#by which i mean. i thought about this poem & had to cover my face w my hands

[felixthepoet]

For the Sleepwalkers by Edward Hirsch

[writingbyshiloh]

Cautious Yet Optimistic and Graceful Part 3 (20/7 new ending)

PART 3 (edited with new ending)!!!! (part 1 and part 2)

CW: FEM!Reader, Morally gray Reader, JW universe, Beer, gambling, food, Killa appearance, kissing, soft(er) Vincent, mutual pinning, no beta, Possibly OOC Vincent, we never see him flirt in the film unless you count the stuff w Mr. Nobody, Suggestive content, confessions of feelings

Summary: The Marquis du Gramont invites you over for a thank-you dinner. You try to stay sane. 

AN: Link to the poem here!!!! TBH I like the second translation of the poem more but that's just me. (the poem has 1 physical descriptor but I just ignored that). Added more to the ending which I think sums it up better! TY to those that chimed in on how to add the ending

You wouldn’t know what to expect when he handed you the letter, let alone the fact that you almost kissed him but ended up with a burn. 

Holding your hand under running water you examine the letter more. The gold wax seal bears his coat of arms but the envelope is made of thick white paper, meaning you can’t see any words through the envelope. It’s flattering that he wrote your full name. 

It’s a dinner invitation. He wants (maybe not anymore) to have you over to his home as a thank-you for your help the other night. You immediately RSVP yes to the number he included as if he's going to yank the offer out from under you. Knowing him, he might.

You don’t get to spend much time obsessing over the dinner, normal work challenges and fires that you have to put out, memorizing new names and faces to the scene, shipping some markers back to New York. 

It's a relief when Killa calls you to tell you he's going to be in Paris for a few days. You spent a few years working under Killa, you feel that's where you gained some of your reputation. 

Killa suggested the bar. It's a nice change of pace, to be in a bar where people can kill each other. It's a big fear of yours, that someone ignores the rules and decides to kill while on your property. Here, people almost expect it. The bar is dark and smokey, but drinks are relatively cheap. Plus your reputation exceeds you, meaning no one is trying to chat you up. 

You rest your chin on your hand, and elbow on the sticky table. You see Killa at the bar, getting two more beers. 

You jump at the warm hand on your shoulder, your body jerking around before stopping at the soft voice behind you. 

“Mademoiselle.”

“Marquis de Gramont,” you reply. You haven’t seen him since the almost kiss, and you still had a few days before going to his mansion. You had started to mentally prepare for the dinner, but this caught you off guard. “This doesn’t seem like your usual company.” 

He cranes his head to observe the crowd scattered out at tables and the bar. You follow his gaze and see a few of his guards behind you. You twist back to your original sitting position and find him looking at you. 

“I’m excited about the dinner. Did you want me to bring anything?”

His eye catches Killa's frame, dressed in a purple suit at the bar, getting the new round of drinks. 

“You're here with Killa.” He deduces. He's more observant than you always think. 

“Yeah. He’s like a mentor to me.” You say affectionately.

“He was the one to suggest you for the manager job.” You can’t help but stare at Vincent, surprise on your face. “I know you think I did, but I thought you were ill-suited.” 

You can't describe your emotions. Crushed that your crush said he didn't want you for the job you're in? Glad that Killa thinks so highly of you? You decide to tease him to cover up your wounded ego. 

Nudging your shoe against his you ask “Is that why you invited me over? To tell me how bad I am at my job?” 

“Cleary, I don’t hold the same position. Paris would not be the same without you.” 

Your brain freezes for the third time. The gentle tone tells you that he probably means it to be affectionate.

You both turn to the table as Killa sets down two steins on the table, saving you from replying. You pull your close to your seat while Killa and the Marquis shake hands. You briefly wonder how much the gold on their fingers is worth when combined. 

It makes sense that they know each other, both are the High Table representatives for their country, but you never put it together. 

“Sit, please. Enjoy a game with us, ja?” Killa asks, reaching into a suit pocket for cards.

You balk at his suggestion. “No poker. It took me ages to work off my debt from the last game.” 

You can see Killa's four gold teeth as he grins at the Marquis. 

“Please excuse me. I have business to attend to. Killa, Mademoiselle.” Vincent says. You watch him disappear into the crowd. 

On the day of the dinner, you get ready early, probably a bit too early but you need to make sure there is not a hair out of place. Even if he thinks you rejected him during the cigarette you shared, you don't see him having any interest if you reject him twice. 

You need to make sure that you are ready for anything. Your most preferred situation would be ending up in his bed, finally having something positive come from the crush you’ve been nursing. If things went badly, you can always try to avoid him. The city was large, plus you could always let Camille deal with him. 

Even though he told you not to bring anything you still got him something. Obsessive googling of what to give as a host gift to a rich person, as well as just asking some people you chat with in your hotel gave you an idea. 

You got him lilies, seven of them to be exact. Some websites advised against gifts that make the host work to put them away but someone who had a friend who worked for him assured you that he has a dozen household staff who would take care of that. 

His hand is warm between your shoulder blades as he guides you into his dining room. You try not to stare at the emperor-style around you. Everything is large, gold, and expensive. 

The table is set for two, with shiny silverware marking your seats. You’re on edge, trying to figure out if this is a date under the cover of a thank-you dinner, or just that. A dinner thanking you for doing your job. 

He pulls out your chair for you and waits for you to sit before going over to his 

“How are you?” he asks while waiting for the food to be served. The table is long, but you sit on opposite sides of the length so you can speak easily to each other. 

You shrug, before remembering your manners. 

“I’m fine, I'm just struggling to find,” you pause, moving your hand around as if you could grab the words from the air,” some aesthetic to sum up Paris for the hotel.” 

“City of lights, city of love, art, culture, food…” The examples roll off his tongue, clearly showing off what he knows about his home. 

“That's why they filmed The Bad Touch video here.” you reply without thinking.

You can tell you have his interest even if he won't say it. You pray he thinks it's funny and that you’re not an idiot.

“The video has shots of the Eiffel Tower and Champ de Mars in the background.” you elaborate as if that would make your point smarter. 

The corner of his mouth twitches in amusement as he makes a small sound of amusement. 

“I have a book that will help you. Remind me after our dinner. How is your hotel?” He takes a sip of his wine. 

“Amazing, as usual. We have a mafia man staying for the week, he booked two rooms. One for him and his wife, the other for his mistress! On different floors, of course.” 

This made him laugh, finally allowing for a comfortable conversation to start to flow. 

His library is gorgeous. As with him and everything in his home, it's grand and highly decorated in hues of gold. Books are arranged neatly on shelves around the room, and a few scattered chairs and tables for reading or taking notes. It looks like it's hardly used, or just kept in very pristine condition. 

His excitement was obvious in the way he held himself, his hands not inside his pockets, but instead held tightly by his arms. He scans his bookshelves on a mission, ready to find you a specific book. You take in the titles at a more leisurely pace, looking for something you may have read.

The Marquis makes a noise of excitement, long legs carrying him over to where you are still looking at fiction. 

“Les Fleurs du Mal. I think you will find it helpful,” he says, placing a thick hardcover in your outstretched hand. 

You run a finger of your free hand over the cover, the title and the image of a flower embossed in gold on the hardcover.

“It’s a bilingual version. You can keep it.” 

Now he's giving you gifts, you think. If he does see you as a friend it must be a good one

“This is,” you pause to search for a word. A pity gift? Flirting? “Very kind” you finish. 

He hums and steps closer until his chest rests against your back while he gently takes the book out of your hands, leafing through the poems until he sees the one he wants. 

You feel like you're going to combust. All you can smell is his cologne and feel him. You pray he didn't notice how your breath hitched as his arm brushed yours to get the book. 

Vincent holds the page open in front of you. It's lowered to your height, but he can still see over your shoulder. You can't help but stare as his nimble fingers flick through the pages. 

“The introduction explains the industrialization of Paris. The rest are poems. Some were banned for immorality when first published.” His voice is quiet, not needing to be loud given how close his lips are to your ear. 

You glance down, thankful to have something to focus on other than how close he is to you and how badly you want him. One page has the original French version, Ciel Brouillé and its sister page has an English translation, Cloudy Sky. It's just four stanzas. You can get through this without making a fool of yourself. It's a short poem about a gray day. 

Until it's not. He reads the French version slowly as if he wants to savor the words. The English translation is making your face hot, as the poem describes a seductive but harsh woman, and what it would be like to be intimate with her. 

The poem finished, he looks at your side profile, trying to judge your reaction. 

“What do you think?” he asks, voice softer since he is right at your ear. 

All you can think about is your crush. You twist in his hold, now standing face to face. His arms cage you in, and Les Fleurs du Mal now digs into your back. He's looking at you while waiting for your answer. 

“It's a poem.” you manage. 

“Yes.”

Amusement is written over his face, you could only dream of being that composed. You bring your arms to hold onto his biceps. You fucked your chance to kiss him before you’re not doing to do it again. 

You make a show of eyes flicking down to his lips and back up to meet his eyes in a silent notice of what you want. You feel his arms move under your hands then feel relief at the book no longer digging into your back. One of his hands moves to your face, giving you flashbacks about the last time you two were in a similar position. 

With nothing around to burn you, it's the right time to make the final move. You quickly press your lips to his, probably a bit more forceful than you intended. 

He pulls back slightly, using his hand to maneuver your face for a better angle.

“Finally.” he breathes into your mouth. 

You don’t know why he called you graceful over dinner all those months ago. Now you’re all excitement mixing with nerves and incredibly turned on. 

Vincent is more smooth, walking backwards with his hands pulling you by your hips. He's telling you how pretty you look, and how much he likes your perfume while settling into the plush couch. He pulls you down so your legs are bracketing his. Each complement makes your face burn hot. 

Resting all your weight on your knees you hesitate to fully sit in this lap. As badly as you want this, you don’t think that you could put your heart back together if this was a one-time thing. 

“Vincent, I uh” you elect to use his first name not his title. “I can’t do this if it's a one-time thing.” 

He brings a hand to your face, moving your chin so you’re looking into his eyes. 

“Cherie, do you know how often I visited the Continental before your management?”

You frown slightly, unsure where he is going to go with this.

“Never. I can do everything the hotel offers myself.”

His hand moves to your lower back as he sits upright to take off his suit jacket. You help as he switches hands, always have one of your lower back. You gingerly lay it over the back of the couch before resting your hands on his shoulders, having fully settled onto him. 

“Do you know how often I go to that fucking disgusting bar before you started going?” 

“Never?” you venture. 

“Once,” he admits. “But when I was younger.” 

You want to pry on what he means by that but it's not the time. 

“You’re smart. Why would I do all of this?” 

You want to have a good answer, to not seem like you’re full of yourself. From what you heard about him, he would appreciate your directness more.

“For me?” 

“Oui.” 

It's a massive boost to your ego. The most powerful man in Paris, probably all of France, says that he goes to a bar he hates just to see you.  

“What about you? Did you wear this for me, mon amour?” he asks, hand moving over your thigh. 

Your emotions are running high. Between his confession and actions, you’re more confident than normal. 

“You should see what's underneath.” 

His eyes snap to your face, delighted in your boldness. 

The Marquis hooks a finger in your shirt, pulling the collar away from your body. He peers down the front of your shirt before looking back at your face. 

“Pretty.” 

You make a mental note to reclassify how you thought he would act in a romantic context. Still a bit annoying but charming too. 

[ohpretty-baby]

puff, puff, pass

⇥ pairing: hoseok x reader ; established relationship

⇥ genre: FLUFF, implicit smut, angst if you blink

⇥ synopsis: hoseok just thinks your face is really cute. that’s it. that’s the post.

⇥ warnings: cursing, mentions of ... the sex

⇥ word count: 5.3k

a cute lil hobi fic i started before i got requests! posting it cause school is stressful and writing is how i cope with the fact that school is a thing. also i need to expand my masterlist haha

i’m working on requests still i promise ;)

i know the title seems like it’s not related to the content in any way but i promise it somewhat is. also it made me laugh so i kept it there.

thank you all so much again for 100 followers! i truly am enamored with each one of you. 

i’ll be posting a drabble game soon, so be ready!!

enjoy my loves <3

You know how almost everyone has at least one thing that they inexplicably love dearly?

It's something that they can't really understand exactly why they love this thing. They just do. They hold it near and dear to their hearts, and it's always in the back of their minds. For some, it may consume them, causing them to obsess and lose their senses over it. For others, it provides comfort in times of distraught.

For many, it simply reminds you of the beauty of being alive and motivates you to be the best that you can be.

Sometimes it's a movie that one person saw during their childhood. Or maybe it's a certain poem that resonated while they were in love. It could be a stuffed animal, or it could be an actual person, like a parent or a lover.

Whether it be a person, animal, or movie, there is always at least one thing that humans are deeply attached to.

And for Jung Hoseok...

Well, for him, it was your face.

Your adorable, cute little face.

Why, you might ask?

Your face isn't his favorite just because he thinks you're physically attractive. Of course, he thinks you truly are beautiful, inside and out, and he's never gone one day without being stunned from looking at you or just watching you perform simple tasks, like drinking a glass of water.

In fact, Hoseok has never found anyone or anything as beautiful as you in his life.

Some mornings he'll watch you as you sleep peacefully under the covers, the sunlight seeping in through the curtains and glossing your skin. His eyes will trace your features, adoring how you were gorgeous without even trying. He'll notice the corners of your lips curving upwards unconsciously, causing a smile to creep up on his face as he wonders what you were dreaming about.

It's moments like these where Hoseok can't believe it. He cannot simply fathom the fact that you chose to be with him.

Hoseok knows that you simply exude beauty, as he was a constant witness of this fact.

But that wasn’t really the exact reason why Hoseok loved your face so much.

He loves the way your cheeks squish up and slightly cover your eyes when he cups your face in his hands. He loves lightly pinching your cheek whenever you tease him, loves the way your cheeks puff up when you're eating dinner with him at your favorite restaurant. Not to mention, he most definitely loves pecking your cheek whenever you're focused on something or when you're ranting to him about your day.

It's something about the way your cheeks are so soft and puffy whenever you smile that just makes Hoseok absolutely melt.

He knows that you hate how chubby your face is, and it perplexes him. The fact that you'd want to change your face is strange to him, really. He's actually spent many days trying to figure out this enigma, wondering why exactly you'd despise the face that he loves so dearly. The thought runs around his head constantly, dampening his mood whenever he ponders on it too much.

More often than not, the his friends would find Hoseok frozen in place and deep in thought, a small frown permanent on his face because of this enigma. It'd take them multiple tries to draw him out of whatever trance he was in, as Hoseok's eyes would be fixated on a spec of dust in the air or just a certain spot on the floor.

So Hoseok tries his best to make you smile as much as he can, to see your cheeks puff up. He can't explain why he loves it so much, but all he knows is that he becomes putty in your hands when you smile at him at like that.

And now, Hoseok knows every single way to see your beautiful grin that he loves so much.

Once, he was able to make you smile by making a fool of himself in public. Now, all he ever does is dance in the middle of the streets in order to see your eyes twinkle back up at him. Sometimes he'll look up from his phone to see you watching him, a small smile on your face now spreading from ear to ear when you finally have his attention.

Other times, Hoseok will say something really dumb in order to get you to roll your eyes at him and laugh at his stupidity. Most times, he'll feel you smile against his chest when he holds you close to him. He'll feel your cheeks puff up and squish against his chest as you would nuzzle your head into his body. Hoseok would coo at this, placing a sweet kiss on your head and running a hand through your hair.

Hoseok absolutely loves your lazy smiles as well.

The ones where you just wake up and you greet him with a grin and a kiss, your motions languid as sleep is still running its course through your body. Hoseok can't help but gush when he sees your lips move slowly, dreamily spreading into a smile just for him.

He loves the smiles you flash him while he's on top of you, your eyes half-lidded and your lips emitting soft sighs while you try your best to keep eye contact with him, just like he asked. You’re compliant to his demands, doing everything you can to keep up with him, which makes his heart soar. It would be late at night, your shared bedroom completely dark, save for the moonlight peering in through the window.

However, this didn't stop Hoseok from soaking in your appearance. He'd notice how your skin was covered with a slight sheen of sweat, making you shine under the moonlight. He'd take in how your cheeks were tinted soft shades of red, how your body slotted perfectly with his. He'd take note of how you would wrap your legs around him, leaving no space between the two of you.

He'd stare at your lips as they formed his name, calling out to him beautifully. Your voice would drown out every single sense of his,  Hoseok simply enamored with how you said his name. As the only sound in the room would be your sweet noises and Hoseok's occasional groans and deep breaths, he would watch as your face contorts in pleasure, your smile peeking out whenever Hoseok would reach a certain sweet spot.

And when you smiled, Hoseok could barely control himself, actions sporadic and nothing but praise for you falling from his lips.

It was safe to say that by the end of the night, both of you would be saying nothing but instead, flashing lazy, lethargic grins as you lulled off into sleep in each other's arms.

So when Hoseok says that he loves your face and that he loves you just the way you are, he means it. Deep in his heart, and even in his whole being, he means every single world. It's not like he could help it. For some reason he can't help but be enamored by you, can't help but to fall in deeper and deeper, especially when you smile at him like that.

Not a day goes by where Hoseok has not said:

"Did I tell you that you're beautiful?"

He'll say this out of nowhere and at random times, causing your cheeks to heat up and making you smile shyly at him. He was a spontaneous person, and you never really knew when you he was going to tell you this. All you knew for sure was that he was going to tell you this at least once, if not multiple times, throughout the day.

He'll say it when you're washing the dishes after eating lunch with him, or when you're filling out paperwork and you're completely absorbed in the task. He'll even shout it when you're taking a shower and he's brushing his teeth, the loud water rushing on your skin drowning out some of his words. You could be watching tv and he'd simply tuck some of the loose strands of your hair behind your ear, place a gentle kiss on your cheek, and then tell you the saying you've come to know and love.

Even when the two of you bicker, Hoseok will always end the night with telling you that. He'll finally have you face him so he can kiss you, making any anger or bitterness between the two of you dissipate. You would laugh, forgetting exactly why you had gotten into an argument with him in the first place. You would then realize that the problem was stupid anyways, recognizing just how much Hoseok loved you.

And you would be lying if you said that the nights after arguments were your favorite, since you would spend them talking with him for hours on end.

In fact, you still remember the first time the two of you had gotten into a dispute.

To this day, neither of you could remember exactly what you had been fighting about. However, it was the one time Hoseok hadn't said his infamous catchphrase to you. Instead, he simply just ignored it, acting as if the phrase had never existed. Unbeknownst to him, you had been secretly waiting for him to say it, for the whole situation to blow over.

But it hadn't.

That night, Hoseok was eerily silent and his eyes were unbelievably cold, the burrow in his eyebrows delving deeper and deeper with each passing minute. You didn't know what to do, and you had your back turned to him, feigning sleep in order to save yourself from the awkward tension in the dense air.

It was a few seconds before both you and him had fully realized that you were crying, you body trembling and tears pooling down onto your pillow.

Immediately, Hoseok had changed his demeanor, returning back to the sweet boyfriend that he usually was. He was now spewing out apology after apology, wiping your eyes and holding you tight against him once more. You didn't know what had taken over you, and it made you embarrassed. You couldn't tell why you had become so emotional over a few simple words.

It made you feel dumb, as you had never been this vulnerable or sensitive to anyone. You never really cried in front of anyone. It wasn't a matter of pride, it was just because you didn't want to make anyone feel uncomfortable or feel like they had to console you and your problems.

And he knew that, which is why it always somewhat shocked him when you cried in front of him. It was obvious by the way he looked at you with wide eyes and parted lips when he initially saw you crying.

Once Hoseok came back to his senses, however, this didn't matter to him anymore, as he was now rocking you back and forth gently in his arms, humming light melodies that softened the world around you.

"Did I tell you that you're beautiful?" He finally said, his voice soft as to not disturb the tranquility of the atmosphere.

"You didn't today..." You pouted, gasping in between words as you tried to speak coherently.

"I'm sorry, darling," Hoseok sighed, genuine guilt in his tone.

Instead of saying anything, you nuzzled your head against his chest in response, inhaling the smell of mint and cotton, the scent calming you down. Hoseok chuckled, placing soft kisses all over your head. As he spoke sweet nothings into your ears, you could feel his heartbeat, the rhythm making you feel safe and secure in his arms.

"Do you remember the day we first met, my love?"

You nodded to his deep, gravelly voice and let out a small, shaky laugh at the memory.

Although your meeting wasn't a very conventional moment, you had held the story near and dear to your heart.

It was a summer evening, the soft breeze finally coming in and cooling down the hot air from the day.  You spent this night at one of your "friend of a friend"'s infamous house parties, where everyone went batshit crazy and got wasted. It wasn't typically your scene, but you got the invite personally from Seokjin and it was quite an honor to get one, so with an inflated ego you decided to dress up and go.

Your best friend, Jungkook, would've agreed to go with you in a heartbeat, but that night he had a road trip he planned with his brother.

So with Jungkook's pro tips on house parties and what to do when you meet a creep, you decided to venture this event alone, promising him you'd tell him all the stories you were able to remember.

You weren't sure why you weren't afraid to go alone, but it was one of those unexplainable things where you just felt like you had to. After all, you were almost done with college and you told yourself that there should be at least one time where you went crazy as well, finally not caring about being cautious and instead letting yourself be reckless.

Of course you had known about Hoseok beforehand, through a few small whispers and mentions occasionally. All you knew about him was that he was one of Seokjin's best friends and that he apparently was good in bed. You payed no mind to it, as you weren't on to judge and you didn't really care about a complete stranger's life.

At the party, with the music booming and pulsing throughout the house, you had stolen an occasional glance or two from him. He flashed a couple smirks and winks at you, causing you to immediately avert your eyes and return your attention back on whatever you had in your cup. Eventually, he disappeared, and left you alone with your own thoughts sprinting around your head, as you wondered why someone random had gotten you so worked up.

You didn't know how long it took for you to finally stand up from the couch. But noticing how red your face had gotten, you decided that it would be a good idea to freshen up before anyone could see how flustered you had gotten over a simple wink.

When you finally reached the bathroom, pushing past intoxicated people and horny couples, you felt the air return to your chest as you finally got space. The door was closed, a small line of the bathroom light peeking out. You knocked on the door one, two, three times, and yet there was no answer. In response, you heard a few groans and some soft muttering. You stared at the door with wide eyes, thinking about what was going on behind the piece of wood standing in your way.

Being the nosy person you are, you felt inclined to press your ear on the door.

"You know we can't do this anymore," The statement was stern, yet the voice was deep and husky, the words almost coming out in taunts rather than warnings.

"Hoseok," You heard a girl whine in response, making you feel uncomfortable and almost made you feel guilty for eavesdropping, "Why not? You know I love you-"

"We broke up three months ago, Luna. Might I remind you that you cheated on me?" The comeback made you put a hand over your mouth to hide the gasp you oh so desperately wanted to let out, "Can you get over it?"

You heard shuffling and pondered if Hoseok was heading towards the door, but your own drowsy mind didn't really let you process the thought.

"Hoseok, I was drunk-"

The steps came to a stop.

"You still fucked my friend, didn't you?"

The situation was inappropriate, but you imagined what Hoseok looked like behind the door. The bathroom lighting most likely highlighted the slight sheen of sweat on his tan skin, and his hair was probably tousled messily from tugging at strands in frustration. Maybe his arms were crossed, accentuating his biceps, making them look bigger than before. Maybe his eyes were sharper than usual, an intense glare shooting at whoever was in front of him.

You took a small gulp and realized that you were holding your breath, making your whole body heat up. So this was one of the many wonders of alcohol. Or maybe it was just you and your vivid imagination. Either way you blamed your new attraction to Hoseok on the alcohol.

"But, Hoseok!" The girl pleaded, "You're not dating anyone, are you? Neither am I! Please... Give me one more chance."

Silence.

"Hoseok, don't you love me?"

"Luna-"

"You still do, don't you?" Confidence seemed to come back to her, "You can't deny it. So why can't we start over?"

"Fuck off. You're really not the same person to me anymore and it makes me laugh that you think this low of me."

"Hoseok, I promise I can change!"

You pressed your body closer to the door, even though it wouldn't help. Your heart pounded rapidly against your chest, your ears hanging on to every second as you waited for another killer response from Hoseok.

It was silent.

All of sudden, the door clicked open, causing you to fall forward with a loud yelp. Hoseok caught you in his arms, holding you tightly and helping you steady yourself. Luna, his ex-girlfriend, stared at you with wide eyes, and her shock slowly turned into anger. Your shorts had slightly ridden up, and the loose sweater you had on slid down a bit, just barely showing off some skin. Even if you hadn't noticed, it was apparent that Hoseok had his eyes on you, scanning your body as he held you in his arms.

