#goddamn are wings a bitch to design around let me tell you

[froggybogwitch]

Well then. Buckle up, folks, I went down a design rabbit hole. Somewhat inspired by the eternal question of "How do illyrian's wear shirts?" Which, honestly, has a much easier answer that what I came up with. Like a couple extra buttons would have done the trick, but where's the fun in that? I decided to add some flair on it, and by that, i mean a good chunk of a cultural fashion system. Everybody say thank you to Cassian for modelling.

So, starting off with the base layers and underwear, we've got a loincloth and a contraption that I've been calling the under harness, which was my answer to their funky double shoulders. Most other things I could think of ran into the problem that wind is a little thieving bastard and bc of the shape of their wings, form fitting garments like flying leathers can't easily pass under them, so they needed additional attachment points, hence the harness. Basically every single upper body garment I've created connects to this harness, keeping everything completely secure during flight. The only other thing to really note here are the two piercings around the wing's main knuckle. This shouldn't actually impede flying, according to the damage that real bats can fly with. These are both achor points for light weight armor, and also decoration. In the next image, we got the basic fabric base layer. Not much to say about the pants, they're pants. The shirt is more interesting. So it comes in two pieces, the front and back are entirely seperate pieces of fabric, both suspended from the under harness. The edges of the front piece are stiffened with steel boning or hardened leather, to help the garment keep it's form fitted shape. The back piece is a long strip of red fabric which I imagined to hold some sort of meaning as a highly stylized "bloodline." They could have been highly embroided with sigils, or family trees or something. Cassian's is blank for obvious reasons.

Next up, flying leathers and armor. I don't honestly have much to say about these, they're pretty well described in the books and the only thing i had to add was the armor around the knuckle claw. It seems crazy to me that these people wouldn't have figured out how to use their wings as deadly weapons so, a bit of hardened leather, some metal spikes if ur feeing extra spicy, and there, two extra striking weapons.

And now my favorite part, warmer clothes. I think this is where we'd really get to see illyrian fibercraft shine. Ombre dying, tassles, lace netting, embroidery, all of that. This is where they get to peacock about and be all bright and colourful. The cloak is made up of five long sections of fabric, two fall down the chest, two behind the shoulders but in front of the wings, and on wide one down the back. It can be worn loose or with the front most pieces of fabring tied underneath the wings for extra security during flight.

The mantle is the last bit I've developped, and it's just as decorated and fancy as the cloak, and sometimes even more so. It's a short cloak like garment that's worn over the shoulder and has open sleeves for both arms and wings. It's often fur linned and could be quilted for exra warmth. It could be worn with or without a cloak but usually they're worn together.

anyway, I have so many thoughts about the illyrian culture, bc what Sarah gave us ... doesn't really make much sense, and also makes me feel extremely icky. I'd much rather close my eyes and imagine a world where they aren't treated as a one dimentional culture that has done nothing but make it's members lives miserable.

[rhysismydaddy]

Pre-mating bond reveal Feysand Smut request! Featuring feyre in some lingerie and a whipped Rhys ps. I love your fics

On the long, never-ending list of things I need to be doing right now, this is definitely at the bottom.

I need to find out what Azriel learned from his spies in the human realm, make sure Amren and Cassian haven’t gone to wreck the Summer Court, and pay my taxes.

Watching Feyre shop for lingerie is below the fucking taxes. It’s below everything.

And yet here I am, staring with too much interest as she runs her finger along lacy unmentionable after lacy unmentionable.

I’m mesmerized, desperate to know which one she’ll choose to buy. The simple knowledge that she has it will torture me, but I don’t even care. I have to know.

Five minutes go by, then ten.

I follow her like the whipped little bitch I am as she circles the store once more, making sure my face doesn’t betray my interest in the teal little thing in the corner.

“You know what, I don’t think I’ll get anything,” she announces suddenly, turning to me to analyze me with those beautiful, too-observant blue eyes of hers.

“Alright.”

“I mean, do men--sorry, males--even care about this kind of thing? Or do they just prefer their women to be naked?” She peers up at me, lips curved into an innocent smile. “Which do you prefer?”

“Last I checked, I don’t have any women.”

She shrugs like that’s irrelevant. “You’re buying it. You should have an opinion.”

Before I can even start to respond, she’s closing in on me, putting a hand against my chest and leaning in co-conspiratorially. “Hypothetically, if you were to come home to find me draped across your bed, what would you prefer I be wearing?”

She grabs something off one of the racks, and the feel of lace on my arm makes blood shoot straight to my crotch. “Something like this? Or nothing at all?”

My jaw aches from being clenched so hard, and there’s absolutely no way I can respond, so I just shrug.

Feyre smiles knowingly and flits across the store, snatching up the piece I’d been subtly--at least I thought--eyeing the entire time.

She drops it on the counter and gestures over her shoulder to me. “I’ll take this. He’s paying.”

I roll my eyes but nod when the clerk looks at me, and she makes a valiant attempt at hiding a smile. Once the damned thing is wrapped up, Feyre slips the bag on her arm and gives me a bright smile.

“I’m going home.”

My chest clenches at that word, just like it always does, but I ignore it. “I’ll walk you.”

“No, thanks. I’ve got what I wanted from you,” she teases, shaking the bag in my face. “But who knows? Maybe in... two or three hours when you come home, I’ll be waiting for you.”

Fucking hell, she’s going to kill me.

But the question is... is she just teasing me, or is she serious?

~

Exactly two and a half hours later, I find out.

She was fucking serious.

She’s...

Ah, fuck.

Fuck.

I’m frozen in the door, staring at her, and I can’t think about anything besides how right this feels.

Coming home to find her in my bed, wearing some wonderfully indecent negligible, looking at me with so much blatant lust it almost chokes me.

It’s so fucking right.

But it’s also wrong, because she doesn’t even know why it’s right.

Because I still, still, haven’t told her that she’s mated to me.

Because I’m stupid.

Stupid or not, I realize I’ve been standing here like some mute idiot for a little too long. “Hello, Feyre darling.”

She smiles at me, a warm smile that makes my chest ache, and I grip the doorframe to keep myself from striding to her and tasting it.

If she knew, she wouldn’t smile like that. She’d probably scream at me and rage and curse the gods for giving her someone like me.

And I don’t want to tell her, because I’m selfish and love the look on her face. Right now... right now she’s looking at me like I’m everything.

With a dramatic flourish that makes my lips twitch, she throws the cover off of herself, allowing me an unobstructed view of the overpriced contraption I bought earlier tonight.

It’d stood out to me because of the color. The bright turquoise is almost the exact shade of her eyes, and it’s beautiful against the pale backdrop of her skin.

The color, however, is not what my mind is focused on.

It’s focused on the way the lace frames the smooth swell of her hips, the way its not exactly solid enough to hide the rosy color of her nipples, the way the thin, feeble straps are slipping off her shoulders.

No longer able to stop myself, I stroll over and brace my hands against the edge of the bed.

I take another long look, starting at her pretty red toenails and ending at the challenging look in her eyes.

“Hi, Rhysand.” She says my name slowly, like a woman who knows she has a man in the palm of her hand. “So? Do you like it? Or would you prefer me in nothing at all?”

“You’ll have to give me a comparison,” I respond, forcing my eyes away from the swell of her breasts for a moment. “But maybe later. Right now, I’m interested in this little get up. It did cost me quite a bit of money, you know.”

Reaching out, I grab her ankles and slide them around until her body’s facing me.

“I’m afraid I can’t see all of it, though.”

She understands and smoothly turn over, putting the rest of the little set on wide display.

And by the rest of it, I mean the tiny slip of blue lace resting above the curve of her backside.

She’s temptation incarnate, a woman designed by the gods to drive me happily to insanity.

“Hm,” I murmur nonchalantly, running my finger along the material softly but not touching the skin I’m suddenly desperate to bite.

She shivers, and the fact that I’m affecting her but barely even touching her does little harm for my ego.

Reminding myself yet again that I should walk out of this room and lock the door behind me, I put a hard boundary in place.

I can’t fuck her.

Not yet. Not while she doesn’t know who I really am to her.

But that doesn’t mean I can’t satisfy the insane curiosity that’s been demanding for weeks I find out how she tastes.

“Turn over again.” She complies, and I lean to press a kiss to the top of her ankle. “Now spread those pretty legs for me, Feyre darling.”

Slowly, her feet slide apart on the sheet, and I trace the movement to look at the apex of her thighs. My hands glide up her skin, and she sighs, the sound so goddamn pretty I have to take a deep breath to calm myself.

I press a kiss to the inside of her thigh, and her hand shoots out to grab my hair and force my eyes back to hers. “I want-”

I know what she’s going to say, so I cut her off. “And while I’d love to give you anything and everything you want, we don’t have time.”

“We have all night.”

“Mm, true.” Another kiss, but this time I dart my tongue out to taste her skin. Holy fuck, she’s perfect. “But when I fuck you, Feyre, I’ll need longer than one night. I’ll need days, maybe even weeks. I’ll need you to be so strung out on me you can’t breathe, so desperate you beg. And we’ll definitely need to be out of the city, because I plan on making you scream my name loud enough to wake the dead.”

It isn’t the whole truth, but not one word was a lie.

It seems to do the trick because Feyre settles back, raises an eyebrow, and says, “Proceed, then.”

She’s trying to play it like she’s so unaffected, despite the fact I can smell her arousal and see the way she’s clenching the bedsheet.

I slid to my knees, bowing before my mate, and pull her ankles until her legs rest over my shoulders. I realize my wings are out, yet another testament to how different this is, how unhinged I’m becoming.

For a moment, I just familiarize myself with the feel of her skin, so unbelievably soft and warm against my palms. She lets me touch her, leaning up on her elbows to watch.

Making eye contact with her, I lean down and press my nose to the apex of her thighs. And inhale.

Even though it’s been teasing me for the past five minutes, the full scent of her hits me like a punch to the gut, and a low, satisfied sound escapes my throat.

She blushes, color blooming high on her cheeks, and I smile up at her.

Mumbling something I’m too distracted to hear, she falls back on the bed and puts a hand over her face. 

Is she... praying?

Gods, I’m going to enjoy this. I’m going to drive her crazy, make her feel as undone as I do.

As soon as I can figure out how to get this fucking contraption off her.

Lace and little straps are everywhere, and I mess with it for a minute before giving up and just ripping the bottom half off.

“Rhysand,” she scolds, like I wasn’t the one to buy the damn thing.

I’d reply, say something witty, but now she’s bare before me, and the sight of her thighs spread for me, the obvious sign of her arousal... it undoes me.

My mouth is on her before I can think about it, tongue tasting her and immediately dipping inside for more because holy hell.

She tastes better than anything I’ve ever had. Better than cool water on the hottest day, fresh sweets, ripe fruit, whatever.

A low groan meets my ears, igniting a fire in my blood, but I keep my pace slow, not wanting this to ever end.

Her hips start shifting, desperate for more friction, but I hold them still and keep her exactly where I want her. I run my tongue around her clit, then suck on it gently, and her thighs tighten around my head.

“Rhys.”

The name I’ve heard for five hundred years has never sounded better, and as soon as we’re done here, I’m making it a law that no one but her can say it. 

I kiss her slowly, keep going until she’s panting and cursing and saying my name over and over and over.

She comes on my tongue, attempting to strangle me with her lovely thighs, but I don’t stop. I honestly don’t think I can.

I taste her until I’m drunk on it, breathe her in until she’s all I can smell, fill my hands with her soft skin.

I can tell she’s getting close again, so right as release hits her, I slip two fingers inside her and shift my mouth to her inner thigh, sucking on the skin until it’s sure to leave a mark.

I’m trying not to be too possessive, but the thought of her walking around with a little reminder of whose mouth was on her drives me a little crazy. I push my fingers into her again, kissing the other thigh.

Gods, the feel of her around me... her smell surrounding me... it’s almost too much.

She seems to agree.

“Rhys,” she pants, half sobbing. She’s limp on the bed, legs trembling as I kiss them. “It’s too much. You’re too much. I can’t-”

Dropping a kiss to her hip bone, I crawl up her body, bracing myself on my free hand.

The other keeps moving as I lean down to brush my lips across her ear. “You can, and you will. I’ve wanted you for weeks, Feyre darling, and I’m not about to stop at two measly little orgasms.”

I push my fingers into her a little harder for emphasis, and she arches up into me, pressing her breasts against my chest. “I think you’re trying to kill me.”

“I would never let anything happen to you,” I tell her, meaning the words. Hell, I’d mean them even if she wasn’t my mate.

Her head falls back as she gives in to the pleasure we both know she wants, and I drop a kiss the arch of her neck as a reward.

She hums, a happy little mmm sound that makes me grin.

Her hips lift and circle as she rides my hand, and as she breathes my name again in that husky little tone, I can’t hold out anymore.

I kiss her, exactly how I’ve wanted to since the moment I first saw her.

Her head tilts, lips opening for me, and it sends a bolt of pure fucking joy through me at how natural it is.

An entirely different emotion shoots through my veins as she sucks on my tongue. I know she can taste herself, and the thought makes my cock throb. I’m lying further down then she is, so I press my hips into the mattress to relieve some tension.

Not that it helps when I know exactly how she feels around my fingers and how much better she’d feel around a different part of me.

I nip her lip for being so annoyingly perfect, and she wraps her arms around my neck, using her hands in my hair to pull me closer.

She’s kissing me back, kissing me as if she can’t get enough, and it’s like a fever broke out and consumed us, driving us to a frenzy.

I realize I’ve horribly ignored her breasts and shift to tug the lacy blue bralette down far enough to free them. The tips go rigid under my stare, and for a moment all I can do is try to remember how to breathe.

Then I capture one in my mouth, circling the tip with my tongue in time with the movements of my hand.

“Fuck, that feels good,” she murmurs, the words an incentive as I switch to her other breast.

I’m all over her, pressing kisses to her chest and neck and mouth like I can’t get enough.

Because I can’t. No amount of this will ever be enough.

Eventually, her grip on my hair starts to tighten, and I press my lips to her ears to whisper, “Come for me, Feyre darling.”

Probably for the first and only time, she does what I tell her. As soon as her mouth opens to release a sound that’ll probably make me come in my pants, I capture her lips with mine.

