#but at least i got a cheap ice that was nice

[loveyouhomex]

soo yeah, won't make it to the joker out concert because I didn't get on any of the flights for Monday 🥲

[toournextadventure]

hate crime

Summary: No one knows what happened to Ghostface after his initial onslaught on New York City. Unfortunately for the population, he didn't disappear; he just got better.

Word Count: 3.6k Warnings: swearing, Scream violence, suggestive themes Pairing: Tara Carpenter x Reader (movie night & a novel life masterlist)

Rainy nights in New York City were the best. They gave way to those calm nights in the apartment that led to soft evenings and the best sleep of the week. If one was lucky, they would be able to grab a bite at Sofia’s and really live it up. A nice night, movies on the TV, and a half-finished pie on the counter? What else could a girl want?

A date. Cassidy wanted a date. Her boyfriend wasn’t a prick, but he was just stupid enough to not know the basics of a relationship. For instance, it was raining on a Saturday night? You invite your fucking girlfriend over so you can both get fucking laid. It wasn’t fucking rocket science. But no, he just had to watch the game with his fucking friends, and leave her to do absolutely nothing in her empty ass apartment.

Instead, she was alone. All alone, watching some shitty movie while he was probably having the time of his life.

Prick.

Well, at least she had ice cream to accompany her. A delicious pint of raspberry cheesecake. Just one bite was enough to transport her to heaven, and she would argue with anyone who thought otherwise. It had been long enough since Cassidy had put it in the freezer that it was just hard enough to make a nice bite, but not too hard to put up a fight.

It was perfect.

Cassidy’s phone vibrated loudly on the counter when she opened the cutlery drawer. It wasn’t all that unusual to get calls at odd hours; work, school, and friends made sure she kept her phone available at all times. And she answered them. So it was instinctual to pick up the phone and accept the call as she fished out a spoon and closed the drawer.

“I’m not interested,” she said before her friend on the other end could even speak.

“Uh, that’s good,” an unknown voice answered, “because I’m not selling.”

Cassidy’s brows narrowed. “Who is this?” She put the spoon in her mouth as she waited for an answer. A warm spoon was optimal for ice cream.

“A friend of a friend,” the voice said. It was hard to tell if it was a guy or a girl. “They dared me to call.”

“Friend of a friend?” She hummed, thinking about who it could be. “Was it David?”

The person on the other end of the line laughed. “I’m sworn to secrecy.”

“I knew it, that prick,” she sighed. It was no surprise it was David, he would do anything for a cheap laugh. “What do you get out of this shitty prank anyway?”

“Well, it depends,” the voice answered.

Cassidy leaned forward on her counter and smiled to herself. “On what?”

“How long I can keep you on the call,” they said, matching her tone. “Wanna split the $60?”

“Well,” she said, drawing the word out far longer than necessary as she grabbed her pint of ice cream and made her way to the living room. “I guess I can’t turn down $30.”

Cassidy pressed the phone between her cheek and shoulder while she moved. Her hip bumped against the recliner, but it didn’t phase her; she hit it more often than not. As she sat down in the chair, she could hear similar shuffling on the other end of the line. Nothing about it phased her.

“So,” the caller said, drawing out the “o” for far too long. “You doing anything exciting tonight?”

Cassidy chuckled humourlessly. “Yeah, me, myself, and I are really living it up.” She put a spoonful of ice cream into her mouth and left it there as she turned on Scary Movie 5. How exciting.

“Well,” the caller said with a barely hidden laugh, “what are the three of you doing tonight?”

“A Scary Movie marathon.” She took another bite of her ice cream. “Probably for the fifth time this semester.”

“So you like them.”

“Love them,” she answered instantly. “I could watch them all day.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Absolutely.”

“Well, then what’s your favourite Scary Movie?”

Cassidy looked down at her ice cream and scraped the spoon over the top. That was a pretty good question. The humour in each movie was top tier to her, and that wasn’t negotiable. She couldn’t compare them on that aspect because they all depended on which movies they were making fun of. But there was one movie that stood out from all the rest, she supposed.

“Probably the first one,” she finally said. “It’s a classic.”

“Isn’t that the one based on those Stab movies?”

“That’s the one,” she said with a singular nod that no one could see.

The movie continued to play on the screen.

“Have you ever seen the Stab movies?”

“Fuck no,” Cassidy said before the unknown voice could even finish the question. “Horror movies give me the creeps. Especially when they’re based on real people.” A minuscule shiver wracked her body as if to prove her point.

She heard a deep breath on the other end of the line. “You know, you really should watch the original.” Another breath. “It’s to die for.”

Something about the tone of that last sentence put Cassidy on edge. Perhaps it was simply because she was home alone while the storm continued to rage outside. None of her friends talked like that. Sure, this person was a friend of a friend, but it was still a bit odd.

This person was a bit odd. Was the $30 really worth talking to a weirdo all night? She could be settled with a blanket and paying attention to her movie. But no, she just had to answer the phone and accept a shitty deal. She would need to tell Heather about this whole weird situation later.

“Hey, how much longer until we get that money from David?” Cassidy asked. She couldn’t stop thinking about that last thing the person had said, but she chose to try and ignore it.

“Just a few more minutes,” the caller said in a breathy tone. It was creepy. “Which movie are you watching?”

“What?”

“For your marathon,” they clarified. “Which one?”

“Oh,” she chuckles humourlessly. Nervously.

She wasn’t so sure she wanted to tell the truth anymore. There was an uncomfortable feeling settling in her stomach. She hesitantly placed the half-empty pint of ice cream on the side table, soon accompanied by the spoon she had licked clean.

“The third one,” she finally answered.

“No you’re not.” A lump forced its way into her throat. “That’s the fifth.”

Her entire body was frozen while the words ran laps around her mind. What the hell was going on? Her nerves felt like they were engulfed in fire, leaving her simultaneously too hot and frozen. That wasn’t right. The words didn’t form any proper reason in her mind, but she understood the sinking feeling it left in her chest.

“How do you know which movie I’m watching?” She asked as she slowly stood up from her chair.

A heavy breath. “Because I can see your screen.”

As soon as the words pieced together in her head, Cassidy ran to her balcony window. The curtains were closed. They weren’t the only windows into her apartment, but they were the only ones that faced the TV. As far as she knew, no other window could see her screen; a deliberate furnishing choice on her part.

“Listen,” she said breathlessly as she stared at the closed curtains. “I’ll tell David we talked all night if you want.” There was no response. “You can even keep all the money.”

A taunting laugh.

“I never said I talked to David.”

Shit. Shit shit shit. She knew she should have hung up at first. Who the hell was this freak? It was New York City, there were plenty of freaks around, but this? This was just psychotic. Nobody in their right mind would do this shit!

She quickly tucked the phone between her cheek and shoulder again and grabbed the curtains with both hands-

“-Open it and I’ll slit your fucking throat.”

They wouldn’t. They couldn’t. How would they even get into the apartment? She froze and reconsidered. How else could they have known what was on her TV? God, what was going on? She thought about the ramifications for far too long before letting go of the curtains. They shifted for a few moments before finally settling back into place.

“Who are you?” Cassidy’s voice was weak.

“You assumed our mutual friend was David.” She waited impatiently. “But surely you haven’t forgotten our dear friend Anika.”

Cassidy laughed bitterly. “Are you fucking serious?” She stomped through the apartment to grab the ice cream and dirty spoon. “Did that loser and her freak girlfriend put you up to this?” She practically threw the ice cream back into the freezer. “Because it’s pathetic.”

Of course that freak had caused this. She hadn’t bullied Anika and Mindy for nothing. Cassidy was a patient soul, it was true, but even she had her limits. No one wanted to hear those weirdos talk about stupid movies 24/7, especially when it wasn’t necessary. Didn’t they know there were better, more important things in the world?

“Those are some strong opinions to have,” the caller said over the sound of the spoon hitting Cassidy’s sink. “Especially for someone in your position.”

She rested her hip on the counter. “And what position would that be?”

“You can open your balcony window now, Cassidy.”

The curtains of the balcony were swaying. If she strained her ears, she could hear the rain falling a little louder. Would it be smart to open the curtains and see what was out there? Or maybe she should just hang up, call the police, and let them deal with it. After all, the police had never done anything wrong to her, surely she could trust them.

But she wanted to know. She wanted to know what those freaks had managed to pull off all on their own. Cassidy wouldn’t have called them stupid; at least not Anika. But there was no way she would have said any of them were smart. They were all just a bunch of down on their luck kids who had gotten into Blackmoore out of pity, not intellect.

Whether she had fully intended to or not, she let her feet carry her toward the balcony. As she got closer, she could hear the rain and wind clearly; the balcony window was open behind the curtains.

“How do you know my name?” She asked even though it was a stupid question. If this person was friends with Anika, then that was how they knew.

Still.

“Everyone knows your name.”

She reached out and grabbed the curtain with both hands.

“Or they’re about to.”

Cassidy closed her eyes, threw the curtains open, and screamed. She used every ounce of breath and energy in her body to release the most blood curdling scream she could manage. But when she opened her eyes, the scream died down in her throat.

There was nothing on the balcony. The door was open, but there was nothing there. Not in the doorway, not on the actual balcony, and not across the street. Hell, the only thing she could see was the poor potted plant that she had let die last year and hadn’t thrown out yet.

This was all just some sick joke.

“You know, this is really pathetic,” Cassidy said calmly even though her heart was still pounding in her chest. “I’m calling the cops.”

“Fine, call them.” She grabbed her phone and looked for the “end call” button. “They’ll find out all about your dirty little secret.”

She froze.

“Turn around, Cassidy.”

Her heart was beating loudly in her ears. Mixed with the rain and wind coming in through the open balcony window that she couldn’t bring herself to close, it was deafening. She didn’t want to turn around. She didn’t want to see what could possibly be hiding behind her. It could all be some cruel joke and the apartment could be empty.

Or not.

She took a few short, quick breaths and braced herself before finally turning around quickly, nearly tripping over her own feet. There, in the middle of her apartment, was Heather. Heather, the best fuck she’d ever had, tied up in the chair like a piece of meat. There was a gash on her head that was dripping blood into her eyes, but aside from that there weren’t any other physical injuries.

“Heather?” Cassidy said in disbelief.

“Please help me,” Heather cried. “I don’t know what’s going on.”

Cassidy dropped the phone without hanging up. She didn’t care anymore. All of this had gone too far. Those creeps had crossed too many lines. Messing with her? Fine. It was pathetic, but fine. But finding her secret hookup? Didn’t they know she had a reputation? What would her boyfriend think if he found out? Actually, he would probably think it was hot. Maybe that was worse.

“Did Anika do this to you?” She asked as she attempted to untie the knots in the rope. It was probably the first time in her life she had ever regretted having acrylics.

“It wouldn’t surprise me,” Heather said with a sniffle. A drop of blood fell onto the rope. “Her and her geek friends are obsessed with this shit.”

“We’ll call the cops later,” Cassidy said. “I’m tired of their freaky, “poor us” bullshit.”

The ropes weren’t budging, and her fingers were feeling raw. How had they managed to do such a thorough job so quickly? Perhaps because, like she had known from the very beginning, they were all a bunch of freaks. A bunch of freaks who had no lives, no real friends, and no chance of living like normal people. She smirked to herself. They’d have one hell of a time getting any sort of job after college if she had anything to say about it-

-the floor creaked.

Cassidy’s fingers froze. There was only one place in her apartment that the floor creaked. And it wasn’t underneath her or Heather. She looked up slowly. First she saw Heather, sitting there impatiently and waiting for her to get her out. Then the gash on Heather’s face.

Then the cloaked figure standing behind her.

Then the Ghostface mask shrouded in a black hood.

The Ghostface tilted his head at her. She couldn’t move. It felt like the air had frozen in her lungs. She just had to kneel there and watch as he lifted a gloved hand with a giant knife and waved at her with two fingers. The knife was huge. His free hand lifted just as slowly and pushed the mask back inch by inch until she could see the bottom of his face.

The smile was accentuated by the deep scars stretching across both cheeks.

Cassidy opened her mouth to scream before something came from behind her and pressed against her throat.

She never made a sound.

—---

The pool of blood slowly inched across the tarp that had been carefully arranged underneath the two college girls. It was wide enough to catch any accidental splatter, yet thick enough to keep it from spilling out. A wise purchase for a wise killer. Or two.

Ghostface stepped forward, standing over the corpses. It wasn’t their proudest moment; there had been a few hitches in the plan. But when the result was the same, well, they supposed it wasn’t the worst thing in the world. They grabbed the mask and yanked it off.

“You jumped the gun,” Tara said breathlessly. The adrenaline was still running through her veins; she had grown to love it.

The second Ghostface removed their mask next.

“I know,” you said with a sigh. “I’m sorry.” You looked down at the corpses of your enemies with glee and disgust. “She’s just such a bitch.”

You both continued to stand there, neither one daring to make the first move. The silence after a kill was one of the more satisfying moments to you. No more screaming, no more steel cutting through flesh. Just the sounds of your breathing and the blood rushing through your ears.

“I didn’t know they were gay,” you finally said. “Or closeted, I guess.”

“I think Mindy said they were experimenting,” Tara speculated. “They both tried to hit on Anika at one point.”

You hummed in response and continued to look at them. Not that you had stopped. That was the one thing you didn’t think you would ever really get used to. Sure, your family business was… a bit risque on its own, but this was different. You would argue with Dicky all day every day, but knife wounds were more gruesome than gunshots.

“Does this make us homophobic?” You asked. “Was this a hate crime?”

“I-” Tara stopped and closed her mouth. It made you feel a little better that she had to think about it too. “No,” she finally said with a slow nod. “We’re doing the world a favour.”

You smiled. “God, I love you.”

“Love me while we clean up,” she demanded even though you saw her smile. “Get moving.”

The cleanup process, all of you agreed, was the worst part. It was methodical, time consuming, and boring. You would much rather spend the time with Tara, not cleaning up after the two bitches that bullied all of you like you were still in fucking highschool. Truly, it was almost embarrassing for them. You didn’t want to clean up after their mess again.

But you liked the time you got with Tara. Since the whole original Ghostface debacle, she had lightened up. She still bullied you, but honestly? It was a turn on. You wouldn’t dare tell her to stop. If there ever came a day that you didn’t want Tara Carpenter to bully you? It would be the end of the world.

Cleaning up with Sam, however, was a beast.

That’s why you stuck with Tara. Not just because you loved her, of course, but it was a wonderful bonding activity. You hadn’t wanted to bring her into the family business because, well, that was just dangerous. But this? It was nice. And honestly? It got the both of yours adrenaline going and usually led to some of the best date nights.

…

Maybe you both needed more therapy.

“The scary movie question was clever,” you said after you had finally managed to haul the tarp - and the corpses - to the trash chute.

“Thank you,” Tara said with a genuine smile. “I’m pretty proud of it.”

“You should be,” you encouraged. “I thought Cassidy was gonna hear me laughing.”

“You would’ve been sleeping on the couch,” Tara replied. She was serious, but you knew the truth; she would’ve slept on the couch with you.

The next stage of cleaning was far easier on the back. It was basic cleaning, to make the apartment look lived in, but not abandoned. And certainly not like a murder had occurred. Or, you supposed it was a double murder. God, you still couldn’t get over how much of a bitch Cassidy and Heather were. You really did feel a million pounds lighter now that they were gone.

“You know,” you said as you rested your hip on the counter while Tara made sure no fingerprints were anywhere. “Blood looks really good on you.”

“Shut up,” she said quickly. You still saw the blush on her cheeks.

You weren’t lying though. The dark, now-dried blood was a wonderful match to her eyes. It also looked lovely on her skin. You couldn’t really explain what it was; maybe it was the taboo of it all (you definitely needed more therapy). Whatever it was, it was almost like she was glowing.

Maybe you were just in love.

Tara was still checking the kitchen counter when you stepped up behind her and wrapped your arms around her waist. Her body seemed to relax in your arms. Like instinct, she leaned back into you and you could hold her closer. You were like two pieces to the same puzzle; your bodies fit perfectly together.

“It’s kinda hot,” you said before placing a kiss on her cheek. She tasted faintly of copper.

“You’re just deranged,” she said softly.

“Only for you,” you said. Your next kiss was placed on her jaw.

“We can’t do this here,” she said with a sigh. “We’re almost done.”

“We haven’t cleaned the bedroom yet,” you offered. “And I’ve got another tarp in my bag.”

She didn’t argue.

“Think of it as an extra “fuck you” to Cassidy,” you continued. “We both know how much you hated her.”

Your arm pulled her tighter against you as you placed a third kiss right behind her ear. Just going off her silence alone, you knew she would cave. Tara did her best to keep things professional on the scene, but you knew how to win her over. And you knew how much she loved it.

“Okay,” she finally said. Whether she was aware of it or not, her head tilted to give you more access to her neck. “But only a quickie.”