Your eyes met his, and you finally got a clear look at him. His tan skin, the sharp eyes you were imagining, and the way his lips looked so soft. Your mouth was slightly agape and Hoseok couldn't help but think you were the cutest thing in the world. He knew that you had been staring at him, and it would be a lie if he said that he didn't want to talk to you.

You didn't know why, but all of a sudden Hoseok's lips curved upwards and spread into a big grin.

"I can't be with you anymore, Luna," He looked over at her, "You wanna know why?"

"Why?"

Hoseok helped you stand up and he wrapped an arm around your waist. You blinked, eyebrows furrowed slightly as you truly tried to process what exactly was going on.

"This is my girlfriend!" He said, his aggressive already leaving, "Isn't that right, baby?"

"Um, yes, I am... that," You stuttered, attempting to play along.

Before Luna could question anything, like how the two of you didn't really know each other's names and had no clue about each other's personal lives, Hoseok quickly greeted her goodbye and dragged you over to Seokjin's huge backyard. He led you to a small table on the cobblestone, gently placing you down on a chair. He walked off to grab two cups of water, one for and one for him.

"I'm sorry about all that," He chuckled, "It made you quite uncomfortable, didn't it?"

The situation and the cool night breeze from outside had somewhat sobered you up, allowing you to actually speak cohesive statements.

"Oh, you're fine," You responded, "I pretend to be Jungkook's girlfriend whenever he needs me to, so it's really no big deal."

"You know, Kook?" His eyes seemed to light up, and you nodded, "I love that kid! He’s crazy, isn’t he?”

"Yeah,” You shook your head, thinking about Jungkook and all his antics, “We’ve been friends since high school."

"Ah, you must be Y/N then, right?" He said, cocking his head to the right in curiosity, "Kook's mentioned you once or twice when I hang out with you. He says you're, like, really smart."

"Oh, really?" You respond, fidgeting with the fabric of your sweater.

"Mhm!" Hoseok's tone had quickly turned playful, "I'm Hoseok, by the way."

"I know," Now, it was you chuckling, "You and Seokjin are really popular with the girls."

"Oh," He flashed a sheepish smile, earning him another laugh from you, "That's quite embarrassing, no?"

You had long forgotten your need to relieve yourself in the bathroom, now choosing to spend the rest of your time with your new friend, Hoseok.

And that moment, in the dark, summer night, Hoseok saw you smile, the strings of fairy lights in Seokjin's backyard lighting your face, and he felt his whole world collapse down on him.

As the days passed, Hoseok found himself drawn to you. There wasn't a day where he wouldn't call out to you and promptly came running when he saw you on campus. People thought it was strange, seeing him talk to some random girl, and you had to admit it was hard to handle Hoseok's energy at times. He attracted so many people to him, and they often gave you weird looks, examining you and wondering why Hoseok wanted to associate himself with you.

It definitely took a while before his friends even approved of your friendship let alone the relationship that would slowly bloom in front of everyone's eyes.

Even though it was difficult at times to keep up with Hoseok, the more you got to know him, the more you became attached. You wanted to know everything about him, wanted to see him and be there for him at his best times and at his worst times. Even though you wouldn’t admit it, you desperately yearned to know about his family, to know what he was like when no one was around. Was he as cheerful as he usually is? Does he have a mean bone in his body?

You couldn't describe it, but the way your chest fluttered and the way your face was fixed in a permanent smile whenever you were around him seemed to say it for you. You were in deeper than you wanted to.

But still, you couldn’t but find yourself drawn to him as well.

Jung Hoseok, the man who always bought you random drinks from the vending machine whenever you were studying and wrote cute little notes on the bottles to motivate you. Hoseok, the man who would text you jokes at random times of the day simply because they made him laugh and he wanted to share them with you, who’d call you late at night because he “didn’t know how to do simple math” and end up talking to you late into the early morning. The man who always seemed to know whenever you were down, the man who could read your emotions more than Jungkook, your own best friend, could.  At times, Hoseok seemed to know more about you than you knew about yourself.

He made sure he was there for all of your ups and downs, and you made sure you were there for him too. There wasn't a moment when you'd be stressed out over something and he wouldn't immediately come to your dorm with ice cream and movies the two of you could watch. Jung Hoseok, in every aspect, was such a caring person, and he always made sure that you were okay. Even when you didn't ask to, he'd check up on you and spend as much time with you as he could.

Of course you had always wondered why he had been so nice to you, and to that response Jungkook would roll his eyes and say:

"Hoseok likes you, dumbass," He'd flick your forehead as he teased you, "He literally looks at you like you’re his whole world. Are you that stupid to not see it?"

Almost everyone in your new found friend group knew, as they also gave suggestive, teasing looks to Hoseok when the two of you were together. You had always ignored these, opting to keep your attention on him instead of his friends. You hoped that Hoseok liked you as much as you liked him, since you found yourself being more and more attracted to him the more you hung out with him. (And you hung out with a lot).

It wasn't a surprise that when Hoseok finally asked you out on a date, you leaped into his arms with a grin from ear to ear.

When Jungkook found out, he couldn't help but rub your own achievements in your face, telling you that he was right and that you should've listened to him.

But that didn't matter if you were right and wrong when you were dating Hoseok.

Now, after all those years, the two of you lay in your shared king bed in your own house. You realize just how far the two of you have gotten, and you can't help but feel thankful that it's Hoseok you get to spend the rest of your life with.

And Hoseok feels the same way. He's more than excited to be able to see you like this every night, where you're safe and secure in his arms.

"I remember seeing you for the very first time," He clicked his tongue, deep in thought after the two of you reminisced on how you met, "The first thing I said to myself was that if I could ever have the chance of dating you, I'd be the luckiest man alive."

"Bullshit," You teased, now making him pout, "There's no way you really felt that way, especially if we had just met."

"You don't believe me, beautiful?" His pet names were honey to your ears, "Ah, my dear, why would I ever lie to you?"

"...So you're saying you believed in love at first sight?"

"Baby, I know it was love at first sight," He pinched your cheek as he spoke, eyes turning soft as he stared at your face, "Did you not feel that way when you first saw me?"

Hoseok knew he said the right thing when he finally saw his favorite red shades tinting your cheeks.

"Oh- Well, I just-" You groaned, hiding your face in his chest, "You can't just do that!"

Hoseok laughed, your stutters vibrating against his skin. His laughter reverberated around your ears, causing a small smile to form on your lips.

After that, the two of you talked about anything and everything. Hoseok would sprinkle little jokes or comments in order to get you to laugh at him and make fun of him. There was nothing but love exuding from the two of you, the tension in the room fully disappearing and becoming replaced with the happiness from before.

Hoseok often wonders how he did it, how he's able to be with someone like you. Saying that he was blessed to have you would be an understatement in his eyes. In fact, he'd say it was even an injustice. There truly weren't nearly enough words in the dictionary to describe his love and gratefulness for you.

But Hoseok didn't exactly know what word to use, so unfortunately, he had to stick with those.

Sometimes, Hoseok thinks it about it so much that he gets into his own head.

It's the moments where he stays scarily quiet, where his eyes are focused on you as doubts run around rampantly in his mind. He's so worried that one day you'll look at him and think that he's not enough for you, that he's not worth spending your life with. He'll think that he's really not enough for you and that thought will engrave itself so deep into his head that it'll occupy him with every waking moment. It'll be hard for him to look you in the eye. He'll still be close to you but it'll be hard for him to give you the affection that he wants so badly to give.

Then he feels stupid for feeling this way, because if you thought he wasn't good for you, you would've been gone already, right? Hoseok thinks that he should be giving you all his love, not worrying about being enough for you. This makes him feel worse, which in turn buries the thought deeper and deeper in his mind, up to the point where he can't find an escape. He'll feel his world plummet, the palette of his pink-shaded universe darkening.

That's when he feels your hand on his, where he'll realize that he's been staring blankly into open space for God knows how long.

The sound of his name on your lips will ring in his ear, oh how he loves to hear it. Hoseok feels the pace of his heartbeat speed up rapidly, faster than he'd like to admit. His cheeks are warm, and it almost makes him laugh how easy it is for you to get him all riled up.

You'll stare at him for a while, your eyes slowly trailing down onto his lips. Hoseok hangs on to every second in this moment, watching you as you examine his face. He knows that you probably know what's going on in his mind, and for that he feels a little guilty. He hopes that he isn't burden, and he opens his mouth to apologize.

When his lips part, however, you take this chance to kiss him, grabbing his hands and putting them on your waist. Hoseok gets the message, chuckling in between lip locking and pulling you close to him, eagerly roaming every inch of your skin that he could get his hands on.

He's pulled out of the dark headspace, now only surrounded by your love and the feeling of your soft lips. All of his attention is back on you and he melts, feeling nothing but tender love from you.

And when the two of you finally pull away, your eyes are trained on each other, chests heaving up and down as you try to catch your breath.

Hoseok just knows that you want to tell him words of comfort when he gets like this. He knows that because of the way your eyes sadden whenever he gets quiet. He sees how it unnerves you, how you bite your lip when you're also deep in thought. The gears are turning around viciously in your head as you try to find the words to say.

You hesitate to speak and Hoseok can't help but find it cute as you sputter out nonsense. He knows you're not the best with your words, and that's completely okay. He knows that you worry about not saying the right thing around him, but Hoseok always reminds you that there's not much you could say to get him upset. But still, you're focused as you try to find what would be perfect to say in this situation.

So Hoseok waits patiently, adoring how your cheeks slowly turn redder and redder while you awkwardly try to give him verbal solace.

"Seokie..." You call him that when you're especially flustered, "You know I love you, right?"

He nods in response, a stupid grin on his face quickly forming.

"And do you love me?"

"Of course I do."

"Good," You giggle, "Let's keep it that way."

And then there it is. The moment Hoseok's been waiting for. The moment he's been waiting for his whole entire life.

Your bright smile, lightening up the darkest of his days. He feels awestruck, his regained breath quickly leaving his chest once more. Hoseok's world is stained pink, the sight of your smile making him melt on the spot. His loving gaze, in turn, causes you to heat up and giggle.

That's when Hoseok realizes that he's been worried about nothing after all. That you're perfect for him and he's perfect for you. That nothing else feels right to him except for you.

Hoseok sees the way you smile at him, sees the way your eyes twinkle back at him, and he can't help but fall more and more in love with you.

And as per your request, Hoseok will keep it that way.

He'll keep it that way for as long as he lived.

hope you guys liked it! take care my loves <3

[abyssal-hoonter]

[The highest place]

-----

The Assassins enjoyed to observe the city from above because that was high and gave them a better view. A better view that people needed to understand. So did Evie. Perhaps. This was the first time she had herself here not because of her duty, but because she wanted to go far away from the train which she and her brother called "home" especially when they were still in this center city of the world, London. A flash in her thought drove her to regret going to this place just to fill another page of her life notebook writing about what had been happening...

People believed no smoke without fire. Maybe it was true this time. Evie wanted to hide, to run away, to make a distance with the one she had never believed. She knew who it was, the woman with red hair, a bit taller, older and maybe wiser than her and that was exactly the one Evie once thought that individual had been ended by a fucking cane - sword. Miss Thorne, evidently.

Evie buried herself into hundred lines of thinking which was dancing crazily in her head. At the same time she thought it must be stopped no matter what. Crushing her skull, washing her brain, anything could help, but nothing helped... She wondered how Henry was. Would he be the same like the old day when they first met on a roof of a building? Or was he busy enough pursuing something that the Brotherhood had been always against?

Jacob did tell her what she didn't want to understand nor hear. The way he shared the story and his expression, including his eyes when he had looked at his older sister, all rang a bell that he was telling the truth.

"Acting hastily and brutally does NOT mean I never use my brain, dearest sister." She remembered what he had told her when they were arguing in the train, with Miss Thorne leaning on the wagon wall and sighed heavily. Evie rushed outside once they had done talking and hadn't realized tears had already been covered her cheeks. Even now gazing at the air from the tallest point of London, the Big Ben, she could feel her tears being dried as she began to recall what had happened one week ago.

---

"You fucking bastard! Son of a bitch!" Jacob cursed loudly as he rushed toward Henry, grabbing his shirt with one hand and the other one delivered a heavy punch to the man's face. "How could you do this to us? How could you do this to my sister?!!!" He screamed as he was mad and continued to punch Greenie until Miss Thorne came and intervened.

"Frye! Stop! Stop!" She said and yanked Jacob out from the Indian. Jacob, still gritting his teeth, tried to catch Henry with his arms stretched forward and his fingers formed like a vampire preparing to kill their prey. Henry, stood with his face full of bruises and blood caused by the younger Frye.

"First you cheated on her. Now you're with that fucking Mr. Starrick!" Jacob roared.

"Your sister is just a tool without thinking. Just like you, Jacob. She acts like she's so mature but deep down from inside now I'm starting to realize you all assassins are just... animals." Henry scoffed a simple but cruel irony. Jacob was surprised by what he was seeing in this man. Just not so long ago he was still a gentleman, saying noble words and talking greatly politely. That was contradicted to what the hell he was right now. All Jacob could see was a mere person who wore a Templar band on his sleeve and speaking like a brute with his voice full of hatred and disdain toward the people he once stood side by side.

"That was your fucking fault first! You cheated on Evie, my sister. You betrayed her! She lost her memory because of you!!" Jacob angrily said.

"She did something worse than me, Frye. She became one with the woman standing there, beside you." Henry laughed and gestured to Lucy, who was still trying to calm herself despite those critical words she had heard. "What's that? Love? Allow me to fix it, Mr. Frye. It is sickness! Purely an act of pathetic whores--" he continued, and didn't have a chance to finish the sentence when suddenly Lucy broke out "from her cage" and dashed to his place, giving him tons of punches and rakes. She grabbed his collar and hit him to the ground. The man struggled to get out but he was totally lost. In a moment he realized how powerful Miss Thorne could be, a woman could be, especially when they went mad and the devil side of them took control.

"Whores are ones toying people's heart!!" Lucy's eyes opened wide and the man could see dark fire in them.

This time, it was Jacob who tried to prevent the redhead from killing Henry. He wrapped her waist from behind and stepped backward but Lucy kicked her legs repeatedly before deciding to stop.

Right at that moment, Evie came in and witnessed what was in front of her eyes. She saw Henry in bad state and his brother backing Thorne.

"What's happening?" She raised her voice, and to Jacob and Lucy's surprised, Henry started to groan.

"Evie... Evie..." Greenie pleaded.

Jacob watched and saw Henry secretly conceal his Templar band. He stomped forward, intending to check the man but Evie pushed him away. "Don't touch him!" She said. Jacob frowned with frustration.

"You did this to him, Jacob? How dare you!" Evie shouted to Jacob's face. She didn't realize Henry was grinning caddishly behind Evie's back.

"I did." A voice came from Lucy, "I hate public dicks!"

Evie's blood boiled in anger. She stared at the woman as if she was trying to kill Thorne again with her blue eyes now full of violence.

Henry pretended to stand up as Evie hold his arms. "Evie... I gotta go. Sorry." He said and unleashed his rope launcher to disappear on the rooftop.

Evie gave both her brother and the redhead a side-glance before running away, heading to nowhere in particular. Lucy couldn't leave her alone as she chased from behind when Jacob rolled his eyes and followed.

---

Such a memory.

But the one she got yesterday was better to be cursed than what she had just thought of. She didn't want to believe but she had to get use to the fact from now on: Henry Green was a Templar, siding with the Grand Master of British Rite and he was going to search for the Shroud, either. And guess what? The special person she used to plan an assassination plan was helping her and Jacob, somehow, without getting tired of both her suspicion and her brother's doing. The female Frye felt like Lucy was slowly replacing Mr. Green in their life, not including the truth that Evie was the one who used to spend days and nights in the former Templar's arms, falling asleep together after reading books, discussing topics with one another, walking alongside the streets of London talking about poems, buying foods and drinks for beggars and children by their own little coins, and even --

She released a heavy breath and closed her eyes. It was not so long until she heard a sound from behind and turned. That was Miss Thorne, who finally caught her there after a long way of pursuing the girl since Evie had been drawing a distance between them.

Lucy realized that Evie must have cried. They looked at each other for a moment and none of them said anything.

It was Evie who decided to break the silence, "How could you go up here?"

Lucy crossed her arms and leaned on the surface next to her, "You're not the only one who can climb."

Evie dragged a half smile and looked away, "I'm not in the mood, Miss Thorne. Leave me."

Her voice where the pain and disappointment was hidden. She had worked in the shadow because she believed it would serve the light but never she had thought one day definitely she had met the man she once loved cowered beside Starrick, or called her brother a foolish cow, or called Lucy a whore burned in the pussy because Lucy loved her honestly.

"I know... I'm not here to talk lesson." Lucy paced to her side and looked at the direction Evie was gazing, "I'm here to get you home." She softly said and looked at Evie, who was not making an eye-contact, "It's been a day since you've gone. To what I know about your personality you haven't eaten yet..."

The young girl frowned and glared at Thorne, "No need for such thing. I can take care of myself."

She finished her sentence and about to perform a leap of faith. Miss Thorne, already predicted that, grabbed Evie's arm firmly and slammed her against the wall behind, looking at her with those dark brown eyes both begging and warning. The young assassin was cornered and trapped, yet she couldn't free herself by pushing the older woman backward since it could make Lucy suffer from a deadly falling. They stood looking at each other's eyes until Evie felt Lucy's fingers was swipping her tears and rubbing her cheeks. They started to kiss and the feeling of craving to be one again to wake up.

It was a little cold near the top of Big Ben as they can see once the Frye was naked and they threw themselves into caressing each other. Gliding her fingertips slowly across Evie's body was one of the parts Lucy enjoyed as she could see the girl beneath gasping and trempling. Evie pulled the woman closer to start another long and deep kiss while enjoying the pleasure Miss Thorne was excitedly giving her. The girl couldn't hold herself from making a loud moan when Lucy dipped her long and naughty tongue into her core. Licking, whirling, sucking and even toying her with it.

"Oh Go..d... Lucy-- How could you--" her word failed as she couldn't continue to say anything but just laid there, enjoying what was coming and of course it was close.

She shook in the climax. The last things she saw before closing her eyes for a short rest were Miss Thorne who gave her a kiss on the forehead and began to put her cloths in place.

.

A few minutes later, Evie opened her eyes and saw her head cushioned on the older woman's thigh. Lucy smiled at her. A soft and beautiful smile Evie wished she would never stop seeing it for the rest of her life. She sat up next to the redhead, weaving their hands together.

"It's late. We should come back to the train." Lucy whispered, "Jacob must be waiting long enough."

Evie leaned on Thorne's shoulder, "I will never forget this place."

"Me too."

---

*At night*

Jacob prepared for his duty with the Rooks. He checked everything carefully and put the top hat on his head. He looked at himself in the mirror and smile with confidence. Seathing his kurki in its place, he knew there was only one thing more to do before getting to his job - saying "Goodnight" to his sister. Although he could be a naive boy or an arrogant, the man always cared for everyone particularly who stayed with him in the battles and never left them behind. So was this time, he cared for his sister. After what had happened he was certain that Evie deserved better.

He walked to his sister's wagon but looked back at his to check everything one more time, "Evie, I'm out for work, you should stay with--" as his eyes went back to his sister's wagon entrance, he noticed a small board hanged from the other side of the door.

Do not disturb

"--Miss Thorne." He now finished and rolled his eyes, "Arh! Perfect."

He walked outside the hideout and swivelled his neck, "Hope they will finish before I come back."

[trulisthetic]

I had a bad day today. I did something stupid and got in an online argument with someone who told me that Jim and Pam were an unhealthy couple. I told her why I don't think that's the case without insulting her and got shot down anyway. What would you make of it?

This turned into a monster-post. Oops.

First and foremost, I’m really sorry that you had a bad day. My understanding is that that “someone” wasn’t very kind and respectful to you even though you were towards them. You know, the internet is such a wild place. Under the cover of online profiles we create for ourselves we sometimes act in ways we wouldn’t in real life. We forget that there is an actual person on the other end and not a heartless machine. And being on the receiving end of that... well, it sucks. I’m sorry you had to deal with that today.

I get that you feel like you did something stupid - because yes, online arguments don’t often get us anywhere, they only end up frustrating us, even hurting us sometimes. But trust me when I tell you this: If you were respectful and didn’t insult her, then you did absolutely nothing wrong. This wasn’t your fault. They’re the only ones accountable for their behavior. I get that you feel off right now, but really, all you can do from this point forward is; just keep swimming :P 

All that aside, not everyone is going to agree on everything at that is granted. And it is okay. That’s what makes the people that think like us and share our interests so special and beautiful in our eyes, you know? It’s okay if somebody on the internet doesn’t think Jim and Pam are a healthy couple. Maybe they trigger something for them - a reminder of a past relationship that didn’t end well. Or maybe there is no reason for it - this is just the way they view it. All of those are fine, everyone is entitled to an opinion. I would even be interested in hearing them out, because, honestly, I can’t think of how Jim and Pam’s relationship could possibly be considered unhealthy. But from what I understand - and correct me if I’m wrong! It’s just what I got from the way you phrased your question - the person you argued with didn’t really have many points themselves, they were just arguing for the sake of arguing, finding problems when there really weren’t any. And that’s what’s really problematic. When people go out and shout accusations of unhealthy and problematic and abusive relationships, all they do is make a fool out of the REAL problematic and abusive ones. And that’s the true tragedy in all this.

Now onto Jim and Pam themselves. It never even occurred to me that this would be an issue; their relationship being considered ‘unhealthy’.

Since day one, Jim and Pam have always ALWAYS brought out the best in one another. And I believe that anyone who argues on this point in particular has been watching a different show. I mean seriously, they were written this way. Their love was, to its core, written to be of the purest kind. They have a strong base as friends, which is the best foundation you can have in a relationship. And they’ve always been each other’s “person”, since the first season. The one they turn to every time they have a problem, like when Pam is frustrated with Roy, or when Jim dies of boredom. They’re partners in crime, their time together is full of the most awe-worthy combination of mischief and touching moments, and just... joy. Have you seen two people happier to just be with each other’s presence? Have you seen anyone’s eyes light up the way Jim’s does every time Pam “chooses him” when she’s “bored” or when she tells him he has “very nice teeth”? Have you seen on anybody else's face that wide smile (with the tongue peeking between the teeth) that Pam gets every time Jim takes a second too long to choose a jellybean flavor, or buys her a coke for a round of jinx? Those two bring the greatest amount of joy to each other, while doing the smaller, most insignificant things. The only thing that could possibly make them wrong would be if their relationship was toxic.

And Jim and Pam’s relationship is not toxic.

Let's look at some signs of a toxic relationship okay?

It feels bad. All the time. Well. I kinda just went through that. The only times it’s felt bad for them was when they were apart, in season 3 mostly, and then in season 9. And yes, they had marital problems. So, SO many couples do, if not every single one. They handled one situation poorly, and it backfired on them, and they drifted apart. And then they found their way back to each other. At this point, I want to quote one of my favorite pieces of writing, ever. I use it a lot, but it applies here so perfectly, so... @acutelesbian said: “A lot of people ask me what my biggest fear is, or what scares me most. And I know they expect an answer like heights, or closed spaces, or people dressed like animals, but how do I tell them that when I was 17 I took a class called Relationships For Life and I learned that most people fall out of love for the same reasons they fell in it. That their lover’s once endearing stubbornness has now become refusal to compromise and their one track mind is now immaturity and their bad habits that you once adored is now money down the drain. Their spontaneity becomes reckless and irresponsible and their feet up on your dash is no longer sexy, just another distraction in your busy life. Nothing saddens and scares me like the thought that I can become ugly to someone who once thought all the stars were in my eyes.” A while later, she reblogged her own post and added: “I never expected this to be my most popular poem out of the hundreds I’ve written. I was extremely bitter and sad when I wrote this and I left out the most beautiful part of that class. After my teacher introduced us to this theory, she asked us, “is love a feeling? Or is it a choice?” We were all a bunch of teenagers. Naturally we said it was a feeling. She said that if we clung to that belief, we’d never have a lasting relationship of any sort. She made us interview a dozen adults who were or had been married and we asked them about their marriages and why it lasted or why it failed. At the end, I asked every single person if love was an emotion or a choice. Everybody said that it was a choice. It was a conscious commitment. It was something you choose to make work every day with a person who has chosen the same thing. They all said that at one point in their marriage, the “feeling of love” had vanished or faded and they weren’t happy. They said feelings are always changing and you cannot build something that will last on such a shaky foundation. The married ones said that when things were bad, they chose to open the communication, chose to identify what broke and how to fix it, and chose to recreate something worth falling in love with. The divorced ones said they chose to walk away. Ever since that class, since that project, I never looked at relationships the same way. I understood why arranged marriages were successful. I discovered the difference in feelings and commitments. I’ve never gone for the person who makes my heart flutter or my head spin. I’ve chosen the people who were committed to choosing me, dedicated to finding something to adore even on the ugliest days. I no longer fear the day someone who swore I was their universe can no longer see the stars in my eyes as long as they still choose to look until they find them again.” There it is. So. Jim and Pam had some issues during season 9. They didn’t communicate well, they made some poor choices, they didn’t handle the situation they were thrown in very gracefully. And yet they made a choice, the choice to stay and push and fight for their relationship. They went to therapy, together. They opened up, discussed their feelings, communicated, worked out a solution. They chose each other, even though at the time they weren’t each other’s favorite person. They went through a rough patch and came out of it together, stronger than ever. And HAPPY. If that’s not the epitome of a healthy relationship, then I don’t know what the fuck is. Having said all that, I think I also covered these signs of a toxic relationship:

You avoid saying what you need because there’s just no point. 