I keep going until every last little helpless whimper stops, then pull my fingers out and lift up slightly to look at her.

Flushed cheeks, wide eyes, kissed lips. Beautiful.

For a second, we just lay there and stare at each other, and I swear to gods, the words are right on the tip of my tongue. You’re my mate, Feyre.

Fuck, I want to tell her.

If only for the two percent probability that she doesn’t try to kill me or become disappointed by the news. The thought of that two percent, of what it’d feel like to be loved by her--not just desired--is almost enough to risk it.

But in the end, I’m a coward, drawing away from her and pulling the sheet over her. “Sleep,” I say softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear. 

She reaches for me. “Rhysand, I can-”

“It’s okay, gorgeous. This was about you.” She blinks up at me, blue eyes so godsdamn bright. I brush a finger over her cheek and say honestly, “I wanted this to be about you.”

“Okay,” she whispers back, obviously exhausted enough to not argue, turning on her side and getting comfortable in my bed. I know her smell will be all over my sheets tomorrow, one more temptation I’ll have to deal with. “But next time, it’s about you.”

I get to my feet before I can commence next time. The thought of her hands on me... I could sit still and let that woman touch me all day, and I wouldn’t get bored.

I walk to the door, and stop in the frame to look at her again. She’s already asleep, dark blonde hair bright against the black of the sheets.

Gods, I can’t live without her.

Over five hundred years on this earth, and I’m completely wrapped around the finger of a woman who doesn’t even realize it.

I know I’m not worthy of her, but I also know that if by some miracle she doesn’t run in the other direction when I tell her about the mating bond, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to be.

__________________________________________________________

ask and you shall (eventually) receive. sorry this took forever, but thanks for the request!

[psycho-slytherin]

Sinner

In which Romeo hates Juliet, but not as much as Juliet hates Romeo.

Pairing: Actor!Jimin x Reader

Genre: fluff; drama; enemies to idiots to lovers

Warnings: Swearing, Old English

WC: this was gonna be a drabble 5k

A/N: A happy, happy, happy birthday to my most beautifullest darlingest @chimchimsauce. Congrats! I hope you have a fantastic day and ily!!! <3

|mlist|

“But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and Juliet is the sun. Arise, fair sun, and kill the envious moon, who is already sick and pale with grief. See how she leans her cheek upon her hand– Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek!”

You look out into the darkness, sighing. “Ay, me.”’

“She speaks. Oh, speak again, bright angel!”

“Romeo, Romeo…” you wring your hands. “Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father, and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love–” your voice catches. “And I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”

~~~

“Some shall be pardoned, and some shall be punished. For never was a story of more woe than this of Juliet and her Romeo.”

You hold your breath, waiting in the wings. There’s a pause, silence, before…

Thunderous applause rings through the theater. You peek around the curtain and see some audience members already on their feet. Yes! The applause rises in volume by the end of curtain call, when you and your Romeo step back onstage to bow once, twice, give credit to the orchestra, bow again, and done. 

“Did you see that?” Hoseok, who plays Mercutio, whoops before chugging the rest of his beer. “Standing ovation, bitches, for a touring production! That’s what I’m talkin’ about!”

You smile from the corner of the green room. You’re happy onstage, but you can’t help but let your natural shyness come into play when you’re back to playing… well, yourself.

“Let’s hear it for the stars of our show– Juliet and Romeo!” Momo, the costume designer and your best friend on tour, nudges you forward. Across the room, Hoseok is doing the same to your Romeo. Oy vey.

You press your lips together. “Hello, Jimin.”

“Y/n.” 

“Damn, not even a greeting?”

“I’d rather save my breath for the stage.”

You feel the deep, familiar coil of rage in your stomach begin to tighten. This guy… “I’m sure pretending you have a heart saps most of of your strength.”

“At least I can pretend decently, since it’s my job. What’s yours?”

“Hey, hey, let’s keep it civil.” Hoseok moves in between you two. “Alike in dignity, right? It’s Friday night, there’s no matinee tomorrow… let’s party like it’s 1391!”

The cast and crew cheer as they load into multiple SUVs, surely headed for the nearest bar.

“You sure you don’t want to go?” Momo asks, poking your arm as the cars leave. 

“And spend more time than I have to with a certain coworker?” You wrinkle your nose, grabbing your things from your locker. You’ve already changed back into your civilian outfit, a longsleeved shirt tucked into loose pants. “I’ll pass.” 

“Don’t let him ruin your night, y/n. He’s the devil, and he’s got an ego as big as his dick is small.”

You snort. “Classy.”

“Like, okay, let’s be honest, he is hot.”

That, you can’t deny. “But he knows it, which makes him more of an annoyance. Ever since I landed this role he’s been so rude and entitled!”

“It’s ‘cause he thinks he’s such a panty-dropper, and how dare you not sleep with him.” Momo giggles. “I’ll bet you money that he doesn’t spend tonight alone.”

You feel a pang in your chest at the idea of Jimin spending the night with some faceless beauty. God, you hate him. “How come Casanova Montague is getting more action than me?”

“I’ll tell you how– he’s at the bar right now, meeting and seducing people. He’s playing Romeo, the flirt that makes the first move. Now stop being shy little Juliet, go out, and get some!” Momo strides to the costume closet and pulls out a leather… thing.

“What’s that?”

Your friend huffs. “It’s a dress. And it’s your ticket to showing up Park Jimin tonight.”

You laugh, examining the outfit. “Not only did I say I wasn’t going out, this probably doesn’t fit me, and who says I care about showing up Jimin?”

“Not only are you friends with the resident fashion guru, but you also deserve a fun night out! All you’ve done this tour is get through the show and head to the hotel. Which means the only guy you’ve kissed for two months is a prettyboi with his head so far up his ass that his headvoice is his belt.” Momo thrusts the leather number at you. “Now go change. I don’t care what demons I have to summon to have this dress fit you, we’ll make it happen.”

~~~

“Why did I agree to this?” You say through a forced smile, your back to the wall. You tug at the hem of the dress, attempting to cover more of your thighs. You’ve worn revealing costumes onstage before, sure, but that’s not you.

“You never really agreed, actually, you’re just too weak to fight me.”

“You said a bar, Momo, this is a club. People are dancing! I can’t dance!”

“I can’t believe I need to tell a professional actress to let loose and have fun. I hear wild stories about your cast parties all the time!” Momo looks effortlessly flawless in a loose red top and shorts, and she actually seems comfortable in the loud, warm, energetic setting.

“Y/n’s never been to our troupe’s cast parties,” Yoongi, the cast’s Benvolio, approaches and slings an arm around you. You and Yoongi have always had good banter, and at first you mistook his wisecracking for flirting. Now you know better.

“Because I want to be able to walk the next day, maybe?” You laugh, stealing his beanie. Or because Jimin is there.

“It’s an important bonding ritual!”

“Getting drunk and high with Park Jimin is the last thing I’d ever want to do,” you announce dryly. 

“Don’t worry, Sunshine.” Even with the blaring music, you hear his voice clearly. “It’s not on my list of priorities either.”

You jump, seeing your costar approach. “Jimin!”

Jimin rolls his eyes. “No, please, go back to talking about me. I was so invested.”

You clench your jaw in frustration and Yoongi chuckles nervously. “That’s my cue, ladies and gents. Momo, care to get a drink?”

Momo looks from you to Jimin with worried eyes and you nod at her– you’ve never needed help dealing with Park Jimin. 

The two leave and, despite the crowded club, it feels as though you and Jimin are alone. You hate to admit it, but in his civilian clothes he looks really, really hot. 

“Complaining about me behind my back? That’s really mature, y/n.” Jimin runs his hands through shiny black hair, his tight shirt straining to accommodate muscles that you’ve never noticed through the Romeo costume.

“Would you rather I complain to your face? Because that I wouldn’t mind.”

“I’d rather you keep your pretty mouth shut offstage– maybe onstage too, so I don’t have to spend half my performance making up for yours.”

The familiar fury that Jimin always manages to trigger tinges your vision red. You stomp closer to him, your heeled boots bringing you to eye level with Jimin, your blood boiling beneath your skin. “Why do you hate me so much? I earned this role. I do the work. I get results. You don’t do anything besides stand there and look good. You barely deserve to be an understudy!”

Jimin mirrors your movement, drawing closer to you before smirking. You’re almost nose to nose, so close you can feel his breath on your lips, and you almost shiver when he speaks. “You think I look good?”

“You– ugh!” You’re so tempted to wind up and punch the guy but you can’t afford to get in trouble. “The only one who thinks you’re good-looking is you, Jimin, and given that your personality archetype is ‘Entitled Swine’ you’re goddamn lucky you’ve got that going for you.”

“Ooh, perfect Juliet can swear.”

“Dumbass Romeo can leave.”

“At least this dumbass can dance.” With that, Jimin turns on his heel and makes his way to the crowded dance floor before stopping and looking back at you over his shoulder. “Admiring the view? Or you just hate to admit that you can’t dance?”

A very small voice in your psyche pipes up: Is he trying to reverse-psychology me into dancing in order to make fun of me?

Nah, he wouldn’t be that conniving or immature. You’re sure Jimin is happy just rubbing your nose in your skills… or lack thereof.

Hey, just because you said you can’t dance doesn’t give him the right to make fun of you. You’re half tempted to follow him onto the dance floor, join the mass of sweaty, tipsy, hormonal bodies… and just act like you belong.

But that’s not you. You glare at Jimin before moving to find Momo. You encounter her at the bar, along with Yoongi and Hoseok. Namjoon, who plays Lord Capulet, is there as well, and his eyes light up when he sees you. “Hey, our star decided to join us for once!”

“Y’all are making me feel like I live under a rock,” you complain. “I just like sleep.” Or, you’re just trying to avoid Jimin as much as possible.

“Then girl, you picked the wrong career. Why do you even do stage plays if you’re so uptight?” Hoseok is clearly well on his way to drunk, not that he needs alcohol to speak his mind.

“I-I-” You look down, embarrassed. “It’s different when I’m acting. I’m not uptight on stage. I just get nervous when I’m being myself, I guess.”

Momo slams back a shot. “That’s it!” she gasps, her face contorting as the liquor sears her throat. “That’s how you can loosen up tonight. Act!”

You look down at the foreign leather dress. It does feel like you’re already wearing a costume. 

“Hey, I can get behind that! Y/n, be someone else for the night!” Yoongi winks. “Someone confident!”

“Someone exciting!” Namjoon chimes in.

Momo grins. “I’d say someone sexy, but you’ve got that down. Go, channel Romeo for a bit.”

“But, uh… how do I start?”

Yoongi gets a mischievous gleam in his eye. “By dancing.”

You look over. The dance floor is dimly lit, save for a multicolored pulsing light show. Jimin is somewhere on that floor, probably looking as comfortable as he does onstage.

“Momo, come with me?” You ask desperately. You’ll do this, but you don’t want to be without backup.

“Of course! But first, a round of shots. And two for my girl here! A toast to y/n, and whoever she’ll become!”

“Oh, I don’t like drinking,” you say.

“Yeah, but your new persona does!” Momo replies, and you laugh. Surrounded by your coworkers, your friends, you feel more comfortable than before. As you relent, downing shots in quick succession, you feel… different. Confident. The alcohol wouldn’t affect you so quickly, right? When you rise, you stand straighter, at last at home in the tight leather. Whoever you are now, she likes feeling sexy. She doesn’t mind attention. And she doesn’t care if Park Jimin says she can’t dance.

“Let’s go, Momo.”

Your friend whoops. “Bye, boys! We’re gonna have ourselves some fun!”

Together, you join the crowd on the dance floor. The DJ is playing some electronic music you don’t recognize– but it’s got a strong beat, and that’s all you need. Momo is a fantastic dancer and you follow her lead: you jump, shimmy, and spin. The real you would feel awkward as hell, your body would seem clunky and unfamiliar. But now, with the lights down low and the music blaring, all you feel is adrenaline.

“That guy is making eyes at you!” You shout in Momo’s ear to be heard over the music. She turns and checks out the man who’s been looking her way the past two songs. “Ooh, he’s cute. But I’m here with you, y/n!”

You flash her a smile. “Who’s y/n? I can handle myself fine, darling. Talk to him if you want!”

“You sure you won’t mind?”

What are you doing? This isn’t you. It’s not even drunk you. It’s different. You wouldn’t want to be this girl every day, but for right now… you’re relishing in the feeling. You love it. This is acting.

“I’m sure.” You wink. “And have fun!”

Momo dances her way over to the guy, who breaks into a grin when he sees her headed towards him. You turn your attention back to the music, the melodies you don’t recognize, the beat you feel in your bones. You’re not y/n, you’re just one messy soul among dozens swaying to the same song.

The spell is broken when you feel a hand on your ass.

“Hey beautiful…” a husky voice growls in your ear, his chest pressing into your back. You want to yell, hit him, anything, but terror floods you and you feel frozen to the spot. “That dress looks great on you. It’d look better on my bedroom fl– oof!”

You turn just in time to see the man double over, and standing above him is Jimin, looking angrier than you’ve ever seen him.

“You don’t get to touch her,” he growls, “ever.”

“J-Jimin?”

He glances at you, eyes softening. “Are you okay?”

“I- yeah.” You feel nervous again, your new persona having slipped for a second.

“I’m gonna get security to throw this scumbag out. I’ll see you later, y/n, okay?” He nods at you and melts into the crowd, dragging the creep with him.

“Y/n? Oh my god, what happened?” Momo asks, appearing beside you.