“Seeing you like this?” You said as you bent down and swept an arm under her knees. She shrieked lightly before wrapping her arms around your neck. “I don’t think I could last very long anyway.”

You carried her to your bag and bent down so she could grab it before heading directly to the bedroom.

In the background, the credits of Scary Movie 5 rolled on the TV.

[gucciwins]

something new

wembley brings love and celebration 

Word count: 5190

A/N: posting something for the first time in months (since april) and I am very excited for you to read.  please let me know what you think. I enjoyed writing and promise I'm already working on the next thing 💜 asks

_____

Wembley Stadium.

It’s a place you had heard many stories about and even attended a show in 2019 as a gift for your father to watch his favorite band, Fleetwood Mac. This entire week has been remarkable, but tonight is the final night. You are here supporting your boyfriend, Harry, and because it’s the last night, there will be a celebration after with the attendance of everyone who knows Harry from family, friends, and workers.

When you first met Harry, you didn’t know he was Harry Styles. Many people would ask how you could not recognize the Harry Styles, but when you met him, he had a full beard and hair full of messy curls. He was dressed in mini running shorts wearing a black jumper and bright running shoes. The reason you spoke to him was his shoes. This brand is known for its style of color combination and lightness in weight, making it the running shoe. You had been debating buying a pair, and his looked well-loved. It wouldn’t hurt to hear an opinion from someone who wasn’t an online user.

“Excuse me,” you called out softly behind him.

He jumps and moves away from the counter. “Sorry, was I in your way?”

You do your best not to melt hearing his deep voice; it was comforting for some odd reason. You smile and shake your head. “No, uh, actually. I’m sorry to bother you. This is actually such a silly question now.” You pause, debating walking away while you can, but he encourages you to continue. “It’s about your shoes. Are the Hoka’s worth it? The online reviews have not been able to convince me, and I’ve read too many articles at this point. Yours look like they’ve seen a few miles,” you point out.

Harry looks down at his shoes and laughs, “so they do.” He meets your eye, stepping closer and away from the counter. “I’m on my fourth pair,” he confesses sheepishly.

You wince, knowing the price for these shoes is not cheap. “Are you constantly running? Are they easily worn out?”

His face reddens, and he fiddles with his necklace. “No, uh…I like having more options to match my outfits.”

You laugh, “that makes sense.” You pause. “Does that mean picking my first pair will be harder? I saved for one pair, and my pocket will hurt if I decide to bite the bullet.”

“I debated a few choices at my computer and ultimately bought two pairs. They were orange and yellow. Bondi are a good first choice.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” You notice the barista, Lily sliding a coffee on the counter and gesturing it’s his, meaning it’s time for you to go. “Sorry for bothering you, but this was very helpful. Sorry, I never got your name. I’m Y/N.”

“Harry. It was no bother.”

You doubt that.

“Bye, Harry.” You collect your bag and walk out, knowing you were going to overthink buying these shoes, and Harry would never leave your mind.

To no surprise, you’re back at your favorite coffee shop the following day, but this time dressed in your favorite jeans and a cardigan your grandma helped you knit over the summer last year. It’s pastel pink with flowers placed randomly all over. You didn’t dress cute for a guy. You dressed cute for yourself. At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. Lily is a good friend, and after walking your iced latte to your table, she sat down for a moment.

“Nice conversation yesterday?” She ponders.

“Mhm…nice fellow.”

“Was surprised you bothered him?”

You look at her, confused. “Was it rude of me?”

“Some would say so.”

“I’m confused. We talked about shoes. What did I do wrong?”

Lily stares at you, trying to see if you’re joking. “Y/N, be serious.”

“I am.”

She looks around, leaning closer. “You spoke to Harry Styles. Popstar sensation. Most loved man on the earth.” Lily sees you processing her words, and before you can make rebuttals, she pulls her phone out and shows you a photo of Harry, the guy you met, under a Harry Styles update page.

“Well, shit!”

“Yeah, he at least looks interested in your conversation.”

You roll your eyes, “geeze, Lily, thanks for making it seem like it’s awful to talk with me.”

“Not what I meant,” she apologizes.

“It’s fine. The beard threw me off.”

“He’s a regular here. Comes every other day.” Lily excuses herself needing to get back to work, and with that reassurance, he wouldn’t be coming in; you enjoy your coffee.

You took out your laptop and began to work while keeping an eye on the door. Pretty soon, you got deep into your research and didn’t even notice when the door chimed, signaling someone knew had entered.

“You look really focused. Are you working?” Harry had walked up to your table, startling you.

The truth was you were not working, although you should have been; it was a Wednesday morning. You feel your cheeks warm up, knowing you’ve been caught. “Won’t lie to you, Harry. I’m looking at shoes.” You turn your screen to let him see you have a page pulled up for running shoes with multiple open tabs.

Harry laughs in surprise and gestures to the empty seat to join you. You move your bag, and he happily slides in. You move your laptop closer to him, giving him a better view.

“Those are cute.” You had been looking at a lilac pair.

“Right! But look at these.”

Harry frowns when you switch the screen to display a cherry-pink design. “Now, that’s a tough choice.”

“Ugh…I know. I’ve been alternating back and forth.”

“Okay, close your eyes,” he orders.

You look at him skeptically but do as he says.

“It’s a sunny day which is just a miracle here in London,” you laugh, and he continues. “You’re out on a walk deciding where to go for the day when a stranger points out your shoe is untied. You bend down to tie it. Now what color are your shoes?”

“Purple,” you answer without thinking.

“Well, there you go.”

“That was helpful, Harry. Thank you. Are you a therapist or something?”

“In another life, I would be.”

“Well, what do you do now?” You ask, genuinely interested.

Harry looks at you, confused as if you’re really asking the question. “I sing for a living. Uh…” he feels embarrassed sharing this for some reason. “I go on stage and perform.”

You frown, looking at him closer. “From my eye level, you look like a rugged Harry Styles.”

Harry looks amused. “Rugged. Huh, I thought the beard was good.”

“It is,” you quickly agree. “Sorry, I’m used to seeing videos of him—well, you clean-shaven.”

“I’m on a break. It’s a nice way to let go.”

Right.

You were at a crossroads now because you liked Harry. He was friendly and easy to speak with, but would this new information change everything for you?

“Maybe we can go on a run when your shoes arrive?” Harry suggested.

Your eyes lit up, “really?”

“Mhmm…I like running around the park.”

“Oh, I love finding new trails,” you gushed. “I bet you have found the best-hidden roads.”

Harry shrugs, “we’ll have to see.”

“Uh… I’m sorry for not recognizing you. I don’t know if that was weird or not.” You decide to apologize.

“You’re fine, Y/N. When you came up to me, I thought you wanted a photo, but clearly, my shoes were more interesting,” he teased. “It was nice being just Harry.”

You smile sheepishly at him, “you’re still Harry to me. Feel like you’ll turn into Harry Styles when you’re clean-shaven on stage.”

“Not for a few weeks, then. I have shows in Los Angeles at the end of January,” he tells you because he wants to bask in being just Harry for a few weeks more.

“Oh, fun,” you wiggle your eyebrows at him.

“Mhmm…” Harry waits for you to ask more, but instead, you turn the conversation to his workout routine.

From then on, conversation flows easily. You tell Harry you’re the oldest of three. Two younger brothers who live to embarrass you whenever they get the chance but love when you drive them around. You tell him about your job in publishing and that you worked your way up to being an editor. It’s a job you love dearly. Harry lets you ramble on, asking questions and wanting to learn more. He learns you’re allergic to mushrooms. Your first tattoo was a cherry you got at eighteen on an impulsive night out. That you’re the only family member in generations to be born left-handed.

Harry shares that he loves to travel because it gives him a place to miss and come home. He loves his sister and calls her his best friend. That he’s too competitive and loves a long game of Scrabble. He dreams of having a pet dog but does not want to commit when his life is on the road. You mention your family dog, Woodstock, named after the iconic yellow bird from the Peanuts comics. A yellow Labrador who runs up to strangers, always asking for belly rubs. You promise to take him to visit.

Your friendship with Harry grew from there. You would meet most mornings outside the coffee shop for a run and then for a coffee that turned into hours of conversation. You liked Harry and reckoned you liked him more than a friend, but there was no way you would change that dynamic and instead settle to be his friend. When Harry showed up one day clean-shaven, you were taken aback because it made him look younger, and it was as if you were seeing him for the first time.

“Don’t recognize me anymore,” he teases.

“I could spot those green eyes in a sea of people,” you promise him.

Come April, a shift in your dynamic happened. Harry wanted you to work out with him and his trainer. You thought he was crazy, but really Harry was dying for you to meet his friends. They couldn’t stop teasing him that you were made up.

“Harry!”

You both turned and found a man in a white shirt and shorts, similar to Harry, approaching you. Harry welcomed him in a hug before going to stand next to you. “This is Y/N. Y/N, Brad.”

Brad shot you a smile, “pleasure to meet you.”

“You as well.”

“It’s nice to put a face to a name. He can’t shut up about you,” Brad confesses.

“Oi! Stop that.” Harry frowns, but you can tell he doesn’t mind.

You end up having the worst workout of your life. Brad, not taking a moment of pity for you until he finally called it quits an hour later. You threw yourself on the grass, closed your eyes, and took slow breaths. You heard Harry laughing above you but did not acknowledge him.

“Come on, petal. I’ll buy you a coffee,” Harry offered.

You peeked one eye open, “and a scone?”

“I’ll get you all the goods you want,” Brad chimes in. “You were a trooper out there.”

“Fuck, I never want to work out with you again,” you huff.

“Don’t think we will if he has a say,” Brad points to Harry. “Never seen him so angry.”

“She’s my friend. Didn’t want to explain her death to her parents.”

After that, it seemed you only saw more of each other until one night at your home, Harry made a move you didn’t see coming. After the film finished, Harry turned serious.

“Y/N?”

“Harry, what is it?” You ask, concerned.

“I like you.”

You sigh in relief, “gosh, you scared me. I like you too, silly. You’re my best friend.”

Harry shakes his head. “You’re not listening to me.”

“Heard you loud and clear.”

He sighs, frustrated. “These last few months as your friend have been amazing. I feel so lucky you approached me to talk about shoes. While I enjoy being your friend every time we get together, these feelings I have continue to grow, and I can no longer keep them to myself. I like you, and I want to see where this goes.”

You sit there shocked because you never expected Harry to reciprocate your feelings, but he is pouring his heart out for you. “Harry,” you breathed out. “I-I-I like you too. I have for some time, but I didn’t want to lose you.”

“Me either, but Brad said a person as amazing as you would not wait around for me.”

You laugh, “tell him I’m a fool because I think I would have waited a lifetime for you.”

“I know it’s too soon to ask you to be my girlfriend seeing as we haven’t been on a date, but—”

You interrupt him. “Why can’t we say this is our first date? If we think about it, every time we have spent together could be considered a date.”

“Do you end a first date with a kiss?” He asks sheepishly.

“Only if it’s you,” you promise him.

When your wine-stained lips meet his, you feel a wave of peace surround you knowing that it might be soon, but the universe sent Harry to you. He was your other half. He made you better. You pulled him closer, loving the closeness this kiss brought you. Harry sighed, ending the kiss. You went in for a second kiss needing more of him for a little longer.

“Petal, baby. I’m here,” he spoke against your lips.

You giggled out of breath. “Sorry, I think I like you a little too much.”

Harry leaned his forehead against you. “I feel the same.”

“Good, let’s kiss some more and then have a sleepover.”

“Don’t you think it’s too soon, petal?” Harry asked.

You frowned, “you slept here two nights ago.”

Harry sighed, “you’re right.”

It wasn’t until a week later you made it official. Life was perfect, and you were happy. Harry knew starting a relationship as he began touring wasn’t the smartest option, but he was close to home and promised to check in at every chance. In each city he visited, he picked up a souvenir for you as a reminder he was thinking of you. It was cheesy, but he wrote you postcards from each city because even though they wouldn’t arrive quickly, they would remind you of him when you did receive them. It only made you like him more and knew you were falling in love quickly. There was no stopping it.

While you joined him at his special show at Slane Castle, you didn’t have the chance to meet many of his family, mainly only the band. They welcomed you with open arms, and how Harry never stops talking about you. It made you nervous. You hoped to live up to his words because these people and his band members meant the world to Harry.

____

Now being here to celebrate four sold-out nights at Wembley, it felt overwhelming knowing Harry’s entire family and friends from his childhood would be here. You’ve known Harry for months but loved him like he’s always been yours. It was a joyous day, but even that wouldn’t take away your nerves for the final night of seeing Harry shine on stage.

“No one is going to believe I didn’t recognize you when we first met,”  you tell him as the driver drove down a road that arrives at the back of Wembley, away from the crowd.

“Course they will.”

You give him a deadpan look, “you’re basically the face of the UK. A prince, some would say.” You sit up and clear your throat. “Oh, how’d we meet. Well, I met him at a coffee shop and asked him about his shoes.” You rolled your eyes, “sounds fake to me.”

“Good thing it’s the truth. Plus, I thought you were cute. Would have never worked up the courage to walk up to you, though.”

“Stop. You’re only saying that.”

“Nope, I mean it. Brad and the band like you.”

“I hope they do,” you muttered. “Only people I’ve met now. I’m meeting everyone.”

“You met Mum and Gem,” Harry reminds you. “Spent time with them for three nights.”

You sigh because, for a moment, you feel Harry doesn’t understand how overwhelming this is. Everyone here knows Harry. They know Harry from Holmes Chapel, and they know the amazing person he is. You feel happy to know and love him, but they’ve got a lifetime of Harry, and you’ve got months. It differs for everyone because you would move mountains to ensure he was happy. Except, everyone doesn’t know that. They don’t know you.

“Y/N, petal will you look at me,” he begs softly.

You take a deep breath and allow yourself to meet his emerald eyes. Harry takes in the worry shining bright, and smiles. “Petal, I love you. I know you love me. You remind me every moment we’re together and when I’m away. I don’t doubt it. My family knows you, maybe not your physical form, but they have heard stories and seen endless pictures. They will love you because I love you. If you get overwhelmed, you can always sit back and watch, they’ll understand. Most importantly, I will understand. I wish I could hold you as Mum introduces you to everyone. I told her to hold off, but she’s excited. Brad will be on the floor, and I know you enjoy that. You’re in safe hands.”

“I love you. Thank you. I know it’s your day, and I’m making it all about me.”

Harry shushes you, “hey, hey. We’re a team. Your feelings are just as important as mine. Now give me a kiss.”

You loved him, simple as that. He was the missing piece in your life.

___

The show was like no other. Harry, from the moment he got on stage, radiated happiness. The fans were the loudest they had been all week, filling you with so much joy. Anne told you to join her at the family box, but you decided to be on the floor as close to Harry as possible by the Jonny pod; you noticed Harry favored the side more, knowing his dear friend was in the audience tonight. From surprise songs to dancing and Mitch receiving his Grammy, you knew it would be a night you would never forget. As Harry began his encore with “Sign of the Times,” the rain started falling, and so did your tears. The fact that over 90 thousand people were here for Harry said enough. They chose to spend their evening with him, and he delivered to make it memorable.

You didn’t even notice that Brad captured a photo of you staring at Harry on stage with a giant smile and hands over your heart you would only see later when Harry made it his lock screen. Harry thanks the crowd for a magical night stating over and over again that he’s never been happier.

Brad wraps an arm around you and walks you towards Harry, who’s sharing long hugs and meaningful words with his bandmates. This is the man you love, and there’s nothing you’d change about it. You followed Harry to the dressing room, wanting a moment alone before the madness. Harry bounces around quickly to change, removing the overalls and shimming them down his waist. He slips on shorts, throws on a random shirt, and puts on his new Adidas Love on Tour sweater with his initials.

You lean against the door admiring him in all his glory. He didn’t bother for a shower, too eager to see everyone.

“I’m proud of you,” you whisper. “I know it might not mean much, but I am.”

Harry pauses, finishes tying his shoe, and walks over to you. He stops before you, his hands finding a home on your cheeks. “It means the world. Don’t ever think it doesn’t. We might only have been together for two months, but my heart has loved you my entire life. You being here is enough. I could feel your love from the stage.”

He connects your lips together, and you melt against him. Harry breathes life into you, and you never want him to stop. “I love you, Y/N.”

“I love you, Harry. So much.”

“Good. Let’s go mingle.” You move away from the door and make your way outside when he tugs you back in. “Forgot one last thing.”

He hurries over to his bag, pulls out an identical sweater, and hands it to you. You accept it moving and look it over. Your eyes quickly find your initials on the right side, similar to his.

“Harry—this isn’t necessary.”

Harry shrugs, “it was your idea.”

You don’t fight him as he slips off your red leather jacket and helps you slip on the thin material. He fixes the collar making sure none of your hair is tucked under. Harry decides you look good, giving you a pat on the butt. “Now we can go.”