There’s no effort.

Nothing gets resolved.  So let's move on to the next ones.

You’re constantly braced for the ‘gotcha’. This is for when there’s a trap in every statement or question, and even though everyone makes mistakes, yours are used as proof that you’re too uninvested, too wrong, too stupid, too something. And this is seriously as far from Jim and Pam as humanly possible. They’re seriously the exact opposite of that, always lifting each other up and supporting one another through their mistakes. 

When ‘no’ is a dirty word. “I think I want a wedding-wedding.” “Cranford? No.” “I don’t know if I want this.” “I don’t think you should go to Philly tonight.”

The score card. Let me show you how wrong you are. Before they were together, they both had some “weak” moments, during which they didn’t exactly act fairly. Not once in all these years have we EVER seen one call the other out on their past mistakes. They’re not keeping score, they’re discussing them, dealing with them and moving on. There isn’t a more mature way to go about this.

There’s a battle – and you’re on your own. Again. In every chance they get, in any problem they face with third persons, they always stand by the other’s side and lift them up and support them. Just like when Pam was there for Jim when Ryan made his life hard in s4, or when Dwight terrorized him with the snow in s7. And just like when Jim made the list for Pam when Robert California set her aside, or when he demanded answers by her side from the dude who did call “a dork like that” back. Those two are a team, and not just when they’re planning ways to prank Dwight, or they’re sharing looks across the room over how ridiculous Michael is being.

Privacy? What privacy? Oh, I LOVE this one about them. How they get to be individuals and they are not defined by one another. They get their private time, private hobbies, and that’s such a healthy part of a relationship that so many just overlook. The only time that wasn’t the case was when they were using the world’s smallest Bluetooth - but it was so obvious that they were both craving it so much because they were missing each other, and they were both more than comfortable with it. Until that conversation with her classmate happened, which I’m sure signaled the end of that way of communication for them. But remember all those months they were apart? Remember how Jim TURNED BACK halfway to New York because “I’m not that guy. And we’re not that couple”? Remember how respectful they’ve always been of each other’s need for privacy?

The lies. Oh the lies! The only lie between the two (If you don’t count the “I can’t” of Casino Night and the “It was three years ago. I’m totally over it.” of The Secret) was when Jim didn’t tell Pam that he started a business in Philly. Which he told her an episode late, by himself. And it served as the perfect opportunity to show just how steady the foundations of their relationship are, and how much they trust and faith they have in one another and in their love. I’ll never forget how Pam reacted to realizing that Jim is keeping something from her. She didn’t call him out or corner him for answers, she simply waited for him to tell her when he’s ready. Then when the idea of an affair was thrown on the table, Pam shrugged it off, saying “Jim? No. He loves me too much”. And it’s not easy to say that theoretically, much along actually act on it. But when in season 8 Kathy hit on Jim while they were in that hotel, there’s a deleted scene of Jim and Pam on the phone, and Pam is actually joking about the whole thing. It’s impressive and miraculous just how deeply these two trust each other, and believe that they would never hurt the other like that.

Physical or verbal abuse. Or both. We’ve seen Pam being handled roughly by Roy, and then we’ve seen the way Jim treats her, like she’s the most precious butterfly. And HEAVEN HELP ME, the guy was too scared to look at her for too long in the beginning. He’s the most gentle and caring man I’ve seen, in words and actions alike. And the very same goes for Pam. The only time she’s spoken badly to him was when she said “Shut it” as she was storming off Michael’s office when she found out he was dating her mom and Jim knew. And she was clearly very upset and not acting like herself. But we can all agree that this is not a pattern of behavior, and that Jim and Pam have NEVER, EVER been abusive towards one another.

Not including the other in big decisions. This is the only one that’s kinda true. Jim decided to buy his parents’ house, then decided to start a business, then Pam decided to sell the house, all without including the other. Despite those, that was an issue that they were not blind towards, and Pam even brought it up in season 9, and it was one of the problems they worked through at couples therapy. And that’s exactly what a healthy and mature relationship looks like.

So there you have it. Those are the main signs of an unhealthy relationship. Wanna hear the definition of a healthy one?

A healthy relationship is when two people develop a connection based on: Mutual respect. Trust. Honesty. Support. Fairness/equality. Separate identities. Good communication. A sense of playfulness/fondness.

In a healthy relationship you:

Take care of yourself and have good self-esteem independent of your relationship

Maintain and respect each other’s individuality

Maintain relationships with friends and family

Have activities apart from one another

Are able to express yourselves to one another without fear of consequences

Are able to feel secure and comfortable

Allow and encourage other relationships

Take interest in one another’s activities

Do not worry about violence in the relationship

Resolve conflict fairly: Fighting is part of even healthy relationships, the difference is how the conflict is handled. Fighting fairly is an important skill you help you have healthier relationships

Have respect for sexual boundaries

Are honest about sexual activity if it is a sexual relationship

Accept influence. Relationships are give and take; allowing your partner to influence you is important; this can be especially difficult for some men.

Trust each other and be honest with each other

Have the option of privacy

Now, let us all think each and every one of those through. And let’s think about it twice before we accuse perfectly healthy relationships of being toxic.

That’s all I have to say. Sorry, this was so long, and thank you for staying to this point!

All I know is that, for me, Jim and Pam’s relationship - along with that of my parents’ - is the healthiest one my eyes have ever seen. And I feel so lucky to have discovered those two gems. 💜

[ziraley-j-crow]

“When I’m 64″ - Crowley x Aziraphale

This one is going to be based on one of my favorite Beatles songs. Each chapter will be based on a verse of the song.

I know some of the lyrics might not coincide with their celestial nature, but we’ll have to make do!

I know Aziraphale doesn’t sleep, but I wanted to work it into my story, I just felt it worked. Thank you!

Here’s a link to the song: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HCTunqv1Xt4

1.

“When I get older losing my hair, many years from now, will you still be sending me a Valentine, birthday greetings bottle of wine?”

13th February 2020.

The day before Valentine’s Day.

“What do you mean you’ve never celebrated it?” Aziraphale was almost dumbfounded by the words coming from Crowley’s mouth, his hot coca not even meeting his lips.

“What?! It’s just a human holiday! Why do they even celebrate it, anyway?” Crowley said defensively, leaning against the kitchen counter. Another morning gone by without the worry of impending doom looming over both of their shoulders. 

It was a bright and early Thursday morning at Aziraphale’s bookshop. Crowley had found himself in Aziraphale’s kitchen, tinkering around the place before Aziraphale offered him a warm drink. The two sat together, embracing in chat.

“Well, although the humans had made a story about the Saint Valentine, I believe it was the poem by the great Geoffrey Chaucer that really helped boost morale for the holiday! The Parliament of Fowls, if I remember the name correctly..” Aziraphale tried to remember bits of the poem.

“So tomorrow, you will see humans expressing love for their loved ones. Family, friends, partners...” Aziraphale trailed off, smiling fondly. “Just to show them they love them. It’s rather lovely, the whole thing.” 

“Whatever it is, I certainly haven’t dabbled with it.” Crowley said, sounding uninterested. 

Oh, but how we had wanted to. For the past six thousand years pining for the angel, to finally have a whole day dedicated to spoiling him? You bet your ass he was on board with this.

“Oh, well I hadn’t really expected such a devilish fiend such as yourself to celebrate a rather joyous occasion.” Aziraphale said sarcastically, taking a sip from his drink. Crowley sneered at him, getting up from his spot at the kitchen table.

“Where are you going so soon?” Aziraphale asked, setting his mug down on the table, his gaze following Crowley.

“To get ice cream or commit a felony. I’ll decide in the car. Thanks for the coffee!” 

-

Crowley made a beeline for Soho.

“Right. What the fuck do I buy him?” Crowley muttered to himself, gripping the steering wheel as his mind wondered. Ignoring the smell of burning rubber (presumably the tires), he dodged the slower cars ahead of him - rather flawlessly. He needed to get something before tomorrow, and he needed something now.

“Okay, what does he like...” he asked himself out loud. 

A memory suddenly came to him.

~

“Listen,” said Crowley desperately, “how many musicians do you think your side have got, eh? First grade, I mean.’’

Aziraphale looked taken aback.

‘’Well, I should think-’’ he began.

‘’Two,’’ said Crowley. ‘’Elgar and Listz. That’s all. We’ve got all the rest. Beethoven, Brahms, all the Bachs, Mozart, the lot. Can you imagine eternity with Elgar?’‘

Aziraphale shut his eyes. ‘’All to easily,’’ he groaned. 

~

Crowley eventually pulled up outside a rather modern looking vinyl store in Soho. Several artists he had never heard of plastered the names on covers of vinyls, which were so neatly placed in the shop front. He hesitated.

 “Would he even like a vinyl?”

“Of course he would, he hoards the bloody things.” he reassured himself, getting out of the car and approaching the store. He knew all the composers Aziraphale loved. In fact, he shamelessly knew everything that Aziraphale loved. He made his way into the shop, the many names of Aziraphale’s beloved composers whirling around his mind as he scaled along the aisles of neatly stacked and alphabetically organised records. 

A song played smoothly from the shop speakers - a song that can only be described the way the warm sunrise touches your face first thing in the morning, the violins could carry your troubles away and leave you floating in sempiternal bliss.

“When I fall in love... It will be forever...” 

Initially, this wasn’t Crowley’s type of music. But have you ever heard a song that makes you stop in your tracks and think-

“Oh.” 

Because that’s exactly what has happened to Crowley.

-

“To get ice cream or commit a felony. I’ll decide in the car. Thanks for the coffee!”

With that, Crowley was gone. The bookshop was filled with silence once more, the bustling of the streets muffled by the walls of the lonely shop. 

“Oh.. I hope I didn’t offend him.” Aziraphale sighed sadly, turning back to the table. His mind was too focused on what happened, he wasn’t interested in finishing his drink. Had he ruined the wonderful routine he and Crowley had subconsciously slipped into?

“Don’t be absurd, you fool. It was hardly that easy to offend him!” he tried to reassure himself, but his mind wouldn’t lay off as he got up from the table. He paced the kitchen, and when he had paced all he could in there, he paced the whole bookshop, all the while overthinking.

He stopped in his tracks.

“I could call him! It’s not too soon after breakfast, surely?” Aziraphale rushed to his study, almost tearing the old phone from the wire. But he stood still, clutching the phone to his chest. Was it hesitation? Was he nervous? Just call him!

Aziraphale prepared himself for what he would say.

“Crowley! I was just wondering... No, not like that.” 

“Crowley, you wily, old serpent! No, that doesn’t work either.”

He took a deep breath, and dialed in the demon’s number slowly, his heart racing. It’s simple, just call!

He finally pressed dial, each beep feeling like eternity. Any minute now, he’d pick up on the other end and everything would be fine.

Any second now.

With every beep, Aziraphale could feel his stomach churn with anxiety. He could picture Crowley look at the caller ID on his mobile, and scoffing as he tossed his phone on the sofa. 

The call ended without anyone picking up, and Aziraphale brought the phone away from his ear. He considered calling again, his brain trying to think of reasons why Crowley hadn’t answered.

“Perhaps it’d be best not to call again, don’t want to be a bother.” Aziraphale said sadly, and placed the phone down.

-

Crowley didn’t know how he managed to find his way back to the Bentley while carrying a tower of vinyls, but he did. He could have easily miracled them into the car instead, right?

But no. He is an idiot.

An idiot in love, who has no idea what he’s doing, but he like feels he should.

Once he had the vinyls in the car, he got into the driver’s seat, and another memory came to him.

~

“That’s it then,” said Crowley, with a gleam of triumph. He knew Aziraphale’s weak spot alright. “No more compact discs. No more Albert Hall. No more Proms. No more Glyndbourne. Just celestial harmonies all day long.”

“Ineffable.” Aziraphale murmured.

~

Crowley was getting the hang of his gift buying shenanigans. Perhaps he was excited about this? Was he excited about showing the gifts to Aziraphale? To see how happy it would make him? Is this a good deed?!

“Hardly... I mean, technically it’s not a good deed. Because I’m buying these things, that means someone is missing out! Yes! HA!” Crowley reassured himself as he sped back to his apartment. 

As he staggered in the door with the vinyls to his chest, he finally realized he could simply miracle the vinyls into his apartment. While glowering at his plants, who were trembling at the sight of him, he snapped his fingers, and the vinyls disappeared neatly to the kitchen. 

“Right. Glyndbourne. Let’s see.” Crowley flopped down on the sofa, pulled out his phone and worked a few little miracles of his own. 

-

14th February 2020.

Aziraphale’s Bookshop.

Aziraphale didn’t get much sleep last night. His mind was too full from the previous morning’s events. He was ridden with anxiety, thinking he had hurt Crowley with what he thought was friendly banter. And now he wouldn’t answer his call?

The sunlight peeked through his bedroom window, the new day announcing itself to Aziraphale. But he has been awake long before the sunrise. He sighed, sitting up in his bed. He spent most of the night reading to help ease his mind. Perhaps Romeo and Juliet wasn’t the best choice of book

As soon as he was dressed in his usual attire, there was a loud knocking on the shop door. He glanced down at the bedside clock for the time, and frowned.

“It’s not even 9 o’clock yet. Who could possibly be looking for books at this time?” As he let his bedroom he quickly adjusted his bow tie, scanning the room to ensure it was in it’s immaculate state. 

Another irritable knock came from the door.

“I’m here! Just a tick!” Aziraphale rushed to the door, unraveling the blinds on the door, putting on his best shop keeper smile.

It was Crowley.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley said aloud when he saw Aziraphale through the window of the door, and smiled. Aziraphale, who was certain that he felt his heart stop for a solid two seconds, immediately opened the door, letting Crowley in.

“Crowley, I-”

“Before you say anything, Aziraphale, I had no idea what to buy, so I bought everything.” Crowley rushed as he walked into the bookshop past Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was stunned, “Everything?! What do you mean?” He shut the door behind Crowley as he strolled in, and rolled down the blinds.

“Valentine’s Day? Remember? You said people buy each other things when they... Yeah, I bought you some stuff, I guess.” Crowley trailed off, trying to be suave as he investigated the shelved books like he always does. 

And it happened. It was quick, but intense. So intense, Aziraphale thought he had lost his vision. In that moment of realization, a soft pink aura had appeared around Crowley. 

Something in the way Crowley was skimming through the various books had caught Aziraphale in a trance. Crowley had removed his sunglasses to get a better look, his golden snake eyes relaxed as they studied the unfamiliar titles. The sunlight complimented his hair, an illuminating orange, and visibly soft to touch. Crowley had picked up a random book, flicking through the old pages. Aziraphale smiled at how his brows furrowed as he tried to understand it’s contents. The soft glow from the aura was immensely calming.

Love.

“Dunno what that means. Are you alright, angel?” Crowley became uninterested in the book and placed it down, his focus returning to Aziraphale, who was staring at him in awe.

“Yes, I-I’m quite alr-”

“The gifts! I nearly forgot the bloody gifts!” Crowley suddenly exclaimed, and Aziraphale jumped slightly. Crowley snapped his fingers, and every visible surface of the bookshop had gifts of many sorts on top of it.

“I just.. Y’know.. Knew what you liked because you always talk about them.” Crowley explained, almost bashful as Aziraphale gasped at the sudden entourage of gifts. 

Neatly wrapped classical vinyls. Flamboyant bouquets of flowers Aziraphale had never seen. Several bottles of Aziraphale’s favourite wine stood glistening in the sun. There were small boxes in shiny wrapping paper topped with delicate ribbon, with beautiful colors. Aziraphale walked over to the vinyls, all composers he loved dearly. His attention was drawn to the flowers, their smell so overwhelmingly fresh. 

Aziraphale was speechless as he tried to take everything in.

“You don’t like it?” Crowley asked after a minute, seeing how Aziraphale had said nothing for some time. 

The total opposite, in fact. Aziraphale, who had his back to Crowley, felt his eyes welling up with tears of pure joy. He tried to blink them away quickly without them being noticed, but he was so overwhelmed with sheer bliss, there was nothing he could do.

“Angel?” Crowley asked him softly, “I can return them if you want. Can get cash or store credit-.” 

“I love them.” Aziraphale interrupted, not facing Crowley. His fingers gently traced the delicate petals of a pale pink rose.

“Then why didn’t you say anythi- Wait, angel, why are you crying then?” Crowley approached Aziraphale with caution. He’d never seen the angel cry, and was certain he’d never made him cry before.

“Oh no, no it’s fine! I’m fine, my dear.” Aziraphale quickly wiped his eyes, but the tremble in his voice gave it away.

“Please don’t lie to me, Aziraphale. What did I do wrong? What can I do to make you better?” Crowley’s voice was softer as he got closer, stopping when Aziraphale raised his head, and turned to face him.

Crowley’s expression soften, his eyes widened as Aziraphale looked at him with glistening blue hues. Although his bottom lip was quivering, he still managed to force it into a smile.

“Crowley, you have done nothing wrong. Quite the opposite, in fact.” Aziraphale gave Crowley a small smile. “I suppose I’m just overwhelmed with joy!”

Crowley blinked. “Joy?” he studied Aziraphale for a moment. “But you’re crying? I don’t understand...” The angel wasn’t used to such attention from the demon, and tried to avert his gaze.

“Oh, don’t mind me. I’ve just never had... This!” he gestured to everything Crowley had gifted him. He took a shaky breath in. “It’s such a wonderful feeling, I can’t even begin to explain.” Crowley was amazed.

“What do you mean, you’ve never had this?” Crowley remained focused on Aziraphale. “Are you telling me, in the 6000 years we’ve known each other, nobody has ever bought you anything? Gifts? Nothing?!”

Aziraphale said nothing, but simply shook his head, somewhat ashamed. Crowley stepped over to Aziraphale and gently gripped his shoulders, which took the angel by surprise. Aziraphale looked up at him, confused.

“Crowley, what the Heaven’s are-”

“I don’t know how many people you have known you throughout the last six millennia..”

Aziraphale couldn’t focus on Crowley as he trailed off on a rant. His eyes, as bright and intense as burning stars, were hypnotizing Aziraphale. He lied to himself. He told himself he wanted to look away, but the thought of shamelessly admiring them was too inviting. It was a sin he was willing to repent for, for all eternity.

There he was, in the middle of his bookshop, face to face with the most delectable and alluring creature he had the grace of walking the earth with for the past 6000 years. There he was, standing in the middle of the room, listening to his demon list every reason why Aziraphale should be cherished. What did he do to deserve this?

That’s when it hit him.

“So whoever hasn’t taken the time to treat you with an ounce of respect is a bloody idiot.” Crowley said, blinking at last. He was about to say something else, but stopped himself, his grip loosening from Aziraphale, and he took a step back. 

Azirphale was speechless. His vision became cloudy, causing Crowley to appear blurry in front of him, but this time he didn’t try hiding his tears, and let them roll down his cheeks. 

“Aziraphale? Did I say someth-”

“How long?” Aziraphale interrupted, his voice a shaky whisper.

“What?” Crowley asked softly. Aziraphale cleared his throat in an attempt to stop the lump in his throat from giving him away, and adjusted his bow tie, a habit for comfort.

“H-How long have you...” Aziraphale gestured to the gifts that were surrounding them. “This?” He felt rather meek, trying to discreetly get his words out.

“Angel, this is not the time for a game of charades.” Crowley said desperately, imitating Aziraphale’s gesturing, causing the angel to huff.

“Oh for Heaven’s sake, Crowley. How long have you been in love with me?” Aziraphale’s nerves got the better of him, the question ripped itself out, and his hands flew up to his mouth to stop his from saying anything else.

“Now look what you did, you’ve ruined a perfectly good friendship. Well done, lad.” he thought to himself. He couldn’t read Crowley’s expression. Was he angry? Was he going to laugh and walk out? He had to do something. Maybe there was a way he could turn back time to literally ten seconds prior?

“I-I mean, ignore that question. Dear, what I meant to a-ask was-” 

You’ve heard of the age old expression “to take your breath away”, right? Well, that’s what happened to Aziraphale. In a flash, Crowley was gripping Aziraphale’s coat front, their bodies rigid with nerves. Crowley caught Aziraphale in a nervous kiss, which made the angel yelp in surprise. Crowley immediately retracted, not daring to look the other in the eye.

“Angel I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that. I understand if you don’t want to talk to me again. See ya.” Crowley turned quickly and made his way to the shop door, but was stopped from opening it when he felt a hand on his arm, pulling him back.

“Aziraphale?” Crowley didn’t half expect Aziraphale to have followed him, and certainly didn’t expect to be kissing the angel again, this time against the bookshop door. This kiss was urgent, exciting. Aziraphale took in a deep breath, hesitantly putting his hands on Crowley’s shoulders. It was messy, but it was new to them. It’d be like learning to ride a bike, they’d just need more practice.

“Mm.. M-Wait. Angel, wait.” Crowley mumbled between kisses, slowly opening his eyes. Aziraphale stopped immediately.

“Did I do something wrong?” Aziraphale asked, and Crowley shook his head, excited, fiery eyes gazing dotingly at the angel.

“No, quite the opposite, But I think we have some explaining to do before anything else happens.” Crowley said with a smile. Aziraphale nodded, his heart beating with excitement, but led Crowley into the living room.

“Have a seat, my dear.” Aziraphale gestured to the couch that Crowley had sat on many times before, and once more he made himself comfortable. Aziraphale sat on the seat opposite him, adjusting his coat. 

However, the two sat in a deafening silence for the first time, shooting quick glances at each other. The streets outside had come alive now, Aziraphale was certain it was past the shop’s opening hour, but that didn’t bother him at all. The ticking from the clock seemed to be the peacemaker.

“Perhaps I should start.” Aziraphale began. He was nervous, good God he was nervous, but at least they had the time and space to say what they felt. They had waited for so long to bring this to the table.

“Crowley, I have been foolishly blind to your emotions. For how long, I do not know.” Crowley stared intently at Aziraphale, listening to his every word. “But for however long I haven’t acknowledged your feelings, I hope you know I am deeply sorry.” Aziraphale finished with a sigh. Perhaps a sigh of relief. He looked to Crowley.

“Sorry? Aziraphale, what could you possibly be sorry for?” Crowley asked, shifting in his seat. “It wasn’t deliberate. You, not knowing how much I... I like you, is not your fault. It’s not anyone’s fault.” he said with a soft chuckle. “I just wish I had told you sooner.” Crowley said quietly, and Aziraphale smiled softly at him. He thought for a moment.

“My dear, may I ask exactly how much you like me?” Aziraphale asked, the questions sounding more flirtatious than innocent, which took Crowley by surprise.

“H-How much?” Crowley said, and Aziraphale nodded eagerly. Crowley cleared his throat, quickly thinking for the most appropriate action to do next. An idea came to him.

“Would you like me to show you exactly how much?” he asked gingerly, leaning forward in his seat towards Aziraphale. The angel’s eyebrows knit together.

“Crowley, we’ve made this clear. You already have shown me-” He stopped when he noticed Crowley raising an eyebrow. “Oh,” he said softly “Then yes, I’d very much like you to.”

In the blink of an eye, they were on each other once more. With eyes closed, their lips met with an urgent crash, neither of them seeming to mind the blunt force. The kiss meant a number of things for bth of them - comfort, relief, delirium, certainty, worship, love.

Six thousand years of friendship, bonding, judgement, rejection, fighting, all for this moment. And boy, was it worth it.

They were excited, roaming hands touching everywhere they had waited to. Crowley’s hands gently cupped Aziraphale’s face, pulling his lips impossibly closer to his own. He breathed him in through his nose, sighing contently into the kiss. Aziraphale’s hands had snaked their way around Crowley’s waist, and was pulling himself flush against the demon. 

Personal space? Who’s that?

“Mm..A garden saw I... Full of blossomy boughs...” Crowley breathed between kisses. Aziraphale stopped kissing him. The two were breathless, but stayed where they were. Aziraphale was wide eyed, visibly impressed by the words he just heard.

“Crowley? Was that-” Aziraphale voice was excited.

Yes, it was. The poem Aziraphale briefly mentioned to Crowley the day before. The poor demon took it upon himself to study the poem inside and out. Just to impress his angel. 