You stare after Jimin. “I don’t know.”

~~~

You silently pretend to have a conversation, yet you feel his eyes burning into you. 

“Did my heart love till now? Forswear it, sight! For I ne'er saw true beauty till this night.”

You’re oblivious, you can’t hear him, you’re super engaged in this fake conversation.

As Lord Capulet argues with Tybalt, played by your friend Taehyung, you allow yourself to sneak a glance at Jimin. It’s your first performance together since Friday night at the club– your understudy took on Saturday’s show, and Jimin’s played on Sunday. The whole weekend has passed and even now, Monday, you can’t stop thinking about that night. Why should Jimin care if you were getting harassed? Sure, it was probably him feeling protective of a fellow cast member, or just being a decent human being for once. Still, that raw fury in his voice... before you know it, it’s time for your first scene with your Romeo.

Jimin takes your hand. He really is handsome with stage makeup on, not that you notice or care. Though his body is angled towards the audience, his eyes bore into yours. “If I profane with my unworthiest hand, this holy shrine, the gentle sin is this: my lips, two blushing pilgrims, ready stand to smooth that rough touch with a tender kiss.”

And, still staring at you, he presses his lips to your hand. His gaze is so intense that if you didn’t utterly despise him, you might have felt flustered.

The scene continues, and before you know it…

“Saints do not move, though grant for prayers’ sake,” you say your line teasingly. Your characters are young, and flirting. Despite your and Jimin’s true feelings for each other, you both agreed to leave your rivalry in the dressing room.

“Then move not, while my prayer’s effect I take.” Jimin draws you in, like he’s done a hundred times in a dozen cities, and lightly touches his lips to yours. “Thus from my lips, by thine, my sin is purged.”

“Then have my lips the sin that they have took,” you manage, breathless. You turn away, hiding your face, before Jimin takes your hand and whirls you around. You end up pressed against him, much closer than the blocking you had rehearsed, but it does make the scene more intimate.

“Sin from thy lips?” Jimin cups your cheek– his hand seems extra soft today– and tilts your chin up. “Oh, trespass sweetly urged! Give me my sin again.” And this kiss is nothing like the first, no, it’s desperate, messy, hormonal, secret, his plush lips move against yours hungrily and his tongue–

Eventually you pull away, almost lightheaded. You hate him, and you hate to admit it, but… “You kiss by the book.” Especially tonight.

After curtain call, you’re changing in the dressing room when Momo pokes her head in. “Yoo-hoo! How’s my favorite Juliet?”

“Hey!” Hyuna, your understudy, complains good-naturedly. 

“I heard the kiss scene today was intense,” Momo continues, helping you out of your costume. “Do I sense underlying sexual tension?”

You roll your eyes, swatting your friend. “As if, darling. My standards have yet to fall low enough for Park Jimin.”

A knock at the door startles you. “Who is it?”

The voice makes your heart drop into your stomach. “The walls aren’t soundproof, darling, and you’re right next to the men’s dressing room,” says… shit. Jimin.

“Oh damn, he heard that?”

Momo flaps her hand dismissively. “Since when have you cared about speaking your mind around Jimin?”

“I…” You shake your head. “You’re right, I don’t.” Right?

Once you’ve changed, you shoulder your bag and head down the hall. You’re almost to the door when Jimin steps out of the green room. “Well, if it isn’t Miss High Standards.”

You sigh inwardly. You haven’t spoken face to face with him since Friday, and you’re too tired to fight Jimin right now. “I’m sorry you had to hear that.”

“Wow, y/n apologizing? Let me mark the date on my calendar, we’ll call it a holiday.”

“Whatever, Jimin.” You’re so tired of arguing with him every single day.

“No comeback? What’s gotten into you?” Underneath the snark in his tone, he almost sounds concerned… or so you’d think, if you didn’t know him better.

“Y/n, a bunch of us are going out tonight, want to come?” Taehyung calls behind Jimin.

You nearly laugh. Given how Friday went? “No thanks, I’m just gonna go back to the hotel.” With a curt nod to Jimin, you continue to the back door.

“Alright, good performance tonight,” Tae replies.

“You too.” You call a taxi and head to the hotel. You’re rooming with Hyuna, but if you know her at all you know she won’t be sleeping in her own bed tonight.

After brushing your teeth and hair, you take a breath and finally relax. Even when you’re offstage, at work it feels as though you have to be ‘on’ all the time. And with Park Jimin around, you can never let your guard down. It’s nice to have this time alone and finally wind down. You pull your sudoku book from your purse and curl up in bed to work on the puzzles. You like reading, but ever since high school you felt most at peace when you were able to channel your focus into problem-solving. Back home, that meant doing puzzles. On tour, your sudoku book is much more portable. It’s nearing midnight when you hear a knock on your door.

That’s weird. “Hyuna?” You call, padding to the door and pulling it open. “Did you lose your key ag-”

“Hi,” Jimin says.

What.

Your mind goes through about nine stages of panic, and for lack of a better plan you swing the door closed, with Jimin still on the other side.

“Uh… y/n?”

Your mind a whirling dervish, you can do nothing more than stare at the door. What is he doing here? Why is Jimin, of all people, outside your door? Sure, the whole cast is rooming on the same floor, but that doesn’t explain why he’s here. Is he hooking up with Hyuna? Does he need to borrow some toothpaste? Did he lose the revised blocking script?

Does he… want to talk to you? A rush of guilt nearly topples you. Did you really just close the door on him?

Wait, it’s Park Jimin. You hate Park Jimin. You should slam a door in his face, as regularly as possible. 

“W-what do you want?” you squeak, inwardly cursing. Get a hold of yourself. You’ve dealt with Jimin ever since the first table read, so why are you nervous now?

Jimin’s reply, though muffled through the door, sounds almost...sheepish. “I just want to talk.”

“Since when do you ‘just want to talk’ to me?”

“Can you just open the door, y/n? My ego is hurting enough as it is.”

What does he mean by that? Your curiosity alone is enough to make you open the door. Jimin is standing there, his cheeks tinged red, holding out a bottle.

“What’s this?” You take the bottle from his outstretched hand. It’s cold.

“Call it… a peace offering.”

“Champagne?”

“Sparkling apple cider. I noticed you don’t like to drink.”

“Oh.” You can think of nothing else to say– what is going on? “Uh, thanks. Do you want to come in, or…?”

“Actually…” Jimin shifts from side to side. “Do you want to go for a walk? The walls in the rooms are pretty thin.”

Befuddled, you follow him into the elevator, watching as he presses the R button.

“Roof, huh?” You finally have your voice back. “Is this it? Are you at last gonna murder me?”

“Yep, that’s definitely what’s going on here,” Jimin replies sarcastically, taking the bottle from your hand. “And apple cider is my weapon of choice.”

“Seriously, Jimin, what’s this about?” you ask as the elevator stops and you step out. “I mean, it’s not like you to– woah.”

Stars. Hundreds, thousands of stars blanketing the night sky, more than you’ve ever seen in your two months on tour. Spending all your time in big cities meant light pollution got in the way of stargazing but here, above the busy city streets…

“So pretty,” you whisper. “And the moon is so bright!” So much for being a snarky force of nature– you really, really missed the stars.

“Stars, in your multitudes…” you sing under your breath, forgetting who you’re with, where you are. 

“Scarce to be counted, filling the darkness with order and light.” Jimin’s rich tenor voice chimes in behind you. “Always a sucker for Les Miz. Apple cider?”

“There aren’t any cups.”

Jimin pries off the bottlecap and takes a swig directly from the bottle. “Who needs ‘em?”

“Really, Jimin, where’s all this coming from? Why are you being… well, nice?”

“Who says I’m being nice?”

You stare at him, unamused, although it’s too dark to tell if he’s noticed.

“Alright, alright. Look, I just…” Jimin’s words turn soft, and he sits down. You settle next to him. “I wanted to apologize for how I’ve behaved lately. You’re right, I’ve been an utter cock. My behavior, the shit I’ve said to you… it’s probably unforgivable. I wouldn’t blame you for getting up and leaving. I acted completely unprofessional, and created a bad working and social environment for you. I’m–” he pauses, takes a breath. “Y/n, I’m really, truly sorry.”

Well. He sounds genuine. But how can you trust Park Jimin? “Why were you always so hard on me?”

Jimin sighs. “I’m not going to try to justify my behavior. I’m not always the friendliest guy at work, but, uh…” he takes another swig of the cider. “Damn, now I wish this was alcoholic.”

You steal the bottle and take a drink yourself. “You were saying?”

“This sounds childish, god. The last troupe I was in, before I joined this production… my girlfr- ex-girlfriend at the time was an actress too. She wanted to do screen work but she wasn’t finding opportunities, and I introduced her to our director. She made a good impression and joined the troupe– we toured with In The Heights, I was Usnavi and she got Vanessa.”

“So you played love interests onstage? Neat.”

“It was, yeah… until we broke up. She’d been sleeping with the director, of all people.” The hurt and betrayal in Jimin’s voice is so potent you feel an urge to comfort him. But it’s Park Jimin, how do you know he’s telling the truth?

“There were still two months left in the tour– so even after we broke up, even after she cheated on me, I still had to kiss her and act like I was in love.”

“Jimin, I’m sorry…” you murmur. You want to reach out and touch his shoulder, but would that be inappropriate?

“No, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t be dumping this on you. The truth is, when I first saw you, and saw you were cast as Juliet, I got nervous. You’re smart, funny, talented, beautiful…”

“I’m sorry, did you just compliment me?”

“And I was honestly scared of falling for you. I didn’t want to go through that again. But how I acted was awful– Momo told me Friday that the reason you didn’t join our cast parties or nights out was because you wanted to avoid me. I didn’t realize what a toxic environment I was making it for you.”

“Oh, I mean…” dammit, Momo.

“When I first met you, I figured you’d be meek, a pushover. You were so nervous! I didn’t expect you to bite back,” Jimin laughs. “I never should have messed with you. You can fend for yourself better than anyone.”

“I guess you weren’t alone in escalating things,” you admit. “It’s not like I was nice to you either. I’m sorry for talking behind your back– and to your face.”

There’s a moment of thoughtful silence. You feel more relaxed than before, which is nice.

“Did you listen to the new Mean Girls musical?” Jimin asks suddenly.

“A few times, yeah. Why?”

Jimin lays back and points at the sky. “I see stars, so many stars tonight, you could make diamonds dull, you are so beautiful~”

You suddenly regret that your troupe is performing Shakespeare and not a musical. How you’d love to hear that clear, emotional tone every night. “You sound great.”

“Oh, ah…” Jimin’s voice rises in pitch. “Thanks.”

“Y’know, I never thanked you for helping me out on Friday with that dude.”

“Anyone would do the same.”

“But you’re the only one that did. I appreciate it.”

“You’re welcome. That guy is part of the reason I came here tonight, actually.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Obviously you’re a human being and also a troupe member, so those are two good reasons I didn’t want him to harass you. Later, though… jeez, this makes me sound like such a yandere… I dunno. I got so mad at that asshole, and I realized it’s because I care about you as more than just a troupe member.”

“What? J-Jimin?”

“And the show today. I feel like such an idiot, but I have to know: did the kiss scene today… did it feel different to you?”

Is that a tremor you hear in his voice? Is Park Jimin, with his endless confidence, nervous? Because of you?

“It… yeah, it did. I thought you changed the blocking.”

“I thought you did.”

You laugh at the ridiculousness of it all. “What is going on?”

Your costar joins in, chuckling mirthfully. “I have no clue. But I like it.”

What’s it? Does it mean you? This? The two of you together? Because if so, you’re starting to like it too.

“I’m supposed to hate your guts, man. You can’t come here, acting all adorable, bringing me apple cider, and still expect me to hate you.”

“So you think I’m adorable?”

“That is not what I said. The only person who thinks you’re adorable is you.”

“How narcissistic do you think I am?”

“I never realized you had enough room in your heart for more than you, to be honest.”

“There’s enough room for you too,” Jimin whispers, contrasting with his fast-paced quips. 

What does he mean by that?

You sit back up, and Jimin joins you. You stare at the night sky shoulder to shoulder for a moment before you speak. 

“Y’know, Momo always said you were the devil,” you say, keeping your voice light. “But I thought the devil was too high-class. There’s only one Satan, you know. You’re just a regular sinner.”

“Oh, so I’m a sinner? Then give me my sin again.” And Jimin is right there, leaning forward, a thousand questions in his eyes and you answer every one by pressing your lips to his.

Suddenly you’re kissing Park Jimin, which you’ve done a thousand times, but this time it’s different. Jimin makes a happy little “mmph!” noise when you kiss him before snaking his hand into your hair and gently pulling you closer. You’re finally kissing him like no one’s watching– it feels so familiar, and yet entirely new. 

After not-long-enough, you pull away. “Should I say you kiss by the book or is that too cliche?”

“Well, I did fall for my beautiful costar who I specifically didn’t want to fall for– so I think we’re past cliches at this point.”

You laugh, a clear, genuine sound you thought Jimin would never hear. “I can’t believe this. Should I ask what happens now, or…?”

Jimin quiets. “I’m scared,” he admits. “I don’t want…”

Right, his ex. “The tour ends next month. Do you want to maybe… see where things go from there? Once we don’t have to be Romeo and Juliet?”

“Call me but love, and henceforth I will never be Romeo,” Jimin quotes. 

You swat him. “Nerd.”

“No, but that sounds good. Yeah, that sounds…” you can hear his grin, it sounds like sunshine and sugar. “That sounds really, really, good, y/n.”

“Good. So… now what?”

Jimin chuckles mischievously. “Give me my sin again?”

A/N: Thanks for reading! If you enjoyed, please don’t forget to like, reblog and/or comment. I really appreciate it! <3

[caandlelit]

Dabihawks college au?

man this is literally the most valid au the league have been described as "dumbass 20 something year olds" and "stupid college kids" at leasT thrice nd thats really all they are

lmao, next time the manga updates itll just be jin going "woaH woAH heY that went dark tenko" and itll be zoomed out to show a table where the league sitting around with because theyre actually a bunch of nerds playing dnd

except its a whole new universe with quirks bc shimura thought dungeons and dragons was too restricting

more on that later perhaps?? i have a sudden many thoughts™

okay so dabi takes art !! because hes gonna be a tattoo artist, the best au tbh

hes strolling through college he doesnt care what happens hes already got a job at his favorite tattoo parlour hes doing chill

which is hugely different from fucking everyone else

hawks is taking the hardest fucking criminology and psychology courses

hes gonna end up a detective u know he is

he wants to help the world but he hates attention???

and his backstory was like, that he saved some people and the police ended up needing him somehow

idk im not a crime fiction author im barely an author

and theyre impressed af by how quickwitted and smart he is

then they ask him who his parents are and when he shows them the neglect he lives with they woOSH him away

and he ends up being fostered but hes gonna have a police career

police detective! ft! buddy cops with rumi!

(i am writing a cop and thief au now. i get sidetracked easily)

dabi as the chill as fuck delinquent guy who doesnt seem to care about anything and is breezing through classes he loves and claims to have never touched a book

and hawks as the constantly stressed and yet cheerful and lovable guy who lives in the library and still manages to be friends with everyone on campus and their mom

dabi secretly a graffiti artist in his spare time please give me the good shit??

hawks as the loser in love with the murals and messily intricate spraypaint telling stories on the walls near the campus coffeeshop and all through the streets he walks through to get to class

he tries to detective it out, has a notebook where he writes down every clue he can find and all the places hes seen that unmistakable art style

dabi meets hawks because hawks catches him graffiti-ing up an alley near hawks' dorm

its like late night and hawks is getting back from, noT a party

the library

where he fell asleep

again

and he sees dabi whos hood is up and is in full black and busily spraying an intricate design of flames licking up what look like angel wings

and hawks freaks for a second cause !! this is the guy!! holY shit and he found him by chance!! insane!!

then inhales and whispers a cool line

'thats illegal in like literally every country i can think of you know'

dabi, the bitch, doesnt even turn around and just scoffs and goes:

"who r u a cop? mind your business"

hawks brightens and starts and when he starts he doesnt stop

'um actually- i aM! or thats what ill eventually be! hi, im hawks, and, uh, sorry man i was mostly kidding about the illegal thing, mostly, like, it iS illegal but i dont care, ive actually seen your art a lot and its great to finally meet the artist cause your art is amazing dude, i love your style, i always feel some kind of emotion even with all the cuss words hidden not so subtly in the corners-'

dabi turns around, eyebrows raised cause goddamn this guy talks some shit, and when he turns around his eyes widen and he's like holy fucK

bc

surprise!

he has a secret crush on him!!!

im so predictable its not even funny

hawks is the pretty boy dabi has been stalking ever since he saw him dead asleep in the library a month ago and thought was the 'cutest person on the planet even though he was drooling and snoring and had eyebags visible from like so far away and oW okAY fuyumi yoU rant abt girls to mE i am allOWED to rant abt boys to yOU jaCKASS-'

so from then on they keep seeing each other everywhere

or well, dabi had already been seeing him everywhere, the pitiful stalker that he is

hawks was just too dead to the world to notice

