintlyfangs]

Partner’s know my Roleplay Do’s and Do Not’s.

YOU HAVE PERMISSION FROM ME TO:

Either reblog and edit or repost. That means you may feel free to add anything we may have missed in the appropriate category to personalize for your own blog; to take things away, or re-categorize something that is in the wrong place!

You may not claim as yours, as I will not claim Ownership of this.

Mark with an “ x ” or “ X ”!

I allow my partners and future roleplay partners to:

[ X ] Like RP’s      

[  ] Reblog Open Starters to participate.

[ X  ] Repost, and add Continuation Link of Open Starters to participate.

[ X ] Send questions for the muse or mun.  

[ X ] Send in headcanons, drabbles, etc.

[ X ] Reblog art the mun has made (If I ever made any.)      

[ X ] Reblog Drabbles and Writing the mun has made.

[ X ] Talk to the mun.      

[  ] Reblog Headcanons.  

[ X ]  Ask the Mun or Muse for advice.    

[  ]  Reblogging headcanons and adding to them

[ X ]  Ask Mun for a Starter.      

[ X ]  Ask Mun for a Dribble.  

[ X ] Make a Starter or Greeter post

[ X ] Message Mun.        

[ X ] IM Mun.

[ X ] Ask for Roleplaying Advice.

[ X ] Plot with Mun.      

[ X ] Asking Mun for contact information ( Skype, Kik, ISM, etc)  

[ X ] Open for partners to talk to me if they are uncomfortable with anything I have done.

[ X ] Open for constructive Criticism. (I will laugh at, and block dicks.)  

[ X ] Allow partners to tell me if I have done something wrong.

[ X ] Non mutuals can send in headcanon, and certain meme asks.

[ X ] Non mutuals can talk to me Ask or IM.

Things I do not allow:

[  ] Like RP’s.    

[ X ] Reblog Opens/Starters (Each one has info on top on what to do)

[ X ] Reblog RP’s w/o participating

[  ] Send questions for the Muse or Mun.      

[  ] Send Headcanons, Drabbles, etc.

[  ] Reblog Art the Mun has made.      

[  ] Reblog Drabbles, and Writing the Mun has made.

[  ] Talk to the Mun.      

[ X ] Reblog Headcanons(unless asked, and given permission beforehand).

[  ]  Ask the Mun or Muse for advice.    

[ X ]  Reblogging Headcanons, and Adding to Them

[  ]  Ask Mun for a Starter.    

[  ] Make a Starter or Greeter post

[  ] Message Mun.      

[  ] Ask for Roleplaying Advice.

[  ] Plotting with Mun.      

[  ] Asking Mun for contact information ( Skype, Kik, ISM, etc)

[  ] Open for partners to talk to me if they are uncomfortable with anything I have done

[  ] Open for constructive criticism.  

[  ] For partners to tell me if I have done something wrong.

[ X ] Use IM for Rp. (Unless, just small joking around.)

Things that I am willing to roleplay:

[  ] Blood     [  ] Cannibalism     [  ] Domestic Violence        [  ] Gore [  ] Incest      [  ] Mental Issues      [  ] Murder        [  ]  Rape [  ] Suicide    [   ]  Torture      [  ] Violence in General       [  ]  War [  ] Sex      [  ] Romance      [  ] Angst        [  ] Comedy    [  ] Drugs       [  ] Rivalry    [  ] Unrequited love     [  ] Fluff      [ X ] All Above

Things that I am not willing to roleplay:

[  ] Blood     [  ] Cannibalism     [  ] Domestic Violence        [  ] Gore [  ] Incest      [  ] Mental Issues      [  ] Murder        [  ]  Rape [  ] Suicide    [  ]  Torture      [  ] Violence in General       [   ]  War [  ] Sex      [  ] Romance      [  ] Angst        [  ] Comedy    [  ] Drugs   [  ] Rivalry     [  ] Unrequited love      [  ] Fluff      [  ] All Above

Unspoken rules on this blog:

[ X ] Multiship        [  ] Semi-Multiship       [  ] Selective-Multiship [  ] Single-ship       [  ] Semi-single-ship       [  ] Selective single-ship                     [  ] Non-ship

[  ] Allow reblog karma.                                                                                         [ X ] Don’t follow reblog karma.  

[ X ] Prefer long development - But short is great too.