Harry held your hand as you walked over to the area Jeff had set up for the celebration. He mentioned there would be another location later in the night, but it would be good to let the crowds outside die out. On your walk over, Harry told you about outfits and signs he saw in the crowd. How overwhelmed he came when the rain came down. He felt at home.

You expressed how much fun you had, told Harry how Jeff and Tommy taught you the boot scoot during “Treat People,” and assured him many videos of your failed attempt were taken. Harry paused outside the door where you could hear the loud chatter, and you knew what was waiting for you behind those doors. Harry shoots you a look, and you give him a reassuring smile letting him know it’s okay to go in.

The cheers are loud when the man of the hour walks in. Everyone was quick to gather around him. You try to sneak away, but his grip on your hand stays tight. Every person who thanks him, he makes sure to introduce you.

“Love, go celebrate. It’s alright. I’ll be fine,” you tell him in a low voice.

Harry shakes his head, instead kissing you and pulling you along to meet and chat with new people. You felt a bit overwhelmed, but everyone has been so sweet. They asked where you were from? Scotland. What was your job? An editor. How did you meet? Coffee Shop. How proud were you? Immensely.

You kept trying to hang back, but Harry seemed to notice when you drifted away. He would kiss you and ask for your input in the conversation. You told him you were getting a drink and would be back momentarily, except you got a vodka cranberry and hid in a corner. Harry found you when your drink was half gone.

“Babyyy,” he called out. “Missed you.”

You felt your cheeks heat up as he wrapped himself around you. He moved you away from the wall, making you face the crowd, his hands around your waist, his chin resting on your shoulder.

“I love you,” he whispered.

You lean against him, happy to be wrapped in his arms, feeling safe. “I love you, bub.”

Harry takes a sip of your drink and hums at the bitterness of the cranberry. He knows you’re a social drinker because it allows you to relax and not be as anxious. You and Harry get lost in your world as you let him talk your ear off. He tells you about people around the room, who they are, and how they’ve helped them. Surprisingly, Harry can name everyone in the room, though it shouldn’t shock you much. It’s just the type of person he is.

Your boyfriend is an affectionate person. He loves having a hand on the small of your back or your hand in his. He wants to be close because he says he wants makeup when he’s away. Some would say it makes him look clingy, but lucky for you, you love his touch; it’s comforting. You could feel his smile against your skin as he planted kisses on your face.

Even while in your corner, people come up to you. When they see Harry begin to kiss your shoulder or whisper in your ear, they excuse themselves. You can’t help but feel you are keeping Harry from celebrating with everyone, not realizing he’s happy to celebrate with you in his arms.

“Harry! Sue!” Is yelled from across the room. You see a short, dirty-haired blonde yell and wave for him, but Harry is too busy peppering kisses all over your neck to realize.

“Bubby, love. They’re calling for you.”

He hums against your neck. “I’m perfect here.”

You sigh because the yelling continues, and you’re starting to feel overwhelmed because he’s not celebrating. Instead, Harry is ensuring you’re not nervous, which seems like the most boring job in the world. He should be taking shots with friends and telling stories about the last four nights.

“Go on, I’ll be right behind you,” you promise him.

Harry tightens his hold on you, “baby, you sure?”

“Yes, no go. I’ll even bring you a drink.”

“Te–”

“Tequila neat,” you tease. “I know you.”

Harry pecks your lips once, twice, and a third time before making his way across the room, but not before looking over his shoulder one last time at you. You shoot him a wink and exaggerate, looking at his bum and making him laugh. He moves his hips a little extra just for you. As Harry easily falls into the conversation, you use this moment as an opportunity for a breather.

You were alone for around five minutes when you heard footsteps coming your way. You were in a corridor that led you out to the stage if you continued walking down but stopped halfway, knowing no one would come this way. You were wrong.

Harry is who you expected to see, but to your surprise, it’s Gemma, his older sister.

“Hi,” you greet softly. The conversations with Gemma have been short, but from what you can tell, she’s wise beyond her years and always ready to listen.

“You okay?” She asks, straight to the point.

“A bit loud,” you gesture towards the hallway where the music can still be heard.

She nods, “I get that.” Gemma looks around before moving to stand next to you shoulder to shoulder. “Are you okay?” She asks again.

You sigh, “I—i-i.”

“A bit much for a family gathering.”

“A bit,” you exhale, knowing Gemma understands what you might be feeling.

“It’s the perfect opportunity, I feel. I did forget how overwhelming it was. I don’t even remember my boyfriend’s first family gathering.”

“Are you saying I won’t remember this in a few years?”

“Oh, you’re never forgetting tonight.” She smirks, “unless you keep drinking.”

You scrunch your nose at the thought. “Better not.”

The two of you stand in silence, and you know it’s because Gemma is giving you a minute to gather your thoughts.

“I just—I love Harry. I do. I hope you don’t doubt that, but I don’t know how to celebrate when you’ve all been here for him every step of the way. Year after year.”

Gemma deflates, “oh, Y/N.”

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have—” Gemma cuts you off.

“It’s okay,” she assures you. “It’s difficult because of his job, not because of who he is. But trust me when I say he loves you.” Gemma’s words are firm, and you believe her. As an older sister, you would do anything to protect your siblings but never lie to someone important.

“Harry talks about you every chance he gets. Did you know Y/N ran a marathon? She’s swam with sharks in a reservation center. Y/N’s CPR certified. She edited and helped publish five number-one books this year,” Gemma rambles off. “We all know so much because he’s proud and wants to share it with those close to him.”

“I-I didn’t know.” You let all of this process, but it’s a shock because some of the things Gemma listed mean nothing, but clearly, to him, mean everything.

“Everyone in that room,” Gemma points over her shoulder, “knows who you are and what you mean to him.”

“Everyone?” You whisper. It doesn’t feel real. You’d never been so loved, and it might be why you’re feeling overwhelmed because he wants to bask in your love. It’s not a show; it’s simply his way of showing he loves you in front of everyone he cares about.

“Celebrate how you want but know all we want is to see him happy. It’s clear as day that you make him happy. This is the happiest I’ve seen him, and it’s because of you. Maybe even happier than selling out Wembley.”

“Thank you, Gemma.” She hugs you tight, and it’s so familiar yet different from Harry’s. His is light and full of love, while Gemma’s is tight and warm. “He wrote you a beautiful song.” You’re referring to “Sweet Creature,” which he dedicated to her tonight.

“It’s a special one. Don’t worry. I hear you’ll be getting yours soon enough,” she teases. “I’ll see you inside.”

A few seconds later, someone else joins you. It’s as if your body knows who it is without seeing them because you feel the familiar flutter in your stomach as his smell wraps around you.

“Baby, where did you go?” Harry whines. Baby is a term of endearment that comes out a lot when he’s had more than one to drink. It’s your favorite during these times.

“I’m here,” you open your arms, and he happily falls in your embrace. “I’m proud of you, love.” You run a hand through the back of his head, keeping him close.

“Thank you, baby.”

“Like really proud. You’re so loved. What you do is incredible. I feel so lucky to be able to love you.”

Harry pulls back, and you see his beautiful eyes glistening with tears threatening to fall soon. “I love you.”

You press your lips against his and put all your love into the kiss. You wish you could spend the rest of the night kissing him, but there is more celebrating to do. Harry doesn’t let you pull away, instead deepening the kiss. You melt against him, forgetting your worries and enjoying this moment with him. A moment only for the two of you to remember.

“Let’s keep celebrating, my love,” you whisper against his lips.

“Still nervous?” He checks.

“Only a smidge.”

Harry smiles, “that’s okay. I’ll hold your hand.”

“You won’t let go?”

“Never,” he promises.

As you return to the party holding tight to his hand, he asks an important question. “Can I keep kissing you?”

Your laugh rings loud, echoing through Harry’s heart. You bring your hand up to rest at the back of his neck and pull him down for a kiss. “As much as you like.”

[teacasket]

spilled

genre: fluff au: non idol au warnings: none word count: 0.6k   pairing: gn!reader x bang chan

Even with your thumb sealing the top, your straw still won’t go through the thick lid. You raise your arm higher, aim, and stab at your drink again, but that only results in a bent straw. Someone behind you murmurs something inaudible over the crowd of customers, and your ears burn. You’ve been standing at the pick-up counter for at least a minute, fighting with plastic.

“45!”

You step farther to the side to let the person grab their order. They take a straw from the holder, and you do the same.

“46 and 47!”

Another small step to the side. With envy, you watch from your periphery as they easily punch their straw through the covered hole on the lid. Why new tea houses won’t stick with the traditional cheap plastic sealing is beyond you, but you suppose it’s a reason why they charge more.

“48! Hey, do you need help?”

You startle at the voice. The barista, the cute one who didn’t take your order today but did last time, gestures at your cup. You feel your blush traveling down to your neck.

“You’ve been here for a while. I can give you a hand, if you want.”

You shake your head and peel back the paper holder of your fresh straw. “I’ve got it, thanks.”

“Okay. Let me know if you need anything.”

You smile gratefully and turn your attention back to your drink. Help—you don’t need help. All you need is a good, forceful hit.

One, two, three!

Something pops, and a flood of green rushes down the counter. You instinctively step back to protect your white shoes and finally realize that you’re holding the source of the mess. A black straw pokes out through both ends of your cup.

A good, forceful hit was what you asked for.

“Sorry,” you say, repeating it every single person standing behind you. Miraculously, no one got hurt or stained.

You grab a wad of napkins and try to start cleaning up. Ordering something with matcha was a mistake; it all looks like milky slime or snot. No one tries to help. They couldn’t anyway since there’s barely any room for them to do so. The air conditioning in the shop isn’t enough to cool down your embarrassment.

When you reach to get another stack of napkins, the same barista comes to the counter to ask, “Everything okay?”

You hold up your mangled cup as an explanation. “Sorry.”

“No, don’t worry. I can remake your order,” he says. “What was it?”

“Uh, thanks, but everything spilled. The counter and the floor—it’s all over. I’m really sorry about that. I probably should’ve let you help me.”

He cracks a smile. “I’ll get someone on it. What was your order?”

You tell him and wedge yourself into the nearest corner as another employee comes out the back with a mop and a bright yellow sign. You scroll on your phone, trying to appear invisible. Everyone knows it was your fault. Hell, you even saw someone point in your direction. You keep your head buried as you wait.

“Matcha green tea latte, no ice and 75% sweetness.”

You walk to the second register which has been repurposed as the pick-up counter.

“I already put your straw in for you,” the barista says. “A lot of people struggle with it, too.”

You doubt they do, but it’s sweet that he’s trying to console you. “Thanks. Sorry again about the mess. Do you guys have a tip jar or something? I didn’t see one around.”

“It’s built into the payment system. You can leave us a review and mention me and Jisung, though. Say we did a good job or something. You can keep it vague.”

“Sure. What’s your name?”

“Chan. I’ll see you around.”

You smile and say goodbye. Cute as he is, you can never come back here. You’ll leave a nice review, but dear God, you are never coming back.

[mostlysignssomeportents]

An excerpt from The Bezzle

I'm on tour with my new novel The Bezzle! Catch me next in SALT LAKE CITY (Feb 21, Weller Book Works) and SAN DIEGO (Feb 22, Mysterious Galaxy). After that, it's LA, Seattle, Portland, Phoenix and more!

Today, I'm bringing you part one of an excerpt from Chapter 14 of The Bezzle, my next novel, which drops on Feb 20. It's an ice-cold revenge technothriller starring Martin Hench, a two-fisted forensic accountant specialized in high-tech fraud:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865878/thebezzle

Hench is the Zelig of high-tech fraud, a character who's spent 40 years in Silicon Valley unwinding every tortured scheme hatched by tech-bros who view the spreadsheet as a teleporter that whisks other peoples' money into their own bank-accounts. This setup is allowing me to write a whole string of these books, each of which unwinds a different scam from tech's past, present and future, starting with last year's Red Team Blues (now in paperback!), a novel that whose high-intensity thriller plotline is also a masterclass in why cryptocurrency is a scam:

https://us.macmillan.com/books/9781250865854/redteamblues

Turning financial scams into entertainment is important work. Finance's most devastating defense is the Shield Of Boringness (h/t Dana Clare) – tactically deployed complexity designed to induce the state that finance bros call "MEGO" ("my eyes glaze over"). By combining jargon and obfuscation, the most monstrous criminals of our age have been able to repeatedly bring our civilization to the brink of collapse (remember 2008?) and then spin their way out of it.

Turning these schemes into entertainment is hard, necessary work, because it incinerates the respectable suit and tie and leaves the naked dishonesty of the finance sector on display for all to see. In The Big Short, they recruited Margot Robbie to explain synthetic CDOs from a bubble-bath. And John Oliver does this every week on Last Week Tonight, coming up with endlessly imaginative stunts and gags to flense the bullshit, laying the scam economy open to the bone.

This was my inspiration for the Hench novels (I've written and sold three of these, of which The Bezzle is number two; I've got at least two more planned). Could I use the same narrative tactics I used to explain mass surveillance, cryptography and infosec in the Little Brother books to turn scams into entertainment, and entertainment into the necessary, informed outrage that might precipitate change?

The main storyline in The Bezzle concerns one of the most gruesome scams in today's America: prison-tech, which sees America's vast army of prisoners being stripped of letters, calls, in-person visits, parcels, libraries and continuing ed in favor of cheap tablets that bilk prisoners and their families of eye-watering sums for every click they make:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/14/minnesota-nice/#shitty-technology-adoption-curve

But each Hench novel has a variety of side-quests that work to expose different kinds of financial chicanery. The Bezzle also contains explainers on the workings of MLMs/Ponzis (and how Gerry Ford and Betsy DeVos's father-in-law legalized one of the most destructive forces in America) and the way that oligarchs, foreign and domestic, use Real Estate Investment Trusts to hide their money and destroy our cities.

And there's a subplot about music-royalty theft, a form of pernicious wage theft that is present up and down the music industry supply-chain. This is a subject that came up a lot when Rebecca Giblin and I were researching and writing Chokepoint Capitalism, our 2022 book about creative labor markets:

https://chokepointcapitalism.com/

Two of the standout cases from that research formed the nucleus of the subplot in The Bezzle, the case of Leonard Cohen's batshit manager who stole millions from him and then went to prison for stalking him, leaving him virtually penniless and forced to keep touring to keep himself fed:

https://www.theguardian.com/music/2012/apr/19/leonard-cohen-former-manager-jailed

The other was George Clinton, whose manager forged his signature on a royalty assignment, then used the stolen money to defend himself against Clinton's attempts to wrestle his rights back and even to sue Clinton for defamation for writing about the caper in his memoir:

https://www.musicconnection.com/the-legal-beat-george-clinton-wins-defamation-case/

That's the tale that this excerpt – which I'll be serializing in six parts over the coming week – tells, in fictionalized form. It's not Margot Robbie in a bubble-bath, it's not a John Oliver monologue, but I think it's pretty goddamned good.

I'm leaving for a long, multi-city, multi-country, multi-continent tour with The Bezzle next Wednesday, starting with an event at Weller Bookworks in Salt Lake City on the 21st:

https://www.wellerbookworks.com/event/store-cory-doctorow-feb-21-630-pm

I'll in be in San Diego on the 22nd at Mysterious Galaxy:

https://www.mystgalaxy.com/22224Doctorow

And then it's on to LA (with Adam Conover), Seattle (with Neal Stephenson), Portland, Phoenix and beyond:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/16/narrative-capitalism/#bezzle-tour

I hope you'll come out for the tour (and bring your friends)!

Between 1972 and 1978, Steve Soul (a.k.a. Stefon Magner) had a string of sixteen Billboard Hot 100 singles, one of which cracked the Top 10 and won him an appearance on Soul Train. He is largely forgotten today, except by hip-­hop producers who prize his tracks as a source of deep, funky grooves. They sampled the hell out of him, not least because his rights were controlled by Inglewood Jams, a clearinghouse for obscure funk tracks that charged less than half of what the Big Three labels extracted for each sample license.

Even at that lower rate, those license payments would have set Stefon up for a comfortable retirement, especially when added to his Social Security and the disability check from Dodgers Stadium, where he cleaned floors for more than a decade before he fell down a beer-­slicked bleacher and cracked two of his lumbar discs. But Stefon didn’t get a dime. His former manager, Chuy Flores, forged his signature on a copyright assignment in 1976. Stefon didn’t discover this fact until 1979, because Chuy kept cutting him royalty checks, even as Stefon’s band broke up and those royalties trickled off. In Stefon’s telling, the band broke up because the rest of the act—­especially the three-­piece rhythm section of two percussionists and a beautiful bass player with a natural afro and a wild, infectious hip-­wiggle while she played—­were too coked up to make it to rehearsal, making their performances into shambling wreckages and their studio sessions into vicious bickerfests. To hear the band tell of it, Stefon had bad LSD (“Lead Singer Disease”) and decided he didn’t need the rest of them. One thing they all agreed on: there was no way Stefon would have signed over the band’s earnings to Chuy, who was little more than a glorified bookkeeper, with Stefon hustling all their bookings and even ordering taxis to his bandmates’ houses to make sure they showed up at the studio or the club on time. Stefon remembered October of ’79 well. He’d been waiting with dread for the envelope from Chuy. The previous royalty check, in July, had been under $250. The previous quarter’s had been over $1,000. This quarter’s might have zero. Stefon needed the money. His 1972 Ford Galaxie needed a new transmission. He couldn’t keep driving it in first.