hawks spills his coffee on dabi while hes at a hurry in starbucks and hes like oH shIt and when he looks up and sees dabi hes like,,oh shiT,,,, and theyre both all flustered and hes babbling apologies and promises to buy him another after his class

leaves in a hurry and dabi wonders if he just scored a date

the league is a frat and you cannot convince me otherwise!! meet me in the fucKIn pit

ive probably said that before tbh

well

i am a dumbass bitch. i will never change. this is a promise.

so dabi's in the frat and theyre always teasing him about hawks and telling him to grow some balls and get his number but,,dabi's a pussy ass bitch

theyre constantly flirting and toeing the line between friends and wanting to fuck

but theyre friends and always hanging out and getting to know each other

hawks starts chilling about his classes more and dabi gets better at showing up to his own

hawks gets to know the league through dabi and within a month hes practically an honorary member hes bffs with everyone

hes suddenly always at the frat and playing mariokart with jin and spinner

and then staying the night in dabi's room when it gets too late for dabi to feel okay letting him walk back

and sharing beds and then waking up tangled together nd staring at each other blushing

and hawks stutters and tries to excuse the way hes pressed up against dabi and not moving at all

and then he wonders why dabi isnt moving either and dabi just sighs and kisses him quiet

dumbasses??? as fuck

let! them! be! the! stupid! college! kids! they! are!

[proherostories]

Lying on my back, watching stars (watching stars collide)

Ao3 Linkaroo

Dabi/Takami Keigo | Hawks

Dabi (My Hero Academia)

Takami Keigo | Hawks

Implied/Referenced Self-Harm

Self-Hatred

Implied/Referenced Child Abuse

Past Child Abuse

Dabi is Todoroki Touya

Dabi is Bad at Feelings (My Hero Academia)

Soft Dabi (My Hero Academia)

POV Dabi (My Hero Academia)

Rated M for Swearing, because Dabi has a potty mouth.

X

Stars danced and he inhaled at how lovely they were, hissing at the pain in his chest and he winced. There was a shooting star, but what would he wish for? What could he wish for that hadn’t come true before? Why waste his time on something so trivial and stupid and useless?

‘Someone to take the pain away...yeah, that seems reasonable enough…’ he mused in spite of himself, then cursed his own weakness.

Turquoise blues opened because the light from the sun had shifted into the broken window during its travel through the blue sky above. His eyes stung and it hurt to breathe. Yet everything was hazy. He could only blink slow, lids heavy. A bird flew by, far away, too far to tell what kind it even was. Fingers twitched, but he couldn’t move. 

A shadow appeared and there was a flash of what he thought were red feathers, but he was already closing his eyes.

X

When turquoise blues opened again, there was no sun outside, but the sky was still clear. Stars danced and he inhaled at how lovely they were, hissing at the pain in his chest and he winced. There was a shooting star, but what would he wish for? What  could  he wish for that hadn’t come true before? Why waste his time on something so trivial and stupid and  useless ?

‘Someone to take the pain away...yeah, that seems reasonable enough…’  he mused in spite of himself, then cursed his own weakness.

Fuck, now was the time to question why everything hurt so  fucking bad . What had happened? Last thing he remembered before waking up in this dingy warehouse was...oh. Blue fire. His. 

Crap.

His hand moved, ignoring the pain that shot through his body at the movement, and  was  going to run lanky fingers through black locks. Only his hand was stopped. A gentle grasp of a gloved hand around his wrist, surprisingly mindful of the staples there. Blinking and narrowing his eyes, he caught sight of...  Hawks .

Of all people.

“What are you doing here, birdy?” Dabi rasped and coughed, gritting his teeth at the rattle in his chest.

“I had to make sure you didn’t die of smoke inhalation, you fucker.” Hawks retorted and Dabi froze as the bird tilted his head and...rest it over his sternum. “Breathe for me.” It was a command, but it was quiet. It took a moment, but Dabi couldn’t stay stock still even if he wanted to. Reluctantly, he breathed in as deep as he possibly could, and let it out only to cough again. Grumbling, Hawks pulled back and golden slitted orbs looked down at him. He still hadn’t let go of his wrist. “It still sucks, but it doesn’t sound like you need me to get the breathing machine again. I’d hope not, I used it a lot the first few hours. Your lungs must normally be like that and it’s going to take a while to recover. You sure did a number on yourself, Dabs. I can get you an inhaler and give it to you later, if you have asthma.”

Asthma? What a stupid notion… he refused to admit that may even be the case. Hawks was annoying him, but he didn’t have the energy to bitch at him. “How did we even wind up here? Shouldn’t you be out Hero-ing or some shit?”

“I got a report this morning at the ass-crack of dawn, right after I even got to work, that a building was on fire. Blue flames that no one could put out, and they sent me in to see if anyone was trapped inside.” Hawks’ hand squeezed his wrist and Dabi hated how tender he was putting it on his chest. “I found you inside. I guess you were squatting there? There was a ring around you, like your own fire wasn’t touching you. It was difficult, but I managed to get you out. Endeavor ended up taming the flames, and I left him to it while bringing you here. I had to steal a breathing machine from the ambulance, are you proud of me?” he gave a lopsided smile.

Damn him, trying to be funny. Dabi snorted and kicked himself mentally for even smirking. It was dumb. “You coulda let me die.”

“I couldn’t do that!” Hawks’ gasp was incredulous, exaggerated, but Dabi narrowed his eyes at the flash of real concern in those stupid gold eyes. “Who else would I go to to tell it to me straight, huh? No one’s as brutally honest as you are, Dabs, and I appreciate it.”

“So you like it when I hurt your pretty birdy feelings?” Dabi sassed, rolling his eyes, “You’re such a freak.”

“See? That’s the spirit.” 

“I hate you.”

“You love me.”

Fuck him for sing-songing that, like some sort of songbird instead of a predator. 

Fuck him...for being right. Dabi scoffed and looked away, back out the broken window. “I want to go back to fucking sleep, birdy. Clearly I’m not dead yet, so you can just leave me here. I’ll wobble out of here in the morning.”

“I’m not leaving you. Not tonight.”

“Aren’t there people wondering where you went off to so suddenly after something like that? Dear ol’ Endeavor knows who those blue flames belong to.”

“Geez, sounds like you’re trying to get rid of me. Did I strike a nerve?” Hawks tilted his head at him. 

How dare he.

How  fucking  dare he...be so  fucking cute  when he did that.

“You’re insufferable. What do you want, Hawks? Some goddamn reward for saving my stupid ass pathetic life?” Dabi sat up so suddenly that it startled Hawks and knocked him on his ass. Good. Dabi felt the burn through his body but he had his hands planted on the concrete below him...wait no. That was? Hawks’...jacket. His fingers brushed against the suede interior and the fuzzy tufts of the lining. It was the first time he noticed Hawks...indeed had bare arms and he could see the design on his flight suit unhindered. Fascinating.

“What was your nightmare?”

Now it was his turn to be startled, this time by the question. Hawks’ previously wide eyes from his surge were watching him. Curiosity, concern,  knowing ...all of it drove Dabi up the wall. He wanted to strangle the bird. “If I tell you, will you fucking leave me alone?”

“No promises.” 

Wow, he was such a shit. Dabi scoffed. “It was about the abuse from my  dear ol’ dad. There, ya happy? Now get the fuck out of here and go back to being a Hero. I don’t  need you .”

Dabi’s tongue felt like ash as he watched Hawks’ expressive face shut down right before his very eyes. There was that weird thing birds’ eyes do, going big and small a few times, and blood red feathers ruffled, but there was no other indication that his words did anything to him.

No, his chest shouldn’t hurt like this. He shouldn’t want to take the words back. He was a goddamn  villain  and Hawks shouldn’t  be here. If he had a bad enough nightmare he set the building he was in on  fire, then he should’ve died in that fire like he should’ve died years ago. 

So he locked his jaw as he watched Hawks shuffle so he could get to his feet, fists clenching so tight the rough nails of his fingers bit into his palms. He wouldn’t take it back.

“You’ve made your point.” Hawks’ voice wasn’t cold, but Dabi’s stomach still felt like ice at the tone of it and the sigh that followed. What the fire user wasn’t expecting was for Hawks to just...walk on by. 

“Don’t you want your stupid jacket?” Dabi moved, refusing to hiss at the action, and tried to get off of it, tugging it from under his ass and rolled to get onto his knees so he could also stand up.

“I got more where that came from.” Hawks didn’t stop walking towards the door.

Dabi finally looked up, hand on his knee to support himself as he grunted to get to his feet. Immediately he sucked a breath in. There were...there were scars all over Hawks’ back, concentrated around his shoulder blades where the wings protruded. Eyes wide and no breath in his lungs, he clutched the jacket and reached out without thinking, “Hawks, what…? What are those scars?”

“Nothing for you to be concerned about. Not that you even care to begin with, yeah?” Hawks shrugged, not turning around and not stopping.

“Wait, damn it,” Dabi all but growled. It hurt, it hurt so much, but he managed to cross the room as Hawks’ hand landed on the doorknob, his hand landing on Hawks’ shoulder and yanking him back. Heaving, lungs protesting, his hand tightened. “Who did that to you?”

“I did.” 

The deadpan of it, without missing a beat and not looking back, Dabi was floored. It was like he had been struck with a lightning bolt. Everything tingled, and he reflexively let go of Hawks as if he had been electrocuted. “Hawks…” 

Why did it feel like everything shifted in that moment? 

Snapping out of his daze as the squeak of the door reached his ears, Dabi placed his hand on Hawks’ back, right over the scars and between the wings...only to shout as he was thrown back halfway across the room when he was smacked full force with one of them. Flight or fight came in, and Dabi didn’t even feel the pain or burn in his chest as he hopped back onto his feet, teeth bared, but Hawks was starting to head out the door, “Hawks!” He was across the room in no time flat, throwing the jacket which gave him time.

Just  enough time, a couple seconds, for Hawks to reach back and smack it away, but it was all a distraction. Dabi’s hand found its way in Hawks’ windswept stupidly soft hair, yanking him back into the room and he whipped him around. Shoving him against the wall, kicking the door shut, Dabi didn’t know what else to do to get him to  stay …

So he kissed him.

Something snapped.

It was hot and rough and full of angry teeth, but Hawks was gripping his scarred arms, pressing into him as much as Dabi was giving it. Considering Dabi couldn’t breathe too well, he broke the kiss sooner than he wanted to and panted harder than he normally would, “Hawks, I’m…”

“Keigo.”

Dabi stared at him, blinking slowly. “Excuse me?"

“You don’t have to force yourself to apologize to me, Dabi. Call me Keigo. That’s my name.” He rubbed his hands up Dabi’s arms and cupped his face, putting their foreheads together, “I was abused, too. I never wanted to be a Hero. Did I have a choice? No. I tried to cut out my own wings, hoping that would work, but they simply grew back. There, that’s the short of my story. You don’t have to tell me yours, I get it. Now...do you still not need me?”

Now Dabi hated the barest hint of hope, desperation, hurt and need in Hawks’...Keigo’s voice. He swallowed hard. “I might’ve been lying about that.” Fingers smoothing tenderly over  Keigo’s  hair, soothing where he’d pulled earlier. “You might’ve also been right.”

Keigo arched a stupid feathery brow at him, “Right about  what, Dabs?”

“I don’t hate you. Maybe. Only sometimes. You’re still insufferable.”

Dabi...didn’t hate how warm his chest felt when he was given the brightest, most honest smile from Keigo. “You love me.” It wasn’t said jokingly this time, and Dabi arched his brow at the most  interesting  birdlike coo at the tail end of that.

“Like I said. Maybe."

The echoing laugh from Keigo made Dabi suddenly think of that goddamn shooting star.

For a moment, he didn’t feel any pain.

[supernatural-book]

Of Tough Nights and Tawny Wings

Title: Of Tough Nights and Tawny Wings

Gadreel x Reader

Summary: After a hunt gone bad and a long week of being completely hopeless, the reader finds themselves breaking down in front of Gadreel, prompting the angel into comforting mode.

A/N: I've been working on this for so long and only now finished it. It's 2 in the morning as I'm posting it, and please ignore the formatting for now, I'm on mobile. 

Warnings: Self loathing, kinda suicidal thoughts, depression, but don't worry Gad makes it all okay again

Word Count: 2,240

It was one of those nights.

‘That sucked.’ You thought to yourself as you snuck into the bunker quietly, knowing the boys must be asleep. After getting back from a nearby solo hunt, you settled into the couch, dropping your bag onto the floor next to you without bothering to clean your injuries. You just wanting to clear your mind of the latest events. With a bit of trouble due to your sore limbs, you peeled off your jacket, glaring at the new tear in the sleeve. That damn monster had ruined your jacket and messed up your arm. With another sigh, you dropped it on the ground, giving up. Maybe you could just lay here and bleed out, then it would all be okay. But, in only a few seconds, he was out of his room.

“(Y/N).” He got a good look at your injuries and his eyes widened. “You must be more careful.” the low voice slid like honey across the room and into your ears. It was good to see him, in his usual apparel, layers and all after what you’ve gone through today. Sure, you’d known him a shorter time than Sam and Dean, but he’d proved himself with his readiness to sacrifice himself for his “mission”. Though sometimes, you wished he wouldn’t be so willing to die for a worthless human. The boys- mostly Dean- still seemed adamant about letting him stay here, but it was because of you that they let him. You smiled sadly as the angel’s small amount of grace washed over you, healing your numerous wounds instantly with a single touch to your forehead. “Gad, I’m fine.” Your words were met with a classic bitch face, one that rivaled both Sam’s and Dean’s. “Really, I would’ve recovered soon”

“I doubt that.” He eyed your soft skin, still coated in blood, where a few seconds ago you had been practically bleeding out. “Humans are so delicate. So easy to scar. You should not keep throwing yourself into danger like you do.” If I’m so delicate, why don’t I die, damn it!

“Well, sorry. But that’s kind of my job. I get hurt so others- civilians, innocent people- don’t get hurt by these monsters. I try to help.” You choked up, suddenly reminded of innocent people you had let die during tonight’s messy case. You looked up and made eye contact for a moment- catching sight of his pretty pale green eyes watching you closely, before sighing and shaking your head. You stood, still much, much shorter than him. “I’m gonna go… clean up.”  You stayed silent, though you wanted to scream that he shouldn't have wasted his grace. 'He really should save his grace for something more important than a lousy human like me.’ As you brushed past him to head to the bathroom, he looked as if he wanted to say something, but you heard nothing else from him as you walked away.

In the bathroom, surrounded by bloody towels, you avoided eye contact with yourself in the mirror as you washed the remains of the hunt  from your arms. You were afraid that if you looked at yourself, you’d only see the faces of the victims. How could you have been so stupid? You had the chance to save the victims, but instead you decided to kill the goddamn thing and let the others have at them. As if things weren’t already bad enough, this was just the cherry on top of all the mess going on in your life. For weeks now, you’ve had the feeling that you just needed to break down and cry but every time you’d come close, you choked them back, afraid of seeming weak in front of the boys. This was it, you decided, the dam was breaking. You heard a knock at the door and looked up, tears now streaming out of your eyes.

Of course it’s him.

“(Y/N)...”  You tried desperately to wipe the tears from your eyes. “You’re crying.” Gadreel stepped into the small space and the look in his eyes softened as he gazed upon you. His large frame took up most of the door, and he bent down slightly and brought himself nearly eye to eye with you, as you noticed he usually did, making himself shorter in your presence to seem less intimidating. “What is the matter?” His voice was low and clear, a contrast to your messy, ugly sniffling.

“The hunt I went on today, I…” You looked down to the sink to take a breath, trying to stop the tears from coming. You felt like you were going to be sick. He took soft steps towards you, as if he could sense the feeling in your gut. It was the closest you’d ever been to him. “Gadreel, I let innocent people die on my watch. People are dead because of me.” He watched you with a sympathetic look in his eyes, both of his large hands falling gently onto your shoulders. His voice dropped to a lower near-whisper, and though it was unlike him, he didn’t seem embarrassed at all by what he was asking.

“I believe a hug is a customary sign of comfort?” Even through your tears, you managed to smile at his willingness to help and unfolded yourself into his arms. He stiffened for only a moment before wrapping his own large, lengthy arms around you, as if trying to protect you from your own thoughts, engulfing you with his warmth and comforting you with the steady beating of his vessel’s heart. You hadn’t had a hug in a long time, but you realized solemnly that Gadreel himself has never had a hug in his entire, pain and torture filled existence, and tightened your grip on him, crying into his shirt. You thought it must simply be the firm, built frame of his vessel that made you feel so safe, but there was something else there, too. That was the exact moment you realized that this is what Gadreel was always designed to do. Comfort. Guard. Protect. This was the guardian of Eden, the protector of the humans. He was built for the sole purpose of protecting the human race, and, even after millenia of torture in Heaven’s prison, that was all he wanted; it showed. There was practically compassion seeping through his skin and enveloping you.

“Thank you.” You sniffled, finally run out of tears. Without looking up, he answered in his low, smooth-as-honey voice.