“Upon a river, in a green mead.” Crowley continued, gazing lovingly at Aziraphale, a tempting smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. Aziraphale wasted no time in returning to the kiss, nearly knocking Crowley down with sheer excitement. Crowley giggled at the behavior of the seemingly quiescent angel

“There as sweetness evermore enough is..”

Crowley slowly trailed his hands down Aziraphale’s back, the angel not seeming to mind the slightest, seeing as one of his hands were busy with Crowley’s hair, and the other was cupping the back of his neck. He certainly didn’t mind when Crowley gently squeezed his buttocks, the thrill of it caused him to gasp and grab a fistful of Crowley’s fiery hair.

“My dear, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to!” Aziraphale said suddenly, when Crowley moaned at the sensation. Crowley opened his eyes slowly, as if to relish in the feeling. His pupils were fully blown, a sight Aziraphale wasn’t too familiar with.

“I think.. I think I liked that.” Crowley said, his voice was gravelly and he squeezed Aziraphale’s buttocks again, pulling him flush against him, smirking down at the angel as he did so. 

“Oh, is that so?” Aziraphale played along. “What if I did it again?” he asked innocently. Crowley suppressed a moan, and began kissing below Aziraphale’s ear. It was Aziraphale’s turn to moan, pleasure rippling through him at the unfamiliar sensation. The sound Crowley elicited from him was heavenly. It excited Crowley, and he wanted to hear more.

“Better make haste, angel, or I may just discorporate in your arms.” Crowley growled into his ear, slowly peppering light kisses along Aziraphale’s soft neck. Aziraphale sighed in bliss, his fingers threading through Crowley’s hair once more. He’d never felt anything like this.

“Oh Crowley, that’s wonderful.” Aziraphale purred in bliss. The last place he ever imagined he’d be was in the middle of his bookshop, with a demon whispering sweet temptations into his ear.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do this..” Crowley said between each kiss.

“Do what, my dear- Ohh my goodness!” Aziraphale moaned in euphoria when he felt Crowley nip a tender spot on his neck, and tugged Crowley’s hair once more, high on pleasure. 

With that, Crowley found Aziraphale’s lips again, pulling him in for a hungry kiss. It was urgent, passionate, and they were both drunk on love, feeding off each other. Crowley gently guided them towards the couch, neither pausing for a breath. Aziraphale collapsed onto the couch, dragging Crowley down with him. The demon straddled his hips, completely flush against Aziraphale. The world could be ending right now, and this is all they would want to be doing. Nothing else mattered at this point in time.

Crowley pulled back from the kiss, the taste of the angel still on his lips. He placed his hands on both of Aziraphale’s shoulders for balance. Breathless, the two sat on top of each other, a childish giggle erupting from the both of them. Crowley could watch Aziraphale’s face light up when he laughed for the rest of his eternal life. The way his nose wrinkled when he beamed a smile was nearly enough to discorporate him. But his laugh - oh, his laugh - gleeful and bubbly, was enough to rid the demon of any negativity.

“Has anyone told you how devastatingly radiant your eyes are?” Crowley said, his tone drenched in awe as he lightly traced his thumb across Aziraphale’s cheek, causing the angel to blush.

“I hardly believe anyone would think such-” Aziraphale hushed when Crowley gently placed his finger on his lips, and gave Crowley a look which translated to “And what is the meaning of this?!” 

“Cerulean blue, like the ocean on the sunniest day. Clinquant in the sun’s brash rays. A sapphire paradise I am eager to drown in, if you’ll allow me to. If I stare any longer, I’ll be floating in sempiternal tranquility. If your eyes are the sea, then I’m shamelessly a thalassophile.”

Neither of them spoke for a moment. Aziraphale was speechless due to pure astonishment at Crowley’s flawless use of words. Crowley, the now hopeless romantic, was still gazing into Azirphale’s eyes, perhaps staying true to his words.

“Crowley, where on earth did you learn that?” Aziraphale asked quietly, blinking to wake Crowley from his trance. Crowley was visibly pleased with his work, beaming a smile.

“When I first lay my eyes on you, it’s the only thing that went around my mind that day. And everyday since then. Just kept it tucked away until now.” Crowley confessed. 

“Oh Crowley, my dear.” Aziraphale cooed. His brows drew together as he turned a deeper shade of red, looking away to avoid Crowley’s gaze. He was at a loss for words, the charm from Crowley was something he wasn’t used to, and Crowley knew. Crowley gently put his fingers under Aziraphale’s chin to guide him back.

“Hey,” he said softly to get the angel’s attention once more. “Would I lie to you?” he asked, his eyes trailing down to the angel’s plush lips, before lazily dragging his gaze back up to meet Aziraphale’s. 

With a coy smile, Aziraphale pressed his forehead against Crowley’s. “No.” 

The two share a chaste kiss together. Unbothered, peaceful, on a Friday morning in Central London in the bookshop.

Their first Valentine’s Day was a success this year.

[ferusaurelius]

Nihlus Fic Headcanons

My latest fic, The husbandry of victory is blood (on AO3), is basically a Nihlus Kryik and Mass Effect mercenary/batarian culture headcanon backstory where @expertmakodriver reacted by asking me to ... please translate w/e I was on about.

So here it is! The English translation of my Nihlus Kryik worldbuilding art project.

In reality, this type of character sketch is something I would normally keep private. But since we need more Nihlus content, both it and the headcanon basis are all public and free to use and/or transform as you see fit without attribution.

Please, I’m begging anyone who might want to use any of these ideas in whole or in part: write it and save me from having to do it myself. You do not need to credit me, but I would appreciate a link to your work so I can promote it! :)

Tfw you actually need to annotate your own fic...

Long post - everything is under the cut!

Organized by the order each element is referenced in the fic, with the divided sections labeled as [NUMBER] on the left.

Edited 5/28/2021 because I forgot some things.

[Title] “The husbandry of victory is blood” - Taken from “Sparta Says No” by A.E. Stallings. I actually thought about using this as an alternative title for another fic, but I figured this background sketch for Nihlus more aligned with the themes. I strongly suggest you go and read the poem without taking my word for the following interpretation: the contrast between growth and destruction, and civilization built through conquest or through agriculture. I enjoy the high-level commentary on society. The metaphorical encounter between farming and war is something I wanted to bring to my work, and I wanted the title to color the tone of the epigraph from Virgil’s Georgics. On a more personal level -- my grandfather joined the military in part to seek out opportunities he wouldn’t have had if he’d stayed on a farm, and I decided to draw on that experience for Nihlus.

[Epigraph] - Virgil, Georgics Book I (tr. H. R. Fairclough) - I picked a public domain translation of the poem and went hunting around for a line that had juxtaposed farming and war imagery. It’s a fairly common classical motif! Wars often stopped and started based on the seasonal harvest and the necessity of feeding the community and supplying the troops. You can’t fight a war and gather in wheat at the same time. Digging up the weapons pf the dead in farm fields is a powerful image. My take on Nihlus draws on the tension between fighting and negotiation that I also connect to the symbolic opposition between agriculture and warfare. The Georgics are also just really neat.

[1] Half-face markings - I could write a whole headcanon post on turian colony markings and how mercenary modifications fit in with them (and I will at some point). You’ll see in this fic that I regularly use terms for how much ‘real estate’ the colony markings cover. My HC is that there are variations of colony markings that can be worn as minimalist (smallest critical details), half-face (upper or lower, may include simple full-face designs without a lot of paint), full-face (both, usually more elaborate), and full-crest (what it sounds like on the tin). These are all just different styles and up to personal preference, though there are a few cultural connotations or stereotypes about people who choose which version. Plus I felt really bad for people who might have super-complicated full versions of markings and wanted to give them something more aesthetically lightweight that would have the same meaning. 

[1] Batarian trader patois - An evolving lingua franca with many dialects. Nihlus is uncannily fluent at the one spoken in the Terminus, which is mutually intelligible with the dialect spoken in the Attican Traverse. This is a language without a formal codex that sounds a little strange even to batarians born into the Hegemony. Since batarians have been around and in contact with the Citadel and council races for ~1000 years longer than turians (true if the timeline on the wiki is correct, but I haven’t done the backdating myself), I HC that batarians have a more refined and developed spacer and trading culture. Traders and smugglers are infamous for liking to be beyond Hegemony control and when their government withdrew from Council space, they just kept up with business as usual. Many of them have a shared religion based on debate and argument over the meaning of the Pillars of Strength and the way to live an honorable life.

[1] Terminus languages - They exist, both with and without formal linguistic codexes available to ordinary citizens of Council space.

[1] Hierarchy basic - The common turian colonial language spoken in Hierarchy space. Nihlus was born outside turian space, so he had to learn it from his parents and from educational videos. While he has only a vague accent, certain words and phrases he uses come off as very strange to turians who were raised in Hierarchy space.

[1] Draughts - A popular ancient board game dating back to before the Romans. Pieces move by sliding on the board or jumping over each other to capture. I originally wanted to use river stones as a metaphor, but Nihlus at that age had never seen naturally flowing water. I figure everyone has a version of a capturing/marker/stones sort of game.

[1] Amma and appa - Batarian words for grandmother and grandfather. Nihlus is a bit of a ‘surprise’ baby for his parents. This nice older smuggler couple are longtime associates of the mercenary group and, while they have never done fighting themselves and have no children of their own, they are friends of his mother and father and are absolutely delighted to “adopt” him. He is their smol spikey grandson, they teach him to speak and act like a proper young batarian, and anyone who argues with them about how exactly he is related will end up on the wrong side of an airlock.

[1] Vatar - A canon planet in the Mass Effect universe with a cold and inhospitable environment, located a short relay hop away from Omega (“downtown”) in the Terminus Systems. Mercenary groups have outposts dug into the surface. I rolled with it. 

[1] Falx - The turian name of the mercenary group Nihlus is born into. A falx is both a Roman entrenching tool and also the most overhyped Dacian curved blade weapon you’ll see in ancient art and literature. In essence? The word has been used to refer to both weapons and farming tools for a very long time. The group is a batarian-lead mercenary company with a very long history of turian cooperation, which enjoys stable political ties to other such batarian splinter groups. Traders and smugglers often form the links between them. The batarian word for members of this same group translates as “harvesters” or “reapers.” HAHA. And you thought this was a no-Reapers AU…

[1] Truce customs - A batarian mercenary outpost thing. If you’re friendly and in mechanical distress, or if you have something to trade, it’s not unusual to head to a known group of mercenaries and ask for truce on tightbeam broadcast to get someone to meet you or actively flag your ship with their ident codes (aka: make you temporarily register in local space as belonging to their ‘fleet’). This is usually for medical essentials, emergency mechanical trouble, and also serves as an informal way for Terminus merchants and traders to make a living without having to worry about being boarded every time they deliver the groceries. It’s considered a grave breach of etiquette to violate truce terms and those who do are hunted down as examples to the rest. Truce terms make “ordinary life” possible for outposts that are otherwise on the edge of traveled space.

[1] Trade-cloth - A canon quarian cultural object. Mentioned in the the fandom wiki and probably part of a quarian codex somewhere. Intricately patterned cloth is common on the Migrant Fleet, but the personal cloths are seldom given to outsiders. Nihlus’s gift is one used in trade, but displays a pattern with more ‘friendly’ cultural connotations than something that would be sold and mass-produced in a shop. It was made special for him by his childhood quarian friends. It’s something that it would be appropriate for him to wear like a scarf on formal occasions when he’s dealing with quarians, or when he’s invited to quarian parties or festivals.

[1] Colony crescents / Falx sickles - Yeah there’s some repetition here, but it’s mostly to contrast the two. I HC that Nihlus’s base colony markings are already curved. “Sickles” are embellishments which add a cutting or combative edgeline in some places and very overt stylized weaponry to standard colony markings. They are additions or alterations that are unique to mercenary groups and may read as “flamboyant” or “aggressive” because they are noticeably different in appearance to Hierarchy turians. This is more or less on purpose, and is a bit on the taboo side. One does not wear these additions or draw their markings in these styles without genuinely belonging to one of these groups -- the patterns are not easy to reproduce correctly or in the right places, and they are generally a source of stigma in Hierarchy basic training.

[1] Sand-bath - How you clean a turian when water is scarce and everyone has to share it.

[2] Draw and fire from retention - The shooting-sports specific term for “shooting from the hip.” Kinda. This breakdown of a scene from Collateral, one of my all-time favorite Michael Mann films, will give you an idea. All of the referenced gun techniques are also more or less real, and lining up your body posture so that it helps with aiming and putting the rounds where you want them to go is a real thing.  Nihlus has a great deal of practice in shooting as self-defense and was training alongside professionals from a young age. Going to the range is one of his hobbies (but not mine, I’m lame and that’s loud).

[2] Triginta Petra - A canon Mass Effect world that is a dustball home to hardscrabble turian farmers. Kavala Kryik’s family were some of the first colonists and they’ve been scratching a living from the surface since she was nine years old. They are very proud of this fact, since it gave them opportunities they wouldn’t have had on their native Oma Ker (also a canon turian world).

[2] Laskaris - Nihlus’s mother’s original family name. Kavala Laskaris. While I don’t have any particular headcanon about whether or not turians do the whole ‘changing surname’ thing when they marry or pair off or whatever, Kavala really liked both the alliteration and the overall aesthetic. Joked with Inaros Kryik, her husband and Nihlus’s father, that she only married him for his pretty colony markings.

[2] Lupulin - Literally, hop acids and the essential oils that you get from ‘hoppy’ beer. A direct reference to hops (Humulus lupulus) and brewing, because why not? Actually is a mild sedative and produces a bit of a chemical high.

[2] Stiletto - A pistol from Haliat armory (turian weapons manufacturer).

[2] Blooded sickles - Worn only by mercenaries who are full / fighting members of Falx or their direct allies. Batarians have their own culturally-coded marks, some of which have been adopted and/or adapted by their turian members as embellishments to colony markings. I HC that newer “commercial” groups like the Blue Suns and Nyreen’s Talons, without a shared cultural background, are imitating this style of marking rather than the other way around. Merc-born turians with old-style batarian trade connections tend to recognize each other through these symbols, which are used most often outside of Council space (i.e. the Terminus Systems and the Attican Traverse).

[2] Pillars of Strength - Canon batarian religious artifact. I treat them as a text or a particular philosophy that values free will and independent action as the signifiers of ‘strength.’ While I don’t have a fleshed out or specific HC for what the ‘tenets’ are, I do know that slave implants are treated as anathema.

[3] Struthious - A reference to Earth ostriches. Some kind of chicken-like prey animal that turians like to cook and eat. Mostly because the thought of Nihlus running around like a chicken to entertain his sisters made me laugh.

[4] Cutter - Bigger than a personal clipper and better armed, with living space for a crew. They come in various sizes and are smaller than frigates.

[4] Cup of mourning - A turian funerary ritual. On Taetrus, performed with a distinctive form of dark ale. Different colony groups have different cultural traditions.

[4] Thalia, Tomyris, and Traian - Nihlus’s three turian siblings. Thalia and Tomyris are his younger twin sisters. Traian is the youngest and his baby brother. While they’re only hinted at in this fic, I do plan to make some references to them in the Air Needing Light arc at some point. There’s also a chance they’ll get their own short!fic appearances.

[4] Hierarchy military grants - A HC pool of money that the Council races put up to fund large-scale basic training for anyone (turian or another client race) completing compulsory citizen service.

[5] Talons and suns - Generic references to other symbols that are common incorporations for mercenary groups. I HC that these were adopted and color-coded by the Blue Suns and the Talons rather than conceptually created by them! 

[5] Fuck the cause, we’ll die for a drink! - Profane versions of the turian Hierarchy anthem are popular drinking songs among the merc-born. If it’s a patriotic and well-known song, you can pretty much guarantee turian mercenaries have parodied it.  Awkward for colony-born squadmates who find these renditions hilarious and catchy—but also a little horrifying.

[6] Optio Sideris, 85th Atrax Legion, Fifth Cohort Operations Section - A one-off turian Blackwatch OC I may bring back in another fic at some point because I ended up liking her. The Hierarchy military organization borrows from the HCs I use for the Air Needing Light AU: 85th Atrax Legion is a joint special forces organizing legion made up of six cohorts. The 5th Cohort is informally known as Blackwatch, while the “Operations Section” is a generic term used by intelligence operators. Optio is a mid-tier leadership rank.

[6] Batarian body language - Batarian language and manners are highly dependent on physical cues according to the Mass Effect canon. I took this one step further with a HC that Nihlus is essentially a native speaker of turian-adapted gestures that translate successfully into batarian social patterns. This physical vocabulary is most refined and most present in culturally batarian mercenary and trading groups with a strong history of turian association and recruitment. While older turians can learn and approximate the gestures, they are best learned and absorbed in childhood. Nihlus “speaks” a form of gestural batarian that places him as a native of the Terminus Systems.

[6] Interrogating batarian prisoners - No torture involved! Optio Sideris trains Nihlus in a more practical form of intelligence gathering that involves building rapport, establishing trust, and remaining consistent. Even pirates or smugglers who would not normally give information to a Hierarchy patrol flotilla can be convinced to—if not speak—occasionally offer hints about the locations and activity of slavers. Nihlus is notable for actually being conversant in traditional batarian moral interpretations of the Pillars of Strength, as well as being able to walk the fine cultural line between guarded respect and abject deference. 

[6] Merc Red - Nihlus’s batarian nickname among the patrol flotilla’s prisoners. A sign of individual respect, since it contains no profanity and is just blandly descriptive.

[7] Broken weapons - A traditional sign of thanks between two non-allied mercenary groups when one has agreed to truce terms. Mostly symbolic.

[7] Tattoos - The permanent marking method of choice when turians are full-grown and have developed a strong preference for the color and personal style of their colony markings. Nihlus decides on a complex ‘full-crest’ Taetran colony pattern embellished with Falx blood sickles. This is more or less him being loud and proud about both his colony origins and his mercenary background, as well as putting them on an even footing by tattooing the entire pattern: mercenary symbols and all.

[surveys-at-your-service]

Survey #292

“dear god, let’s make this fucking clear: dear god, there’s nothing that i fear”