The envelope arrived late, the day before Halloween, and for a brief moment, Stefon was overcome by an incredible, unbelieving elation: Chuy’s laboriously typewritten royalty statement ended with the miraculous figure of $7,421.16. Seven thousand dollars! It was more than two years’ royalties, all in one go! He could fix the Galaxie’s transmission and get the ragtop patched, and still have money left over for his back rent, his bar tab, his child support, and a fine steak dinner, and even then, he’d end the month with money in his savings account.

But there was no check in the envelope. Stefon shook the envelope, carefully unfolded the royalty statement to ensure that there was no check stapled to its back, went downstairs to the apartment building lobby and rechecked his mailbox.

Finally, he called Chuy.

“Chuy, man, you forgot to put a check in the envelope.”

“I didn’t forget, Steve. Read the paperwork again. You gotta send me a check.”

“What the fuck? That’s not funny, Chuy.”

“I ain’t joking, Steve. I been advancing you royalties for more than three years, but you haven’t earned nothing new since then—­no new recordings. I can’t afford to carry you no more.”

“Say what?”

Chuy explained it to him like he was a toddler. “Remember when you signed over your royalties to me in ’76? Every dime I’ve sent you since then was an advance on your future recordings, only you haven’t had none of those, so I’m cutting you off and calling in your note. I’m sorry, Steve, but I ain’t a charity. You don’t work, you don’t earn. This is America, brother. No free lunches.”

“After I did what in ’76?”

“Steve, in 1976 you signed over all your royalties to me. We agreed, man! I can’t believe you don’t remember this! You came over to my spot and I told you how it was and you said you needed money to cover the extra horns for the studio session on Fight Fire with Water. I told you I’d cover them and you’d sign over all your royalties to me.”

Stefon was briefly speechless. Chuy had paid the sidemen on that session, but that was because Chuy owed him a thousand bucks for a string of private parties they’d played for some of Chuy’s cronies. Chuy had been stiffing him for months and Stefon had agreed to swap the session fees for the horn players in exchange for wiping out the debt, which had been getting in the way of their professional relationship.

“Chuy, you know it didn’t happen that way. What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m talking about when you signed over all your royalties to me. And you know what? I don’t like your tone. I’ve carried your ass for years now, sent you all that money out of my own pocket, and now you gotta pay up. My generosity’s run out. When you gonna send me a check?”

Of course, it was a gambit. It put Stefon on tilt, got him to say a lot of ill-­advised things over the phone, which Chuy secretly recorded. It also prompted Stefon to take a swing at Chuy, which Chuy dived on, shamming that he’d had a soft-­tissue injury in his neck, bringing suit for damages and pressing an aggravated-­assault charge.

He dropped all that once Stefon agreed not to keep on with any claims about the forged signature; Stefon went on to become a good husband, a good father, and a hard worker. And if cleaning floors at Dodgers Stadium wasn’t what he’d dreamed of when he was headlining on Soul Train, at least he never missed a game, and his boy came most weekends and watched with him. Stefon’s supervisor didn’t care.

But the stolen royalties ate at him, especially when he started hearing his licks every time he turned on the radio. His voice, even. Chuy Flores had a fully paid-­off three-­bedroom in Eagle Rock and two cars and two ex-­wives and three kids he was paying child support on, and Stefon sometimes drove past Chuy Flores’s house to look at his fancy palm trees all wrapped up in strings of Christmas lights and think about who paid for them.

ETA: Here's part two!

If you'd like an essay-formatted version of this post to read or share, here's a link to it on pluralistic.net, my surveillance-free, ad-free, tracker-free blog:

https://pluralistic.net/2024/02/17/the-steve-soul-caper/#lead-singer-disease

[sharkboywrites]

You could do Guzman (Pokémon) x teen! Little brother figure male Reader platónic plis (⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠)

Guzma With a Little Brother Figure

A/N: Oh my god this is my first request and also my first time writing a Pokémon fic I'm so excited, I hope this lives up what you were hoping :) (although I have to be honest I never actually finished sun and moon)

Male reader (teen), platonic

So let's get the one obvious thing out of the way, which is that Guzma is really bad at emotions

If he really does care about someone, he's not very affectionate, but he shows it in other ways

That new hoodie he gave you? It was cheap and thought it would suit you, don't think too much into it (do, actually)

He bought you an ice cream? It was especially hot in Alola that day, he can't have you fainting on him

it's likely that he found you just like very other kid in team skull that he indirectly adopted, but something about you was probably different to make him see you as a little brother

The most likely option is that you were less aggressive than literally every other kid on team skull

Every other kid in team skull runs head first into trouble without his permission and comes crying to him about how they lost a battle, which annoys him to no end

At least you're a little smarter to not do that

If you do end up getting into trouble, he gets mad

Not at you but whoever tried to start trouble with you. Who has the AUDACITY to try and fight his totally-not-little-brother

He'll even send out his golisopod to intimidate anyone else around and make sure no one tries to mess with you again

Listen he knows what it's like to be bullied and there is no way he's letting it happen to you

If you left your family like I'm assuming most kids in team skull did, then he'll feel sad for you

I mean he feels sad for every kid in that situation but especially for you because he's closer with you

Even though he's not the best at comforting, he'll listen to you talk about your problems and what's going on at home

You've got a sucky family? Well good news now you have over about twenty brothers and sisters who are all there for you (plus Plumeria who makes sure that you're actually being taken care of)

Are you a trans dude? Well more good news, you've got the most affirming guy behind your back (let's be real most team skull kids give off the vibe they're trans)

He'll even give you clothing tips/get you to dress like him. It may not be the best look but it works and is very gender affirming

In general if Guzma is now your older brother, now you have a whole family in team skull

If you don't wanna go home, then welcome to the shady house

It may not be the best place to live, but Guzma makes sure that you're comfortable. he makes sure that you've got food, water, a place to sleep, and a roof over your head

You've gotta be a whole other level of stupid if you think he'll just leave you to fend for yourself

Guzma might not be the best caretaker or the best person in general, but he cares about you, and he's not gonna let anything happen to his little brother

I stayed up way later than I usually do to write this just because I was so excited and I love Guzma with all my heart, ty for reading and have a nice day :)

[gourmetjello]

könig x reader : microwave

hey loves, hopefully könig isn’t getting too boring !! i’m quite obviously a könig blog for now but i would love to write about others too maybe a bit later, i was thinking about keegan, ghost, krueger or maybe even horangi? any opinions on these guys? (｡- .•)

you know the drill already -> 2nd person pov (it’s working pretty well!) and english isn’t my first language so bear with me. this will be a more lighthearted and shorter fic! i’ve been promising a fluff for a few days now but gosh, i feel like i would mess it up and könig would be to ooc. that’s just my personal fear though bahaha

also in this oneshot könig is wearing his mask / sniper hood for the first time ( ⸝⸝´꒳`⸝⸝) hope you’ll enjoy! (bunch of dialogue in this one ahaha)

—

the kortac base was always eerily quiet and dark around nighttime and it even creeped some people out. you weren’t really one of them, but you couldn’t deny that the thought of being surrounded by so many guns and other kinds of weapons didn’t exactly make you feel safe and sound at night. not like you spent so much time in the main building after midnight, but still.

one night though, you happened to be in one of the rooms because the microwave in the dormitory stopped working. it’s a stupid little thing, but it did indeed cause a mass panic among the people in the crew! everyone was rushing to grab their already prepared meals from the fridges, trying to get to the microwave first. they got to warm up their food and was all that mattered — however, you totally forgot about this silly tech chaos.

you stood in front of the already yellowed microwave in the shared dormitory kitchen, pressing every button you could possibly lay your finger on. it made a little beeping noise after your aggressive presses, but after displaying ‘error’ instead of the time, you gave up. it just wouldn’t start spinning and it wouldn’t light up either. what a stupid piece of technology!

loud sighs could be heard in the empty room ws your finger gently knocked against the already cracked and slightly dirty plastic shell of the microwave. you didn’t even dare to open the door of it and look in there with maybe a light or something — you were totally scared that you would find some kind of nasty black mold growing in there. which was probably the case. and it made you feel so uneasy! but oh well, soliders are so cheap — you thought and carried on.

you were fine with eating cold food, as long as it had some nutritional value, but when a bunch of people in camouflage outfits passed you with steaming warm meals on their trays, you just had to stop in your tracks.

“hey, where did you heat that-“

but everyone was too busy with eating their soggy yet warm food. they were all eating like they have been starving for at least three weeks! and the way they knocked you out of the way to get to the fridge made you freeze up for a second — gosh, these men (and women too, surprisingly) can drink a can of no name beer like it’s the finest liquid to ever flow on planet earth!

you quickly had to realize that you were on your own in this situation. or well, maybe not a hundred percent on your own because there was that small plate of clumped together mashed potatoes and a can of ice cold soup on your plastic tray. your fingers slightly trembled as you were about to pick it all up and sit down next to someone, pretending that they were piping hot like theirs — but you accidentally caught someone blabbering about how it was such a smart touch to put a microwave in the main building too.

that small little sentence you happened to hear was almost like a god-sent miracle, it made you immediately grab everything that was in front of you and you practically rushed to the lobby of the kortac base. it was pretty dark in there and you weren’t too familiar with where the light switches were there, but it didn’t bother you that much because all you could possibly care about in that moment was getting your food all nice and wamed up.

and guess what — the microwave was working. what a blessing!

you watched as the device light up with an orange-ish tint and you could see your canned soap going round and round on the little glass plate inside. the microwave lit up the entire room with a pretty yellow color, making you forget how quiet and dark it actually was in there.

the sweet little chime that played as it finished spun in your head on repeat like it was the best sound ever, signaling that you could finally eat after a long and tiring day. as soon as you took out the soup, you immediately paced the mashed potatoes in there as well, wanting to heat them up as quick as possible. it was satisfying to see the timer go down, and when you thought about getting something to drink, maybe a glass of water, you turned around-

only to see the barrel of a gun pointing at you.

you could barely make out the shape in front of your eyes in the dimly lit room, but once you realized what shape it was your heart immediately started beating in your throat. as a trained solider, you knew better than to make a sound in a situation like this, but come on. was someone pulling a horrible prank on you?

“who’s.. who’s this?” you asked with a weak voice, what a mistake. you knew you were never ever supposed to form a question when something dangerous was going on, but you had to know.

“i’ll tell you while i pour that boiling can of soup on you, how does that fucking sound?” the voice was familiar, but you couldn’t exactly put your finger on who it could belong to.

“e-excuse me?”

as the microwave finished heating your mashed potatoes up, it made three short beeps and the light stayed on, blinking every once in a while. the sounds it made broke the silence between you and this mysterious person that really wanted to commit some kind of crime on base, for whatever reason.

or maybe you were taking this too lightly? what if it was actually someone that broke into the base and is actually not kidding while saying all of these things? you knew quite a few people that could kill people without even thinking twice, the military was simply a place like that, but gosh, why would anyone say this to their own co-worker? it had to be someone who’s actually a threat. right?

as the yellow light blinked every few seconds, you just had to look up in case you knew who this person could be. and as soon as you saw how low the mysterious man had to hold compared to his own body and weight, you could immediately make a guess.

“könig?”

“huh?”

“what the fuck are you doing? put the gun down!”

it looked like something clicked in his brain too as he heard your voice again and he lowered the gun to his side, or at least that was what you were able to see. he then lightly leaned down but what you saw next absolutely creeped you out — he had some kind of cloth on his face! did this man totally go insane?

“i demand an.. explanation?”

“hm?”

“..like, i need you to tell me what this whole thing was about!”

“i mistook ya’ for an intruder.” he shrugged.

you stayed silent for a few seconds.

“you really thought that someone would break in all sneakily and.. warm up some food? are you being serious right now?”

“you can never know.”

“and what’s this rag on your head?

“rag?”

“yeah.”

“it’s um. equipment. sniper.”

“you’re not even a sniper.”

“shut up. i can be a sniper.”

“is that a t-shirt?”

“no.”

you could barely see what was on his head but judging from the way it just hung down, you were almost 99% sure in it being just an old t-shirt. the idea felt so silly, yet you had to admit that someone in a mask like that standing in this dark room would really make someone shit their pants.

“it is. you could have gotten a.. um, like, fake leaves. like others do. or that net on your head or something. you know, anything that looks a little more.. professional?”

“yeah, ya’ don’t like it?”

“i did not say that, just..”

“want a bullet in yer’ fucking stupid brain?”

“no.”

“i thought.”

“you thought?”

“i thought.”

“you thought so?”

“ja. thought so.”

“your english still sucks.”

“don’t need it.”

you took a deep sigh and you took a moment to think about how pathetic this scene could look to someone viewing this whole thing from the doorway or outside or anything like that. it was almost like you were watining for a cameraman to walk out from behind one of the chairs in the room and tell you how this will be a great scene for their next draining comedy series.

“you do need it.”

“nein.”

“what a great sense of humor you got there.”

“another joke.. and i, eh, really shoot you. understood?”

“oh gosh. okay.”

—

really short !! so sorry, this was all i could do today. thank you for the kind words, the many likes and the 20 followers. ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

good night!

[9haharharley1]

[Hi hello its Ectoplasmicsodaaaaa]

Okay but that accidental first kiss prompt for pompep or blackice would be CHEF KISS

Pompep it is!

---

Attending a college Halloween party hadn't been a bad idea at the time. With the exception of that one terrible time his freshman year, Danny had never been to a real party. He wasn't sure if this one even really counted since it was hosted by the college and not some random student ready to get all the co-eds drunk.

Maybe that was why he decided to go.

It felt awkward to go without Sam and Tucker there to back him up, what with his best friends being split all over the country. He didn't even have Jazz to call and come save him if he decided he wasn't having fun, but on the plus side, his dorm was just out the door and around the corner, so really what had been the harm?

Danny pulled up his big boy pants, whipped up a quick costume, and was out the door.

It wasn't much to look at - just some black pants with a cotton ball pinned to the back to mimic a tail, a V-neck long sleeve shirt, and a black and white half-mask that exposed the lower have of his face from the nose down, molded in the shape of a goat's head, with two horns jutting out the sides. He had arranged his hair to tastefully fall in front of the mask, and when he looked in the mirror he didn't hate what he saw. So with a shrug and a steadying breath, Danny attended his first college party.

It was set up in the dining hall, the doors flung open to let attendees roam in and out to enjoy the nice weather - shockingly not too cold this time of year; not that cold weather bothered Danny at all these days. The punch had already been spiked, there were couples making out in the dark corners of the building. Snacks and finger foods had been set up around the punch bowl, and there was a food truck loitering outside next to a snow-cone truck. He could smell weed in the air and briefly entertained the idea of attaining some for himself as he bought a snow-cone.

He was interrupted from this thought by a warmth at his side.

"Enjoying the party?" came a smooth voice over his shoulder, and Danny jumped, whipping his head around to see a man standing barely a foot away. He was taller than Danny, dressed in all black, with a ram's head mask of black and glitter covering his face, the horns curling over silver hair. His goatee and pale skin stood put against so much black.

He cut a handsome figure in the dark.

Danny just shrugged at him. "I guess?" he said, taking a bite of his snowcone. "I just got here."

"Not a party person then?"

"Not really," Danny admitted. He took a seat on the nearby bench, surprised to see the man follow him and take a seat as well. "I've never really fit in enough for parties."

The man hummed. "I wouldn't say it's much of a party anyway. Have you tried the punch yet? Somone decided it would be a good idea to spike it with cheap vodka." His lips twisted into a grimace.

Danny laughed. "We're all broke college students, what did you expect?"

"I expected one of you to at least spring for Tito's," the man grumbled. Danny laughed again, but mulled over the man's words.

"So you're not a student here, are you?" he asked. He took another bite of his flavored ice.

"I use to be," he answered. "Now I'm just a... dedicated alumni." He looked down at Danny, a respectful foot away, but radiating enough heat that he may as well be sitting closer. Danny shivered. "And you? You're a student, correct?"

"Yeah." Danny nodded. The man's eyes were a deep blue, dark as the night around them. Danny could get lost in those eyes if he wasn't careful.

"What's your major?" The man's voice was so charming and silky, Danny almost felt bad for how he blushed over it.

"Oh! Uh... physics and astronomy."