“I am always happy to lend you solace when you are in need.” He, almost hesitantly, detached from you, stepping back ever so slightly, straightening to his full height. “I know you do not like when I am… in your head, I suppose you would say, but I cannot help but hear when you are screaming out your emotions. I can tell that this hunt is not the only reason for your tears. There is something rooted deeper inside you that you wish to expel.” He shifted on his feet. “I’ve heard the things you tell yourself.”  You broke eye contact, looking at the ground in defeat. Somewhere along the way you had forgotten he could probably hear what you’re thinking. All the times you’d thought you should’ve died, that you begged him to stop healing you. He heard. “You believed I should not waste my grace on you.” His voice raised slightly, as if surprised by the thought.

“You really shouldn’t. There aren’t very many angels like you left, so they need you. But the world can go on without me.” You felt the tears well up again. He set a gentle finger on your chin and lifted your face to look at him. He looked straight into your eyes as if examining you. It felt like an eternity with his eyes on your face, fingers tracing along your cheek as if he wanted to heal your emotional wounds, before he finally spoke up.

“I am unfamiliar to most human mental ailments, but I assure you I will find a way to show you that you matter more than you believe you do.” You couldn’t help but smile. His lips mimicked your own, and you realized just how little he ever smiled. You hastily wiped at your tear stained cheeks and sniffed, feeling worn out and sore from the day. Gadreel’s hand dropped from your cheek to cup your hand delicately. The world twisted around you for a mere second, and suddenly you were laying down in your dark bedroom, feeling comfortable and freshened up, despite the slight dizziness. "You are tired, my dear. Please rest."

"Only if you stay here and talk with me." Gadreel shifted on his feet, unsure where to stand. "Please, just stay. I'm having one of my really bad nights.  Slowly, he lowered himself to sit on the edge of your bed as if he understood.

"Since we have met," He started slowly, making gentle eye contact, "you have shown me more kindness than I've felt in my entire existence. I feel I must thank you for that.” You looked down, focusing on the bedsheets and feeling shy under his intensely devoted gaze.

"Please, Gad. It's nothing."

"Oh, but it is. (Y/N), because of you, I have become a different angel. You helped me feel as if I belonged, and you showed kindness when no one else did. You helped me realize I am more than my past, and (Y/N), you must take your own advice. You are more than your mistakes." This made you smile.

"I'm sorry. Lately, I've just been… so hopeless. I just feel… alone. Like no one can hear me. And everything makes me want to give up. That's why I asked you to stay. I just… need to talk to someone."

"And I will stay for as long as you need, (Y/N). I understand that it is hard to get through certain days, believe me. Even I have felt as if there is no hope left. But I know, because of you, that your bad days do not define you." You felt even warmer than before, and you knew it wasn't because of the blankets. Hearing Gadreel's gentle encouragement was more reassuring that you ever thought it could be.

"Can I hug you again?" You sat up in bed and waited for his nod before you wrapped your arms around his midsection, pressing your smiling face into the sleeve of his jacket. Everything felt so right when you were holding him. Warmth radiated off of him in and inhuman manner, and you finally realized what the source of warmth could be. "Do your wings hurt?" He seemed slightly taken aback by your question and pulled away from the hug. You began to apologize- perhaps the topic of an angel's wings was more sensitive than you thought- but he quieted you, beginning to remove his jacket.

"Close your eyes, dear one."

"A-Are you showing m-" He hushed you with one glance and you clamped your hands over your eyes for good measure. You heard a familiar ringing noise, followed by an even mode familiar sound of flapping wings.

"Although they are not at their full health, and I don't believe they will ever be, they are far better than they have been in a long time." Your eyes opened slowly, hesitant to look upon Gadreel in such an intimate, vulnerable state. He sat criss cross on the bed before you, hands splayed on his knees and eyes focusing on the bedsheets in front of him. Arched gently behind him were two huge, tawny wings, radiating a soft, cool light, presumably his grace. They spanned the room, closing in for the light brown tips to meet behind you. Some areas were missing feathers, obviously still healing, and others had the softest looking down you'd ever seen. The closer they were to you, the easier it was to see the smaller scars crisscrossing through the otherwise softly feathered wings. You and Gadreel were hidden from the world by a shield of feathers. It amazed you that even on dimensions you couldn't normally see, Gadreel was always on guard, protecting you and surrounding you in his warmth. The angel stayed silent as you admired his absolutely divine beauty.

"Gadreel, you're absolutely beautiful, my angel." You reached to hold his face between your hands. "I feel so safe with you protecting me like this." He looked up, a soft smile adorning his features.

"I am glad you feel safe. The only thing I desire is to keep you safe. Especially on nights as hard as these, when I can feel your soul aching to sleep. It pains me to hear." Slowly, he took you in his arms and laid you back onto the bed, pressing his nose into your temple and inhaling your scent. He lay on his side next to you, wing falling gently over your body and keeping you just the right temperature and enveloping you in his grace- his true form. You felt yourself grow more and more tired as his grace washed over you in waves, coaxing you to fall into his loving hold and sleep. "Oh, dear one, if it is me mere presence that you must have, than I promise that you will recieve my devotion as well. Please sleep. I will be there when you wake."

And he was.

Taglist:

@theredheadedwinchester, @solis200213, @music-lockscreen, @bella-ca

[mewtonian-physics]

I was tagged by @justanotherboredadult. I hate you for doing this to me. (Not seriously, I love tag games. It’s just that this one is going to be really hard.)

Rules: Name ten favorite characters from ten different things (books, tv, film, etc.) then tag ten people.

I can’t possibly choose my top ten favorites, so I’ll just name ten in whatever order I like and call it good.

1. Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock Holmes, et al)

The legendary detective himself! Ah, if ever there comes a day where I claim to no longer like him, you can take me to a hospital because I’m clearly gravely ill. The original stories are my preference, but there are lots of wonderful adaptations out there as well! The picture above is of Jeremy Brett, whose portrayal of Holmes is widely considered to be one of, if not the best of all time; a moniker which I imagine he would be at least a little bit pleased to have earned.

2. Data (Star Trek: The Next Generation)

God, I adore Data. His struggles with understanding how others express themselves emotionally, attempts to understand his own feelings, and his inability to connect to the world around him in the same way everyone else did, and the resulting difficulties... as an autistic person, Data’s a character who’s been really important to me for a really long time. He was one of the first characters I was able to really understand and connect with, because I so often had those struggles myself! It’s been years since I first saw him, but it doesn’t matter. Data will always hold a special place in my heart.

Also, uh...

I mean... just look...

3. Root (Person of Interest)

Let me tell you, it was almost impossible to choose just one POI character! I love all of the main team so much, but I think in the end Root is the one who’s got the top spot. Sure, she might start out on the wrong side, but I think that’s one of the reasons she’s so compelling. Her switch from antagonist to protagonist is really fun to watch and honestly, in general, she is just fun to watch. And look at that smile...

4. Lemy Abelard (Evillious Chronicles)

Yes, yes, it’s time to get my weeb on. Anyway. This is my clown son, whom I love; with him I am well pleased. Et cetera. The best clown in the world, in my humble opinion. There’s not much competition to be had :) He’s just a good boy who loves his mother very much... the Pierrot novel’s finally started to get translated and I’m even more ready to die for him than I was before. He’s a precious child. I adore him.

5. Asuka Langley Soryu (Neon Genesis Evangelion)

Asuka, Asuka, Asuka. What am I supposed to do with you except love and cherish you, huh? I know some people think she’s a bitch, and I guess she kind of is one, but do I give a damn? No. No, I do not. Her drive to succeed and prove herself is very compelling, and her backstory hurts like hell, and honestly I just want to give her a hug and tell her that she is the best EVA pilot in the world and no one can take that away from her.

Also, after what Shinji did to her in that goddamn kitchen scene, I just... Man, I’ve been there. How could I begrudge her anything after that?

6. Akemi Homura (Puella Magi Madoka Magica)

You want to try and tell me this girl isn’t amazing? Go ahead, I dare you. She’s incredible. The amount she’s gone through would make anybody crack, but she held herself together so long, and I think that’s really amazing and admirable. Oh, Homura... I hope you get your happy ending.

Also, uh, she’s just cool. Have you seen the stuff she’s capable of? It’s awesome. And look at that hair!

7. L Lawliet (Death Note)

I’m autistic so shut the fuck up--okay, in all seriousness, this frog detective is pretty fucking great. I’m such a sucker for the genius detective archetype, particularly the ‘odd’ ones; it’s been that way for a very, very long time, and I doubt it’s going to stop any time soon.

He’s not that great a person, but I love him anyway. Honestly, I think that’s what makes him interesting! In a series like Death Note, there’s not a lot of room for ‘good’ and ‘evil’ designations, and he falls comfortably into the gray. And he’s just fun to watch!

8. Edogawa Ranpo (Bungou Stray Dogs)

I’ve already told you I’m a sucker for his archetype, but really... Ranpo is so much like a kid, but he’s so smart! He doesn’t even have a special ability, but he’s the core of the Armed Detective Agency; he doesn’t need an ability, he’s a natural genius! He’s fun and kinda relatable and I love seeing him in action. You just can’t change my mind on this one!

Also, he’s autistic too. Fight me.

9. Flandre Scarlet (Touhou Project)

I’m not ashamed to admit it--I love Flandre! She’s actually what got me into Touhou in the first place. Just look at her wings--shiny and colorful crystals--and I love shinies so is it really that hard to see why I’d like her? Plus, her theme song is fun, and she’s got a bunch of Agatha Christie references packed into one tiny little vampire, and I love Agatha Christie so... Flandre just came for my soul.

10. Kurapika (Hunter x Hunter)

It was a hard choice between him and Killua, but in the end, Kurapika won out. What can I say? Well, honestly, nothing, since I don’t fully understand it myself. I guess he’s just an interesting character.

Also, can you say ‘trans icon’? Because I can. Kurapika = trans icon. Thanks for your time.

Let’s see, I have to tag people now, don’t I... Very well.

@shadows-in-the-light-of-day @eveillious @eyeciclez @chatoyqnt @nakaharahs @krpk @adhdleorio @chuuya-nyakahara @ryuuwunosuke @omoidori if you guys don’t mind, of course ^-^ feel free to ignore this, all i request is that you not eat me for tagging you :0

[unproduciblesmackdown]

weird to think back on things like the funky experience of being The All A’s/B’s gang and then The All A’s person during middle school and the Smart Kid designation cuz we all have a godawful time within the k-12 education system and also in Higher Education / academia as well and the setup isn’t like, good for anyone though natch between the “lack of attention / occasional positive attention” and “frequent / negative attention” ends of the experience the former is preferable; apparently weird to have been Good Student passing b/c again idk i have good retention and could memorize shit in homeroom for a quiz that day and that was great b/c actually i had godawful / nonexistent study habits and actually basically hated school and did anything last minute and all but like whatever, i could figure out / understand and remember shit more efficiently / faster than usual so like, idk, i’d get wild results ig. and anyways yeah Smart Kid throughout all of k-12 but like, although i don’t think i’m Not smart in any way, it’s like, but no i hated school and never really tried, that inferred correlation wasn’t there but like also there’s the weird Presumed Identity for you. and it Was weird b/c idk i was like, okay? “perpetually nebulous / imprecise / uncertain sense of identity” gang out here and i’m like hmm okay Am i “the good grades getter?” and then apparently you are cuz like welp that’s the Expectation, and also in my case i was also in the “oops let’s minimize ptsd party” gang of Gotta Get As/Bs motivation..............the point is like, it’s funny how despite that concept of what The A’s Getter is, by now i’m like oh but that’s not even like, my Main Thing, much less my Whole thing. my main thing is that i get wildly interested and passionate about stuff and when i’m really about shit i’m So about it and into it and all that yknow. and it’s like, would be cool if i hadn’t had to like, first fight past this arbitrary Assigned Box to even start to figure out what i’m Really like. but Schools aren’t out here about like allowing for people to be varied individuals and shit. plus, weirdly i’m not sure if i hadn’t had that “Positive” Label to supplant any others that my autistic ass would’ve been largely left alone as much as it generally was............even I didn’t get through middle school w/o some light bullying peppered in there but hey for the most part i got by. and like, i remember 15 was a time for a wild Agonizing Spike cuz that was the point i was having to try to settle on a college major and i was like bitch i don’t know!!! for starters how is every 19 / 20 y.o supposed to know!!! but like litchrelly a year and a half ago my ass was in middle school and barely had any opportunities to individually choose what to pursue, and even if i Had an interest i would sometimes assume if it didn’t seem like The Smart Kid choice i would just assume that like, my interest would only be Allowed to go so far. so yeah i’m 14-15 for the first time having a little breathing room and allowed to pick out my own shit and investigate various stuff (cuz of the luck of getting to live on campus aka parents are Not around and i can be around for more than just Classes) and yet like, that wasn’t enough time to suddenly Fully Realize The Whole Of My Own Identity And What My Actual Passions And Life Goals And Etc Are. plus i kinda remember that i figured i’d flunk out and so was kinda Not spending freshman year expecting to actually be able to do this college thing.....so yeah i always distinctly remember the Stress of sophomore year with this Timer counting down of “gotta declare a major oh god” and trying somehow to Realize What I’m Even Like (i did partially lmao outside of the Academic aspect of it) and obviously like, that’s a Lot.......................plus it was kind of doomed anyways cuz i do remember that when i even mentioned the fact of like “hey what if i majored in ______ [cuz i’m evidently actually like thinking social issues are what i’m thinking i could dedicate my attention to, i’m 15 idk trying to figure this shit out]” and it got immediately brushed off cuz of my mom’s assumptions about what i was like based on my being Smart(tm) and my not wanting to tell my parents about anything Actually about myself by that point so that was like..........well cool to know that that’s not an option for me anymore thanks to immediate dismissal........................like i totally remember that by sophomore year i was def Swiss Idol and “i don’t have a clue what to major in” was a big part of that 9_9...............and like, doing college early is kinda crazy but also Not having high school to mayyyybe figure things out for a bit before hurtling towards Declare Major at 92384 mph is like, would it have helped? who can say. but for example, i know Now i’m a theatre gay, and the limited number of friends-ish i made at college was basically all theatre gays what a surprise, but i myself didn’t ever touch that because i had No direct experience with it, because middle school didn’t have that extracurricular, and then being dropped into hs with people who did? i was like fuck i’m not auditioning for shit i really don’t know how to do. i’m not even Supposed To Be Here goddamn!! i can karaoke avpm in the first floor lounge that’s IT!! fuckin r.i.p. but i mean also i Know high school is it’s own fuckin mess that’s hardly like “flourish as individuals!!” all a sudden. like how i don’t know if i’d’ve been “solid B’s” gang if i would’ve had more room to just figure out my own shit earlier, or if things would’ve been even More miserable cuz of my replacement Type being something more frowned upon cuz weird loser was def waiting in the wings............and then of course Smart Kid expectation constraints wasn’t hardly the only issue in holding back that “oh wait but what am i like *Actually*” process cuz if i was in high school i would’ve been around my parents every day and That was just as much if not more a hindrance in figuring myself out. like going to college may have been useful in that yes i did learn shit but if nothing else i am glad for it b/c the strides i made in “god damn i have to get away from these people (my parents lmfao)” and knowing at least that i’m not Like what THEY thought i was like was E ssen tial Knowledge..........but anyhow like the point of looking back on this shit isn’t to figure out How To Have Run The Perfect Course cuz obviously what’s the point in imagining as broad a what-if, but it’s good for Understanding shit currently..........like oh yeah this crap probably Affected me!! and you gotta know the history to understand the present...............it’s just really wild how like, Passion and (rarely activated) Energy And Intense Interest is like, what i consider my Thing now, and that was like. not what i ever heard anyone else tell me that’s what i’m Like, like, ever basically. i mean not that i don’t think i’m Not smart. it’s just like, not my whole thing and it just kinda feels more incidental, right. What If the whole time i’d been able to pursue whatever i felt like is a wiiiiiiiild question i don’t even know. there’s been so Little of that that’s its absolutely off the shits to be able to put together “oh right i’ve been a theatre gay all along” and “actually i Have performed on stage a decent number of times and supremely thrived in those experiences and i Know i was interested cuz i wished like (@ my family: dni)” and have this very simple (and thus far unusable) Knowledge about something i actually like and am interested in, cuz for the most part it’s [??? ?? ? ?? ???]