What internet browser do you use? Chrome. What brand water do you drink? (Smart Water, Dasani, etc) Mom just grabs the Great Value jugs. Do you have a job? No. Are you full-time or part-time? N/A Are you watching TV right now? No. Or are you listening to music? Yeah, "Mr. Crowley" by Ozzy. Such a great song. Would you go to jail for 3 years for $1,000,000? No. I would NOT survive in jail. When's your birthday? February 5th. I cannot fucking believe I'm almost 25. Thoughts on kids? Too impressionable for me. Even with my niece and nephew, I feel like every single word I say just like... stamps into their brains, and what if I say something that negatively affects them? I feel like it's my responsibility as an aunt to be a fountain of wisdom when I'm definitely not. I just get nervous around kids. Worst punishment you've ever received by your parents? I wouldn't call it a "punishment," but when I skinned the everliving fuck out of my knees and Mom was patching me up while I was just sobbing away, my dad literally roared "SHUT UP!" from my parents' bedroom, and it's stuck with me forever. Honestly, I think it may be a root in my extreme fear of men yelling. Worst punishment from Mom, probably this time where she smacked the shit outta my arm as a kid and left a clear handprint for a while. Are you the type who is completely against abortion? Why? No, I am firmly pro-choice, despite being pro-life most of my life. I don't feel like writing a moral essay, but basically, I absolutely cannot agree with forcing a woman to carry a human they don't want for whatever reason for nine fucking months, endure one of the most traumatically painful things known to man, and then properly and adequately care for that child. That is such a huge fucking responsibility that should be forced upon *nobody*. "But adoption!" Yeah, go tell that to the thousands of children waiting on you. This is leaning on exactly what I said I wouldn't do, so moving along. Have you ever read a book that actually changed your outlook on life? "I’ve read some books that were phenomenal, but I wouldn’t necessarily go so far as to say that they 'changed my outlook on life'." <<<< This was Johnny Got His Gun for me. Does your favorite flower hold any meaning to you? No. What would you do if your favorite animal became endangered? I would fucking freak. Have you ever owned an expensive eyeshadow palette? No, but I honestly do want at least one, primarily with a deep black and then some nice grays and neutral colors. Do you own a tripod for your camera? Yes. Are your nails always painted? Quite the opposite. What's one thing you've had a toxic reaction to? A breakup. Which holiday is your favorite to decorate for? I honestly don't really decorate because I just don't have the motivation, but Halloween is the best. Were you popular in school? Nope. Are there any foods that often give you heartburn or indigestion? BANANAS, dark sodas (like Coke or Dr. Pepper), peanut butter can... It's hard for me to tell much now because I have chronic heartburn and am medicated for it. Works great, so I don't experience this much. Is there something you intend to buy in the near future? Yes. Once my tattoo is done (I'm setting the appointment the next time we leave the house, AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH), what I have left is going towards Venus' new terrarium. She really needs a 40 gallon. Is anyone in your family artistically talented? What about musically? I was the art kid, and family still insist I should be an artist. What cute behaviors or characteristics does/do your pet(s) have? Omg, Roman has so many. He nuzzles me all the time, will collapse into my hand to pet him, he insists on being the little spoon at bedtime (no, really), he literally tries to groom me with his teeth, licks my face... He is just a doll. My little buddy for sure. Now onto Venus. She loves to chill next to me in bed or find a cozy place under the covers, and omgggg does she love to slither around the bed doing the periscope thing. So curious. What's the screensaver on your computer? I don't have one. What’s the sexiest thing about a guy? I am WEAK for nice shoulderblades/muscular shoulders ok. What’s the sexiest thing about a girl? I am an ass bitch and I will not hesitate to admit it ayyyyyeeeee. Who were you with at midnight on January 1, 2021? Nobody. Who was the last person to send you a message on social media? My sister Misty. She's planning to surprise Mom (her stepmom, anyway) by showing up in a few weeks with her fiance and all her kids she's never met but desperately wants to. My mom is the only "real mom" she's ever had, and she just feels so bad that she has a by now teenage daughter (among three other younger ones) that has never met her "grandmother." It's just an expensive and long trip, but Misty's finally called it enough and is just driving down here with everyone. Mom is going to fucking sob. ^ What qualities does this person have, that you appreciate? Nice timing for this, since her fiercely anti-mask bullshit is all I can focus on about her lately... but there are good things about her. She truly is a very loving, passionate woman that, just like me, feels deeply and expresses it. What was the last thing that caused you to scowl, or frown? Does grimacing count from a sudden bodily pain? Have you smiled at any point during the last hour? Yeah. I'm watching the VOD of Arin Hanson playing Kingdom Hearts 2 for charity, and he went on a total fucking laughing fit. His laugh is so precious, so I just couldn't stop grinning. What was the last thing you consulted Google for? Ensuring "grimace" was the right word for my former expression, even though I was pretty positive it was correct... I don't know if anyone's noticed, but my English skills are degrading, particularly in spelling. It's concerning me. I was an English whiz my whole life up to now. My only guess is it's related to how godawful my memory is also declining. So, did anyone send you a "Happy New Year" message when midnight hit? No. When was the last time you were on a carousel? Probably not since I was a teenager being goofy with Jason or somebody. What is the closest you have ever been to an elephant? I have a picture on my dA of a beautiful elephant walking RIGHT by its fence at the zoo. It was pretty amazing, considering just how incredibly immense their enclosure is. Have you ever played Halo? No, it's not my kinda game. Have you ever read a National Geographic magazine? Oh, I'm positive I've read sections while in waiting rooms of various places. When was the last time you had a pillow fight? I have no idea. Realistically it was probably w/ Jason since that sounds like some cute playfighting thing we'd do, but I don't remember a particular instance. Name somebody who you think deserves more respect: "Retail works. The horror stories my mom has on the daily is absolutely ridiculous. People can be so incredibly rude." <<<< I absolutely agree with this; what friends and strangers alike rant about is just depressing. Nobody, especially those working through a goddamn pandemic that's killing thousands, deserves the disrespect that comes their way. Have some goddamn decency and know half the issues you bring up to retail workers isn't even their damn fault. Ohhhh, I could rant about this. In your own words, define what the word sexy means. So you mean like, what I think is considered sexy, not just the general definition? If that's the case, uhhh. Self-confidence (but absolutely not arrogance) is very attractive to me as a bitch who lacks it entirely, as well as good manners, being outgoing, and just... charm. I don't quite know how to describe that "charm" other than I'm really drawn to people who are unique and happy with it and just seem to have an aura about them that feels good to be in. What is the most popular tourist attraction where you live? I'm going to look at this question as if you're asking about my state and not general location because 1.) there ain't shit here and 2.) I'd prefer to keep relatively where I live quiet on the Internet. Looked it up and apparently NC's biggest tourist bait is the Biltmore Estate. Never been there myself, but it'd be pretty dope. Without looking - do you know what brand your underwear is? I'm in my own home and pjs, who the fuck wears underwear with that criteria lmao. Are you any good at volleyball? NOOOOOOOOO. I went to a volleyball camp thing once when I was younger and that shit hurts the hell outta your hands. I didn't stay long. Have you ever had a water balloon fight? Why of course. Do you think some babies are ugly? Quite honestly, probably most, especially newborns. Don’t you miss Chuck E. Cheese? I do; going there was one of the most exciting possible things to me as a kiddo. Do you think Fall Out Boy is gonna be a classic band, like Queen or AC/DC? Possibly. I mean they sure are pretty successful and well-known. Do you love stuff-crusted pizza? Eh, it's not my preference, but I'll eat it. Do you apply lotion after you bathe? No, but I really should, given how dry my skin is. What’s your favorite color? Pastel pink. Who did you have your most amazing kiss with? I'd like to not think about this. Has a YouTube video of yours ever gotten over 10,000 views? Lol definitely not. I think at least one on my older channel hit 1k somehow???? It was a birthday gift I made for someone. Would you ever get a tattoo on your collar bone? lol I already have one there. At some point I'm getting it covered, though. Do you like Robert Frost poems? I do! Do you go to church every Sunday? I never do. Have you ever been in a relationship on-and-off for more than a year? No, I don't play that game. You want me or you don't, so I'm not wasting my time on your uncertainty or just our lack of stability for whatever reason. If you had to get famous for one of the following, which would you choose: music, acting, writing, modeling? Absolutely writing. What do you think of girls with huge boobs that don’t wear bras in public? ?????????????????? i don't?????????????? care???????????????? they're not my tits??????????????? What is the last thing you tried on in a store? I don't know. I avoid trying shit on like the plague. And then it ends up being too big/small. I wonder why. Is sleeping naked more comfortable than in clothes? I've only ever fallen asleep naked once, and accidentally at that, so I really don't remember how I felt about it? Consciously though, I would feel very, very vulnerable so don't have plans to when I have my own place. Have you ever had a dream in which you were making out, or more, with someone? HAHAHA Y'AAAAAALLLLLLL THIS WAS DEADASS THE ONLY LUCID DREAM I'VE EVER HAD LMAOOOOO Do you feel as though you have a good memory, or are you forgetful at times? Do you feel that your short-term memory or long-term memory is better? My short-term memory is absolutely atrocious, like to the point it seriously affects my ability to get shit done. You can give me something that needs to be done and I will forget in a heartbeat. Now, my long-term memory is astonishing. I can remember many things from my childhood in incredible detail. Have you ever had a concussion or some other sort of brain injury before? Did you need to have surgery for it? I've had a concussion or two. I can't remember which. I didn't need surgery. Do you have any sort of mental illnesses or disorders? What do they involve? Yeah: chronic depression, crippling social anxiety, generalized anxiety, avoidant personality disorder (AvPD), obsessive compulsive disorder, PTSD, bipolar II, and I think that's it. My head's a mess and a half. What’s the longest that your hair has ever been? How about the shortest? When is the last time that you got it cut? About to the small of my back; how it is now, which is pretty much shaved on the left and fades to near my chin on the right. I actually got it cut last month; we've gone to a family friend for years whose shop is just an extra building by her house and very rarely has more than two clients in it. We had masks on, of course. At what age did you start getting gray hairs, if you happen to have any? I don't have any. Somehow, given my stress level at all times, haha. What are some ways that you style your hair? Do you use any sorts of products in it? It's too short to style. I don't use any products in it but obviously shampoo. Who was the last person to truly get on your nerves? What do you think caused you to feel that way? Probably my mom. I think she was in a rotten mood for one reason or another and just being snappy and generally rude. Do you recycle? Is this through choice or do you live somewhere where it’s compulsory? We do; it's by choice, and it'd be immensely ignorant not to where we live considering it literally gets picked up with the other garbage. Do you prefer plain, carbonated, or flavored water? Do you think you drink enough water throughout the day? I've never tried carbonated water, and flavored water rarely works for me due to artificial sweeteners giving me beastly headaches. So I'll just take really cold, filtered water. Have you ever needed to call the police, ambulance, or fire department? I had to call the ambulance for my mom right before her cancer was discovered because she was literally immobile and in ungodly pain. When was the last time you visited the library? What was the purpose of your visit? At my old college, as the newspaper photographer, I took some artsy pics up there. I will probably forever worry that leaving school resulted in the biggest career opportunity slipping through my fingers through that newspaper. Do you see a lot of wild animals where you live? Are any of them dangerous? I guess about the normal amount you'd see in the country. Some dangerous animals live here, sure, that's probably everywhere, but you very rarely see any. Aside from when you were born, have you ever had to stay the night in the hospital? For suicidal thoughts and one attempt, yes. Have you ever experienced a panic attack? Ahhhh, do I know those well. Thankfully, it's been a long time since I had an all-out panic attack. Would you ever want to go into the medical profession? Was your answer different pre-COVID? Nope. Well, besides being a vet, which I haven't wanted to be since I was a kid. Where you live, are people paying attention to whatever restrictions are in place to help control COVID? Many? No. Because it's apparently a fuckin hoax or not as bad as the government wants us to think. Fucking cretins. Do you get a real or artificial Christmas tree? Artificial. Real ones aren't worth the money nor mess. What’s your favourite type/flavor of popcorn? Caramel corn. Do you drink oat milk? No, but I'm interested in at least trying it. The dairy industry is absolutely repulsive if you look into it, and I'd love to do what I can to take as little part in it as possible... even though I am a dairy fiend. I seriously wish I could go vegan, I am just WAY too picky for it. Do you love thrifting? Oh fuck yes. I've been very few times in my life, but I'mm all about it. Do you consider using only lowercase letters your aesthetic? I do find it visually appealing; I like the flow of similar letter height. I never do it for "serious" things, but on places where it's "for the aesthetic," it's likely that's how I'll write something. Do you say “mood?” Way too much lmao. Do you own fairy lights? No, though I would like them if it wouldn't look stupid in my room. Do you own glass straws because the metal ones kind of gross you out because you can’t tell if they are clean or not? ... I didn't know glass straws were a thing. I have a handful of metal ones though, but I always forget I have one in my purse when I go out... Have you made a TikTok? No. Do you own airpods? No. Are you afraid of Mercury in retrograde? I don't believe in a planet's position or whatever having any effect on people. Do you make life choices based on astrology? Definitely not, considering I don't believe in it to begin with. How many pairs of converse shoes do you own? Maybe like, five? Number of jeans in your closet: Zero. What accent do you have? Not really any, but sometimes I sound kinda southern with specific words. Do you have a big butt? Yo I got a Hank Hill ass, so no. Do you count how long you and your gf/bf have been together? In my past relationships, yes, I assigned our anniversary to memory. I don't really... know why, like it doesn't really matter how long you've been together, I just do. Have you graduated? From HS, yes. I dropped out of college three times lmao. Rihanna or Lady GaGa? Ohhh, not sure. Maybe GaGa, but both ladies have songs I love. "Disturbia" doess beat all of her songs, tho. The fuckin BEAT. Do you use fake eyelashes? Never tried 'em. Which was the last book that really captivated you? The Handmaid's Tale by Margaret Atwood. What makeup brands do you use? I'm not loyal to any, really. I would be if I could afford expensive shit, but yeah, that ain't my life.

[bubble-tea-bunny]

sucker 

[billy batson x reader]

author’s note: this was such a fun movie. enjoy <3

word count: 2,223

It’s official. Billy Batson is a living cliche.

In his defense, he didn’t mean to be one (though who the hell would ever?) and it just sort of… happened. He couldn’t just control that rumbling in the pit of his stomach, that was most certainly not hunger but something else, something like (oh hell here we go again)… like butterflies, when Mary introduced you as her friend and the tutor she’d agreed to help him find because without going into a lot of detail his French grade isn’t looking too great. Well, not yet anyway. That’s why you came into the picture.

He’d been thoroughly caught off guard by how pretty you were, and it hit him like a ton of bricks. Hard enough, it would seem, to turn him into a fucking poet because okay, yeah, sure, his French grade is questionable but his English grade is pretty good and he supposes he’s feeling that same surge of inspiration all those famous old writers did when they discovered the perfect muse. He could probably wax lyrical about the smile that seems to live on your face and has made a home alongside the rest of your soft features and he really needs to stop—

Frankly, it’s embarrassing, the way you make him feel. Teenaged boys having crushes is normal, it’s expected, it’s whatever, but he’s skeptical that an infatuation to this degree could be. When his English teacher assigns writing a poem as their homework one night, the first thoughts swirling through his head about what he could put on the paper involved you in some capacity. Of course, no matter what he wrote it wouldn’t be good since he doesn’t actually write poems, they’re not his thing, but his teacher might give him an A anyway because his rhymes and meter may be shit but the content is mushy and showcasing a range of feelings most don’t even think a teenaged boy can have but Billy can hear his teacher now, remarking that he didn’t peg Billy for such a romantic even though he’s not.

(Is it bad that you make him want to be?)

He doesn’t write about you. He thinks writing a poem about how much he likes you is going overboard, even for him. A walking, talking cliche has to have its limits too. Instead he writes about some stupid teen-angst bullshit that’s still textbook for a fourteen year old but it’s a cliche he’s more comfortable with putting out there. Besides, if you were the subject of his poem and his teacher tried to ask who he was writing about, he’d probably die right there. At least teenaged angst scrawled on a piece of notebook paper was enough to get an A and warranted no questions.

The only person he can’t hide it from is Freddy but that’s no surprise. Freddy figures it out by himself because he’s smart, sometimes too smart for his own good, and Billy doesn’t want to ask him why he’s staring at him like that so he doesn’t and all he says is Could you stop that? and Freddy says No because of course he does, and he plops down into his desk chair, the wheels rolling back slightly from his momentum.  

“You like her, don’t you?”

Billy drops his backpack down onto his bed, having brought it back up after studying with you in the dining room for the past hour, and plops down next to it. “What? No.”

Freddy hums and he is not at all convinced and Damn it, Billy, you need to find a place to put your heart that isn’t your fucking sleeve. “Really? ‘cuz you perk up whenever you see her and watch her like a lovesick puppy.”

“I do not,” Billy shoots back, wishing this conversation would end. But he’s made a wish to a bad genie because the exact opposite happens.

“Do too. Thought I could see a tail wagging.”

“Shut up.”

“It’s almost kind of cute.”

“Shut up!” Billy groans and lays back on his bed, and his hands are over his face to conceal his reddening cheeks. Since they’re both preoccupied with that, he has nothing with which to cover his ears and so he hears clearly the sound of Freddy’s laughter.

“You’re too easy to break, dude,” Freddy states as he calms down and regathers his breath, though he still huffs out the occasional chuckle.

Billy’s hands drop back down to his sides and he does his best to angle his head to look at Freddy. “You can’t tell anyone, and you definitely cannot tell Mary.” Because if Mary knows, then you will know, because you’re best friends and she tells you everything.

Freddy holds his hands up, palms out. “I won’t. Promise.”

Billy knows Freddy will keep his promise, so now, the only way you could possibly learn about his feelings is if he confessed them to you. Which, for the record, he doesn’t plan to do, and the only way it would come out is by total accident. He doesn’t count on it coming to that because he has a good grip on himself when you’re around, and he does not stare at you like a lovesick puppy that’s ridiculous.

… He doesn’t, right?

Even when he’s flying around the city looking for crime to thwart, you don’t leave his mind. He daydreams about saving you and sweeping you off your feet. He imagines how thankful you’d be as you look up at him with bright eyes and he’ll say it’s just another day but it wouldn’t be, no; it’d be very special because he’s saved someone special to him.

But he’s never run across you when he’s assumed his alter ego, but he’s not at all bummed because it means you’re safe, and that matters more. He’s content to leave his daydreams as just that, and he can pretend that it’s your cat he’s coaxing out of a tree to bring to safety, that you’re the one who’d seen him walk past and offered to buy him an ice cream cone from the nearby parlour as your treat, that he’s helping you cross the street.

Well, okay, no, that last one doesn’t really make sense because you wouldn’t need assistance crossing a street and the old lady whose arm is hooked around his for balance is at least four times your age.

When they’re safely on the other side, she thanks him, and at that same moment, Billy notices a dog farther down the block running at full speed, harness around its chest and leash dragging on the ground behind it. He quickly bids goodbye to the old lady then zooms toward the escaped pet, managing to catch up to it before it tries to step onto the busy road.

“Hey there,” he murmurs quietly, kneeling down to scratch its head and also to make sure it doesn’t try to get away again. He spots the tag on the collar and turns it so he can see the name: Lucky. He looks up and glances around for any sign of the owner, but as of yet, there is none. Had Lucky been too fast? Not fast enough for his owner to lose sight of him, surely.

As if on cue, someone comes rushing around the corner, and Billy’s eyes widen when he realizes it’s you. He clears his throat and tries to act casual as you approach, thoroughly out of breath. Needing a few seconds to gather his composure, he looks away to find the end of Lucky’s leash and picks it up.

“Thank you so much,” you force out between breaths. Your chest is heaving from how hard you’d been running, and who knows how far you’d gone? Or how far you might have left to go if Billy hadn’t been here?

Billy smiles and stands, handing you the leash. “It’s no problem.”

You take it, slipping the loop around your wrist. “I went to get coffee and tied his leash to a pole, but I guess I hadn’t done it up tight enough since, well…” You trail off and shrug, wordlessly referring to your current situation.

You’re briefly distracted when you feel Lucky’s nose nudging at your leg, and you glance down at him. His mouth is open, tongue hanging out, and he looks like he’s smiling and his tail is wagging so rapidly it’s a blur. He probably doesn’t even realize what he’s just done, and it seems you can’t be mad at him when he’s staring up at you like that, for you sigh lightly and bend a bit at the knees to pet the fluffy canine behind the ears.

All the while, Billy is staring at you, then down at Lucky, then back again and is that what Freddy’s been talking about? That he watches you like that? Because Billy doesn’t think so. He doesn’t look like that at all—

You straighten up and turn to him and he grins automatically, feeling sheepish yet rather overjoyed to be the center of your attention and oh God Freddy is totally right. But he can’t choke now! He needs to be cool, needs to play it cool. He’s saved your dog and you’re watching him with the bright eyes he imagined you would have and he can’t ruin the moment.

“Well”—Think of something cool, Billy!—“it was lucky I got here just in time right?” He chuckles amusedly but on the inside he’s cringing, immediately regretting the decision to let that leave his mouth and you probably think he’s super lame but he won’t fault you for it because he thinks he’s super lame too.

However, it seems you share no such sentiments because you laugh, and as the sound graces his ears, Billy swears his heart does a flip. “Yeah, it was,” you agree with a nod.

Soon a silence settles between you and you’re simply watching each other, and honestly Billy’s okay with this because it’s an overcast day and the lighting is flattering on you and it’s day one all over again, the ton of bricks hitting him in the face because your eyes are gentle and your smile is charming and he is lovesick, he is, and you’re both what set the butterflies loose in the first place and the only thing that can get them to settle down.

“Um…” you interrupt the quiet, and Billy’s brows raise like he’s been broken from a trance as he waits for you to continue. “I should probably get going. My coffee is probably ready by now.” You point back over your shoulder and it looks like you aren’t pointing at anything, but he knows you’re talking about the cafe.

Billy grins, trying his best to hide his disappointment that his run-in with you is coming to an end already. “Oh. Yeah, no problem.”

You start taking a few steps backwards, lifting a hand to give a slight wave, smiling lopsidedly. “Thanks again.”

When you’ve twisted around, beginning to walk back the way you came, Billy doesn’t leave right away, merely watching you for some seconds and committing every detail of this encounter to memory: the weather and the street name and how sweet you’d been and he thinks he’s going to start dreaming of your smile but that’s not such a bad thing to dream of at all.

And so, with a small smile of his own, he takes a deep breath and turns his focus to the sky, prepared to set off and continue his route around the city. Just before his feet leave the concrete sidewalk, he hears a jingle, and it grows louder as whatever it belongs to gets closer to him. His eyes lower just in time to see that the jingle is from Lucky’s collar, and he’s running behind you as you come jogging back.

Billy opens his mouth, about to ask if something is wrong, but he doesn’t get the chance to. You don’t slow down the closer you get, coming right up to him so quickly he lifts his arms reflexively to steady you in case you actually do run into him. But you don’t, stopping right before you can do so and setting a hand on his shoulder to brace yourself as you tiptoe and kiss him on the cheek.

Your hand slips back down to your side and Billy’s eyes are wide like he can’t just believe what happened. He stares down at you, utterly speechless, but it seems you are too. At first your expression mimics his, eyes widened in shock, but then it melts away and you’re flashing a toothy grin up at him. Your cheeks warm and redden with a light blush and you divert your gaze, suddenly shy. Billy feels his chest tighten and he’s beginning to think he’s falling in love with you.

No words are exchanged as you make your leave a second time but they needn’t be. You look over your shoulder at him to give one last wave, and he returns the gesture. Once you and Lucky have disappeared around the corner, he takes off, feeling lighter than air and like the biggest, baddest monster could be thrown his way and he’d defeat it in a heartbeat because this is truly his lucky day.

[tizravenkatthing]

Spellbucks

A/N: So.... I’ve put this off long enough I think and I guess I should’ve been writing but oh well. This round it’s time for some Prinxiety! As per usual, please enjoy and I encourage constructive criticism if you have any for me.

Trigger Warnings: NIL

Pairings: Prinxiety (Again, just for this chapter)

Taglist: @peach-cake-slice, @peachflavoredcupcake, @no-i-dont-have-a-gender

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Spellbucks Cafe

Chapter 2: Storm’s a’brewin

A tinkle of the bell signaled a new customer had arrived to the little cafe. Patton was as bouncy as he always did, and he was delighted to receive the man who stepped through his doors.

“Roman, right? I’m glad you came back!” the bubbly manager exclaimed.

As Roman smiled awkwardly and scratched the back of his neck, Virgil turned his head to look at Patton and the man he was addressing, his attention drawn away from his homework at Patton’s loud, bubbly voice. As the two spoke, Virgil studied the man who Patton was talking to. They seemed quite friendly, though, Virgil was quite sure he didn’t recognize the man, nor seem him around before.

The man had deep emerald eyes, tan skin and his chocolate brown hair was half dyed to gold. And strangely enough, the man had looked to the side, at him, while talking to Patton and immediately turned his gaze away with a blush when he noticed Virgil looking back. That was definitely odd, did he catch a cold or something?

Meanwhile, Roman was freaking out. Not just normal freaking out but ‘extremely-gay-and-I-saw-my-crush-looking-at-me’ freaking out. Alarm bells were ringing in his mind as he faked his best smile as he talked to the cheerful Patton. He hoped he didn’t look weird. Was his smile crooked?? His hair our of place??? Why was his emo crush staring at him?!!?!?? Despite all his worries, he manages to sit himself, at the same spot he sat at last time, and picked up the menu. He couldn’t stop his turmoil of emotions as he chanced a glance sideways to the emo. By the time he had sat, the emo had got back to work on his papers. Using that chance, he feigned reading the menu as he took in the sight of the skinnier man. 

His hair was dyed purple and he wore a jacket that looked a patchwork of black and checkered purple which was halfheartedly stitched together. The eye shadow the emo sported was extremely dark, matching the color of his ripped jeans. The whole look was what he would usually call edgy or dull but for the person he was looking at, it all came together perfectly. He didn’t notice Patton approaching him as he observed the emo’s sharp jawline, his soft-looking hair, his delicate fingers....

“Roman?”

“AAH!!” Roman shrieked and then quickly covered his mouth a second later, drawing the attention of every patron in the cafe.

Roman’s face flushed red as mutters ensued and he got strange looks. Turning to Patton, he barely remembered to compose himself. 

“P-patton, I’m sorry, I was just... L-lost in thought.” Roman stuttered and gave Patton a sheepish grin. 

Patton raised a brow a him and looked at him in concern, “You sure you’re alright, Roman?”

“Y-yes. Absolutely. Perfectly fine, why wouldn’t I be??” He sputtered and rambled on, oooh, dear lord he was doomed.

Patton kept his expression of concern but pushed past it, “Right.... So, are you ready to order?”

Oh, shoot. He was so busy admiring his crush that he forgot to look at the menu! Roman quickly flipped through the menu in front of him and randomly pointed out a drink and a snack.

“U-uh, could I have these please?” He asked, trying his best to play off his panic.

Patton looked at him weird and he knew he must’ve pointed out something wrong. 

“Uhm... Sure. One Chill Pill and one Super Sugar Cake, coming up.” Patton repeated the order and Roman nodded. 

What was with the look, the order sounded totally normal. He looked down and observed his choices, only then did he see what was wrong. The Super Sugar Cake was filled with an extreme amount of sugar and sweet treats that even Roman couldn’t handle. It was stated that it induced hyper-activeness due to the high levels of sugar and was recommended for either extreme sweet tooths or those needed a large energy boost. And Roman didn’t look like he needed either. He had a healthy glow like he had slept like a baby and didn’t look the type to be extremely sweet toothed.

He cursed a little and scratched his head, gosh darn it, how was he going to survive that sugar bomb of a snack?! Beside him, Virgil had observed Roman and snickered softly at his panicked look. It was clear how the man hadn’t thought it through. He wondered though, what caused the guy to be so distracted to even forget to look at the menu?

Roman had heard the snicker, and without a second thought, whipped around and looked at Virgil, firing off an annoyed retort.

“What’re you laughing at, Hot Topic?”

They both froze, Virgil from the shock of being called hot and Roman from the realization that he had just got annoyed at his crush. Roman panicked, scrambling for something to say, his mind a mess of words of things to say and not to say, but Virgil beat him to it.

“So.... You’re telling me I’m attractive?” Virgil asked, surprising Roman.

“Huh? Uhm........” Roman looked like a deer caught in headlights, not sure what to do but slowly processing his words to form a reply. “......... Yes?”

Virgil’s cheeks flared with heat, going red as he now felt flustered and Roman was just in awe at how cute his crush was. Roman was known as a hopeless romantic among his friends, often times he didn’t think before he acted and for the better or worse, he did just that.

“Speaking of you, Hot Topic, I don’t think I caught your name?”

----------------------------

What started as a pursuit became a playful game of cat and mouse after a week of seeing each other at the cafe and talking, Virgil wasn’t so sure about dating Roman just yet though he loved to tease him. A lot. Roman had blurted out that he wanted to date him on the first day they spoke and that was a little weird for Virgil. No one had confessed to him before. Of course, he didn’t tell Roman his name even if he knew Roman’s (Well, the man told him without hesitation so could you blame him?). He had then dared Roman to try to get him to love him back. Just to see how far he’d go, and oh, try he did.

The second second was filled with roses and flirting, with Virgil deflecting and even putting down his attempts to get his number or his name. The third day, Roman had tried serenading Virgil with a song he had written and even more attempts at flirting. Obviously, Virgil deflected but decided that he would tease Roman, to try to get him to stop. The fourth, till seventh day, it was like a game between them. Roman would try to woo him and then he would then deflect it with teasing to try to make brunet blush or stutter, effectively halting the flirting and embarrassing comments for a time.

And by the seventh day, somehow he had quietly admitted to himself that, alright. Roman was adorable and also undeniably handsome. Like, did you see those dimples? And this gorgeous hair? His smile was somehow so cute?? And than his expressions, he loved it when he managed to make Roman blush, or annoyed. He didn’t want to admit defeat yet though, he wanted to keep playing their little game, buy himself time to think it through.

A tinkle of the bell and Virgil looked up to see who it was, the sight of the man he was thinking walking through the door making him smile. When Roman got close enough he leaned on his palm to look at him.

“So, Princey, what will it be today? A dramatic stage play? A poem? Oh, maybe a ring?” he teased.

Oddly, Roman didn’t react and just seemed..... Distant. He laughed at the joke but it was so much different from before... Like he had.... Given up?

“Oh.... Well, sorry to disappoint but I’ve got nothing today.” he said, looking away.

What was going on?? Did he hit his head or something? Virgil was almost scared to ask, scared he did something wrong to upset Roman. He leaned forward and looked Roman in the eye.

“Ro.. You alright? You’re not usually.... Like this.”

Roman just smiled and shrugged, quietly sitting in his seat and calling on Patton to order. They didn’t talk much, and it bothered Virgil. More than it should have. He spoke and tried to get Roman to talk but Roman only gave him short, almost curt, answers. He felt...... Weird. It hurt to see Roman like this. So..... Unlike the man he knew before. It was so strange, it was so odd, he didn’t know why but he felt deeply bothered. While Roman was looking off somewhere, distantly, he gripped his rippled purple shirt, near his heart. Something clenched at his heart but he didn’t know what feeling that was.

When Roman stood, Virgil was quick to catch him by the hand, somehow scared. “W-where.... Uh.... Where are you going...?” he asked, hesitant and at the same time confused. Why would he ask him that??!?!?

Roman just looked at him with the weirdest look, “To meet my partner...?” he said.