"A fellow scientist, then." The man's lips curled into a small smirk, and Danny may have felt his heart skip a beat. Why was this guy talking to him?! He could be chatting up literally anyone on campus, age be damned, and take them home no questions asked! Why was he choosing to talk to Danny? "A man after my own heart."

Danny's breath came out in a shaky exhale.

He lowered his snowcone, bringing one leg up under him as he turned to face this handsome stranger. His eyes narrowed behind his mask. "Okay, Mr. Darcy. Are you flirting with me?"

The man's smirk widened further, half-turning to Danny with an arm thrown over the back of the bench, a leg coming up to cross over the other. His other hand fell to his lap as he leaned in closer.

"Depends," he said, and Danny's cheeks felt like they were on fire, "is it working?"

"Considering I wouldn't call it very good flirting," Danny muttered back, glancing away, "...yeah. It is."

The hand on the back of the bench rose, warm fingers grazing Danny's chin. "Then maybe you'll let me see your face." There was heat in dark eye, and Danny felt caught in their flames. "I'm sure those pretty eyes are even prettier without the mask."

Even as desire and heat settled in Danny's belly, Danny couldn't help but smirk, only slightly rueful. "Nah." He pulled his head away from the hot touch. "I'm not that much of a looker." He stood with his snowcone, brushing off the seat of his pants. "Maybe go find another co-ed to schmooze. I'm sure someone here is up to your standards."

Danny didn't see the way blue eyes darkened, didn't see how the man scowled at the self-deprecating words. He took a step away, fully intending on tossing his remaining flavored ice and heading back to his dorm. He wasn't in the mood to flirt with handsome older gentlemen who only wanted one night and never again.

He took a step away, but a near burning hand on his wrist stopped him back.

"Daniel"-

He barely registered his own name on a stranger's tongue before he was spun, tripping over his feet and loosing balance on a clump of grass. The older man was sat forward on the bench to stop him from walking off, hand on his wrist, but Danny yelped as he fell against him, catching himself with his free hand on a broad shoulder and a knee banged painfully into the hard plastic of the bench.

Neither of those two things mattered however.

What mattered, was the loud sound of their masks clacking loudly together in the night. What mattered was the wide blue eyes staring at him, nearly crossed from how close they were. What mattered was the fluttering in his heart, the lump in his throat, the heat in his belly as lips, soft and wet and near scalding pressed to his own as Danny stared wide-eyed at the man now practically under him. Those dark eyes fell half-shut as Danny pulled away barely an inch, eyes wide, as those deep blues bled red with barely surpressed emotion.

Danny tried to keep the panic out of his voice as he whispered, breath icy cold against hot lips, "...Vlad?"

His voice sounded so small even to his own ears, and Vlad's eyes darkened further. "I will give you a million dollars if you stay right here," Vlad said, heat and promise masking the desperation in his voice. Danny's breathing picked up.

He shoved away from the older man, Vlad falling back into the bench as Danny phased through his hold. His snow-cone had long been abandoned to the ground, and before Vlad could reach out to him, Danny was gone, invisible in an instant, and nearly three seconds later, fighting back panicked tears in the safety of his dorm, his hand shaking as he held it over his mouth.

[always-andromeda]

hi! so excited for your valentine’s event! if you’re still accepting requests, could I perhaps get a white chocolate truffle with our dear mr. the riddler?

to keep it fun and seasonal, maybe it’s your first valentine’s day together and all he’s ever seen are movies, commercials, etc. so he’s super flustered and nervous that he has to like make this grand gesture and buy you a bunch of stuff, but maybe whatever he’s planning falls thru for some reason and he’s really upset? but then you comfort him and let him know that you don’t need any of that stuff and you end up eating an entire box of cheap chocolates together and watching a movie or something?

but also if you don’t like that premise, absolutely feel free to go with whatever you want! love your writing!! 💘💚

– 𝐃𝐞𝐯𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐨 𝐘𝐨𝐮

𝐄𝐝𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝 𝐍𝐚𝐬𝐡𝐭𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐆𝐍!𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: don't you worry, anon. I adored this premise. and I genuinely loved writing it. so much so that it came out to a little over a thousand words oops I didn't mean to I promise!!

𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: this ended up being a bit more angsty than I meant for it to be lmao, bits of fluff, blood mention (nothing graphic), Edward essentially has a meltdown, nothing else I can think of!

The day was supposed to be perfect. It was supposed to be a chocolate filled, candy coated, heart shaped, ribbon wrapped day of romance. That's how these sorts of holidays worked, right? Edward expected that he'd be planning so much that he'd barely get to feel the gratification of any of his efforts. Your adoring expression when you saw how devoted he was to making everything special would be his reward.

But with the way things were looking, he was losing it. Edward took a shallow breath and closed his eyes, going over the mental checklist for all of the things that had gone wrong that day.

He hadn't gotten the day off even though he'd requested it nearly a month in advance. Edward wouldn't forget the sneer on Zach's face as he chuckled and said, "Don't you need a date in order for that to work, Eddie boy?" Never mind his protest that he did have a date, which was precisely why he needed the day off in the first place. Zach didn't care. It had taken everything in Edward not to tear him to pieces in his stupid corporate office.

He figured he'd deal with it. That just meant his day was going to be a bit busier. At least the restaurant he wanted to take you out to was all set.

At least until he got home from work, flower bouquet in hand and called the restaurant for the fourth time that day, learned that their computer system had crashed, and wiped most of their reservation roster for the night. 

As much as Edward pitied the poor, panicked employee on the other end and the kind of night they were going to face, he had his own worries. He hung up quickly and leaned back against the kitchen wall, making a mental note to call later and see if the issue was fixed.

Alright, Edward. You're already lucky that you got this chance in the first place. And you're screwing it up. Just breathe. And do something.

So he did something. He found a vase in one of the cupboards for the flowers; a nice crystal one that would look perfect displayed on the coffee table, waiting for you when you got back to your apartment as well.

All his life he'd had butterfingers. And once more, they struck at the worst possible moment. As he carried the crystal vase to the coffee table in the living room, before he could quite process it, the vase was slipping from his hands and falling to the floor with a heart shattering crash.

Now he was on the ground, hurriedly sweeping the pieces of broken glass with his bare hands. Among the shards were flowers, now all scattered and already starting to look disheveled. The water was soaking into the knees of his slacks.

And the icing on the cake? Of course he had to slice his finger on a shard of glass when he wasn't paying attention. Without hesitation, he attempted to stop the blood flow...using the sleeve of his white button up. But he was already too far gone. 

You're screwing it up. You can't do anything right, can you? You're going to end up alo–

He clamped his hands around his ears, trying to block out the voice, trying to catch his breath, trying to hold onto something; anything. But it was like he was drowning. Going further and further down, the water clogged all of his senses.

Edward? Eddie? Eddie!

Finally, he felt a hand on his shoulder. And it all stopped. Edward opened his eyes and blinked heavily, catching your scared expression for only a few seconds before you replaced it with a tentative smile.

"Hey, are you with me?"

Edward nodded slowly, only just beginning to feel the waves of hot tears that had started rolling down his cheeks. This wasn't the first meltdown you'd witnessed from him. But it was the first one he'd had on a holiday. As much as they intimidated him, he'd managed to keep it together. Something about this one though pressed him so thin that he felt like he could shatter at any minute. 

And you already seemed so aware of it as you helped him get up and said, "You're home, you're with me."

You caught sight of the bright red blood on his shirt cuff and took his hand in yours tenderly, examining the small cut on the side of his index finger. "Let's take care of this first, alright?”

You took him into your little bathroom and carefully cleaned the wound before rubbing in a small dot of antibiotic ointment and sending him in your room to pick out a set of pajamas from your dresser. Normally, Edward would feel embarrassed, having sets of pajamas at your apartment for all the times he stayed over; he hated being alone at night. But now, he was grateful to get out of the damp slacks and bloodstained button up.

By the time he finished getting dressed, you'd picked the remaining pieces of glass, sopped up the water, and placed all the flowers on paper towels in your kitchen. And when he'd looked at them shamefully, you came up behind him, wrapping your arms around his midsection. Then you spoke, "They're beautiful flowers, Edward. Thank you. Maybe I could press them and use them in a project. That way I can keep them forever."

Edward hummed lightly, "That sounds lovely." You are lovely, he wanted to say. But somehow, he could tell that you already knew it as you walked him out to the living room, a massive box of chocolates and a small bottle of red wine on the coffee table.

"It's not much, but I didn't know if you'd have anything planned. So I figured we could spend the night in," you explained.

Edward didn't have the energy to scold himself for forgetting to tell you about his plan for the evening. None of that mattered anymore. He was tired. Exhausted, actually. But more than that, he was in love. In love with you and your gentle touch and your hopeful eyes as you waited for his reply. Like if the chocolate and the wine wasn't there, you'd probably still be content anyways. Content with him.

"I wouldn't ask for anything else, my angel," Edward said, his lips forming into a small, semi-circular smile as he pulled you into a warm, comforting embrace.

[mysticstarlightduck]

Looking For Feedback: Updated Prologue Chapter of Supernova Initiative

I mentioned I was looking for feedback for this chapter of Supernova Initiative, and after some feedback from my friends and mutuals, I did some editing and am going to post the new version here now!

Please give me feedback on this new version! It's still not the final one!! 💕

Important Context: The Prologue chapters take place around ten years before the main story of the WIP takes place. Those chapters serve to establish character backstory and showcase how the MCs became the characters they are in the main story - which takes place almost ten years later, where all the MCs have become famous outlaws. Each backstory chapter follows important events of the MCs past, and establishes who they used to be before. (However, only the Jack & Cassie backstory chapter is a part of the prologue, all the other backstory chapters are peppered throughout the book). In this backstory chapter Jack is 15-years-old, Cassie is 8-years-old and Deimos 16-years-old. (In the Main Story, ten years later, Jack is 25, Cassie 18, and Deimos 26)

SUPERNOVA INITIATIVE

We’ll Make It to the Other Side

CETHEA III - TEN YEARS AGO 

One could say Jack Tithus was having a bad day - in fact, he had been having ‘a bad day’ for the past couple of years. Good salaries were a far-gone illusion that Jack, and pretty much everyone else who called this broken moon a home, had long since forgotten. Right now, Jack took what he could get - and as things grew dire, started accepting gigs and odd jobs from lowlifes and mobsters of all kinds, having long since been familiar with their moon’s bustling, and cutthroat underworld. Yes, he was an errand boy for criminals, but at least it put food on his sister’s plate - and on especially lucky days, on his too.

Today was not gonna be either of those days, apparently. 

 “Hey, what the fuck?!” Jack counted and recounted the pitiful amount of units Zeke, the thug sitting leisurely on the swivel chair across the grimy desk, had tossed to him. He could not believe his eyes, and it took every ounce of self-control he had to not lunge across the desk and strangle the smug right out of the guy’s face here and now. He didn’t even get a quarter of the price they’d settled on the day before.

Jack hit the desk with his hand, rattling the cheap metal in his anger. “I did the job. It was so fucking dangerous, but I did it. Got the merchandise past those stupid guards at the Station. You said you’d pay me in full.”

The man across the desk burst into laughter. “And you were stupid enough to believe me?” Zeke mocked, lighting a neon-blue cigarette and leaning back on the chair “I just needed someone desperate and gullible enough to smuggle those parts to my clients. You fit the bill like a glove.”

Jack fumed, staring daggers at the man. “Oh yeah, Zeke? Well, I think maybe a broken nose would fit your face quite nicely.” His words came out with a bite to them and he closed his hands into fists “You sure talk a lot of game for someone who needs a teen to do your dirty work.”

At that, Zeke’s eyes turned dangerous. He took one slow, long drag from his glowing cigarette, letting the cyan smoke billow from his mouth lazily. At a motion from his head, two figures stepped out from the shadows behind Jack, seemingly out of nowhere. “If I were you,” Zeke began, coldly “I’d be grateful for the scraps and call it a day before you find some real trouble. You’re treadin’ on thin ice here, being this mouthy on Onyx Striker territory.”

The young man didn’t move, but he could see - from the corner of his eye - the guns glimmering on the duo’s holsters, ready to be drawn. The unspoken threat caused his bravado to falter - he swallowed nervously. Jack couldn’t afford the risk, he couldn’t leave Cassie all alone in the slums. Kids didn’t last long on their own around here, and when they did, it was at a cost. He couldn’t get himself killed for something stupid, as much as his pride told him to fight. 

Thanks to the Junction, Jack and his sister, Cassiopeia, hadn’t had the concept of a ‘home’ or ‘money in a long, long while. And that as the basic reality for most of the mismatched families that managed to make it in Cethea III - the third and most forsaken moon of the frozen planet, Ivion, below. A Junction mining colony, where poverty and crime run amok, while the government strips their supplies dry day by day. Pride was a luxury most had to abandon early on in this place.

Swallowing his anger and all the instincts that told him to stand his ground. One last time, he tried to bargain, but this time more controlled. His attention didn’t leave the two thugs lurking behind him. “This isn’t enough, you know I have a sister -”

Zeke cut him off. “Eh, cry me a river.” The man took another drag of glowing smoke, and Jack instinctively held his breath - out of anxiety and rage combined “Fuck if I care, that ain’t a problem of mine. The brat’s yours. Ain’t none of my business and I ain’t wasting even more money on you.” The man dismissed him with a scowl, waving to the door vaguely. “Now scram, kiddo, before I  change my mind and take back those units we already gave ya. I’m growing bored.”

Jack took in a sharp breath, instinctively clutching the small pouch of coins tighter, knowing they could be taken away at any moment. He glared at the thug for a moment longer, before relenting. “... Fine.” 

He didn’t wait for an answer, instead turning around and pushing past the two men stationed behind him, storming out of the greasy and now smoke-filled office. “Stingy fucker.” Jack mumbled, mind racing faster than a hoverbike, a million thoughts a second. He didn’t look over his shoulder nor slow down his pace until the mob-owned building was far behind him. 

As he trudged through the dusty, bustling streets and alleyways, he scrambled to figure out what he was going to do next. 5 units wouldn’t even be enough to pay for half a meal in the greasiest, cheapest diners of this settlement. It wouldn’t even scratch the surface. Jack wanted to curl up and die at the thought of telling Cassie they were gonna have to skip dinner tonight. Again.

He ran a hand through his hair with a drawn-out groan, trying to come up with good enough excuses that wouldn’t sound like blatant lies to a genius 8-year-old. The best he could come up with were excuses he’d already used a million times before. Which didn’t help at all. 

Turning a corner around a quieter part of the slums, he made his way to the local junkyard. He knew the path with his eyes closed by now. Cassie loved the place - to her, it was like a playground where she could build as many bots as she wanted, and to him, it was a safe enough hiding spot for when he had to leave her unattended. He hoped to all the stars he knew that she had stayed put for the past seven hours like he told her to. She usually did.

Climbing over the broken chain fence wasn’t much of an effort, nor was finding a way to maneuver through the assortment of scrap metal and broken spaceship parts. After a minute or so of walking, he spotted a familiar head of blue-dyed hair barrelling toward him, as small arms wrapped around his waist tightly. 

He let the resentment and anger he’d been feeling before wash away for a brief moment, thankful that his sister was here, and that she was okay. With an arm still wrapped around her shoulders, keeping her close, they began to make their way out of the junkyard. 

Jack avoided the pressing subject of dinner, pushing it to the back of his head after giving up looking for solutions where there were none. He could feel his blood still boiling from his interaction with Zeke, and it took almost everything he had to hide the frustration and slip into his usual doting, brotherly role. Jack never wanted Cassie to be upset about things he should be able to solve. So, meanwhile, he asked something else, voice practicedly happy and calm, a complete opposite of the annoyance he was still feeling at the mob. “Did you have a good day, Cass?”

The girl, who was skipping along beside him, holding onto his arm, nodded. “I did, I think. Got bored after a while because you were so late, so I went for a walk in the city. Was pretty fun.”

Jack bit back the knee-jerk instinct to berate her for wandering into that settlement alone, “Yeah?” He hummed instead, in a kind tone, injecting optimism into his answer despite his every thought  “That’s good. A bit risky though, but sounds fun indeed! Did any of the other kids give you any trouble?” They stopped by the broken fence once more, and Jack gave her a boost to get over it, before following suit with ease. 

Once on the other side of the fence, standing once more at an alley, Cassie answered, holding his hand “Not really. Some older kids were being loud and causing trouble at a pub. Didn’t go near them though.”

Jack sighed in relief, “Good,” He nodded at her “You did the right thing, never get involved with those sorts, ever. They could hurt you.”

He wasn’t sure if Cassiopeia was listening, as she seemed pretty focused on following the cracks on the concrete, walking over them like someone tracing a line on the floor. Jack found it cute and didn’t bother repeating himself at the moment. 