on a shorter but related note: the Camaraderie i feel with everyone in the “either has or wants to or would even seriously consider Cutting Ties with parent/s" gang and like, always very Interested in the various experiences within this v broad category. cuz there are so many factors playing into Why you’re in this group and then there’s so many factors in regards to whether someone actually feels able to ditch a ‘rent or two, and then beyond that, all the factors in whether someone’s actually able to............like, knowing that it’s never “lucky” to have to be in this group in the first place, i fairly am Lucky about it in many ways cuz, first of all, lucky to have been able to actually execute [eff off from parents] maneuver, and lucky to get to Know that’s what i totally needed to do........we are all Valide in how we try to deal with relations w/ parents that are so bad you even have to think about “maybe i have to Not Have This Person In My Life At All” and like, when people are dealing with that but Don’t feel they have the option to truly cut that parent or two out of their life, that’s like, well as someone who once felt that way and can Empathize and yet also had these Factors Line Up which let me peace out which aren’t factors that are in play for everyone (as well as a lack of other factors which Are relevant for others and which might mean Leaving Behind Parent/s 5eva isn’t an option they’d consider) it’s like Oh wow, let me hear more about that experience. tldr the camaraderie

oh and ps. it’s funny how like, in my post-being-in-school life, i thiiiiiiiink people usually probably assume i’m Kinda Dumb if anything. cuz the Grades don’t exist anymore but i’m still autistic!!!!! which is another wild factor in thinking about like “well what if [some aspect of my life] had been entirely different, hmmm” cuz it’s like. well i’d’ve still been autistic lmao..............the Social shit has like, been an issue even before the other usual shit in school cuz i Knew i wasn’t fitting in at preschool when all we were doing was like, learning colors and going outside. and it always was a bit distressing to me Never really having more than a couple friends and even then not that close or anything, right? and also how i’d try to Fix this with various strategies and trying out different situations like “oh well i’m not putting myself out there i’ll put myself out there” [tries it and it half-backfires] or “well if i’m spending a weekend with people who know me from Online they’re gonna like me for sure” [majority of ppl in a sub Friend Group i’m peripheral to and i’m intermittently stressed the whole time] “Ah Fuck” lmao and honestly only recently am i like oh right..............when you’re autistic socializing just in a very fundamental way is really like That*.................(*a way i can’t easily explain lmao)............like really just in mad recent times kind of realizing like, oh, okay, i don’t think i can ever Adjust My Approach and just suddenly become good at Easily Makes Friends and that kind of shit..............finally just kinda realizing like ohh right okay i really just do Not do “normal good conversation” like you’re supposed to and that’s just chill The Way It Is not necessarily “not good enough at it” way but It Just Is Different way like........yeah it can be Not Pointless to try to modify your social approach and that’s true for absolutely anyone, but like say, if i’m like oh if i simply get Better at [social interaction task] i will then finally be Good at it, it’s like, shit well that’s honestly just not how it works for me. like, #getting how after a point it’s like “okay learning to do [task] in a way that’s more [like this] is maybe gonna be better for Masking / seeming allistic but like, not for Actually giving me a social experience that’s more fulfilling for Me.” Plus, it’s like, i’m also way more (or okay at least As Much) socially limited by external factors, probably. 

pps oh and also, tangentially related b/c Autistique, it’s wild how every time you delve into (something At All specific about autism) you’ll probably learn something Utterly new about autism which is like god damn this isn’t That niche why haven’t i heard this!! why do i have to know there are 538 other would-be “i should already know this” revelations waiting for me about this topic cuz you have to manage to dig up this stuff on your own and dodge all the unhelpful bullshit types of sites where it’s Not about info from people / for people who are autistic? please. it’s almost like this is a constant and important part of my identity that affects p much every aspect of my life and is helpful to hear others’ info about the collective experience of it b/c like, it’s literally all in your own head and you can’t just somehow Know the ways you’re different in that realm just from emergent traits you can pick up on and figure out. ugh!!!! anyways

this is LONG but NO readmore b/c eh. who am i if not [i hope everyone hates my blog this week.jpg] every week

[folerdetdufoler]

oh friday. we love a fredag in this house. this was the one day i had plans, and by “i had plans” i mean i tagged along for haidee and nadège’s plans because they were in oslooooo! they were flying in later that morning, so i had some time to spend on my own, which was good. i took my sweet ol’ time eating breakfast, looking out the window and hoping for the clouds to part, a ray of sun to appear, anything. but no. it remained quite dark most of the day, and the light you see in the photos is mostly due to editing in instagram. there was also a pretty constant drizzle that remained from the day before, but i wasn’t going to let that stop me. i had a city to explore!

so, naturally, i went back to the opera house, my most visited location outside of my hotel room in all of my trips combined. it was a bit too windy to deal with my travel umbrella so that went back into my backpack after the second time it blew inside out. i walked over to the harbor to see if, perhaps, the view was better over the water. it was not. but i climbed up the opera house steps anyway, because at least i could walk off breakfast. it was strange because i was the only one up there, but it was also shit weather and not much of a view (again), so i just figured i would enjoy having the place to myself (was the opera house closed? mayhaps.). and enjoy it i did, because i managed to slip and fall at the top! i was done climbing, it wasn’t even any kind of incline…i was just distracted trying to take a photo of the non-view and my feet were like “okay let’s make a break for it!” and they most certainly did. now i love my alone time, being able to experience the world without the pressure of existing in it, but i really loved my alone time just then, when my body decided to stop standing. feet went up, ass went down, i probably screamed, and then i posted about it on instagram, like you do. the tradition of climbing up the opera house in the winter and then eating it was alive and well.

i held on to the wall as i climbed back down.

then i walked around the harbor, hoping the light rain would soak enough of the rest of my pants as to disguise how wet my ass was. i went to the salt…area? installation? i’m not sure how to describe it. the other side of the harbor. just because it was a location i’d seen in a bunch of norwegian instagram stories and i had to see these t-shirts for myself. it was cool. i was slightly distracted because i was going low at that point, had walked off too much of my breakfast in fact, and only had a packet of gushers in my backpack for a sugar boost. so i moved on to an apotek to find glucose tablets.

i changed pump systems back at the end of august, adding a cgm and increasing my insulin usage by like…500%. my previous two trips were done on an old, dying pump and barely any bolusing or glucose monitoring, so this was my first trip where i was actively using insulin and keeping my numbers in range. this is a good thing, of course, but it was also new and a distraction and created dangerous situations for myself as i insisted on walking back and forth across the city center. i struggled to count carbohydrates with the different nutrition information on the food i bought (y’all what’s the point of telling me how many carbs are in 100 g of food if i can’t tell how much food is in the container?). i mean, i did okay, because i’ve been eyeballing this shit since i was twelve, but my new system relies heavily on accurate carb counts and boluses. if i don’t give it the right information, it has to compensate with the basal rate, and those automatic adjustments were not jiving with my bursts of activity. ugh, okay, well this was all just a weird venting aside and explanation for what i did in my down time: struggle.

in some flash of unusual foresight, i had kept the empty tube of glucose tablets and was able to show that to the pharmacist so she could do the translating for me. i would’ve cooed over the norwegian version of my tablets if i had the mental capacity in that moment, but i had to eat some first before i could even navigate my bag to find my wallet to pay for them. i was blessedly alone in this pharmacy as well, so only this one lady had to witness me dumping my damp backpack out on the floor to find a fuckin’ credit card. anyway, crisis averted. i chomped on raspberry-flavored sugar as i walked back to the hotel. whatever parts of me hadn’t gotten wet from the rain were now soaked through with my sweat so i had to dry off before the main event.

haidee had arranged for a late lunch for us at ett bord, so i met her and nadège there, along with margaux and charlotte. it was so lovely reconnecting with my girls and meeting new ones, and talking about the show of course but also learning about their regular lives as well. i don’t have much to compare it to, but it always feels so easy meeting strangers because even if we never interacted online, we still have this same source material that, at this point, courses through our veins. we talked about the show and fic and the con of course, since half of us were attending it the next day. i took a picture of the quiche that haidee had ordered because i…did not know that was quiche. and then maybe halfway through lunch i shit my pants?

or whatever it is that my body did when it heard henrik’s voice over my shoulder. maybe it was the opposite of shitting my pants. maybe i was clenching too hard because i felt like my heart was going to fall out of my ass. yeah, that.

our end of the table went silent. i was the last to realize what was going on because i had angled my body to face everyone else so i couldn’t see him enter or sit down. but i heard his voice and i froze and i hated myself for it.

we managed to get talking and eating again like the adult human beings we are. i think a couple were sat between our group and henrik then so it felt like there was a buffer and i could relax a bit. siv came over to chat and we were #exposed as fans (though if the chick clenching so tight she was about to eat the stool with her ass wasn’t a tip off then…) but i think we remained chill? i hope we did? i was still functioning well enough to use a fork so there was that, at least. and the food was good! i cleared my plate.

but then that fucker decided to come over to our group and say hi before he left, exhibiting the kindness and hospitality he’s known for at this point, and ugh. how dare he. i did not consent to death, thank you very much, yet there i was, clenching and dying.

i don’t know how to explain it without sounding rude and ungrateful, so i guess i’m being rude and ungrateful. but it did feel…violating? if only because i thought the screen that had always separated me from him as an actor was still in place. i realize i was in his city, in his family’s restaurant, and i was at this place of my own volition, but i still expected that wall to remain intact. i’d been to the restaurant twice before without coming into contact with his family, or been identified as a skam fan. i had assumed it would happen again. i had assumed those involved with the convention would be busy elsewhere with that, or hiding from it as long as they could. the restaurant is weirdly an established fan attraction, and thus far i’d been able to enjoy it without that association, and i had naively thought it would remain that way even on the eve of such a large fan event. but i’m a goddamn fool, and henrik is a very generous host.

he left. i unclenched. i think everyone else was simply delighted by the chance meeting and excited for the weekend to come because that’s why they were there. they were there to be skam fans. and i guess i…wasn’t? even though i’ve been struggling with my identity as anything but a skam fan, here i was, at the heart of the show, trying to deny it. ugh.

anyway, marie joined us as we were finishing up and from there we all walked to the convention location so they could register in advance. i met up with jenn there, and then we just bounced around until it was time for the play. we went to an atm, then to a christmas market, then to tanum on a sudden, exciting hunt for books, then to the theatre! and finally, finally, surrounded by blonde children who only came up to my waist, i got to hug kit. third time’s the charm, bitch.

then it was time for snøfall! we were seated painfully close to the stage because in my enthusiasm over the summer i had chosen some aggressive seating. on top of that actors were entering the stage from the aisle and the wing right in front of us, so while it was a funny and sweet story, i was legitimately frightened multiple times throughout as residents of snøfall ran right past us. but it was a fun show to watch, and the singing was impressive. i got to tune my ear to more norwegian, and of course, see tarjei. i loved the whole atmosphere of it, because it reminded me of my own family’s christmas tradition as a child, going to see the nutcracker at lincoln center. and holy shit, the set design was amazing? i barely looked at the program but at the end we stood in the lobby and tried to figure out who was responsible for choreographing such detailed settings in a very mechanical yet elegant way (i think it’s gjermund andresen and christer berg, fyi).

it was a wholly enjoyable performance, riiiiight up until a tarjei stan ran up to the stage to hand him flowers. he had to step out of the bows to accept them, which felt rude to the actual stars of the play and the children actors, but i didn’t catch their actual reactions because i was busy dying, again. i slid down in my seat hoping to melt into the floor but alas. #exposed.

we left. no one had a plan (welcome to the club) so we wandered to the christmas market. then we figured we needed dinner, so we walked over to grünerløkka to a place jenn had on her list. they were too busy for drop-ins, but their host kindly directed us to another restaurant with a similar vibe. at this point we’d done quite a bit of walking and were getting hungry, so when we spotted a bislett kebab on the way we decided to just give up and grab something there instead. it didn’t really matter to me, because food is food (and at least i was familiar with this food since i’d had it a couple of times last winter!). i would keep walking for hours as long as we were talking, but it was good to finally rest. i think it made me realize how tired i was, and i wasn’t even coming off of a morning of travel like everyone else. we split off after dinner and i collapsed back at the hotel. what a day.

before i go though, i just need to say that the best part of all of this was listening to margaux, charlotte, marie, nadège, jenn, and haidee talk about fic. i think they talked more about fic and the characters than the actual show, which makes sense, because that’s the most active part of the fandom (this was before the bloopers announcement). they were talking about what was still so alive for them, what they were keeping alive with their own stories and comments, and i just want to…i don’t know, give them credit? these women are amazing. they are why i impulse-bought tickets back in august, so i would have an excuse to see them again, and meet more like them, and attempt to show support in return. they are pursuing what they love, accomplishing so much, honing their own skills and supporting the talents of others. as much as i am ashamed of being one myself, i love how they are fans. i admire their lack of shame and their abundance of respect. they were on a trip, thoroughly enjoying themselves, and it was just comforting and affirming to watch them be relatable and wonderful human beings treating themselves to a fun weekend (what they deserve). i wonder, when i grow up, if i could be like them someday.

[sloturtle]

The Wedding (Ralph x Kara) sfw fluff

You bitches already know... it's time for a goddamn wedding.

Edit: I missed an opportunity to say call this the 'weeding'.

-------

"Hold still." Luther grunted.

"I'm trying but you're pushing too hard." Kara sighed in frustration.

"There! Got it in." Luther pulled away to take a look at his work. He was Kara's choice for matron of honor/bridesmaid and while he wasn't thrilled about the duel roles, he was determined to help his friend look her best for her wedding.

The floral accessory he had snapped into her hair was being very difficult. Due to her hair length, it kept falling out or dangling. Kara moved her head from side to side, testing the waters. The clip fell to the floor again.

"Damn." they sighed at that. "Okay, I've got a plan B..." Luther turned back to the vanity and dug through the drawer, retrieving a simple but jeweled headband. He slid it onto Kara's head and felt more victorious than he should have. The headband held back any stray strands of hair and gave Kara an elegant look.

"Thank you, Luther. I'm glad you're here to help me. I would've just gone out without my hair done." Kara looked at herself in the mirror and smiled. She made the right choice, having him help her.

"Don't thank me yet, we still have to get you into your wedding dress." Luther offered her a hand as she stood. It took them a while since Luther preferred to have his eyes closed for decency, but they got the damn thing on.

"Stunning." Luther said, adjusting the dress in places. He eyed the box Kara had on her dresser. Her shoes were already out and she had her accessories, so what was in it? Luther crossed over to it and opened the lid to peek inside.

"You didn't-" he choked on air, silently laughing.

"I did." Kara plucked the garter from the box and rolled it up her leg.

"Wait don't pull your dress down yet." Luther shuffled around for his phone.

"What are you doing?" Kara asked suspiciously. Luther snapped a photo.

"Messing with your fiance." he shrugged.

---

Ralph buttoned up his shirt, zoning out as Jerry continued to babble. It wasn't that he didnt care, he just had more important things on his mind. Like what dress Kara picked out or if the wedding would go smoothly. He jumped when Jerry put his hand on his shoulder.