And Virgil was shaken, he flinched back and Roman just gave him one last look before walking towards the door. Virgil stared at the spot where Roman was sitting, a tight feeling in his chest. 

He had a... Partner?

What did that mean? A co-worker? A lover? A boyfriend? A girlfriend? Then what about him?? Was he just leading him on?!!?? He was consumed by rage and pushed his chair back, storming out of the cafe and ignoring the worried look Patton had. He slammed the door open and his eyes searched the street, quickly catching sight of his target across the street. He was walking, walking towards another man. A man. He saw red.

He dashed across the street, uncaring for all the stupid cars and trucks and traffic in his way. he paid no attention to the horns, he just dashed across the road like a mad bull. The man Roman was talking too looked terrified, pointing behind him and Roman turned his head to look. Virgil saw the fear in his eyes but it didn’t matter. He grabbed Roman by the collar and slammed him against the wall.

“WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT?!?!?? AM I SOME KIND OF PLAY THING TO YOU???? SOME BOY TOY?!?? YOU LEAD ME ON AND NOW YOU ACT LIKE I’M SOME PEBBLE ON THE ROAD SIDE?!!?!??? HOW DARE YOU YOU SON OF A B-” He was cut off by a sudden wave of sadness that hit him like a tidal wave. 

Choking back a sob didn’t work for as long as he thought he could manage. He didn’t care, it hurt. It hurt so much...... Was this what it was like to love someone? The thought struck him and he quietly mulled it over as he cried. That.... That was it, wasn’t it? He didn’t want to admit that he fell so soon, he didn’t want to be some easy target. Hell, he rejected Roman’s dinner requests a hundred times by now because he didn’t know how he felt.......

So. This was love, huh.

He slid down and fell to his knees, his jacket having had slide down his shoulders and exposing how much he trembled. He was angry, and now he was sad... Sad and disappointed in Roman for not trying longer. But more than that, disappointed and upset in himself for denying his emotions and not grabbing the chance sooner. He felt warm arms wrap around him and he was surprised to find Roman hugging him tightly. He felt so safe in his arms that he cried more, hiccuping and gripping onto Roman’s shirt tightly as he did. Was it wrong to do this right in front of his boyfriend? It probably was but Virgil couldn’t stop himself.

Roman slowly petted and stroked his head, comforting Virgil with hushed whispers and coos. It felt so nice and calming that Virgil just poured his eyes out, taking in every feeling he could in that moment. It took a while but he managed to recompose himself, destroyed eye shadow and red nose aside. He looked up at Roman and he found it odd that Roman was smiling from ear to ear.

“..... Why are you smiling like that?” he asked hesitantly.

Roman seemed to just realize how much he was smiling and blushed as he covered it up. “Well.... I mean, this is the first time I’ve seen you chase after me than I after you, storm cloud.”

He blinks. So it was. “But it still doesn’t explain your dumb look, you big dork.” he retorted and Roman just grinned. A twinkle in his eye.

“Well, considering you were mad enough that you came after me.... Could I assume you feel the same way that I feel about you?”

He blinked. Once. Twice. Then once it registered he just flushed from head to toe and quickly covered his face with his hoodie, pulling the strings tight so the hoodie closed. “Y-you... Jerk!”

Roman just laughed as he shook his head, trying to coax him out from his jacket as he lifted him up, drawing a squeak of surprise from the emo.

“That wasn’t a no.” He said cheekily.

And Virgil was quiet for a few seconds, before responding. “It wasn’t. But.. What about your ‘partner’?”

Roman blinked and looked over to the intellect, the man next to him who had been silently observing the entire time just raising a brow. Looking back at Virgil, Roman grinned. 

“Yeah, he’s my partner. Partner in crime that is.” Roman said with a smile of triumph.

“.... Say what now?” 

Virgil was dumbfounded, but his expression turned into one of a mix of annoyance and embarrassment as he found himself carried back to the cafe by none other than Roman as he explained how he had confided in Logan, the intellect who Roman had walked up to, who also happened to be his friend by chance and another one of the cafe’s regulars, and had then hatched a plan to uncover Virgil’s feelings with Logan’s advice.

Virgil found himself utterly and undeniably exposed and defeated, pouting and sulking while Roman tried his best to comfort and get him to stop. Arriving back at his seat, Roman put Virgil down and grinned as the emo looked at him in annoyance. That, to Roman at least, was the most adorable thing. Alas, he needed to leave as he needed to attend to other matters for the day.

“So... I guess I’ll see you around next time?” Roman asked, a bit afraid his crush would go back to treating him how he used to. 

There was silence for a while as Virgil stared at him with his beautiful black eyes. His lovely voice then snapped Roman out of his daze and confused him. 

“Virgil.”

“What?”

The emo sighed, “My name is Virgil. Virgil Tempest. And you owe me dinner.”

-----------------------------------

Prologue, Ch 1 - [Next]

[magic-and-moonlit-wings]

Chapter 47: The Shattered King

Becoming The Mask

From October 14th to June 22nd … I thank you all so very deeply for your patience and continued support for this story! It's been wonderful to see people still reading and enjoying it over all these months. I hope to get my next chapter up in a shorter time frame. Say, three months instead of nine?

I will probably never include a poem again unless I already have one written. I got pretty deep into my own head and psyched myself out of even starting this for months, because I wanted to include the poem itself in the narrative SO MUCH but also doubted my capacity to deliver it with the oomph it was supposed to have. 

And then, the longer it took for me to deliver, the more impressive I felt like I had to make it in order to compensate for the delay, which psyched me out of starting for even longer.

And at the same time I was chastising myself because (A) this is a "translation", which means I'm doing a free-form poem instead of being tied to rhyme or meter, and (B) "come on, me, people will skim and enjoy the poem to get the backstory being presented, but this is not an audience that comes here with intent to analyse and critique poetry, so just get it done."

Bold italics are trollish translated into English.

+=+

Glug was an easy troll to find. She spent a lot of time in Trollmarket's main pub, where she worked as a brewer of … glug.

Darci wasn't sure if the troll had named the drink after herself or if that was just a name that also happened to be a drink, like how a human might be named 'Sherry'.

At the Trollhunter's request to talk "somewhere a little quieter", Glug ushered the humans (and Changeling – it was still so weird to think of Jim as a Changeling) into the backroom, where she stirred a bathtub full of green liquid as Jim explained why they were there.

"We were hoping you could tell us about … the Shattered King."

Glug dropped her ladle, reaching her mossy arm into the bathtub to retrieve it. "A long story, you ask for. A great saga and a sacred one."

"We understand if it's something private to your people," said Jim. "We just … I just, need to do something, that would be a little safer if I had that information."

"We trade," said Glug easily. "I tell you of the God-King, and in return, you give me human song."

Jim thought it over – for about a second – and said, "Deal."

It was a more than generous offer. Even if each one of them had to give Glug a different one, there were thousands of 'human songs' to choose from.

Of course, Darci's mind immediately went blank when she tried to think what would be a good one …

Mary started tapping on her phone. "I've got the new Papa Skull album –"

"No." Glug must've understood cellphones a little better than most trolls, because she said, "No recordings. Performing is what gives the song its power."

There was a long, awkward pause.

"I've got this," said Toby. He patted his thighs, his stomach, shook his hips, and waved his arms in the air. "Boom. Boom. Shake the room. Say what?"

Jim covered his face with one hand. "Oh my god, seriously, Tobes?"

"Come on, Jimbo, you wanna seal this deal or not? Boom, boom, shake the room – say what?"

Jim rolled his eyes and sighed, but went along with Toby's weird, wiggly dance. The boys did a complicated clapping sequence in the middle of the routine that they must have done before, somewhere they didn't have an audience.

"Boom, boom, shake the room – say what?!"

Glug laughed and clapped her hands on her own stomach. "I like! Good song! We sit, here."

She arranged them into a circle on the floor beside the bathtub, sat down, crossed her legs, and clapped her hands twice sharply on her thighs.

"Generations ago,

In caverns that shone green and were soft with moss and rich with fish,

Two of the Wumpa Trolls made a birthstone with the brightest glow of any seen before or since.

When their whelp hatched,

Syddawn and Cheln believed they had a strong and healthy daughter,

And his parents named him."

Glug didn't actually say the name, which seemed … odd.

Was the saga going to list the Shattered King's genealogy? Lots of human stories of epic heroes had a prologue about the hero's parentage, too.

"Syddawn and Cheln presented their whelp to their family,

And their family adored him and welcomed him into their lives.

Syddawn and Cheln presented their whelp to their friends,

And their friends adored him and welcomed him into their lives."

Trolls used a few pronouns that didn't have one-to-one translations in English (or so Blinky said before learning about ey/em and xe/xir and suchlike), but Darci was pretty sure Glug kept using the one that translated as 'him'. Had Darci misunderstood the word 'daughter', then, a moment ago? Or was Glug reciting the saga in archaic vocabulary which translated differently than the trollish the humans had been learning?

"Syddawn and Cheln presented their whelp to King Alou,

Greatest wizard of the Wumpa Trolls,

And King Alou examined the whelp and said,

'This one will be greater than me one day',

And King Alou offered to take the whelp as a student and apprentice

When he was a youngling old enough to understand what he was taught.

When the whelp was fourteen,

Barely old enough to stand,

He worked his first great magic,

Reshaping his living stone to be seen as he was.

And –"

"Wait, what does that mean?" Jim interrupted. "He was a shapeshifter?"

Naturally a Changeling would pounce on that detail. All the humans leaned in as well. Glug glared at Jim for interrupting.

"And Syddawn and Cheln learned they had a strong and healthy son,

And his parents renamed him Quag."

Glug patted her knees twice and switched to English.

"Trolls not always what we seem at birth. We can re-carve our stone, with time and magic to regrow minerals in right directions, but to show himself all at once with no training … a sign of great power."

"He was transgender?" said Darci.

"… Your word for kwoon-grik?"

"… Maybe?"

"We will ask Blinky later," said Jim. "My apologies for interrupting you, Glug. Please, continue?"

Glug patted her knees twice and resumed the saga.

"Quag, son of Cheln, was apprenticed to King Alou in his fortieth year.

Quag, son of Cheln, learned well and surpassed his teacher in his two hundredth year.

Quag, son of Cheln, with the blessings of his parents and his king,

Left the caverns of his birth to seek new teachers and new magic in his two hundredth year,

Swearing an oath that he would always return to them."

Kwoon-grik. Darci pulled out her notebook and scribbled the word down, guessing at the spelling.

This was … reassuring, she supposed. It was unlikely the trolls would ever find out she was trans, but if they did she wouldn't have to explain the concept entirely from scratch.

Glug recited a fairly repetitive set of stanzas where the Shattered King – or, Quag, son of Cheln, as he was still called at this point in the saga – studied under different wizards in different troll tribes and outstripping his teachers in shorter and shorter spaces of time, and travelled to the next one. Sometimes he had to accomplish some task to convince the wizard to accept him as a student, or protect wherever he was staying from a monster or natural disaster.

"With his spell to reform his stone,

Quag, son of Cheln, became strong and dense,

And ventured to the Deep Caves of the Krubera Trolls to study from the wizard Johanna in his five hundredth year.

In this way, Quag, son of Cheln, became the first outsider to visit the Deep Caves,

Which are deeper than any troll but the Krubera can survive,

And even the Krubera cannot go deeper still.

Quag, son of Cheln, learned well and surpassed his teacher in his five hundred and seventy-fifth year.

Having visited every troll cavern and learned from all the greatest wizards,

Except for the wizards of the dreaded Ga-Huel Trolls –"

Jim twitched sharply, but didn't interrupt this time.

"Quag, son of Cheln, returned to the caverns of his birth as he swore that he would do.

Syddawn and Cheln welcomed their son home.

King Alou, still living, tested Quag's powers and named him Prince Quag,

Greatest wizard of the Wumpa Trolls.

But Prince Quag's thirst for knowledge was not quenched.

'Mother, Father, my king and first teacher,' he said,

'I have travelled to every village in our stratum.

I have travelled to the deepest caves of the Krubera.

I have been everywhere between.

Now I wish to explore what is above.'

Syddawn and Cheln became afraid when their son said this to them,

Because the Wumpa Caverns were among the highest of all caverns,

And they thought that above there could be only endless rock,

Unless one came through the other side and up from below,

Like how one can always go all the way around the world by travelling in one direction.

But Prince Quag knew the magic to make himself strong and dense,

So that the pressures of the Deep Caves could not harm him.

Prince Quag, with the blessings of his parents and his king,

Left the caverns of his birth to explore what is above in his five hundred and seventy-sixth year,

Swearing an oath that he would always return to them.

In this way, Prince Quag became the first troll to discover the Surface Lands."

"Whoa." Mary was the interrupter this time. Glug growled as she double-patted her knees. That was probably some kind of signal for pausing and resuming the story. "Sorry," said Mary, "just – the first? Ever? That's so cool."

"One of the first, anyway," said Jim. "I've read a little about this part. A few different trolls discovered there was a surface at around the same time, and there wasn't fast enough communication between tribes back then to determine exactly who was the first to reach it and come back. He was definitely the first of his tribe, though."

"True enough for stories," said Glug. She glared at each of her five listeners in turn and pointedly double-patted her knees again.

"Prince Quag found a land of soft stone that moved gently underfoot to leave marks,

And openness above that would not cave in for lack of support from this soft stone.

Prince Quag found a land of moss that was not moss and fungus that was not fungus,

And some fish that were not fish and other fish that were."

Dirt, and the sky, and plants and animals, as understood by a troll who had lived with solid rock underfoot and overhead all his life, and had never seen a leaf, or any animal besides cave fish and monsters.

"Prince Quag decided to make his home in this land of rich hunting,

And bring the rest of the Wumpa Trolls with him.

It is good that Prince Quag built a camp for himself to test his hunting grounds before inviting others,

Or he would have learned too late the danger of sunlight."

Glug's audience gasped. She did not scold them this time. The hairy green troll nodded and smiled, leaning in and lowering her voice.

"When sunlight touched his horn,

Prince Quag cried out and buried himself in the mud to soothe his burn.

He hid under the mud as the Surface Lands

Became brighter and hotter and louder,

And then quieter and cooler and darker again.

In the dark times Prince Quag hunted well and watched the openness above,

Thinking the light was from some great predator that hunted  him ,

Waiting and fearing when it would return,

And burrowing into the mud until it was gone."

Glug leaned back, stretched her arms overhead, and went back to her normal volume.

"When Prince Quag understood that the sunlight did not seek him,

But would burn him if he touched it all the same,

Like the gornubak mushroom does not release its spores for us

But the spore cloud will raise itchiness all the same,

He taught himself to track its timing

Like those who live near a gornubak track its fruiting season.

In this way, Prince Quag became the first troll to study the Surface Lands' cycle of night and day.

Then came a time when the day was meant to begin,

But the sunlight did not come,

And water fell from the openness above,

Which did not look so open anymore.

Prince Quag tried to mimic this with his magic,

And invented weather spells to make clouds and rain.

Prince Quag learned well and found a way to overcome sunlight in his five hundred and seventy-seventh year."

That part, Darci was willing to bet money, was artistic license. No way could trolls actually control the weather. If they could, Arcadia Oaks would be a lot cloudier.

"Sheltered under his spell of clouds,

Prince Quag left the swamp that he had made his camp

And explored more of the Surface Lands.

He discovered creatures who could speak

And who had their own wizards.

Prince Quag traded knowledge of magic with the human wizards for some time.

His favourite teachers and students

Were the human who could command the magic of shadow

And the human who could command the magic of sunlight."

Jim touched his amulet. Glug nodded, but didn't elaborate on the Shattered King apparently being friends with Merlin holy shit. Even knowing trolls and magic were real, Darci still wasn't used to the idea that Merlin had been an actual guy.

"In his six hundred and fiftieth year, Prince Quag returned to the caverns of his birth as he swore that he would do.

Syddawn and Cheln welcomed their son home.

King Alou, now dead, had been succeeded by King Erskrednu,

Second-greatest wizard of the Wumpa Trolls.

Prince Quag kneeled to King Erskrednu

And said, 'I do not challenge you for your crown.

King Alou chose his successor well.

You have been here to lead the Wumpa when I have not.

But I ask that you let me lead the Wumpa to a higher stratum,

To a cavern with greater hunting and openness above instead of stone.'

King Erskrednu said, 'How can there be no stone overhead in a cavern?'

Prince Quag said, 'If there is stone above this cavern,

It is too high to be seen even in the brightest glow,

And I have not found the side walls to climb to it.'

King Erskrednu said, 'Is there hunting enough to feed us all,

And a Heartstone that our tribe may grow?'

Prince Quag said, 'There is hunting for several times our current number,

But no Heartstone that I could sense.'

King Erskrednu said, 'I will not order anyone to follow you,

But I will not stop anyone from following you,

And I will give you a piece of our Heartstone to nurture.

You are my friend and we studied together as younglings,

And I know that your magic will help it grow and keep those who go with you safe.'

Prince Quag thanked King Erskrednu and began inviting Wumpas to the Surface Lands,

But when he warned them of the sunlight they all became afraid,

No matter how good the hunting was.

So Prince Quag swore that he would cast his spell of clouds every day

And some of the Wumpa agreed to follow him.

King Erskrednu gave Prince Quag a piece of Heartstone and a crown,

And Prince Quag became King Quag,

And the Wumpa Trolls were divided into Wumpa Trolls and Quagawump Trolls

But not truly divided, for they still were nurtured by the same Heartstone."

… Oh. Quag's Wumpas. Darci got the name now. Sort of.

"King Quag led the Quagawump Trolls to the Surface Lands,

And cast his spell of clouds over the swamp that would be their home.

The Quagawump Trolls planted their Heartstone and it became the heart of the swamp,

With crystals growing from the trees closest to it.

The Quagawump Trolls built shelters and cooking pits and instruments.

The Quagawump Trolls hunted the surface creatures and sang as they feasted.

In time, new birthstones were made and hatched

Into Quagawump Trolls who would only know life in the Surface Lands.

In time, other trolls learned of the Surface Lands as well.

One night the River Trolls came to the swamp of the Quagawump Trolls.

The leader of the River Trolls begged King Quag, 'Please let us take shelter here for a time!

We have been driven from our territory by the Ga-Huel Trolls,

And do not know when or if we can return.'

King Quag said, 'This is unusual,

For the Ga-Huel most often conquer trolls and demand tributes from them rather than driving them out.'

The leader of the River Trolls said, 'The Ga-Huel have been swarming the caverns closest to the surface,

For they have discovered they love the taste of surface animals,

And want the best places to launch their hunting parties.

We cannot get past them to flee to deeper caverns.'

King Quag said, 'They would do best to find territory on the surface itself!

But stay here until they see sense,

And in the meantime contribute your water magic to our hunting and defences.'

The leader of the River Trolls agreed.

One night the Garden Trolls came to the swamp of the Quagawump Trolls.

The leader of the Garden Trolls begged King Quag, 'Please let us take shelter here for a time!

We have been driven from our territory by the Ga-Huel Trolls,

And do not know when or if we can return.'

King Quag said, 'You are not the only ones displaced,

Even though the Ga-Huel more often conquer trolls and demand tributes from them rather than driving them out.'

The leader of the Garden Trolls said, 'The Ga-Huel have been swarming the caverns closest to the surface,

For they have discovered they love the taste of surface animals,

And want the best places to launch their hunting parties.

We cannot get past them to flee to deeper caverns.'

King Quag said, 'They would do best to find territory on the surface itself!

But stay here until they see sense,

And in the meantime contribute your plant magic to our hunting and defences.'

The leader of the Garden Trolls agreed.

One night the rest of the Wumpa Trolls came to the swamp of the Quagawump Trolls.

King Erskrednu said to King Quag, 'We must ask shelter of you.

We have been driven from our territory by the Ga-Huel Trolls,

And do not know when or if we can return.'

King Quag said, 'I have heard this story several times now.

It seems the Ga-Huel no longer conquer a tribe and demand tributes from them,

But rather drive them out.'

King Erskrednu said, 'The Ga-Huel are growing ever more vicious.

They are beginning to be called the Gumm-Gumms.'

King Quag said, 'Then stay here where you are safe,

And learn weather magic from me to contribute to our defences.'

King Erskrednu agreed,

But no wizard save King Quag was strong enough to summon more than one small cloud at a time.

The swamp gave good hunting

And could shelter and feed many more trolls than it held.

For a time, everyone was safe and happy.

Every five years the River Trolls and Garden Trolls and Wumpa Trolls would send out a scout

To see if it was safe to return to their home caverns.

Those who returned said that it was not.

Those who did not return were mourned as dead.

A returning scout from the tenth scouting mission was followed by one of the Gumm-Gumm Trolls.

The Gumm-Gumm watched for days and saw the clouds that shielded the swamp from daylight,

And reported to Orlagk the Oppressor that there was a place on the surface where the Gumm-Gumm Trolls could make a base camp.

The Gumm-Gumms' first attack was driven away with great plant and water magic

Which made the swamp impassable to anyone.

The Gumm-Gumms returned with sharper swords to cut the plants

And braced themselves with charms to not fear drowning.

The Gumm-Gumms' second attack was driven away with an illusion of the sunrise

So realistic that some of them turned to stone because they believed they would.

The Gumm-Gumms returned knowing this was only a trick.

The Gumm-Gumms' third attack was driven away with sigils painted at the borders of the swamp

Which made the swamp impassable to their kind.

The Gumm-Gumms returned with their own wizards,

Who can work magic on the minds of trolls,

And their youngest and most dreaded wizard, Gunmar,

Who could pull magic from its source and into himself."

Darci scribbled a note about that as well. She would ask Jim later if that was a real thing Gunmar could do or if it was something the Quagawumps has made of for the saga, to justify how he'd been able to kill their purported greatest wizard.

"The battle filled the night.

King Quag faced Gunmar at dawn.

The Gumm-Gumm wizard seized King Quag in both hands.

Gunmar's hunger for power was a deep chasm inside him and could not be filled.

Gunmar could not absorb King Quag's power fully,

Because his birth from a rotten Heartstone had left him too corrupt to absorb wisdom and compassion

As readily as he absorbed magic.

In a fit of envy at realizing he could never be as great a leader,

Gunmar crushed King Quag's skull in one hand and his body in the other,

And became known as Gunmar the Skullcrusher.

The swamp screamed and the clouds parted

And sunlight touched the swamp for the first time in centuries.

The Wumpa Trolls and River Trolls and Garden Trolls buried themselves in the mud,

And the Gumm-Gumms fled,

Because no wizard save King Quag was strong enough to summon more than one small cloud at a time,

And Gunmar the Skullcrusher had not absorbed knowledge of King Quag's spell.

The attacks ended that day

Because the swamp was useless to the Gumm-Gumms without the clouds.

The Garden Trolls and River Trolls blamed each other for not keeping their oaths to guard the swamp

And are feuding still.

The Quagawump Trolls rebuilt their shattered king that night

And found one stone of his body still living,

Full of the magic that Gunmar the Skullcrusher had been too corrupted to absorb.

King Erskrednu said, 'Only a god can return from the dead,

But every time King Quag left the Wumpa Trolls or Quagawump Trolls,

He swore an oath to return,

And he always kept his oath.

King Quag will come back to us and he will reclaim the magic he left behind in this stone,

And in the meantime his wisdom and compassion will guide our ruler.'

King Erskrednu attached the last living stone of King Quag to his crown.

King Quag will claim this crown when he returns."

Glug double-patted her knees again and beamed at her audience.

"Returns?" said Claire.

"He gave an oath to always return to his home and family. He will come back." Her smile changed to a scowl. "The Pretend-King, Blango, wears this crown now. When the God-King returns, he will fight and defeat Blango and take his power back."

"Who's Blango?" asked Toby.

"Not part of this saga. He came to our swamps and took over. He said, 'the Shattered King is gone! I am king now!' Blango is large and strong and a good hunter, so some follow him sincerely. Others wait. Or leave." Predicting the obvious question, Glug continued, "I left before Blango came. I visited Trollmarket for trading, and loved it so much I stayed."

Jim's armour creaked sometimes when he fidgeted. Other times it didn't make nearly as much noise as metal ought to. It creaked now.

"Do you think the Quagawumps, on the whole, would be willing to let me borrow the – the last living stone of King Quag?" he asked. "According to another legend, the Trollhunter needs it in order to kill Gunmar. Which would avenge the Shattered King. And I'd give it back," he added earnestly.

Glug rocked back and forth as she considered the question.

"Maybe. Blango could want to get rid of the God-King's memory, by hiding stone with you. Or Blango could want to keep stone, to remind everyone he is king now. Those who still follow the God-King will want him avenged, but will want last piece of his magic to stay in our swamps. Toby should ask."

"Wait, what? Why me?"

Glug got up and dug out a small panel of metal that looked like it had started life as a baking sheet, with an etching of a troll on it.

"You look like him."

"He does?"

"I do?"

"You do."