They wandered aimlessly for a while, taking the ‘scenic route’ - if one could call anything on this heap of space rubble scenic - around the settlement. Jack was in no hurry to find somewhere to stop, as it would mean facing that subject, so he simply let Cassie ‘guide’ him around town. 

Eventually, after crossing a tight street, weaving their way through passersby, vehicles, and robots alike, the siblings reached one of the city’s few ‘plazas’. Calling the place ugly and unsightly would be an understatement, but at least it allowed for freer movement than the cramped alleyways behind him. 

However, a commotion drew their attention, and Jack skidded them to a halt. An armored Junction airship was landed in the middle of the square, surrounded by officers in their tight, grey uniforms. A man, who seemed in his mid-thirties, could be seen struggling against the soldiers, clutching some kind of bag in hand. He must’ve stolen something - and by the looks of it, that something was food. A quick punch from one of the Sentries ended the struggle, and as the man doubled over in pain, his arms were quickly restrained in cuffs, the bag swiftly removed from his grasp as the officers pushed him towards the vehicle.

Jack felt his heart tighten in sympathy but began walking in the opposite direction, gesturing for Cassiopeia to follow quietly. The last thing he wanted was for the Sentries to turn their attention towards them, once they were capturing that poor man. Jack knew how Junction Sentries functioned - and he knew you didn’t have to do anything wrong to be put under their aim. You just had to be born here - that was enough to earn their disdain.

Once the commotion was out of sight and the sounds of sirens gave way to the familiar buzz of the city’s center, with voices overlapping, cars flying past and a myriad of other familiar sounds filling their senses, Jack muttered bitterly, under his breath, to no one in particular “I can’t wait for us to get outta here. I hate this fucking place.”

Still holding onto his hand, Cassie seemed to have caught onto his words, despite all the background noise. “Mhm.” She hummed in agreement, nuzzling closer to his arm. Before he could reply, she skipped a few stones on the ground as if she were playing hopscotch, each jump punctuating her words, “Got us some snacks though!”

Jack couldn’t believe his ears, blinking rapidly at the concept “You… you did?”

Cassie didn’t look over her shoulder, still skipping stones “Yep.” She answered simply, apparently unaware of the importance of what she just said “Saw some folks at this fancy eatery-place throwing out a box of tarts because they didn’t sell the week before. It’s a bit stale but tastes good enough.”

Jack could sob in relief right now - in fact, he almost did, barely holding onto his composure by a thread as he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding. He stopped walking for a moment, simply basking in this moment, watching her absentmindedly skipping around ahead of him after basically saving their night. After a second, he caught up to her once more, playfully ruffling her hair. 

She giggled, batting at his hand and combing down her now-tousled hair. Jack smiled down at her. “You’re the best, Cassie. Did you know that?”

Cassiopeia looked up at him with bright, mischievous eyes. “Mhm. I’m pretty amazing.” She beamed, proud of herself. 

Jack laughed, nodding “That’s the Cassie I know.”

As they continued walking down the empty, Cassiopeia always skipping and running ahead, Jack enjoyed the feeling of a weight lifted from his shoulders, for a split second, before the feeling returned tenfold once they walked into another alley. There were droplets of what looked like blood splattered on the concrete - and before he could tell Cassie to slow down and get away, she’d already turned the corner. That same corner. The one with the blood. 

His heart skipped a beat, “Cassie, wait!” He yelled as he ran after his sister, ready to yank her away from whatever was waiting for them in that alley, but stopped in his tracks once he turned the corner. There, hidden behind a metal trashcan and broken containers, was someone. Someone around his age, who looked a little more than worse for wear. 

“...Is he dead?” Came his sister’s blunt question, shaking him from his shocked ‘trance’. Jack watched the strange kid intently for a moment, tilting his head to the side as he tried to gauge whether or not the other was dead or alive. The boy didn’t seem quite completely conscious, but they didn’t look dead either. 

“I…” Jack stammered. “I, um, I’m not quite sure myself.” His answer was as unsure as he himself was right now. Every fiber of his being screamed for him to grab his sister and get them both away from this place and this random person right now. But another portion of him seemed to claim that it wouldn’t be right. His conscience, apparently. 

“Maybe we should just go away…” Jack said, tentatively trying to ignore his better judgment, tugging on Cassie to come back near him. The eight-year-old looked outraged and sad at the same time. 

“But he’s hurt!” She protested, pointing at the limp figure near the wall “He needs our help. We can’t just leave.” Then she added, with big, sad eyes, like a puppy “You always say we should be kind to others. That we should help those we can help,” By the looks of it, and the sound of her voice, she knew exactly what she was doing. And Jack hated that it was working.

“Ugh, don’t you turn my words against me,” He complained, rolling his eyes and crossing his arms over his chest. She continued staring up at him, and there was a long moment of silence - Jack didn’t want to budge, and neither did Cassie. Eventually, her puppy-eyes won. Jack groaned. “Fine, fine. But if I get stabbed, I say it’s your fault” He says, half-heartedly poking at her, to which Cassie answered by sticking out her tongue at him and making a face. 

Moving toward the other teenager, Jack could see a bit more of their appearance - they weren’t human, that much was clear. Bright blue skin, long ears, dark blue hair. Peeking their mouth, which hung slightly agape, Jack could see a row of small fang-like teeth, as he closed the distance and knelt down beside the stranger. From what he could tell, this kid was a Zatrian - a species native to the tundra deserts of the planet below - who had somehow ended up battered and bruised on a grimy alleyway in Cethea III. Someone else was also having a very bad day, it seems. That level of irony wasn’t lost in him.

Jack, hesitantly, reached forward, giving the figure’s shoulder a gentle nudge. Deep down he didn’t know if he wanted the figure to stir or not - he knew it was a selfish notion, but years of ingrained survival instincts told him a situation like this was often a perfect setup made by a gang looking to mug whoever intended to play the good samaritan. It never did them any good to help someone they didn’t know. Still, a small, shy part of him, for reasons he could not quite comprehend, hoped that this kid - whoever they were - would respond. 

At his nudge, the other boy whined softly in discomfort - but didn’t seem to rouse.Jack frowned, growing unsettled with this alleyway more and more with every passing second, wishing for this to be done with as soon as possible. He tried again, with slightly more strength “Hey, can you hear me? Hello?” Jack asked as he shook the other’s shoulder a few times. It seemed that the figure would remain unresponsive, but when Jack was about to give up, the boy finally stirred, eyes blinking open with a groan of pain. 

Grey eyes, first glazed over with pain and confusion, then filled with a look of sheer dread and panicked rage that Jack knew all too well, met his. Before he respond or do anything really, the boy stumbled backward with a sudden jerk, which caused him to hit his head on the wall behind him. “G-Get back!”

The alien yelled, followed by a cat-like hiss that took Jack off-guard. He pushed himself further and further into the corner between the trash can and the wall, curling into himself as tightly as he could, pressed against it, The figures’ eyes flitted between Jack, who was still kneeling near him, and Cassie, who was standing a few feet away, with her brows furrowed in a puzzled look. 

Unsure of what to do, Jack withdrew his hand, instead raising it in a placating gesture. “Hey, hey, hey... Take it easy” He said, in a clear voice, backing a feel inches away himself - fearing that the kid may lash out. Those claws, a detail of the alien’s hand that Jack had only just noticed, looked sharp. “We’re not here to hurt you.” 

Apparently the gesture was anything but calming, as when he backed away and raised his hands slowly, the boy cringed way with a violent flinch, hugging himself and pointedly looking away for a moment. As if expecting to be hit, Jack realized. That reaction alone said more than words ever could, and despite himself, Jack felt his walled up heart thaw a little bit.

Finally, after a drawn-out while that felt like an eternity, the alien boy realized nothing was going to happen, and looked up once more. There was a sharp look of distrust and paranoia in his eyes, one that Jack knew all too well - he often saw that same look reflected in the mirror. Much to both of their surprise, the boy spoke. 

 “...What do you want with me?” His voice was weak and fearful, carrying a sharp accent, though it seemed he tried to inject as much venom into the words as he could “ His face scrunched up into what was supposed to be a menacing look, but he only looked more anxious. 

Jack answered, using the same calming voice as he used when Cassie had nightmares. It usually worked, and though he wasn’t quite sure of why he was even doing any of this “We want to help.” He gestured to himself and then to his sister, trying to muster a reassuring smile but still eyeing the boy anxiously, as if waiting for something to go wrong and for trouble to begin. Cassie waved at the other boy, who seemed even more confused, before Jack added, trying to provide some much needed explanations “Look, we kinda…stumbled into you - not literally, but y’know what I mean - and you looked like you needed help. You seem pretty hurt…”

At that, Jack’s words trailed off. He saw a deep, crimson stain pouring from the torn up sleeve of the boy’s shoulder, and noticed how the other nursed that arm protectively, holding it to his chest, face scrunched up in a grimace of pain. He was no expert, so he couldn’t quite tell if it was a stab or a gunshot wound, but thankfully by the looks of it, whatever had caused it had only grazed the arm. 

Better than the alternative, Jack guessed. Though it must still hurt like hell.

Jack opened his mouth to say something, but the other boy was faster, cutting him off as he spoke instead. “Ha. As if someone like you would want to help someone like me.” His breathing was labored, pained, but even then, Jack could feel the resentment and sarcasm in his voice “I know… I know your kind. It’s all just a big game. And I won’t go back to that place -” The boy’s voice cracked, but he steeled himself with a growling, bitter chuckle  “You can’t trick me like they did. I won’t fall for it.”

Jack tilted his head to the side ever so slightly, cocking an eyebrow in confusion, trying to make sense of what the other meant. “Who said there was any trick? Why would there be any?” He asked, genuinely, glancing over his shoulder slightly to check on Cassie. She gave him a shrug, just as lost as he was, “We have no clue who you are, my guy - we only just happened to find you. By accident. And you look like you need help so someone” Jack nodded towards Cassie “convinced me to come check on you. And that bleeding arm of yours only confirms that yes, you do need help. So let us help.”

Jack wasn’t quite certain if he wanted to help this guy they’ve just met. It could very well end poorly. Very poorly and very bloodily. But he already started this, so he might as well commit to the whole thing now. 

Meanwhile, the boy seemed torn between giving into relief or succumbing to fight-or-flight instincts and trying to dart away. Jack was certain that, if it wasn’t for the exhaustion the other must be feeling, that kid would have run away the second he woke him up. Instead, he narrowed his eyes, looking at Jack suspiciously. “Leave. Me. Alone.” The boy hissed, punctuating every word in that sentence, a jaded, tired look in his eyes. 

Jack facepalmed slightly for a moment, dragging his hands down his face in frustration, before taking a deep breath and collecting all the patience he didn’t have to continue this conversation. This dead-end conversation. In a shady alleyway. With someone he did not know. 

“Look, let me be open with you real quick: I don’t want to be here, and she doesn’t want to be here, in this exact situation and place, either. So I think if we could move the topic forward a bit that would be great.” He said, gesturing vaguely to the other in hopes that he would develop the conversation a bit more. When the kid remained seethingly silent, waiting for an answer Jack sighed, “Okay, then.”

He pinched the bridge of his nose. After a second more of silence, his patience wavered and Jack stood up, dusting off his clothes and turning to Cassiopeia with a shrug. “Eh, fuck it. I can’t deal with this right now.” Jack gestures for her to follow him, but his sister won’t budge. He groans in frustration and stops in his tracks. “We tried, Cassie. Kid’s hopeless, and if he’s keen on being a sitting duck to a mugger, let him. This alley looks wrong in all the worst ways.”

He tried to reason with her, hand outstretched waiting for her to grasp it. For a moment, it looked like his sister would agree, before instead of taking his hand she sauntered over to the blue-skinned alien still curled up near the wall. Jack stared at her silently, a mix of tired frustration with deadpan disbelief as she crouched down close to the other kid. “You’re from Ivion, right? The planet this moon orbits?” She asked, innocently, head tilted to the side. Surprised, Jack could hear it in her voice that she was going somewhere with this, so he just watched, ready to yank her away in a second if he sensed any danger. The alien boy didn’t move for a moment, curled up like a statue with big, fearful eyes, before silently nodding. Cassie continued, “If so. Um. How did you end up…?” 

He saw Cassie gesture vaguely to their bleak surroundings and then to the boy himself, the absurdity of their situation painting a clear enough picture on its own. Much to Jack’s surprise, who half-expected the other kid to just shut down or worse, straight up push her away, he saw Deimos, slowly, ever so slowly, uncurl himself from where he was pressing up against the wall. The boy fiddled with what looked like a colorful string bracelet for a moment, pensive, but still seemed tense like a string ready to snap. His eyes seemed distant, confused and terrified at the same time, and Jack instantly knew that, whatever the answer was, it wasn’t going to be anything good. And he briefly wondered if he should let Cassie stick around to hear it. 

“Bad people. Raiders.” There was a quiver to his chin, and his words are less coherent, sentences cutting off sharply, as he painfully struggled to put his thoughts into words “There was so much blood. So much. Raiders said they would sell me.” Deimos started to hyperventilate, trying to catch his breath as he hugged himself tightly “... I don’t remember… I don’t remember how I escaped. I- I don’t know anymore -”

The other kid’s words had a slightly…broken edge to them - a sound that born out of desperation, panic, rage and all things in between. He noticed that Cassie seemed slightly concerned - and anxious, if the way she tugged on the strings of her backpack was any indication. Startling even himself, Jack felt his legs move of their own volition, gently pushing past from where he was standing next to his sister until he was once more kneeling at arms-reach of the kid. 

The boy seemed tired - too tired to keep arguing, too tired for anything anymore, like he was giving up, looking up at him as if he simply didn’t care what happened next anymore. Jack didn’t need a full explanation to get the picture, to understand what the boy was feeling. He felt it himself almost daily. 

Without saying a word, Jack pulled the other boy into a hug, for reasons he could not comprehend - and it seems that was an action that surprised both of them. The alien stilled, frozen like a board for a moment, too shocked to move. Meanwhile, Jack himself was confused out of his mind - he’d never trusted people like this. Usually, he would have suspected any story like that was a lie. But somehow, this one felt different. Likely it was just his ‘big brother instincts’ taking over, or maybe, and that thought surprised him even more, he hoped this day could get a little bit… ‘less bad’. 

The concept was almost laughable, given all of their circumstances

He thought for a second that the alien boy would surely push him away, but then, he felt two skinny, long arms wrap around him, hesitantly but surely.

The boy melted into his hug, and Jack realized that was probably the first kind physical contact this guy had felt in a long, long while. Tears wet his shirt, and Jack was unsure of what to do, but he let the boy hold onto him for as long as he needed. After a few minutes, Jack let go and put his hand on the other’s shoulder “I’m sorry for what happened to you. Seriously.” He turned to look at Cassie, who was looking at them with a mix of confusion and awe. She gave him a thumbs up, and Jack chuckled. “So, this is gonna sound really weird, but what do you say we stick together?” He stretched out a hand, waiting for Deimos’ answer. 

The alien gave him a puzzled look. 

“Whatever do you mean?” He asked, tilting his head sideways, trying to analyze him. 

Jack shrugged. “Well, I dunno” He sat cross-legged on the floor, tired of crouching down “You’re all beaten up, we’re starving, and there’s no one to look out for kids like us. Maybe we could… stick around each other and see what happens? Look out for each other maybe, just maybe…”

He could not believe the worlds coming out of his mouth. Either this day had driven him mad or he was really looking for trouble. Jack almost cringed, but even have the energy to care anymore, he just waited for an answer. 

As the alien boy seemed to mull over the offer in his mind as well, Cassie piped up, slinging her arms around Jack’s shoulders a tad too suddenly. “...We got food!” She said, like someone tempting a cat, pointing to her threadbare, butterfly backpack. Somewhere, in his mind, Jack was digging himself a grave and giving up on life. He regretted even saying anything. He regretted all his life choices including getting up from bed today. Nice going, Cass. Now we’re definitely getting mugged. 

Jack immediately craned his head to protest Cassie’s offer, a million rebukes at the tip of his tongue - that was their food. Her food. Food they needed so badly and couldn’t afford to share it with someone else they’d just barely met… Before he could even say anything, however, the words died in his throat - he saw the hopeful glint in the other boy’s eyes at the prospect of dinner. He recognized that same, desperate hoping without hope, look - he knew how much a ‘no’ hurt in that situation, when one’s far beyond caring for pride and only wants to survive. It killed a part of him he could never get back, everytime something like that happened to him.

Cassie looked at him expectantly, and he hated how, instead of standing his ground and saying ‘no’, he relented with a sigh. “Alright, alright” He said to her, playfully sharply. “It’s fine. You win this round.” His voice was fondly resigned. 

She gave a joyful, enthusiastic hurray, at that. To Jack, that almost made up to the fact that they were going to have to share their already limited dinner with another kid they barely knew. Just almost. 