"You're just fumbling with your tie at this point." he shook his head, taking the tie Ralph had picked up without realizing. Jerry quickly tied it and adjusted it accordingly.

"Thank you, Jerry. Ralph is sorry- he is just very distracted right now. He wants Kara's wedding to be perfect." Ralph eyed himself in the mirror.

"Well I hate to be the one to tell you, but it's your wedding too, bud." Jerry chuckled, handing him his vest. Ralph halted mid-button when he heard his phone go off. He picked it up and checked the screen. A notification from Luther?

Ralph's face turned blue and he almost dropped his phone. Why? Why would Luther torture him like this? More importantly why was Luther taking pictures of his wife's- fiance's legs!? Ralph stared at the picture a moment longer and then shoved his phone into his pocket.

"Jerry, can you do Ralph a favor?"

"Of course, Ralph! Whatever you need, your best man is on the case!" And so, Ralph sent Jerry out on a mission to the other room.

--

Jerry opened the hotel room door and poked his head in. Luther was currently touching up Kara's makeup.

"You look like a princess!" Jerry gasped, stepping into the room. The pair looked at him in surprise.

"Boy, you're lucky I have the steadiest hands in the north Americas because if I had messed up this wing, it'd be on you." Luther set down the eyeliner and crossed his arms.

"Sorry, sorry. Ralph just wanted me to bring you these," he pulled a bouquet of flowers from behind his back, "and tell you he loves and misses you."

"Aw, thank you! But it's a bit scandalous to do this in front of the bride-" Luther surged forward and reached for the flowers.

"Wha- no! They're for Kara!" Jerry ducked under his arms.

"He knows, Jerry. Luther is just messing with you." Kara took the flowers. She handed them to Luther to put in a vase. "Why the sudden urge to send a messenger? Ralph could've just texted me or called."

"He seemed adamant that it was delivered in person. I think he just wanted to make sure you were alright." Jerry said. Luther started herding him towards the door.

"Tell him not to worry and that she's fine." he replied. Kara waved to Jerry as he was pushed through the door.

"I'll see you downstairs!" she called after him.

--

Ralph looked up as Jerry closed the door behind himself. He opened his mouth to speak but Jerry held a hand up.

"Kara is fine, Ralph. She's just as excited as you are."

"And the flowers? Did she like them?"

"Ralph, you're worrying too much. When will you stop questioning whether or not you are worthy of Kara's love and just realize you have it?" Jerry took Ralph by the shoulders and looked at him sternly. The expression did not fit his face very well.

"He doesn't mean to, truly! Ralph is just so used to-"

"Ah bup bup bup! No sob story- this is a happy day. You should be looking forward to your future with Kara and not dwelling on your past before her." Jerry shook a finger at him.

"Ralph did not know that Jerry was so wise. Thank you." he smiled and hugged his friend. Jerry patted him on the back and pulled away.

"No problem. Now let's hurry up and get to the aisle or they will be playing 'Here comes the Groom'." Jerry tidied up Ralph's appearance and smoothed both of their hair neatly. After making sure they had everything, they headed to the venue.

The hotel they were having the wedding at had a court yard. This was where the ceremony would be. Some staff members were making some finishing touches on the decorations and setting floral arrangements(designed by the groom himself) around the area.

Alice was running around with Ace, being careful not to interrupt the decorators. When Alice saw Ralph, she made a beeline to him. He felt the air leave his artificial lungs when she collided with him in a tight hug.

"Hello Alice! Ralph hopes you're staying out of trouble." he chuckled.

"Mhm! Ace and I were just looking around. I want to make sure I spread the flower petals evenly down the aisle." she said. Jerry made a slight pout.

"Jerry is the best man and that is a very important role." Ralph reassured him.

"I know! I just thought it'd be fun to throw flowers everywhere." Jerry sighed. Alice gave him a quick hug.

"I'll save some so you can throw them after the 'I do' part." she whispered to him. Jerry smiled and nodded. She waved her goodbyes and took Ace to their waiting area.

The staff filed out of the courtyard as guests began to flow in. Ralph felt his anxiety build with each congratulations he received. People sat in their seats and everyone got into their places. It was time. Ralph and Jerry stood at the altar.

Markus escorted North up the aisle, then Connor with Rose, and here was where Luther would've walked in in a typical wedding, but they had decided on a more important role for him in the walk. Alice, with Ace on a leash, walked down the aisle and showered the carpet in petals. Then, came the music that almost killed Ralph.

Hearing the bridal march never seemed so bad to him, but the wait was excruciating. Behind the entrance, Kara steeled herself and linked arms with her escort, then took her first step.

Ralph's breath caught in his throat. Kara walked slowly toward him, arm in arm with her best friend and matron of honor, Luther. When they finally arrived at the altar, before they separated, Luther gave her a kiss on the cheek and whispered, "Good luck."

Now Ralph understood their closeness. Something inside him told him that he no longer needed to be jealous of their friendship. Because, while they had both looked at each other so lovingly, the look reminded Ralph of something shared between a brother and sister or a father and daughter. He was grateful then that Luther was there for Kara.

The music faded away and the priest began the introduction. Kara felt as if she was buzzing with all kinds of energy and couldn't help but glance at Ralph every few seconds. Before they knew it, it was time to exchange their vows. Ralph went first.

"Kara," he held her hands in his and their artificial skin faded away on contact. "Ral-... I have loved you for some time now. I-I didn't know much about love before I met you. I still don't. Ah but I-I know that love is like a garden. You plant the seed and nurture it, and you hope that it grows to be big and beautiful. Yes, weeds sometimes grow among the flowers, but the hardships can be overcome with hard work and care." Ralph took a deep breath and continued. "I have always loved flowers, Kara. They're my original purpose. I was made to love them. I-I can't help but feel I was made to love you, too. Nothing would make m-me happier than to be with you and Alice for the rest of our lives. I want to grow this garden with you, Kara. And I'll spend every day taking care of the weeds if that means I can bring you flowers every night."

Kara wiped her eyes carefully, making sure not to mess up Luther's hard work. She sniffed and started her vows.

"Ralph, I'll admit when we first met, I was skeptical. You were waving a knife around and you looked like you'd been through hell and back." Kara began. "You had a funny obsession with succulents and cacti, and you wanted to take care of Alice and I almost immediately. After spending time with you, I realized that you were very similar to the desert plants you love; sharp and defensive on the outside, soft and harmless on the inside. I learned to look past the walls you had built to keep others out and I am so happy you let me in. You love Alice like she was your own, and you care for me in a way I've never experienced before. I am more than willing to take care of our garden with you." she finished.

"Weeds and all?" Ralph slipped the ring onto Kara's finger.

"Weeds and all." Kara slipped Ralph's ring onto his finger.

"I now pronounce you man and wife." the priest smiled, then nodded to Ralph. "Go get her, flower boy."

Kara barely had time to roll her eyes at the saucy old man's remark when Ralph pulled her in for the kiss. She wrapped her arms around him and let out a surprised laugh as he spun her around joyfully. He set her down and a shower of petals rained down on them. Ralph looked over his shoulder to see a sobbing Jerry tossing flower petals at them. He shook head and lead his wife down the aisle, beaming like an idiot. Ralph didn't care if he looked stupid, he was with her.

The wedding party followed suit in reverse order, Luther supporting Jerry as they followed their friends, both tearful.

---

"This song goes out to the very two people who brought us together today. Ralph and Kara, from all of us, we wish you the best." Markus nodded and made a 'namaste' gesture to them before sitting at the piano with Chloe. They sang 'I Was Made For Loving You'(no not the rock n roll version).

As they sang, Ralph took Kara by the hand and lead her in a dance. He had learned how to just for the occasion. The guests looked on, watching the two lovers twirl across the dancefloor. The song ended and there were applause.

After that, others danced to the following songs. Jerry was doing a box step with Alice standing on his feet so she wouldnt have to worry about keeping up.

"May Ralph cut in?" Ralph tapped Jerry's shoulder.

"I'm flattered Ralph, but you're married now." Jerry gave him a sly look. Ralph turned blue and vigorously shook his head.

"N-no, no that's not-"

"He knows, he was just messing with you." Luther clapped him on the shoulder, appearing seemingly from nowhere. "And stealing my joke apparently." Jerry shrugged sheepishly as Alice joined Ralph in a dance.

"So is it alright if I quit calling you Ralph?" she asked. Ralph faltered, taken off guard by the question.

"Ralph... Ralph wouldn't mind if you called him Papa." he smiled. Alice pulled him into a hug. Kara watched Jerry and Luther bickering and her husband and daughter dancing. Her's wasn't the most normal family, but it was the best she could have asked for.

--

Ralph looked up at Kara, gulping nervously. He had no idea this was a normal wedding tradition. Her leg was before him, bare except for the flower laced garter high on her thigh. Somewhere in the crowd of wolf whistles, Jerry and Luther were shielding Alice's eyes.

After a moment longer of hesitation, Ralph hooked the clothing in his teeth and pulled it down his wife's leg. He would never live this down. Ever. He just knew his face would be flushed blue for the rest of his existence. He stood up, removing the garter from his mouth quickly and held it up.

"Way to go, stud!" North called to him. He didn't know it was possible to blush more, but he achieved it. Kara stood next to him, bouquet in hand. They held one another's hands and tossed the items backwards into the crowd.

Josh grunted as one of Norths heels made contact with his shin in the scramble to catch the bouquet. Markus laughed rather uncharacteristically when he saw Simon sheepishly holding up the garter between his thumb and index finger. The guests looked around for who had caught the flowers. Jerry stood looking down into his hands with absolute delight, eyes sparkling.

"I'm getting married!" he pumped his hands into the air.

"Jerry, the women were supposed to-" Luther reached to him to calm him down.

"Shh, dont ruin this for him." Alice shook her head. Jerry was overjoyed and hopped in place. The reception continued and Jerry passed out the flowers from the bouquet. In truth he had felt bad hogging all the marriage luck, so he wanted to share it with the others.

"Here ya go, big guy." Jerry held out the last flower to Luther.

"I... I don't need it, thanks." Luther looked at the flower, brows creased.

"Take the flower so you can find love, darn it." Jerry insisted.

"Trust me, keep it." Luther shook his head. Jerry sighed and stood on his tip toes, breaking some of the stem off of the rose and fixing it into the pocket of Luther's tux.

Kara chuckled at the sight and leaned into Ralph's embrace. They were swaying idly on the dancefloor in each other's arms.

"Y'know... I don't think those two will ever stop arguing." she mused. Ralph hummed and kissed her.

"They have their own weeds they need to take care of."

-------

A/n:

Oof that took a hot minute. I combed through this a bit to make sure I made as few mistakes possible. Typically I'll post as soon as I finish and fix it if I catch anything later on but I'm trying to stop that habit. Tbh this was super fun to plan out and think about and i was conflicted the entire damn time I wrote it.

And yes I'll admit it, Jerry and Luther are a crackship of mine. I really dont care if its platonic or romantic, I just think they both have shared interests in protecting and keeping their families happy. Ultimate babysitter boys.

[jojotier]

(i need to completely scrap and rewrite this wealth of stability finale, so before I wipe the slate clean, here’s what you WON’T be seeing- especially since my style’s changed a lot over the year...)

The passenger beside Jotaro was laughing under his breath.

Jotaro kept watch from the corner of his eye, straining his ears to hear over the still, pressurized air of the cabin. 178 centimeters. Broad shouldered, with a pea green overcoat and fitted pants. Large, circular shades that covered one half of his face and a bushy, dark mustache that covered the other. All the stranger's hair was hidden (or else he didn't have any) under a black fedora. Jotaro had asked specifically for a window seat with no neighbors, and this man had sat down beside him anyway, despite flight attendant complaints- and unceremoniously paid them off. Suspicious.

The stranger appeared to be trying to pretend to read. In his hands was a book with the title I'm Not Who You Think I Am plastered across the front in gaudy neon letters. Subtle, Kakyoin would have sarcastically commented, if he were with Jotaro and not still laid up in Tokyo.

Jotaro thought to himself that this was going to be one hell of a long day.

Someone was going to disappear from this flight.

For the moment, everything on the flight was eerily quiet- but that would change soon. Or so the thin manilla folder he'd stolen from the Speedwagon Foundation told him.

There was a mechanical thunk that sounded from the back of the cabin, permeating the pressurized air with sound. Jotaro’s head turned, along with the stranger, as other passengers around the both of them whispered to each other in confusion. In the back of the cabin, just in front of the restroom, there was a vending machine.

Jotaro’s eyebrows furrowed as he took in the scene, scanning the crowd of civilians murmuring to each other. The vending machine continued to stand guard in front of the bathroom, and he hoped that if anyone were inside they weren’t planning on coming out any time soon. It was painted all black, but done up in such eye searing neon letting that Jotaro felt his retinas burn for a second before he was even able to take in the words on it. Guaranteed to boost your luck! Try Lindwurm Horde Brand TODAY! It all ended with the image of some medieval painting that seemed entirely out of place. Whoever designed the thing should go into another profession. Whether or not graphic design was their passion be damned.

The confused passengers became more antsy as the man beside Jotaro slowly lowered his book, turning his body towards the vending machine while pushing those round shades higher up his nose, seemingly determined to hide his eyes. Underneath them there was the sound of something glassy slithering along the metal floor, covered almost completely thoroughly by the quieted air of the pressurized cabin around them. Then a voice rang out through the cabin.

“Alright ladies and gents, now that I have your attention!” There was a girl standing up at the front of the plane, stepping neatly through the curtain from first class. A couple people peeked out from the curtain, watching her- and she couldn’t have been very old, in her late teens at most. With those stupid pink heart sunglasses, twin blonde braids and baby pink heart themed belly shirt, she seemed even younger. Jotaro hadn’t known that a girl that tall could seem so juvenile from just a glance. Definitely not the kind of little bitch one would expect to be addressing a crowd.

The slithering sound was still there, creeping along, and Jotaro spotted a mass of green darting across the aisle. One of Star’s arms materialized, fist twitching at his side- but he needed to see what the fuck was going on first, to gauge the situation. He’d get to come out soon enough.

“I’m sure you’re wondering what’s gathered the lot of you here on this one specific flight, at this one specific time, with tickets cheaper than the dumpy things you all rode into the airport on- and I assure you, it isn’t just a trip to New York City!” She held herself up like a showman, sending an arrogant glance around the people in the cabin who whispered to each other, now with a strange kind of agitation.

“See ladies and gents, I have a game for you all today.” She said, and for some reason, that was what silenced every member of the flight. Jotaro glanced around, watching the eerie silence settle, as the man beside him leaned forward, shades slipping down his nose. Behind the girl who could only have been the stand user, a green, glassy tentacle raised high in the air.

Jotaro noticed the stranger had scars over his eyes.

The little bitch was quick to move, and the ever present sense of something wrong only grew stronger when she took a woman away from beside her toddler. No screaming. No struggle as the middle aged woman was manhandled- no protest from the boy whose mother was being manhandled away, a boy who couldn’t be more than five. Just pure silence as the woman was put between herself and the stand tentacle, causing it to stop in its tracks. The teen pressed a gun against the back of the woman’s head.

“Hey now, no need to be fucking rude! I thought we could settle this business-like, but I guess we got a few stragglers, huh?” She tossed one braid over her shoulder as she glanced in their direction. “Now would the owner of their mutated moldy Sour Punch please come and share with the class?”

The stranger stood up in the aisle, sweeping his fedora and fake mustache off in one fell swoop, letting his red bang fall back into place. Jotaro could only stare in shock for a moment as the man who wasn’t a stranger after all said, “Well… I must say, I didn’t expect much of the in flight entertainment, but this must be a new low.”

Kakyoin? How the fuck did he get on this flight?

It hit Jotaro somewhat that he maybe should have realized when the tendril of what could only have been Hierophant Green was on the move, but he decided that right then wasn’t the time to dwell on Kakyoin’s (admittedly stupid) disguise. He stood as well, Star Platinum materializing from his back. Hierophant slithered back to its user, winding up Kakyoin’s sleeve and hiding itself there. The girl looked the both of them over, sneering.

“Well look who the goddamn furry dragged in!” She tossed her braids back, somehow not managing to hit herself in the face with them, “Some broody teen drama stereotype and his expendable sidekick- that just makes my fucking day, I’ll tell you what.”