It wasn't a perfect match, but Darci could see what Glug meant. Toby looked like the Shattered King in the way Jim still looked basically like himself when he transformed.

(Not Enrique didn't look much like Enrique, other than the blonde cowlick, but maybe that was a convergence thing that happened for Changelings over time? She didn't write down that question – Jim and Blinky had both said carrying pictures and written information about Changelings in Trollmarket could be dangerous.)

"… This isn't going to become an 'Anastasia' thing where I have to fake-prove I'm him for them to hear me out, will it?"

"Maybe you fight Blango." Glug shrugged.

"You're not fighting Blango," said Jim. "You'd be asking for the stone on my behalf, so if it comes down to a fight, I can swap in and fight Blango on your behalf. But hopefully he's open to negotiating."

+=+

Previous Chapter (Barbara and Jim have a dinner party with Blinky and AAARRRGGHH and Draal)

Table of Contents

Next Chapter (Checking in with some original Changeling characters)

Ideas I considered for the poem but didn't end up expanding on because it had already taken so freaking long to get written:

Various adventures and misadventures from Quag's childhood, showing times and ways he used his magic before he got formal training, and giving a better idea of his and his parents' personalities and interactions, maybe exploring his extended family.

The details of Quag's apprenticeships – the names and tribes of his teachers, the kinds of spells he learned from each of them, monsters he fought, injuries and illnesses he healed (showing his adeptness at manipulating living stone).

More of Quag's adventures on the surface, namely how he met Merlin and Morgana and some other human magic-users and the adventures that they got up to together.

A subtle verse about stuff Morgana got up to which would, when her notes come up later in the story, reveal that her studies with Quag were influential in the development of Changelings.

Various trolls coming to Quag in the swamp to learn magic from him, possibly including a young Angor Rot.

Dramatic details about the battles with the Gumm-Gumms in the swamps, because it feels like trollish poetry would go into a lot of detail about battles.

A bit at the end where Merlin comes to the swamp to visit Quag, and Erskrednu tells Merlin about Quag getting killed by Gunmar, resulting in the implication that the Quagawumps believe Merlin created the Trollhunter Amulet to avenge Quag and keep other trolls from dying at Gunmar's hand, and that Merlin's studies with Quag are part of what let him create magic that would work on trolls despite being a 'human wizard' – unfortunately then it would be harder to believe the Quagawumps wouldn't just give the Killstone to the first Trollhunter who asked for it, or even approach the Trollhunter to volunteer it.

I reserve the right to say that Glug actually told the kids an 'abridged version' of the full saga if I want to expand on any of these details later, and also to take whatever I want from Wizards once that comes out and work it into Quag's backstory too.

In the original Trollhunters novel, 'Johanna' is ARRRGH!!!'s first name. I go with the idea of it being his mother's name in the show (although I also like the 'AAARRRGGHH is trans' headcanon), and on top of that I've decided Johanna is a popular Krubera name.

In the Tales of Arcadia spin-off novels and comics, the River Trolls and Garden Trolls come up a few times and are mentioned as having a long-standing feud. No one knows how it started, so I'm saying this is what the Quagawumps believe started it, regardless of whether it's true.

In the Tales of Arcadia spin-off novel The Book Of Ga-Huel, the book was not in fact written by a scholar named Ga-Huel or commissioned by someone of that name – it was written by the Dishonorable Bodus under orders of Orlagk the Oppressor, the Gumm-Gumm warlord that Gunmar later supplanted. I didn't care for most of that novel and so don't use it as canon, except for one detail: to explain the title, I've decided 'Ga-Huel' is what the Gumm-Gumms were officially named, before everyone started calling them Gumm-Gumms and they adopted that name out of pride.

[sadienita]

How To Fall In Love 101 - Part 3

Jihoon x Reader

Word Count: 1.5k

It was a relief that school was done and you weren’t going to be busy with assignments. You also wanted to spend more time with Jihoon. He could be a little awkward but you had a feeling if he relaxed a little you’d get along well.

Today was a beautiful day. Today was wonderful because you had your last exam yesterday. You were officially done your undergrad and that was terrific feeling. Your instagram feed was full of your friends excitement over being done with four years of school and you were no exception, having posted pictures as you left your final exam.

You and Jihoon had spent some time texting in the last couple of weeks. You were very busy with your studying and Jihoon wasn’t the best at responding to messages. He rarely did so right away and you didn’t mind too much with how much studying you had to too but it also meant that you weren’t getting to know him very fast. You asked him questions about himself from time to time but he seemed to get a little awkward when he talked about himself too much. He did send you good night texts some days, it was always random but it was very sweet of him.

You were excited for today though. You were both done with everything and had the day off and he had messaged you and asked you out on another date. You giggled to yourself at how formal his message was. Jihoon was cute, if a little awkward. But he seemed more and more like he did want to get to know you so you chalked it up to nerves. A new relationship was always nerve wracking so you couldn’t blame him.

You spun around and checked yourself in the mirror. You’d picked something cute and comfortable and you hoped he’d like it. He didn’t seem like the type to comment on that too much but it was still nice to put some effort in, who knows he might appreciate it. You checked your phone again for the umpteenth time, waiting for Jihoon to text you or ring the bell. He told you he would pick you up and take you wherever it was you were going. You glanced out the window, happy that the weather was so nice at least, though you didn’t know if you were going outside much or not.

The buzz of the bell brought you out of your thoughts and you calmed your footsteps, trying to hold back from skipping towards the door to see him. You made your way out of your apartment and down to the main entrance and smiled brightly at him when you opened the main door. Jihoon gave you a shy, nervous smile, his hand held behind his back.

“Hey, how’ve you been?” you hummed.

“I’m good. I- uh-” he pulled his hand out from behind he back, nearly shoving a bouquet of flowers into your hand, a blush creeping up his cheeks. “These are for you.”

You giggled and took the flowers. “Come on in, I’ll put them in a vase before we go.”

Jihoon followed you up to your apartment, his hands buried deep in his pockets. He was quick to ask you about your exams, what classes they were for and you how you thought they went. He seemed to like it when you talked more and he could listen so you went on a little bit about your exams and which ones you thought you did better on and he hummed and listened with a small smile on his face. He did seem more interested in your poetry seminar, asking what sorts of poems you had studied and which were your favourites.

It didn’t take too long for you to be on your way. You followed him through the crowded city streets, keeping close but not trying to take his hand. He mumbled to you as you walked until you were stood outside a nice restaurant. You glanced at him and noticed him giving you a nervous look.

“I figured… I mean dinner is a good date right?”

You bit your lip “It is…”

You didn’t want to alarm him but the hesitation in your voice had already done that. It wasn’t that a dinner date, or in this case lunch, was a bad idea. But the restaurant was pricey and being at the end of the semester your funds were getting low. You definitely didn’t want him to end up with the whole bill, especially when he had covered the cost for the movie.

Jihoon fidgeted as he started to stumble through his thoughts. “I’m sorry if it’s a bad idea… I-I just thought-”

“No, it…” you took a deep breath looked at him calmly. “It’s not exactly cheap. I don’t want you to have to cover a pricey meal when you already paid for the movie and snacks.”

“Oh…” Jihoon deflated a bit and you thought for a moment.

“Jihoon, can I take you on a date?”

He gave you a surprised look. “Isn’t that my job?”

You shrugged. “Maybe traditionally, but it doesn’t have to be.”

“Well… okay.” Jihoon seemed both a little disappointed and a little relieved. You led him down the street and further into town and he slowly realized you were going towards campus.

“Wait, where are we going?”

A grin tugged at your lips, “You’ll see.”

He followed you curiously and guessed a few times at where you were going, nudging you and whining when you just grinned and told him it was a surprise. His expression only got more confused when you turned to go into the library.

“Ugh, I spent so much of the last month here,” he grumbled.

“So did I, but I have a cute idea,” you hummed.

He kept up with you as you headed in and up the stairs. He tried to figure out where you were going and he mumbled to himself about where the scores were and thinking he might have been here once or twice but couldn’t remember why. You grinned as you stopped him before pulling him between the stacks. Exam season was almost over and the library was nearly empty and Jihoon blushed deeply as you pulled him into such a secluded spot.

“W-Wait, w-what did you have i-in mind?” he gulped, clearly flustered.

“Relax,” you chuckled. “We’re here to do some reading.” He gave you an unamused look and you giggled as you continued. “This is the poetry section.”

“Oh,” he hummed. “I knew I’d been here once or twice. I had to set some poems for a choir.”

You smiled. “I was hoping you’d been here before. You seemed interested when I was talking about my poetry class and I wanted to show you some of my favourite poems, and I thought maybe you would have some to show me…” your voice got quieter as you spoke, suddenly a little nervous that he wouldn’t like your idea.

You relaxed a little when Jihoon smiled. “That actually sounds pretty cool, I think…” he trailed off as he started to search the books lining the shelves, muttering to himself. You smiled to yourself as you easily found a book by one of your favourite poets, glancing at him as he searched. You leafed through the book until you found the pretty poem that you thought he might like. You smiled to yourself as you reread it.

Jihoon’s tiny “ah-ha” caught your attention as he jumped off the step ladder and flipped open the book to a poem.

“I thought of this one right away. I almost picked it for my project.” You passed him your book and both of you read the poem the other had suggested. You felt a heat rising in your cheeks as you absorbed the sweet, loving words in the poem. When you looked back up at Jihoon to see that he was also blushing.

“That was cute,” he said.

“So was yours,” you added, a shy smile tugging at your lips. “Do you want to find some more?”

He grinned at you before going back to search.

You spent the afternoon like that. You each collected a pile of books, reading through poems and passing them back and forth to each other. Some of the poems were silly or tragic. More than a few of them were sweet love poems that made the both of you a little flustered. You stopped from time to time, talking about the poems and at times sharing stories. You found yourself with a soft smile on your face as Jihoon found a poem he had set to music and excitedly explained how he’d done it and what he loved most about that composition.

He faltered a little as he took in how you were staring at him but only smiled wider when you encouraged him to keep talking, thinking you could listen to his voice for an eternity and never get bored of it.

Jihoon sighed contentedly as he glanced at his phone. “We’ve been here all afternoon,” he hummed, looking up at you. “You’re so good at this.”

“At what?” you chuckled.

He waved his hands through the air in circles. “The whole dating thing. It makes me feel so out of my element.”

You gave him a reassuring smile. “You wanna know the secret?”

“Please,” he snorted.

“Don’t worry so much about what a date ‘should’ be. Just pick something fun we can both enjoy. And don’t push yourself towards milestones you’re not ready for.”

He ducked his head as a nervous laugh left his lips. “I’ll have to try that,” he gazed up at you shyly, “but I still kinda want to believe it’s just because you’re so amazing.”

[profitinaecho]

Dark!Max pt 7 (explicitish)

The next morning, Liz woke up with Max’s arm heavy across her middle and with his breath puffing against her cheek. She stretched then turned towards him with a smile. “Hi.”

Max kissed her nose. “Good morning.”

Liz shifted her legs across the blue soft sheets. “Did you sleep well?”

“I did. What are you up to today?” Max asked Liz as she slipped out from under the covers to head to the bathroom in just one of his T-shirts. It was huge on her and the hem hit her knees. He heard her mumble something about cinnamon being gross then she came back into his room brushing her teeth.

“Uhm, nothing really. I promised Rosa I’d ask you to help her use her powers because she thought she was the one to blow out the bathroom light in the Crashdown.”

“Oh. No. That was definitely us. Has she tried turning a lightbulb on by herself yet? If she can master that, she will get a better feel for the electricity.” Max stretched out with his arms over his arms over his head. He was naked and the covers were pooling around his waist.

“No, as far as I know she has just shorted out all the electronics she has touched.” Liz climbed back into bed next to him.

“I used to do that. I’ll trade a favor for me teaching her. We could do that today if you want to.”

“What kind of favor?” Liz ran her hand down Max’s bare chest.

“One where I get your mouth- here” Max said, dragging Liz’s hand down towards his erection.

She fisted it and pumped him a few times before looking away shyly. “Deal.”

Max kissed her nose. “Good. One more round then let’s go see your sister.” He pulled her closer and rolled her underneath him to the sound of her breathless giggles.

——————————

Max and Liz went to Costco to buy a 50 pack of lightbulbs for Rosa to practice on. It had taken Max dozens of practice lightbulbs to master using his powers when he wanted to and leaving electricity alone when he didn’t. Of course, back then all it took was Liz smiling at him or tossing her hair in his general direction to knockout the electricity at Roswell High. Liz had always been his kryptonite. Teaching Rosa would be complicated by her mood swings. Learning to be even keeled would be a challenge for her- but an important one.

After buying a pack of lightbulbs, Max and Liz headed to the Crashdown to pick up Rosa. It was a bright sunny early summer day, but not yet too hot outside. It was warm but comfortable. Liz texted Rosa that they were there to pick her up and 5 minutes later Rosa stomped out of the Crashdown wearing dark holey jeans and a Nirvana T-shirt with combat boots. “Let’s get this over with.” Rosa grumbled, plopping into the back seat of the Jeep.

Max maneuvered the Jeep back onto Main St, headed out towards the desert. “When I first hit puberty, I eventually shorted out every electronic in the house. My parents had the house completely rewired- twice. I finally managed to get that under control and then I’d see your sister and I’d lose it” Max smirked and glanced at Liz. Liz flushed under his gaze. “Remember that pink fuzzy sweater you used to wear? I don’t know why but no lightbulb was safe when you wore that. And oh god, sundress season.” Max got a dreamy look on his face.

“Gross. I don’t want to know anything else about alien puberty.” Rosa wrinkled her nose and crossed her arms over her chest.

“The point is, if you can keep your emotions level no matter what is going on around you, you can stop shorting out appliances. When your blood pressure rises in response to an outside stimulus…” Liz started.

“How am I supposed to do that when my emotions do what they want?” Rosa fretted. Her bipolar was going to make this learning process more difficult- especially when she was manic. When she was depressed, she didn’t really feel anything. But when she was manic, she felt everything too much. And every morning, she woke up not knowing what her behavior would be like that day. It was exhausting.

“You feel the electricity skim up your spine before you lose it right?” Max asked, pulling into an abandoned stretch of desert with no houses or people in sight.

“I guess.” Rosa stepped out of the Jeep following Max and Liz to a spot a ways from the Jeep.

“So let’s try lighting the lightbulb without exploding it.” Max handed Rosa a lightbulb. “Focus on your emotions, on keeping them steady then release just enough emotion to turn the lightbulb on. Like this.” Max concentrated and lit up the lightbulb in his hand easily. He had had a lot of practice doing this over the years.

Rosa took a lightbulb out of the box and concentrated but nothing happened. “This isn’t working. This is stupid.” Rosa’s frustration and anger got the best of her and she jumped as the lightbulb burst in her hand.

“Let’s try it again. Focus on what you’re feeling and tamp it down until you are ready then slowly release it.” Max watched Rosa carefully, smiling when her bulb finally lit up. Liz slipped her hand in his back pocket and squeezed, surprising Max. His lightbulb promptly exploded and Rosa’s lightbulb flickered ominously. “Liz! Hands!”

“Sorry.” Liz pulled her hand out of his back pocket.

“Elizabeth, really?” Rosa jumped as her bulb cracked down the middle.

“We’ve got dozens more. Here, take another one and try again.” Max handed Rosa a lightbulb and crossed his arms patiently. “Concentrate on the way you feel, suppress it to keep the lightbulb from exploding it. Then gently release it.”

Rosa did what he said then beamed as her lightbulb finally lit up. “I did it!” She exclaimed excitedly, then jumped as a spark of electricity climbed up her spine and exploded the lightbulb.

“Good emotions are sneakier. They creep up and can cause just as many problems. Let’s try it again.” Max once again handed Rosa a new lightbulb. He didn’t have anything better to do that day than teach his protege.

“This is so bizarre.” Rosa easily turned her lightbulb on that time, and beamed as it stayed on. And then her phone buzzed in her pocket and distracted her, causing the bulb to shatter. “Ugh! I’m too ADD to do this!”

“You’ve almost got it. You just have to keep practicing. Again.”

“Do I have to? No one else has to do this.” Grumbled Rosa waving a bulb in the air. It quickly shattered, just leaving the metal parts.

“We can’t just keep buying new appliances, Rosa. It’s getting expensive.” Liz tried to appeal to her sister’s logic. “Speaking Of Which, Max, I bribed Rosa to come here with a new boom box.”

“I have to go shopping too? Oh, you’re going to owe me.” Max teased her.

“Fine. One more time then we go to Target.” Rosa took another lightbulb from the box, concentrated and managed to light it up for 30 seconds before it flicked and exploded.

“Good! That’s really great for a first try at training.” Liz bounced and clapped. “Thank you for your help, Max.”

“Sure. Just don’t tell anyone that I can be nice.”

——————————

Max was strangely absent the next few days after the day he spent with the Ortecho sisters. Liz tried not to take it personally but she was concerned. He had not been away from her this long since he had come back from the dead. The poems had also stopped.  And then she got an ominous text from Max that evening just as she got off work.

Max: I need you.

Liz: What’s going on? Like for help or…?

Max: Please just hurry.

Liz: You’re scaring me.

Max: I’ll tell you when you get to my place

Liz grabbed her keys and pulled on her ballet flats to head out the door. By the time she arrived at Max’s house, she had herself all worked up thinking of all the things that could be going wrong. What if his pacemaker wasn’t working? She thought he had moved past hurting anybody but what if he hadn’t? When she pulled up to his house, he came quickly out of the front door to meet her around the hood of her car.

Max lowered his mouth to her ear. “You came.” Max crushed her to his chest while Liz tried to figure out what was going on. He was acting very intense.

“Max?” Liz questioned him quietly. He tilted her head back, taking her mouth with his. He thought Liz tasted sweet, like chocolate. She stopped trying to figure out what was going on and gave in to the kiss. Max definitely had his tongue in her mouth and his hand on her ass pulling her closer.

Finally pulling back, Max rumbles out a quiet. “Hi.”

“Hi. Max?” Liz breathlessly searched his eyes for a sign of what was going on.

“You actually came.” Max leaned his forehead against hers.

“Well, I mean not yet but at this rate I probably will soon.” Liz laughed nervously.

“Liz, I almost killed a piece of shit at work today but when I started to do it, I worried about what you would think of me. What does that mean? Like I like you but I don’t understand the caring part. You’ve crawled under my skin and I think about you all the time.” Max rubbed his chest, disturbed by the weird ache. It wasn’t due to his heart surgery- it was something else. Max rubbed the spot harder with a furrowed brow.

“Max? Are you okay? Is something wrong with your heart?” Liz was concerned about him. He was acting strange.

“Yes. It is feeling things and I don’t like it.” Max wasn’t sure he would be able to calm down until he was grounded inside of her. Max took Liz’s hand and led her into his house. He guided her to his room while Liz played with the worn strap on her purse nervously. Her eyes widened at his expression. He looked almost feral. “I hope you weren’t planning on sleeping tonight because I need you.”

“And here I thought you just needed me for a little snuggle and a nap.” Liz smiled at him. She meant for her words to come out snarky but they are soft. “We don’t have to sleep. What do you need?”

Liz took three steps into the room followed closely by Max. He advanced on her, like a predator and she took a cautious step back until her back hit the bed. Max’s eyes were fiery with lust but he also looked angry. His fists were balled at his side. He flexed then released them when he caught her looking. Max looked like he’s about to lose control and Liz was excited- and a little wary. She could feel his tension crackling in the air.

Liz’s gaze moved up to his eyes and she got trapped there. He was watching her like a panther or something. He leaned closer and his tongue slid across his lower lip hypnotizing Liz. She followed her instinct when he got closer and pounced him like a cat. They fall backwards onto the bed with an oof. He palmed her ass with one hand and pulled her back to his mouth by her hair with the other one. “I need you to ground me. Okay?”

“Okay.” Liz frantically started undoing the buttons on his shirt while he unceremoniously ripped her panties right off from under her dress. He needed her too much right now to worry about getting all of the clothes off. Max undoes his belt buckle and slid his belt out from his belt loops. He snapped it against the comforter and Liz eyed it warily when he didn’t just drop it there. “I don’t do spankings with belts.” She warned him.

“What if I do?” Max slid it ominously against his palm.

“Then you can hand that over and I’ll do my best not to feel bad about beating you with it.” Liz tried to say it with a straight face but ended up giggling.

The heavy mood dissipated and Max smiled. “Don’t worry, that’s not my thing. I’m more into pulling your hair.”

“I know, I like it.” Liz pressed her palm against his cheek and felt his jaw jump under her hand. “Are you okay?”

He turned his face toward her hand. “Yes. No. I don’t know. I really needed you here and you came.”

“I’ll always come when you need me, Max.”

Max ran his hand up her bare sternum, his thumb sweeping up and down along her throat nervously. “I need to be inside you right now.”

“Okay, Max. Then that’s where you should be.” The desire in Max’s eyes was a direct contrast to every tense muscle in his body. It made Liz want to ask more questions but she wasn’t sure he could handle any more truths for the day. And so she spent the night comforting him the best she could with her body.

[flightsrsk]

hello hello all !!! my name is riley and this is my actual trash son maverick, aka the flight risk !!! i am so so hyped to get the ball rollin on this, so check out info on my kid under ze cut !!

warning: this got rlly mcfreaking long and i am so sorry fjdklsjs i am incapable of writing a short intro post

unfortunately i will not be able to be around for the official opening bc i’m on vacation w my fam and godparents, but i will try and intermittently read intros and chat to you guys about plots !!!! PLS feel free to bombard me through IMs or through discord if any plot sparks ur interest or u think mav could fit well in one of ur plots!!! :’)

THE BASICS

Name: Maverick Hobbes Braxton

Age: Twenty-one

Gender: Cismale

Pronouns: He/Him

Major & year: Philosophy, Third year

Faceclaim: Alex Fitzalan

Occupation: N/A

THE FLIGHT RISK

Maverick Braxton, as you might see, is an enigma—or rather, has evolved into one, slowly: a transformation that begun with his first breath. In his early years, the stage had been set for him, line by line. Act One: attend prep schools, excel in classes. Act Two: attend Covington, take center stage—you know, all of the things his older brother, Richard had accomplished with ease, just one year prior to all of his expectations. It was simple, really: a blueprint laid out ahead of him, with little to nothing in his way.

The only problem was that Maverick didn’t exactly see the point in choosing that path, that stage, that story. To him, it wasn’t challenging.

That, and the fact that the life laid out in front of him offered him absolutely nothing.

A series of banal expectations, unfair comparisons, and heartbreaking betrayals, and the traditional life of the Braxton child was thrown out the window—at least, in his brain, it was. See, Maverick Braxton, while independent, coy, and arrogant, isn’t stupid. He knows if he pleases his parents just enough, they’ll still distribute his trust fund and still bail him out of legal trouble when he inevitably tiptoes too far down the delicate line between ambition and rebellion. Perhaps it’s a bit selfish, but what does he owe to a family who paid him no attention, who never asked of his well-being, his own ambitions, his personal dreams?

He’s the kind of person to drive down the highway, windows rolled all the way down, cigarette lit—not because he necessarily likes the taste of nicotine, but because he likes the way the smoke creates clouds that obscure reality. He’ll surprise you in class when he interjects with a sarcastic but surprisingly salient point before throwing up his hood and retreating to the back corner for the rest of class. He’s the kind of person to start reading a book, flipping incessantly through the pages, both impatient by the pace of the plot, yet put it down before he reaches the final pages because he doesn’t want to be disappointed by the ending. He’s the kind of artist who rarely finishes a sketch, the writer who is never satisfied by a poem—for fear, of course, by deep-rooted insecurities that nothing that he will ever do will be enough.

A once-broken heart had taken time to mend, even though it seems ice-cold and whole from the outside. It’s why he has commitment issues: he doesn’t want to be burned again. He plays off his flirtatious bit as a personality trait, someone who is bored by the prospect of being tied down—and yet those who share his bed might consider him Covington’s most surprisingly deep pillow-talker.

An enigma, you see—one who doesn’t stick around long enough for anyone to truly understand, truly a Flight Risk.

BIOGRAPHY:

( You can read his full biography here! Still in the process of editing it a bit, but below are some important bullet points! )

Maverick was born the second of three children to the Braxton family—and as per usual with the Braxton children, he was born into a life filled to the absolute brim of expectation.

His father, a playwright, his mother, an actress. His brother, a theatre prodigy—what part did that leave him to play? The assumed expectations were to follow in his mother and brothers’ footsteps and take center stage; he excelled, for a while, but Maverick always felt lost.

Neighbors and family friends would always ask if he had measured up, in each and every shape and form: it was like the entire universe had a scoreboard with their names titling each section, and Maverick was always playing catch-up, never knowing where the finish line was.

For a while, he stuck to the script that was given to him: study, succeed, repeat. He tried to understand the ins and outs of his father’s work, of masterful acting techniques, trying to make a large enough splash to where his family would even notice the work he put into his life. Surprise: it didn’t.