As Cassie sat down beside him, swinging her backpack from her shoulders and unceremoniously plopping it down on the dusty ground, Jack spoke, pinching the bridge of his nose again and willing himself to have patience. “So, you heard her. We’ve got… ‘dinner’.” He said that word with air quotes to emphasize his point “Are you going to join us or is The Corner too comfy to move away from?”

He looked at the other boy, waiting, impatiently, for an answer. 

A bit too slowly for his liking, the alien slowly peeled himself from where he was basically cosplaying as a wallpaper, and sat down closer to them, mirroring their crossed legged positions. “...Yes. Let’s.” He said in a small voice, plainly. The kid’s mouth seemed to water at the simple thought of food, and Jack couldn’t help but feel sympathy for the fellow. 

While that transpired, Cassie had already opened her backpack, placing a dented and slightly stained cardboard box in front of the three of them, opening it quickly. “I think its cheese tarts” His sister said bluntly “I think. It tasted a bit funny.”

Jack knew that was Cassie’s attempt to make some small talk but cringed inwardly just the same at the implications. He hoped their new ‘friend’ -  who was still essentially a stranger whose name they didn’t even know - didn’t mind. 

There were a few of those pocket tarts in the box, a jumbled assortment. They looked like they would have been tasty, fresh off the frier - though now they looked like they’d be tough to chew on. Luckily though, there seemed to be enough to divide it between the three of them equally - something Jack considered a rare treat, given that someone else was eating with them. He couldn’t help but think about how the snack might’ve lasted longer if it was just the two of them, but quickly suppressed the thought.

Without wasting a second, the trio got to eating the now-cold, fried morsels. At a first bite, Jack immediately understood what Cassie had meant by ‘it tasted funny’. The pastry was chewy, but not in a good way. In an insistent, sticky way that was hard to swallow. It seemed to have absorbed some of the plastified cardboard taste, and that… didn’t make it tastier, to put it shortly. Still, it was better than nothing. Much better than nothing. 

And it seemed that their new alien ‘friend’ agreed, given how he absolutely devoured all three of his tarts in record breaking speed. If Jack hadn’t been feeling just as hungry, he might’ve even have been a bit astonished. As it stood, Jack didn’t think twice about it. 

Sooner than he would’ve liked, the cardboard box was empty, with nothing but a few scattered crumbs, crumpled napkins and oil stains littering it. His stomach seemed to still need more, even though there were none. At this point, Jack was just grateful that this day hadn’t gone from a ‘bad day’ to the ‘worst day’. Small wins, but still wins.

Wiping off his fingers on one of the napkins, and then straightening his clothes, Jack stood up, stretching himself a little bit. 

The weight of this entire day - which was, quite frankly an ordeal after the other - was catching up to him, and quick.

After adjusting Cassie’s backpack on her back and making sure to dust off her clothes properly, he turned to the alien boy once more. “So.” He started, a bit awkwardly, trying to come up with the words he needed “We had this… moment. Ate together and all that. I think an introduction’s in order: I’m Jack, and she” He gestures at his sister, who was admittedly giddy for some reason “Is Cassiopeia, my sister. I call her Cassie for short. What’s your name?”

He gave the boy his best friendly smile, and hoped that after all that the guy would finally start to open up a little and help break the awkward ice. If he didn’t, Jack was almost 70% sure he would implode out of frustration right then and there. 

Luckily, the other kid, who was still nursing the wound on his arm, spoke up after a few seconds “...Deimos.” He answered, a bit too under his breath, before quickly adding “My name, is Deimos Soll. My full name.” 

He seemed shy - looking torn between his fight-or-flight reflexes and giving two strangers a chance. Jack could understand how overwhelming that felt - after all, he was taking a similar gamble by helping him.

Still, ignoring his best judgement entirely, he reached out a hand to Deimos, hoping to help him get to his feet so they could get out of this filthy alley once and for all. 

Swiftly and without a second thought, Deimos grasped his hand, latching onto it like a lifeline. Somehow, despite this being a random kid he just met, Jack felt as if a silent pact, was being made. He didn’t know why and it was one hell of a strange feeling, but he preferred it over the alternatives. Though it is far too early to even consider calling… whatever this strange ‘truce’ is a friendship, Jack definitely was glad that this interaction ended up amicably. 

Jack helped Deimos up, hauling him up from the floor with considerable effort. As he helped the other maneuver into standing, Jack realized just how much taller Deimos was from him - he’d met few people who’d reached that height before coming of age. Supporting him to the best of his abilityuntil he was sure the other had gained his footing, Jack said, “Alright, since we’re apparently gonna do this, we need to get that wound” He gestures to Deimos’ free arm, the one who isn’t wrapped around his shoulders, “Fixed up. I think given our recent ‘feast’ you can tell we don’t have the funds for that” Jack adjusted his grip on the taller teen, as Deimos’ legs faltered slightly. “We can shoplift some supplies, but that would imply risking getting caught by those prim and proper arseholes in armor and that we’ll need to be lucky enough to do everything right. Or…” Jack muttered a swear word under his breath “I can cash in a favor. But it isn’t gonna be easy. I know a retired mobster lady who owns a tattoo shop and has some - and I mean some - first aid knowledge, but she always asks something in return.”

Deimos looked at him, befuddled. “Why are you helping me like this?” He asks, this time not judgemental, but genuinely curious, “I don’t think I quite understand.”

Jack stammered to find an answer. He didn’t quite understand what or why he was doing this either. “Well…” He trailed off for a moment, “I’m not quite sure. You were hurt, my sister convinced me to help you. We had a snack together. Kinda feels weird to not help you now, I guess. Plus, its the right thing and all that. I hope.”

The young alien seemed intrigued, but was satisfied with this answer for now, it seems. Or simply just didn’t have the energy to ask any more questions, which wouldn’t be surprising given his state.

With his free hand, Jack motioned for Cassie to follow. 

Once she saw that Jack trusted the other boy, for some reason, Cassie came running towards them, tugging on Deimos’ shirt and almost making him lose his balance. She had a bright, kid-like smile on her face. “Hi! I’m Cassie. Jack told you already, I saw, it’s nice to meet another kid! Why do you look blue? Are you made of ice? I heard that Ivion is made of ice, are you too? I like the winter, winter’s nice…” Her endless string of questions continued into almost unintelligible rambles. Deimos looked at Jack as if asking for emergency help in handling whatever that was, Jack chuckled, starting to walk slowly so that the other could keep up with him. “Get used to it, haha,” He said playfully “There is oh, so much more where that came from.”

Deimos keened slightly “Why am I already reconsidering our partnership?” He said, this time with a mischievous smirk. Jack knew they were on the same page, and chuckling, continued walking them both out of the alley, as Cassie rambled on ahead of them about her knowledge of planets, stars, and constellations.

Her ramble paused for a moment, as she heard their little conspiratory quip. She turned around, little arms crossed over her chest - she wanted to look angry, but given her entire style and age, she just looked more adorable. “Hey!” She protested in a playfully berating tone, imitating authority “I heard that, mister alien-guy. Just because, I’m gonna talk even more now!” She chuckled after her mock ‘scolding’ and went back to skipping stones and rambling even faster about an assortment of different and increasingly unhinged topics, just out of too much spite and sass on the same small package. 

Keeping a close eye on Cassiopeia ahead of them, Jack began maneuvering Deimos down the alley. Well, all things considered, this bad day actually ended better than most of his usual days. They ate something serviceable, met someone new who did not want to kill him, and got to unwind a bit. Overall, not quite such an awful day as it had started out. From there, they walked to Madam Cyrax’s tattoo parlor, where, with luck and a bit of smooth talking, they could get that wound fixed up half-nicely. 

Though he knew that this might just be yet another debt to pay in the future, he found it worth it to help this unusual ‘friend’ they met. 

Tagging (for Feedback) @saturnine-saturneight @ray-writes-n-shit @diabolical-blue, @saltysupercomputer @agirlandherquill

@sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @oh-no-another-idea, @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @cowboybrunch, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart

@leave-her-a-tome, @writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid

@lassiesandiego, @thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams and OPEN TAG

[moiravim]

Rainy Nights

Fem (gender fluid) Loki x GN Reader

Fluff

You worked in a small library in New York. Most of the books were used, but costed one to two dollars, so sales were great. Expecially during summer when everyone had time off to read.

You sit near the cash register, typing on your computer. You were currently writing a short story. Not that anyone would read it, but you had your dreams just like everyone else.

A familiar face walks up and you realize Loki is buying another book. She comes almost every day and you wonder if she actually reads all the books she buys.

"Hey, yn. It's nice seeing you again" she says as she smiles and hands you the book she's buying. "Hey Loki, it's nice to see you too. You know, with how fast you read these books it would be much cheaper to use a library..." You respond to her.

She just smiles at you. "I'd rather just keep the books.. it's nice having them, it's almost like a trophy" you smile and nod understandingly.

Loki is beautiful. You can't deny it. The only problem was that you were too shy to ask for her number or ask her on a date.

She starts to walk out when you stop her by stuttering out; "hey, Loki- um.. I was wondering if you'd want to maybe go on a- go to dinner with me."

She smiles as she turns around and responds "I'd love to. I've been waiting for you to ask me out". She giggles as you stare in shock.

At least it was nice knowing she felt the same as you did. She waves as she turns around and shouts "I'll meet you back here at 7!"

You stare as she walks out the door. You look at the time to see it's 5:30. You plan to close the store at 6 and get ready for the date.

As you get ready you think of where to take her. You probably should've planned this much earlier...

You remember a nice pasta place nearby which recently opened. It was in your price zone and had good reviews.

When she gets there you see her in a stunning black dress and look back down at your cheap (suit/dress).

She smiles at you and says; "I got you something". She hands you a green beaded bracelet and lifts wrist to show how she has a matching one.

You smile back as you put it on and thank her. You hook your arms as you guide her to the restaurant you picked out.

You get a table and sit in the booth across from her. "So... What do you do in your free time?" Loki asks you. "I write. I also enjoy reading... Obviously." You respond akwardly as she chuckles. You smile.

The waiter comes over and you both order. "What about you, what do you like to do? ...Other than reading." You ask her. "I like to paint." She states happily.

The room grows quiet when your food comes and you both start eating. You focus on the music in hopes to avoid the awkwardness. She seems so much more calm.

You wonder if she can tell your anxious. Your question is answered when she puts her hand on yours and asks you; "are you feeling okay?...you seem very nervous."

You nod. "Yes, I'm okay. I just get anxious... I'm sorry." She looks at you sadly. "don't apologize. That's not something you need to apologize for."

You both finish your food and pay. As you open the door you realize it's pouring rain. "Oh no... I'm so sorry-" she cuts you off by giggling and pulling you into the rain.

You take your jacket off and put it over the two of you as you run through the rain. Eventually the jacket was soaking wet and was no longer protecting you from the rain so you took it off, tying it around your waist.

You two stopped at a park, still soaking wet and ran through the beautiful nature trails. You stopped near a fountain and sit on the bench in front of it.

Even though your hair was a mess and her makeup was running down her face, this moment was still perfect. She leaned in and kissed you as you kissed back.

You got back up and the two of you playfully ran around the park before stopping at a small booth in the park.

You went up to the sad, wet man selling ice cream and bought two with a smile on your face. His face lit up as he handed you two ice creams.

The two of you started walking out of the park while eating your now wet and melting ice cream.

Nothing could change this happy moment. By the time you both finished your ice creams you just got back to the bookshop and went next door to your small apartment.

You gave her a towel and a change of dry clothes as you got dressed yourself. You made a bag of popcorn and put blankets on the couch, making it as cozy as possible.

When she got back you let her pick a movie as the two of you cuddled on the couch. "Let's do this again soon.." you say with a grin on your face. "How about Friday? I'll plan it this time." She responds playfully.

[impossibleprincesstimetravel]

It's so maddening

I just don't believe that Disney wants to please its fans anymore, I honestly don't.

I can't see why they'd not want to take up an interesting and compelling storyline (that links links nicely to the first story, so no struggles trying to connect anything there cough cough F2) that would be A; a breath of fresh air from the stuff they've been making (cheap remakes and flops) and would please a significant portion of people who watched the original. We are some of the loyalist Frozen fans, we have our own stable section of the fandom, and there isn't a good reason why not to take the leap as far as Disney is concerned. They don't even have to dive straight into Helsa but if they just allow Hans to be seen in a sympathetic/understanding/redeemable light, that would be something.

I really think that Disney's response to Hans and the treatment they've given him post Frozen (giant snowball, Elsa crumbling his ice statue, the charades game) is very of this age. There are Disney villains of the past (Maleficent and Cruella got sob stories and 'rebranding', which I at least think was an odd stance to take on a spiteful witch and a literal puppy-murderer. Then that villain doll in TS4 got redeemed only minutes after trying to leave Woody voiceless and stuck in the antique shop, because we were super invested in that doll's eventual undeserved happy ending amirite) who have been treated with less derision and contempt than Hans, and I think it's in part because those villains were regarded as long enough ago that you can do what you want with them now (their evilness is regarded as "lessened"), and also that I think Disney is kinder to its female villains (that they must have some background trauma as to why they act the way they do, they can't just be evil) and finally that while Frozen is obviously magical and fantastical in most of its elements, it seems to try and attempt a 'realistic' approach to the interactions of the characters. I don't like this, it's inconsistent and an example of lazy writing - "Hans is bad just because he's bad", the writers don't even attempt to add any extra layers or facets to his character.

I feel like Hans is treated with a special vindictiveness and I think that is unfair and I don't understand why it seems okay to do this.

I desperately hope that someday (Frozen 3) our hopes will be realised by Disney and we can see Helsa (or even hints at Helsa, I'd settle for that) become canon, but honestly I am extremely doubtful. I suspect I know how F3 will play out and I'm already apprehensive.

[alwayschasingrainbows]

Twenty two Teddy Kent's headcanons and semi-headcanons (created in a great hope that they will make him a little less of a stale piece of toast):

When he was a little boy, he used to have imaginary friends to play with; he believed that they were living in a garden near his house and were able to shrink in size to fit into the flower buds.

He used to draw pictures for every book he had read, because he thought the books were much better that way.

He made up stories, but instead of using words, he used illustrations.

He loved the myth of Vega of the Lyre and imagined the star as a land with two shining suns (one red and one blue). He imagined that he lived there before he was born (it's canon - quotes below). That was the reason Vega of the Lyre became Emily's favourite star.

He saved his allowance money to buy paints and pastels.

He made many pictures of Emily, but was too shy to show them to anyone.

He had no idea why most of Blair Water girls wanted to shake his hand, but he was too nice to refuse. In fact, they followed Rhoda Stuart's idea to count nine stars for nine nights, so that the first boy they shook hands with was going to become their husband. Emily was the one who told him about that custom. He laughed it off as silly, but secretely counted the stars and proceeded to shake Emily's hand. He told himself it was unrelated.

He sometimes wondered what his father looked like. His mother never showed him any photographs until she came to live with him. He was twenty five when he saw his father's picture for first time and he had to fight the tears down.

He really loved ice-skating and was pretty good at it. The first winter he and Emily were married, he insisted they go ice-skating at least once a week.

He painted old Mr. Morrison, standing on the church steps, with longing in his eyes. He felt very sorry for the man, after he stopped being angry at him for scaring Emily.

He learnt how to cook when he moved to Montreal. During his scholarship in Paris, he invented countless ways to cook beans (because they were cheap and filling - couldn't resist The Blue Castle reference).

He felt really ashamed during nude-painting classes. He couldn't talk to the models afterwards. His classmates laughed at him for being such a prude.

When he was studying in Paris, he used to sneak behind the guards into the Louvre, to stare in awe at the paintings of great artists (that is not my headcanon - it was in a fanfic entitled "Pine Trees and Pigsties" by Dhobi ki Kutti (dhobikikutti).

During his separation from Emily, he wrote her many letters, but never send them. He gave her these letters after they were married.

He took Emily to Paris for their honeymoon. They visited every single art gallery. It was Emily's idea, because she loved listening to him talk about art.

He never made any comments about Emily's dresses, because he thought she had looked beautiful all the time. He told her that after she got angry at him for not helping her choose an outfit to wear at one of the parties.

On the first day The Smiling Girl was being exhibited, he gave a speach about "the first girl who had believed in me". He never mentioned Emily's name. It hurt too much.

After he and Emily got married, he made illustrations for her books (again, the idea is from an amazing fanfic by hardlygolden - no pictures of him squarely).

He often thought that if he had ever had a daughter, he'd call her after his favourite constellation (I am obsessed with the name Lyra, so...).

He was good with the kids and really enjoyed playing with them. They usually created a huge mess that took ages to clean afterwards.

He liked painting pictures on the walls. He painted a Blair Water landscape on the walls of Emily's writing room in Montreal, so that she felt more at home.

He always bought chocolate bars for Ilse's and Perry's kids and told them in secret "not to tell mommy". Ilse pretended not to have noticed.