[  ] Allow forced relationships.                                                                           Please Talk to Me Ahead - [ X ] Allow quick relationship establishments / Insta-ship                                                                                                                     .[  ] Don’t allow quick relationship establishments.

[ X ] Will ship with anybody.                                                                                 .[  ] Only in for the ships (As in will drop all other RPs just for ship opportunities) [  ] Warp my muses’ canon personality for ships.      

[ X ] Flexible with replies.                                                                                     [ X ] I am either Very Slow or Very Fast with replies.  

[ X ] Allow our muses to be friends.                                                                     .[  ] I mind if our muses to be rivals.                                                                       [ X ] I will allow our muses to be rivals.

[  ] Will only be a shipping blog.                                                                             [  ] Dislike those who do not ship with me.                                                           [  ] Will ignore roleplayers who are non-ship.                                                       [  ] Will ignore roleplayers who are single-ship.                                                     [  ] Will ignore roleplayers who are multi-ship.

[  ] I play very out of character.                                                                             [  ] I play close to canon as possible.        

[  ] I strictly play based off of canon. [  ] Semi-personal blog.      

[ X ] Strictly a Roleplaying blog.     [ X ] Tag ooc posts, and non-rp related posts.    

[ X ] Play as an original Character/Alter. [  ] Allow people to force fandom popular options on my muse.   [ X ] Do not allow people to force fandom popular opinions on my muse.    

[  ] Am bothered with slow repliers. [ X ] Am not bothered with speed of partner’s replies.    

[ X ] I’m a very laid-back roleplayer. [ X ] am not bothered when my partner goes on hiatus. [  ] Am bothered when my partner goes on hiatus.        

[  ] Am a Selective RP blog.                                                                                 . [ X ] Am a Semi-selective. [  ] Am an Open RP blog.                                                                                     [  ] Am a private RP blog.    

[ X ] Am an Indie RP blog.   [  ] Am an RP blog within a group: ________ Group.    

[  ] Prefer memes over plots.                                                                                 [  ] Prefer plots over memes.

[  ] Am an self-insert RP blog.                                                                               [  ] Am a semi-self insert RP blog.  

[ X ] Am open to people sending me in character asks even if we haven’t interacted before. [ X ] Is anon-friendly.    

[ X ]  Is open to starters aimed at them. [ X ]  Is willing to respond to open starters      

[ X ]  Is open to questions about headcanons. [  ] Is bothered by partners dropping threads.  

[ X ] Is not bothered by partners dropping threads, simply asks them to tell me. [ X ] DEMAND people actually read The Rules, and About page, before interacting.

Note from mun: This is NOT canon Izaya, I respect muns not to treat him as such. I understand if your character, however, at first, or even continues, due to their own feelings based on how their Izaya has made their life hell.

My Izaya does not partake in rape <- this my muses decision. I as mun am willing to allow it to happen to my character as part of a plot ////ONLY//// after speaking of it to me before hand. I also allow it to be part of the plot.

I have no triggers, go crazy.

[the-direct-descendant]

Roleplayers, reblog this and fill out what you would allow in your blog!

Feel free to add onto the lists! Mark with an “ x ” !

I allow my partners and future roleplay partners to do:

[ x ] Like RP’s       [ x ] Reblog RP’s [ x ] Send questions for the muse or mun      [ x ] Send headcanons, drabbles, etc [ x ] Reblog art the mun has made    [ x ] Reblog drabbles and writing the mun has made ( note: I prefer if it was written specifically for you/your muse ) [ x ] Talk to the mun       [  ] Reblog headcanons [ x ]  Ask the mun or muse for advice     [  ]  Reblogging headcanons and adding to them [ x ]  Ask mun for a starter        [ x ] Make a starter or greeter post [ x ] Message mun         [ x ] Ask for roleplaying advice [ x ] Plotting with mun      [  ] Asking mun for contact information (skype only) [ x ] Open for partners to talk to me if they are uncomfortable with anything I have done [ x ] Open for constructive criticism   [ x ] Allow partners to tell me if I have done something wrong

Things I do not allow:

[  ] Like RP’s     [ x ] Reblog RP’s you are not a part of [  ] Send questions for the muse or mun      [  ] Send headcanons, drabbles, etc [  ] Reblog art the mun has made      [  ] Reblog drabbles and writing the mun has made [  ] Talk to the mun       [  ] Reblog headcanons   [  ]  Ask the mun or muse for advice     [ x ]  Reblogging headcanons and adding to them [  ]  Ask mun for a starter    [  ] Make a starter or greeter post [  ] Message mun       [  ] Ask for roleplaying advice [  ] Plotting with mun       [ x ] Asking mun for contact information ( Skype, Kik, ISM, ect) [  ] Open for partners to talk to me if they are uncomfortable with anything I have done [  ] Open for constructive criticism   [  ] For partners to tell me if I have done something wrong  

Things that I am willing to roleplay:

[ x ] Blood     [  ] Cannibalism     [  ] Domestic Violence        [ x ] Gore [  ] Incest      [ x ] Mental Issues      [ x ] Murder        [  ]  Rape [  ] Suicide(on the fence)    [ x ]  Torture      [ x ] Violence in General       [ x ]  War [  ] Sex (with shipping partner)      [ x ] Romance (with shipping partner)     [ x ] Angst        [ x ] Comedy    [ x ] Drugs       [ x  ] Rivalry    [ x ] Unrequited love   [ x ] Fluff (selective)      [  ] Crack (selective)

Things that I am not willing to roleplay:

[  ] Blood     [ x ] Cannibalism     [  ] Domestic Violence        [  ] Gore [ x ] Incest      [  ] Mental Issues      [  ] Murder        [ x ]  Rape [  ] Suicide    [  ]  Torture      [  ] Violence in General       [  ]  War [x ] Sex   [  ] Romance      [  ] Angst        [  ] Comedy    [  ] Drugs   [  ] Rivalry     [  ] Unrequited love      [  ] Fluff    [ x ] Dub Con

(Everything is a really big IF so its always good to ask!)

Unspoken rules on this blog:

[  ] Multiship        [  ] Semi-Multiship       [ x ] Selective-Multiship [  ] Single-ship       [  ] Semi-single-ship       [  ] Selective single-ship      [  ] Non-ship [  ] Allow reblog karma  [ x ] Don’t care about reblog karma  [ ] Don’t allow reblog karma

[ ] Allow forced relationships     [ x ] Allow long development   [ x ] Allow quick relationship establishments [  ] Don’t allow quick relationship establishments   [ ] Will ship with (almost) anybody [  ] Only in for the ships [  ] Warp my muses’ canon personalty for ships [  ] Dislike those who do not ship with me        [ x ] Flexible with replies [ x ] Allow our muses to be friends       [ x ] Do not mind our muses to be rivals [  ] Will only be a shipping blog       [  ] Will ignore roleplayers who are non-ship [  ] Will ignore roleplayers who are single-ship    [  ] Will ignore roleplayers who are multi-ship [ x ] Allow our muses to be rivals         [  ] I play very out of character [ x ] I play close to canon as possible         [  ] I strictly play based off of canon [  ] Semi-personal blog       [ x ] Strictly a roleplaying blog [ x ] tag ooc posts and non-rp related posts       [  ] Play as an original Character [  ] Allow people to force fandom popular options on my muse   [ x ] Do not allow people to force fandom popular opinions on my muse [ x ] Very slow with replies (only at night)      [  ] Very quick with replies   [ x ] Moderate to fast with replies, depending on inspiration  [  ]  Am bothered with slow repliers [ x ] Am not bothered with speed of partner’s replies  [ x ] I’m a very laid back roleplayer [ x ] I am not bothered when my partner goes on hiatus (I’ll still miss you!) [  ] Am bothered when my partner goes on hiatus      [  ] Am a Selective RP blog [x ] Am an open RP blog         [   ] Am a semi-private RP blog    [ x ] Am an Indie RP blog   [  ] Am an RP blog within a group    [  ] Prefer memes over plots    [  ] Prefer plots over memes [  ] Am an self-insert RP blog      [  ] Am a semi-self insert RP blog   [ x ] Am open to people sending me in character asks even if we haven’t interacted before [ x ] Is anon-friendly      [ x ]  Is open to starters aimed at them     [ x ]  Is willing to respond to open starters      [ x ]  Is open to questions about headcanons [  ] Is bothered by partners dropping threads    [ x ] Is not bothered by partners dropping thread

[ xxx] Encourage people to actually read my rules page before interacting