It took him seventeen years to truly understand that his role in life was not exactly the story his parents had laid out for him, but rather, his sibling, instead.

Downcast emotions transformed quickly into cynicism. What used to make him feel sad now fueled a blue fire within Maverick’s chest, one that felt wronged by the system he was placed in: a complete first-world problem, but it was then and there when he decided to take advantage of his situation, given that he had spent his entire life dedicated to a part he wouldn’t play.

Hypocritical as he was, he still enjoyed the fruits of his parents’ work, cashing the unlimited checks with his name on them, as if it was some sort of sick version of love.

One piece of recognition that Maverick finally earned was an acceptance to Covington—and even that couldn’t be tainted by his brother’s success or his legacy status.

At Covington, Maverick has both lost and found his footing, multiple times. He’s quit acting, quit studying theater, in favor of a topic that stimulates his brain more than reading lines and

PERSONALITY:

Maverick Braxton is certainly a paradox. He’s charismatic, funny, and has a witty sense of humor –– and is generally appreciated by his peers because he’s able to move conversation and discussion without making topics seem dry.

Despite his apparent inferiority to his sibling, the Braxton family still breeds the cream of the crop. He’s certainly a bit arrogant sometimes, given that he’s intelligent, innovative, and clever, and wants to be recognized for it –– however, even if he might not show it on the outside, he appreciates a good challenger. He thinks it keeps his wit sharp, and of course, his ego would never show it, but he does appreciate learning from people. After all, his passion in philosophy, his current area of study, makes him certainly interested in how the world works.

Those who happen to get to know Maverick outside of the surface-level stuff, outside the initial cockiness and flirtatious front he puts on will know that he’s actually quite thoughtful. His lonely childhood has made him extremely loyal to those who have shown him similar trust and friendship –– he would never turn his back on them.

He asks probing questions, is a good listener –– perhaps because he’s interested in human decision making, but is also because he doesn’t quite know what it’s like to be loved unconditionally –– though he wants to.

Deep down, what almost no one knows is that he’s really quite soft. He passes his curiosity off as wanting to understand people, when really it’s a mechanism for hoping someone asks him questions in return, to give him the time of day he wished his parents ( and the rest of the goddamned universe ) had given him.

Despite his theatre prowess, he isn’t actually a particularly good liar. Those who spend enough time around him can hear his tone of voice incline slightly and see him scratch his brow.

AESTHETICS:

coffee-stained mugs, walking with headphones in but nothing playing, untied shoelaces, black hoodies, a cheeky smirk, small books in his back pocket, writing in the margins, unfinished poems, quoting old authors on a daily basis, incessant eye-rolling, pen ink stains, an unmade bed, mismatched socks, floral ties, empty bottles of liquor, rose thorn pricks, old worn poetry books, polished dress shoes, calloused fingers, unlit cigarettes between teeth.

HEADCANONS:

Funnily enough, Maverick’s name means ‘independent, a noncomformist’, which is exactly the path that he has taken to stray away from his family’s expectations.

He does have one strong connection to his family, though: his grandmother, on his father’s side. She understands the pressure he undergoes, who saw the pressure Maverick’s father endured to obtain the success he has. She is one of the only reasons that Maverick has not just jetted off to take on his own adventure. He loves her dearly, and wishes that her empathy and wisdom would rub off on the rest of his family.

Maverick has some form of synesthesia, which allows him to remember a lot more than the average person. He associates colors, smells, sounds, to words –– and allows him to efficiently study any subjects he doesn’t have immediate passion for.

In the privacy of his own bedroom, he sometimes writes poetry and sketches his thoughts and muses –– when he knows he’s in complete privacy. Faces and features that appear in his sketchbooks are often those he’s thinking of often, those who intrigue him. He’s actually quite good a sketching, maybe not quite as good at writing poetry.

His room is spotless –– evidence that he is a bit of a control freak sometimes. It shows that during his adolescence, he reveled in the parts of his life that he could control and perfect.

tw drugs. He more than dabbles in drug use, smoking marijuana maybe every other day, while partaking in harder drugs like cocaine and adderall and others probably once a week. He feels like he’s in control of his use, but it may start to get the best of him. end tw.

Maverick is left-handed. He hates that he gets pen ink stains when he draws, writes poetry, takes notes. His left palm is probably perennially covered with ink.

Though he’s often wearing headphones ( airpods, of course, the nerve of this rich kid ), half the time, nothing’s playing. Sometimes he forgets to press play on his phone, sometimes he purposely likes listening to decision-making and conversations of strangers. it lets him think about the nature of mankind.

Maverick’s favorite philosopher is Albert Camus, known for his work that heavily developed the idea of absurdism ( much to do with the meaning of life, and human inability to discern an answer ).

Maverick’s preferred method of transportation is his skateboard. he loved it first because his parents hated it: pushing himself around on a board like that would get him injured—besides, why not just take the car to school, the driver had been paid for anyway? It was his first taste of rebellion. Now at Covington, where skateboarding is far more efficient than walking across campus, it comes in handy when he sees someone he’d rather not stop and chat to.

Maverick could die with a poetry book nestled on his chest—it’s the one thing he got out of the impressive book collection his family owned. There was something daunting and beautiful about the way poems would transform metaphors into something fantastical, like the emotions were clearly there, but the words were skirting the issue. Kind of like how his parents would never really tell him they loved him.

Maverick often has headphones in when he walks to class. not particularly because he’s actually listening to music or a podcast, but rather because he’d just … rather not be bothered to stop and talk to people.

Maverick loves to draw. He’s mostly self-taught, with a bit of mentorship from his high school art teacher. Evidenced by the rest of his fleeting personality, he rarely finishes a sketch or painting. He claims he never has time to finish them, but the number of crumbled-up, half-finished sketches in his trash bin might say otherwise.

PLOTS

** see my wanted plots tag here too! // and my plots page here !!

* FIRST LOVE / OPEN.

It wouldn’t be easy to make Maverick feel like even more of a disappointment than he already had with his parents, his family—but your muse proved this feeling wrong. He loved them, more than he’d ever loved anything before. In the midst of confusion about where he belonged, he felt safe with your muse; he’d do anything for them. Things ended, he felt betrayed ( though the break-up could have easily been due to a fault of his ), and the split made him the one who now struggles fully with commitment. He doesn’t want to have his heart broken again. See: this entire pinterest board.

but also if u give me this ……………… i’ll name my firstborn after u

* BEST FRIEND / OPEN.

Those who go through similar childhood traumas are often able to understand each other –– that was how it worked with Maverick and your muse, at least. They’re thick as thieves — and have likely seen the ups and downs of Maverick’s life in real time.

* CHILDHOOD FRIENDS / OPEN.

Self explanatory—and also probably knows about the pressures the Braxton family imposes on their children.

* EX-FRIENDS / OPEN.

Friends who were close, close no longer. Maverick’s a real piece of work, and an asshole, too—there are myriad possibilities for why Maverick could have pushed them away. He wouldn’t openly admit that he misses being around your muse, but he certainly would feel a bit of guilt given that they’re no longer the closest of friends.

* MOMENT OF WEAKNESS / OPEN.

Your muse, in whatever unfortunate setting, saw a glimpse of Maverick’s soft side that hardly ever makes an appearance. He’s not going to let them tell the world about his vulnerabilities, though. Not a chance.

* DISLIKED / OPEN.

Maverick is sarcastic, cold, and sometimes emotionless. It’s not surprising that not everyone gets along with the middle Braxton. The possibilities are endless—throw in some sexual tension and I’d actually fall at ur feet.

* PREVIOUS ROOMMATES / OPEN.

Your muse, at one point, probably knew Maverick better than everyone else at Covington. They overheard some of his phone calls with his parents, saw his notes for how he was to achieve his life goals, heard him crying in the middle of the night when he thought your muse was asleep. They could be extremely close now, as in one of the few people Maverick opens up to, or could be distant friends who know about one anothers’ struggles. The possibilities are endless, tbh.

+ ANYTHING LEGITIMATELY ……… IF U THINK THERE’S POSSIBILITY FOR SOMETHING COOL W MAV AND UR MUSE. SIGN ME THE F UP. THANKS.

[tsukishima44]

Ring? For a girlfriend?

After the act, All Might, Midnight, and Cementoss had gone back to their place. But what about Eraserhead and Present Mic? What's this about ring and girlfriend? Are you jealous? Yeah? Damn you are adorable alright. So, will you marry me?

a.k.a the extra scene after extra lesson on episode 58

=============================================================

"-You all still have spaces to improve, that also includes you, Midoriya. Today's lesson is over. You may all go home"

6 students of 1-A chattered away, leaving their teachers to go home and enjoy their summer holidays. They might be in a vacation mode, but being a hero wannabe meant extra lesson and each of them were excited for it. Their teacher, surreptitiously smiled behind their backs. Aizawa was so proud of them. If it was the previous year classes, none of them would came out from their home sweet home for a lesson. This year though, they were all packed with great stamina and bigger possibility to improve more and more. They kept him surprised each day. They really slipped through his heart's creaks.

"Soooooo....how is my acting?"

A voice whispered to his ear. His right hand reflexively whacked his secret boyfriend of 5 years right in his handsome famous face.

"Ouch! Shouuuuuuu~"

Present Mic placed both his hands on his right cheek. It was always like this, Shouta with his abusive past made him even more cautious than ever and Mic who never failed to be sad yet amused by his cute boyfriend reflex.

Aizawa quickly covered Yamada's hand with his own, eyes soften in thought of hurting his loud obnoxious but beloved boyfriend, not that he would say it out loud.

"Sorry....." he added in silence.

"Oh, honey!! You know I would still love you even if you kicked me in the balls" Yamada snickered, hands migrated to Aizawa's cheeks, gaining a reddish hue.

Aizawa slapped Yamada's arm fondly

"Don't tempt me" He snickered, bringing Yamada to giggle.

"So?"

"Hm?"

"My acting"

Aizawa 'oh' with a bit of sigh

"Oh?" Yamada's blonde blow rose.

His Aizawa then pouted. Lips puckered a bit with cheeks puffed out. So damn cute.

"Ring? For a girlfriend?"

With pink cheeks and jutted out bottom lips, Shouta looks gullible. This should be illegal.

"My god, Shouta" Yamada couldn't believe his eyes "Are you jealous?" The shocked let his quirk on by itself. His stoic Shouta whom rarely showed his emotion just undirectly told him that he was irrationally envied Hizashi's imaginary girlfriend, a character he created to complete the scene he was asked in the sake of helping Shouta's kids summer class. This. This is the reason. The main reason why he was attracted to Shouta. The reason their relationship lasted for more than 5, and more than 10 years. The reason why he never disappointed when Shouta didn't bother to know him in their first meeting. Didn't even look at his way as he called for him. Shouta always always has his own way of saying love and Hizashi was very glad he was patient and understanding. Shouta completed him perfectly he was sure they were meant to be together. Together, having Shouta at his side whether in good times and the bad times. Just like what he had done for the last 15 years and, what he hoped, forever. This is the exact reason why he choose this scene. When Shouta had asked Nemuri, Cementoss, All Might, and him to act, he really hoped he could find the atmosphere to ask, to take the piece of paper he poured his heart last night to propose to the greatest man in the entire world. Now if only he stop admiring his hopefully future husband to take it.

"Zashi?"

Oh. Fuck it.

"MARRY ME"

Hizashi slapped a hand acrossed his mouth.

"No! That's-uh-Not that I-oh dammit!!" He looked up to see Shouta's surprised look in a frozen time and it went from blank into sad quickly.

"I MEAN EVERYTHING! What's nope is this supposed to be a romantic atmosphere and such, a dinner in the best hotel in Japan with wine, rose, dim lighting, and everything because you deserve it, you deserve everything and I didn't even-"

"....you....you really want me?"

Hizashi stopped when he heard Shouta's timid voice over his own.

"Want you? Are you kidding me, Shou? Of course I want you! I will always want you, now and forever"

Shouta's dark orbs searched his face, maybe for a sign of lie or something else. It happened for some seconds but for Hizashi it lasted like an eternity before Shouta, cute Shouta ducked deeper into his captured weapon, hands a bit wet on Hizashi's (when did he grabbed Shouta's hands!?), shyly smiled (definitely smiling), answered a small "yes". But still a yes nonetheless and he couldn't help himself but to take his bulkier boyfriend and picked him up to peck him in the lips. It was small but kept all their feeling for each other and Hizashi want to explode he yelled " HE SAID YESSSS!!!!"

Hizashi stopped yelling when his voice was quirk free to see his soon to be husband activated his quirk. Then they looked at each other and chuckled together.

"I love you, Shouta"

"And I-"

"Congratulation, Aizawa-sensei, Mic-sensei"

The two pro-heroes head snapped at the almost toneless voice of one of Shouta's kids. There were apparently several of them as a collected gasps and shushed heard and one problem kid tried to covered their resident pretty boy. Some explosions went off near the dark space and Bakugo's cursing getting louder and louder.

Hizashi almost fell when Shouta immediately stiffened and leaped from his embrace to activate his quirk, white strands went to the dark path hidden between two high buildings. Small yelps were shouted in the air and there they were, the six kids who gotten their extra class today.

"Didn't you all went home?" Aizawa asked, his capture weapon wrapped his sneaky students together.

"W-We we're going to!!" Iida junior snapped his arms like chopping air below Aizawa's capture weapon.

"Then?" Yamada had walked near Aizawa

"It was fucking Deku's fault!" The king murder explosion himself said with enough hatred

"W-We were accompanying Deku!" Uraraka shouted

"Y-Y-Yes! I-I forgotten to take my bag a-and-uh-um ac-cidentally saw....that. Oh and um! C-c-congratulations, Aizawa-sensei!!"

"Right! Congratulation, sensei!!" Uraraka added, face no longer in panic but happy instead

"Congrats, kero~" Tsuyu who never said anything finally looked up to him with a wide smile

As if remembering what they mentioned, Aizawa's pose slackened and his previously red cheeks went back on fire. Yamada beside him laughed and threw an arm on Aizawa's shoulder. Seriously, his fianceè is just adorable.

"Where is the ring?"

Of course it has to be their residence cold prince to break the atmosphere.

"OHH!!!!"  

Yamada accidentally activated his quirk. His right hand went to his pants quickly, fumbling for the wooden box containing rings he bought a month ago. When his finger hit the corner of it, Hizashi was glad he always brought the box anywhere. He took the box, a simple brown box with a ring laid. The ring itself had was a silver band with a five ruby embedded on the outside and a hidden engraving 'my dearest listener', something that had more meaning than the alike words Hizashi usually uttered in the radio. Something that he would always describe Shouta as.

Hizashi didn't kneel, the romantic moment had passed so instead he asked for Shouta's hand, which the homeroom teacher gave, slipped it into the right finger and kissed the ring. It looked perfect, better than his imagination could ever occurred. If only he looked up, he wouldn't have missed Shouta's smitten face.

They almost didn't hear the 'aww's of the students. In the end, they let them went back home, but not before threatening them not to tell anyone. It was a futile attempt. But they actually listened for once. So the news only shared between their class residences and not to more than them, well except for their colleagues and Principal Nedzu. Regardless of the weird timing, both pro-heroes still thought that it was one of their best moments.

Maybe in 5 months later Hizashi found the poem he wrote to propose Shouta and gave it to him directly instead, Shouta scowled but secretly happy at the gesture. He proceeded to place it on the refrigerator they gotten from Nemuri on their new apartment.

[writingwhimsy]

A Wizard’s Crush

Prompt: The strongest warlock in all the land uses his power constantly to kidnap the princess. Most people believe he’s in love with her, but they have it all wrong. He’s in love with the knight who comes to rescue her.

Featuring a princess who just wants to finish her homework, a painfully awkward villain, and a hero that’s a little too attractive for everyone else’s safety.

“You’ve got to stop doing this…” The princess’ voice was a study in bored irritation as the man behind her focused on latching the last of the chains on her wrists.

“Quiet, you.”

She rolled her eyes. “I actually have things to do, you know. I was scheduled to open up a new orphanage today before you decided to kidnap me.”

The wizard--somehow lacking in the ‘evil’ presence without the dark green cloak and dark leather outfit that he usually wore replaced by a comfortably worn shirt and pants and bare feet--looked uncomfortable with the information. He scrubbed a hand through messy dark hair, making it resemble a furry hedgehog or an unfortunate creature struck by lightning.

“I, uh...I’m actually sorry about that. I didn’t think you would be so busy,” he mumbled sheepishly. “This shouldn’t take long.”

“I thought we agreed that you were going to start using your words instead of your magic.”

He huffed out a breath, looking mulish as he gestured to the city gleaming far below his mountain hideout. “No one listens to me without my magic.”

“They aren’t exactly listening then either considering they’re running and screaming in terror. Really, Niev, you’ve got to stop transforming into a giant, fire breathing dragon everytime you need to say something,” the princess admonished.

Indeed, the edge of her once immaculate pink dress was looking a little singed thanks to a particularly enthusiastic burst of flame announcing his arrival to the town square. The resulting panic was enough to send the guards scattering and nearly trample their charge in the process. If the princess hadn’t been kidnapped by the same wizard nearly ten times now, she would’ve been terrified too.

As it was, she was already dreading the teasing comments about the ‘wizard’s crush on her’ from her overly-invested mother. Honestly, why wasn’t that woman more alarmed when her daughter was carried off in the claws of some great mythical beast every Saturday?

Niev didn’t respond as he finished chaining her to the large metal pillar atop the platform in the center of his lair. He swore it wasn’t a stage, merely a naturally occurring rock formation--but he also claimed he hadn’t placed the glowing orbs he used for lighting weren’t strategically placed to ensure he looked sufficiently evil at all angles.

He tested the chains gently and looked her over critically. “Are they too tight? You’re not uncomfortable are you?”

“Do we really even need all this? It’s not like you fight back…why can’t I just sit in a chair until he comes?” she whined.

Niev looked uncomfortable, but one glance at the still empty entranceway seemed to firm his resolve. “This is the way it has to be,” he said firmly and stepped away to tinker with some needlessly complicated machine.

She sighed heavily and leaned her head back against the pillar. If anyone had told her she would be the unwilling participant in the world’s worst flirting technique a few years ago, she would have laughed. Now, she just wished she’d worn more comfortable shoes.

The first time she’d been surrounded by noxious green smoke and whisked away to a dark, dismal lair, she’d been terrified. The adrenaline rush from a mixture of fear and panic had made her sob into the rough ropes holding her in place until a soft handkerchief was pressed into her palms and the ropes loosened until she could dry her face. The warlock had looked so guilty at her obvious panic that he’d hovered around her constantly, offering food, pillows and blankets to try to make her more comfortable.

The whole situation had been so absurdly confusing, she’d stopped crying in favor of just staring at the so-called evil villain. He hadn’t hurt her or threatened her beyond a weak request for her to “Stay put, please.” Then he’d simply left her alone to wander around looking at countless books and strange looking machines that produced everything from brightly colored potions to the same dense smoke that had covered her kidnapping.

Then, the Golden Knight had arrived.

At first, she’d been so relieved to see a familiar face from her father’s court that she’d clung to the man. It had only taken a few moments before the warlock had disappeared into another cloud of smoke and shouted promise to return for his revenge. The knight had been kind, escorting her safely home and promising to increase the number of guards assigned to her room. Leaving to her to sit in her bath and contemplate just why she’d been taken in the first place.

The second time she’d heard the sound of a roar and smelled the scent of sulfur on the breeze, she was more prepared. She didn’t cry from fear--although her hands did shake--and made a point of looking around the cave more diligently for some sign of what the warlock wanted with her. He mostly seemed content to make sure she stayed in the nearby vicinity and didn’t mess with his machines too much. It only took an hour before the Golden Knight arrived, knocked the warlock clear across the room, and returned the princess to her home.

On the third kidnapping attempt, she finally asked the warlock why he’d taken her. He’d stared at her with strangely pretty hazel eyes and grunted, “Evil schemes.”

The fourth time rewarded her with the warlock’s name--Niev.

The sixth had her wondering if this whole song and dance wasn’t just some plot to keep her from her studies and special projects.

On the seventh kidnapping, she finally lost her temper and told Niev that he should avoid taking her in the middle of the night as she was falling behind in her school work due to exhaustion. He’d looked sufficiently chastened and promised to do his best.

That was also the moment she began to wonder if it wasn’t a princess the strange wizard was after, but a knight.

Specifically the Golden Knight, protector of the realm and the man tasked with ensuring villains like Niev.

Even she had to admit the Golden Knight was a fine man to lust after. His broad shoulders and narrow hips had inspired more than a few love poems and accolades from her classmates. And that smile...that smile had a way of chasing rational thoughts out of your brain to be replaced with bumbling attempts at flirtation and heavy sighs full of emotion. He was the epitome of everything a heroic knight of tale and truth should be.

If Niev was truly in love with the Golden Knight, the princess could do nothing more than to congratulate him on his good taste.

When Niev arrived to steal her away for the eighth time -- this time by magicking everyone in the courtyard around her into a dreamless sleep -- the princess was nearly eager to go with him, if only because it meant she could finally question him about his motives.

Whatever the warlock had been expecting from his erstwhile captive, it was not an abrupt foray into his love life. That much was obvious by the way his eyes had widened in panic and his normally smooth voice was replaced with squeaking nervous babbling.

“W--what do you mean?” he finally got out, “Why would I care about the man who’s always ruining my plans?”

The princess narrowed her eyes at him. “You mean the plan to hand me a book to read and food to eat while we wait for him to show up?”

“I--wha-- I mean,” he drew himself up to his full height, trying to appear stern, “I could always tie you up if you’d prefer!”

Which was probably how she ended up tied to this ridiculous pillar the next time the warlock had appeared to whisk her away.

She sighed heavily again. This was going to cut into her time to complete her history essay.

Both of them jumped in surprise at the sound of the massive metal doors that marked the entranceway of the cave were thrown open with a slam. Outlined by the dying sunset behind him, the Golden Knight stood like a model for a storybook hero, sword extended in open threat and his helm removed to reveal the devil-may-care grin and bright blue eyes narrowing on the warlock standing in the middle of the room with a book in his hand.

The princess thought she heard the warlock give a breathy little sigh and lick suddenly dry lips.

Neither man looked at the woman stilled chained to the pillar and she rolled her eyes again, settling in to watch the drama unfold.

The Golden Knight prowled further into the lair with narrowed eyes. “We’ve got to stop meeting like this, warlock,” he growled. And...was that a bit of teasing in his voice?

Niev looked a little overwhelmed with having the knight’s full attention on him because he could only stutter weakly. “I, I..er. Yes, right,” he cleared his throat and seemed to remember he was supposed to be the one leading this dance. “Prepare to face your worst nightmare, knight! Your precious princess belongs to me!”

Said princess thought if she continued to roll her eyes this hard, she’d end up with a headache.

“Is that so?” the Golden Knight murmured and then smirked, “Do you really think you’ll be able to defeat me this time?”

The warlock’s chin raised in a stubborn challenge and he spat out a word that resonated into the very bones of the mountain they were hidden in. Flames, bright purple and green, burst into life around the room, drenching them in heat and flickering lights. They surrounded the wizard, leaving the knight and the princess untouched. A tongue of fire curled around Niev’s arms like a snake and he met the knight’s surprised look with a smile of his own.

“Frightened yet?” the wizard challenged.

The knight looked a little surprised at the show of strength, but it quickly gave way to something darker, more intrigued. Sweat was already glistening on the exposed skin of his neck and forehead, but he moved forward with all the grace of a hunting lion. He eyed the flames curiously.

“Things are really heating up between us, I guess.”

The princess blinked in surprise, looking between the two men. Were they...flirting?

Niev’s smile held a glimmer of hope, a hint of heat now. The flames surrounding him slowly parted to reveal a path that led to where he stood, dark cloak billowing dramatically in an invisible wind.

“Come on then, hero. Get what you came here for.”

The Golden Knight slowly straightened to his full height, almost casually sliding his sword back into its sheath at his side. The warlock tracked the movement with a carefully blank expression. Then the warrior strode forward as confidently and easily as though he were walking through the marketplace. No hesitancy. No fear.

In contrast, the warlock was nervous. His fingers twitched idly at his sides as he watched the approaching man and the flames rose steadily in reaction. It made the room stifling in a mixture of tension and heat. Niev’s eyes flickered over his approaching nemesis like he held the secrets to heaven and hell hidden beneath his gleaming armor.

He stepped past the first row of flames and ignored the way it curled around his ankles like an eager pet. The knight looked down once at the magical display before arching an eyebrow at the warlock and continuing until they were face to face. For a moment, neither of them spoke.

Then the Golden Knight leaned forward and placed one muscular arm on the wall behind Niev, bracketing the slightly smaller man in with his broader body.

“So…” he purred with dark eyes that reflected oddly in the firelight, “what am I going to do with you now?”