I borrowed @daydreamingandprocrastination tags, because they are just so amazing! I hope you don't mind, but if you do, please let me know and I'll be sure to change them!

"Teddy says that before he was born into this world he lived in another one where there were two suns, one red and one blue. The days were red and the nights blue. I don’t know where he got the idea but it sounds atractive to me. And he says the brooks run honey instead of water. But what did you do when you were thirsty, I said. Oh, we were never thirsty there. But I think I would like to be thirsty because then cold water tastes so good. I would like to live in the moon. It must be such a nice silvery place." (Emily of New Moon).

"Look at that star, Teddy—the one just over the youngest Princess. It's Vega of the Lyre. I've always loved it. It's my dearest among the stars. Do you remember how, years ago when you and Ilse and I sat out in the orchard on the evenings when Cousin Jimmy was boiling pigs' potatoes, you used to spin us wonderful tales about that star—and of a life you had lived in it before you came to this world." (Emily's Quest).

[illusivesoul]

A Ser Cauthrien/Anora fic for my Femslash February collection, using the prompt "Warmth" from @meganmoonlight Dragon Age Femslash February Prompts

.

Ratings: Teen and Up

Words: 710

Summary: Having lost the throne, Anora and Ser Cauthrien rest by a fire on the road.

Read it on AO3

.

Anora had never been a big fan of the countryside.

She hated the thought that years of living in a palace getting all her needs tended to had made her soft -she was the daughter of the man who preferred to sleep in a tent when a whole palace was available to him, after all- but she couldn’t deny that she was not getting used to the wilds after so many days on the road. The bugs seemed to creep everywhere, the mud clogged her boots and socks, and then there was the cold. She was Fereldan, Maker’s sake. She was no stranger to the bone freezing snow and wind that crept up from the ice lands beyond the Korcari Wilds every year. Yet, it was different to endure winter while having the finest royal furs at your disposal than having to endure it while only having a cheap coat purchased with the few coins she had at her disposal. At least she had managed to start a small fire that gave her some warmth. She congratulated herself on having been able to put the tent up, even if it had been over a decade since she had done so and had ended with more than a few cuts in her hand. She smiled longingly as she watched the firm structure. Loghain would be proud. She couldn’t help but wonder where has now, and into which underground pit the Wardens must have sent him to to fight darkspawn.

“Maker, keep him safe”

She cracked more dried sticks and threw them in front, her hands shivering as she did, watching the fires rise from the small pile of dried leaves and sticks in front of her.

By the time the sound of steps reached her ears, the former queen was already on her feet, a sharp dagger in front of her ready to slice anyone and anything that approached.

"Put the toothpicks down, your Majesty. It's me"

Anora sighed in relief as she saw Cauthrien stepping out from the shadow of the treeline.

Cauthrien had a large sack she carried on her back, and a small cut near her forehead that she didn’t have before.

“Were you trying to catch rabbits that were too fast?” Anora asked sarcastically.

“Funny”

"Where’s your armour?"

"Sold it in town. Didn't precisely help us to go unnoticed, and it would help us even less when crossing the border. I got you this with the coins I got"

“No one asked why you were selling such good armour?”

“Dead soldiers aren’t precisely rare these days, Anora. Lots of weapons and armour hit the markets everyday from all the battlefields across the country”

And with that phrase, the thoughts that had been haunting her since that fateful day in Denerim returned once more. “I could have done more. I could have tried harder. I… I failed my people”

Cauthrien opened the sack beside her, and pulled out a large, brown fur rub from it. The former queen felt warmer already just by looking at it, and the thoughts that haunted her vanished for a moment.

"A dwarf was selling these. Dwarves make good fur coats too, apparently. Then again, everything they make is good, so I don't know why I didn't expect their coats to be of equal quality. You don’t think about dwarves getting cold, I guess”

Anora smiled as Cauthriend placed the coat over her, the fur settling nicely against her.

“Where are you going?”

“To keep watch”

“You can keep watch besides me. It’s freezing and the coat is large enough for us both”

“I don’t mind the cold. And you need all the warmth you can get”

"Maker’s breath, no wonder my father spoke so highly of you. Stop being so bloody stubborn and get here"

Cauthrien smiled "Is that an order, my queen?"

"If you want it to be, then it is. And according to you I need all the warmth I can get"

Cauthrien chuckled as she snuck under the coat, wasting no time in wrapping her arm around Anora. The queen smiled, enjoying the feeling of the strong arms wrapping around her. The two watched the crackling fire, holding each other tightly as the cold winds passed by them, no longer a bother to them.

[jasminebutintaiwansojiemin]

July 22nd, 2024 星期一 - NCCU tour, Taipei Zoo, Teahouse in the Mountains

This morning I was so extremely tired so I woke up around 8:45 am and got ready to go to a nearby bakery for breakfast. I sped over there and ended up buying a ham and Swiss croissant and a walnut cinnamon bun thingy. They were pretty tasty and fairly cheap. I then met up with my class and we headed out on a (non-party) bus to visit NCCU, our professor’s alma matter hehe. It was definitely a long drive there but I just ate my pastries on the way. I carried my new water bottle with me all day but quite literally never filled it up 😭

Our first stop at the university was the international dorm, where we were greeted by some of the buildings staff. I lived in the international dorm back when I was a freshman so it was interesting to see what theirs looked like. It was a seven floor building that included both single and double rooms. The size of the single room we toured was at least twice that of the ones at UF. The rooms also had a balcony, its own bedding, and a fairly large mini fridge.

Next we toured the common area which was pretty large BUT lacked a real stove or oven. It was also pretty interesting that there were little cards everywhere with the Chinese name and pinyin of random items such as the fridge and fire extinguisher. The NCCU representative told us that the building is 90% international students and 10% Taiwanese students, which is definitely more than the 60% American students to 40% international students at UF. But I guess having less Taiwanese students gives more space for international students to have housing. The representative also mentioned that a lot of the visiting students are finance majors.

After this, we headed to view the different study spaces around the building before hopping in the bus off to our next tour stop. We ended up at the Dah Hsien Seetoo library, which was donated in 2018 by the former MBA students of NCCU professor Dah Hsien Seetoo. The library was very nice and modern inside, although the temperature was abnormally warm. We toured around the different floors and viewed spaces such as the study rooms and the maker space. Something I found interesting about the study rooms (for undergrads) is that instead of having individual spaces in a room, it was different cubicles you could reserve. For example, one room would have spots ABCDEF, and you would reserve seat D to study. For graduate students, however, there were also designated study spaces that they had the key to for whatever period of time. There is also something like that at UF in Library West, though less modern of course. In the maker space, there were multiple types of 3D printers, an engraver, and a heat press. All machines are free to use and long as you bring your own graphic or AI file to send to the machines.

At the end we visited a famous cafe in the bottom floor of the library. Some students got coffee and deserts but I was more interested in watching the ducks that lived in a little house outside by the nearby pond. There weren’t out when we first got there but later they came out and swam around. I went to the shore of the pond a few times to look at them better and they came onto the bank to play in the bushes. After the coffee shop, we headed out to NCCU’s version of University Blvd, a street with a lot of restaurants and boba shops. Some classmates and I decided on a dumpling shop down the street. I got pork and veggie potstickers, Korean style potstickers, and a pork and veggie wonton noddle soup. After lunch, we walked around for a bit and our professor bought us ice cream (<3) since it was so hot. I also ended up buying a passion fruit tea with coconut jelly.

We then headed to the zoo. It was a very very large zoo, it had a tram to take from one side to the other. We first viewed the kolas and pandas as a group. The kolas were so cute and fully. They looked very sleepy which I resonate with HEAVY. At first we couldn’t see much of the pandas, but after the zookeepers brought out their lunch, they were visible. They were so cute and large and fluffy. They almost looked fake haha. I visited the upstairs gift shop of the panda exhibit and bought a fairly good quality canvas tote bag with a drawn map of Taipei on it. Next, we took the tram to the reptile exhibit. There were more turtles and tortoises in this zoo than I think I’ve ever seen in my life. We explored several other exhibits afterwards— including the penguins, giraffes, elephants, sun bears, zebras, mandarin ducks, and Pygmy hippos. Something interesting about this zoo was the insane amount of food options. I feel like zoos in the U.S. barely have food places, and if they do, it’s super overpriced. At the end, we met with the rest of the class at the main gift shop. I folded last minute a bought a cute turtle keychain and a capybara with a turtle backpack (I might like turtles idk).

Next we took some group pictures outside before heading in the bus up a mountain to go to a famous teahouse. We got to experience the tea ceremony with jasmine tea (hehe) and I ordered some soy sauce braised chicken wings and a bowl of rice as a snack. After eating, I walked around outside and watched my classmates search for a large stick to beat up a spider so they could go down a path to cross a bridge to get closer to the nearby waterfall. There were some crazy mosquitos out there but thankfully our professor lent us mosquito spray when we had first got off the bus. I pet a very talkative orange cat while I was walking around outside (the cats in Taiwan so far tend got be so talkative). Eventually we did the drive home, where I showered, and then met with some of my classmates to get Indian food.

Academic Reflection

Taiwan Zoo was originally just the privately owned zoo of a Japanese man in the northern part of Taipei City. After just a year, the then Japanese government of Taiwan bought the land and turned it into a public park called the Maruyama Zoo (Maruyama is now called Yuanshan). After World War 2, the park was taken over by the ROC Taipei City government. One of the most popular animals was Lin Wang, an Asian elephant that worked during the second Sino-Japanese and relocated with the Kuomintang. He was the most popular animal until the zoo received 2 pandas from Mainland China.

In 1973 they made plans to build a modern zoo and after thirteen years, the original zoo in Yuanshan was closed and a new zoo in the southern part of Taipei was opened on New Year’s Day. The location was moved to accommodate more animals and give more space for the both the recreation and research sides to function. The new Taiwan Zoo is now one of the largest zoos in Asia, and focuses on the conservation and research of animals and insects. Something unique about this zoo is the Formosa animal area, where zoo visitors can see native Taiwanese animals such as Eurasian otters, Pangolins, and sika deer.

[yutafrita]

hi nat!! 😊 hope you've been well <333 i've been sick the last few weeks 😔 but i had some time to start under the blue flames :'') 👍 can i request a halloween-themed drabble or short fic with taeil pls? :> -🚀

Hiiii!! Aw man I’m sorry to hear that, I really hope you’re feeling better! Being sick is the worst. I wanna say I’m mostly okay- just a little stressed out with some stuff at my job atm 😵‍💫 thank you for checking, this really made my day ♥️

Ahhh Under the Blue Flames!! I'm so happy you're getting around to reading it- that was my first NCT fic and was a big undertaking lol. I hope you're liking it!

You absolutely can request Taeil- here you go :)

[11:27pm]

Pairing: Taeil x Reader (she/her) Word Count: 1,311 Warnings: Alcohol consumptions, mentions of a fraternity

It had been two months since your ex dumped you, and your roommate was sick of you moping around the apartment- it didn’t help that all of the ice cream in the apartment was gone.

“That’s it, you’re going to the Halloween party with me whether you like it or not!” She shouted, irritated by the empty freezer.

“Why can’t I just give out candy to the kids in our apartment complex?”

“Because there’s only like, two kids that live here.”

So, now you stood in the middle of a packed party with a red solo cup in hand, and and a stupid bow in the other. Your roommate had insisted in shoving you into her costume from last year, not at all pleased with your idea of reusing your Princess Peach costume.

You scrunched your face up, grossed out by the messy concoction of alcohol the freshman fraternity boy has handed to you. You took another sip, hoping the unpleasant drink would dull the ache of the cheap wings digging into your shoulders.

Your roommate was in the corner of the crowded living room, chatting up one of the older brothers of the fraternity. You knew she would dump you when she got one drink in her system- but you didn’t mind too much. You needed to go out again and remember that you were allowed to have fun.

“Cupid- that’s a cute costume,” a voice behind you manage to say over the blaring music and chatty party goers. The owner of the voice moved in front of you and you couldn’t hide the smile on your face.

“A witch, very original,” you chuckled before tilting your head. “Don’t I know you from somewhere?”

“We had physics together last year, I’m Taeil,” the man reintroduced himself and nodded as you jogged your own memory.

He sat a couple of rows ahead of you in the class, but typically he was always the one answering the professors questions. He was smart, cute, and was always nice enough to help any classmate who asked.

“Ah, so you could ace physics but not think of a better costume?” You taunted, earning a chuckle from him. The music drowned out his laugh, and was really killing your attempt at being buzzed. “Hey, do you wanna go outside?”

The backyard of the frat house was surprisingly well kept. Taeil explained that every week different pledge classes would draw lots for chores in the house, but the freshman were typically the ones who pulled the unlucky straw of cutting the grass.

“You guys definitely rig that against them. Poor freshmen,” you leaned back on the lawn swing you two shared, watching the gentle lights of the party go.

“We don’t! Plus, I usually get stuck doing the cooking,” Taeil defended.

“My roommate usually does the cooking,” you hummed. “Although, I make a mean mac and cheese.”

“A six year old can make a mean mac and cheese,” he teased. You stuck your tongue out in defiance, and you both burst out laughing.

“So, why were you dragged here tonight?” He leaned back in the swing now, his eyes level with yours.

“Hm, my roommate thinks I need to be more social,” it was partially true. In the past two months, unless you were working or in class, you hardly interacted with anyone besides your roommate. Not like you had many friends before your breakup, but you would at least study with different classmates. Now, you refused to do that, preferring to wallow in your own self pity.

“Had a bad breakup?” Taeil guessed, raising an eyebrow.

“No way it’s that obvious,” you pinched the bridge of your nose, your eyes shut in embarrassment.

Taeil shrugged, “his loss. Now, I get to sit with a pretty girl dressed as Cupid.”

You turned your face away from Taeil’s gaze to hide your blush. Even with the silly makeup he had on for his costume, you knew he was handsome and while you may not feel your best, he was with you as if you deserved all the attention in the world.

You had rejoined the rest of the party at some point, smiling and giggling with Taeil as you did so.

“I was looking for you everywhere!” Your roommate popped up in front of you, her baseball cap askew. She saw the man to your side and furrowed her eyebrows, “who are you?”

“I’m your ride home tonight,” Taeil half laughed.

“I’m definitely sober enough to drive,” you whined, noting the small stumble in your roommates step.

She slung her arm over her shoulder, and whispered (although, her whisper was still clearly loud enough for Taeil to hear), “I think he just wants to spend more time with you.”

Taeil had dropped you off at your place, and before he walked back to the fraternity house (it was about two blocks away), he made sure to get your number and schedule you for a coffee date the following day.

*****

“I hate when Halloween is on a weekday,” you yawned, firmly holding the large coffee in your hand. Sitting with Taeil at your school’s coffee shop, you noticed a few things. Every two minutes someone new would wave hello to him, and he would always greet them back with their full name. You also noticed how oddly organized he was- the planner he had set on the table that detailed all of his time down to the minute, the tablet that had every class perfectly structured, and his hair was perfectly styled despite the visible exhaustion from the night prior.

"I don't understand how you can still look good despite being up so late," Taeil flirted, his eyes not shifting from the schoolwork before him.

This would become commonplace with Taeil by the third date you two would go on to the bowling alley. Random flirtations mixed in with playful teasing and childish banter. In every way, he was a breathe of fresh air in the pitiful routine you had formed after your breakup, but after he dropped you off at your place after bowling, you realized you two still hadn't even kissed.

"He's just flirting and hasn't even tried anything?" your roommate asked afterwards, not looking up from her psychology homework. You had burst into her room shortly afterwards, arms folded and in distress.

You shook your head, "he didn't even do that cheesy thing where he pretends to help me bowl and is just actually rubbing himself against my back."

"Oh," she frowned, "he sees you as a bro."

You pretended to be okay with him just seeing you as a friend- you had just gotten out of a relationship- but you found it tough to not be bothered by this. You liked being around Taeil beyond the confines of a fraternity Halloween party, but you were beginning to worry about him not feeling the same way.

"Taeil?" you met him after chemistry one day, a routine that became commonplace quickly.

"Hmm?"

"Do you see me as like... just a bro?" you asked, feeling stupid immediately after the words left your mouth. He stopped walking and shot you a confused look you hadn't seen on him before.

You tightened the grip on your backpack, now speaking a mile a minute out of sheer embarrassment, "BecauseMyRoommateSaysThatYouJustSeeMeAsaBroAndThatsFineIfYouDoThatsOkayButIJustWantToBeOnTheSamePage-."

Taeil stopped your word vomit but gently grabbing your face in his hands and dropping a small but affirming kiss against your lips, surprising you before you kissed him back in the now empty university hallway.

"I didn't want to make the first move," he admitted, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly, "but, I do want to... potentially...actually explore us as a couple- only if you are."

You giggled, a smile now on your face you swore you lost as you then nodded at the man, "I would like that."

Masterlist