~~~

When they finally landed at LaGuardia Airport, the passengers seemed more or less fine- they mumbled and bumped into each other with some cursing and snide remarks as they shambled off the flight, but otherwise, everyone was entirely unharmed.

The man who’d won the ‘game’ woke up and blinked, entirely confused, but ultimately nonplussed and perhaps the most cheerful person off the flight. Jotaro sent a quick text to Speedwagon to keep an eye on Shiraishi Yoshiro (or at least, that’s what his ID had claimed when Jotaro had a peek) and set his sights on figuring out what the fuck they were going to do now that they’d actually made it to New York. He’d more or less been planning on winging it...

“Ugh… I feel like my brain is trying to dissolve my skull.” Kakyoin groused, rubbing his head.

“You jumped out of a plane.” Jotaro reminded him. “That’s a lot of oxygen deprivation.” Not to mention, a lot of fuckery with the air pressure too. It had been hard to keep himself from passing out, even when the door had closed.

“Well no shit, Sherlock,” Kakyoin snapped, rubbing the side of his neck, “God, and this crick in my neck-”

“Damn, was that vending machine really that potent?” Jotaro had to question.

“No! I’m fine!” Kakyoin snapped loudly, before pausing, seeming to come into some self awareness. The small journey from ‘I would gladly twist all of your limbs into the general consistency of pretzels’ to ‘maybe the Bond villain was Me all along’ was something that Jotaro almost wished he caught on film, if only because a lot of the faces made in between those two states barely looked human. “.... Jesus Christ I sound like a middle aged mother.”

“Yeah.”

“You’re not supposed to agree-!”

“Mmmh…” Both froze as Brittany began to stir in her position over Jotaro’s shoulder, 

(EDIT: please note, i just mean that you wont see events playing out in this way. i fully intend to keep the stand vending machine fight. if i didnt have it i would die of shame)

[actnonsense]

Destiny Story Thing

There seemed to be a pause in the atmosphere of the Tower plaza, the only sound being the murmuring ambiance of those around them, and a light groan of pain. There were a few Guardians observing the scene, as well as a handful of civilians, who seemed to wear concerned and anxious expressions. Even Master Rahool looked up from his datapad to see what all the fuss was about.

Leaning against one of the nearby towers used for storage was a Titan, a human of fair complexion and dark blonde hair. He had a hand on his head, his eyes clenched shut as he nursed the wound that he found on his forehead. He was dressed in a special armor set, made to emulate the glowing, ethereal aesthetic of the Taken… someone’s idea of a joke, it would seem. There was a helmet of similar design, tossed aside by the rather irate Warlock who had ripped it from his head to deliver a fearsome headbutt.

Standing before the hurt man, the Warlock was an Awoken, her pale blue skin emanating a light that seemed to flow down her face like water. Her piercing, illuminated green eyes seemed to stare holes into the Titan, her annoyance painted quite clearly on her face. Standing beyond him was another Awoken, a man bearing similar hair to the aforementioned human, though with a much lighter blonde coloring to it.

As fate would have it, one of the nearby Guardian’s happened to be the Exo in charge of the Hunter Vanguard, Cayde-6. Rushing to the scene, either out of concern or as an excuse to delay his trip to the Vanguard Hall, Cayde was quick to break up the crowd that had begun to form around them. It seemed that more than a few of them were disappointed by this, hoping perhaps to see a brawl break out.

“Alright, show’s over everyone.” He called out, approaching the two offending Guardians. “Now, one of you wanna tell me what’s going on here?” The Exo asked in that usual snarky tone he carried. As it were, the human had recovered by this point, standing up straight and glaring daggers at the smaller Warlock. It was shock more than any pain that had stunned him for as long as it did.

“This bitch just attacked me out of nowhere, that’s what’s going on!” He shouted angrily, fists clenched tightly at his sides. He looked ready to fight right then and there, yet he seemed to possess enough restraint to keep his rage in check.

“You were harassing a fellow Guardian, despite numerous requests from him to stop.” She snapped back, one hand resting on her hip, while the other had her helmet tucked under it: a flamboyantly designed thing, sporting wings flanking each side, as well as a beak jutting out from the front, the insignia of the New Monarchy peppering the surface.

“Okay, let’s take this from the top.” The Hunter Vanguard suggested, his mechanical eyes momentarily flicking over to the Hunter that still stood behind the Titan, near the Cryptarch station. “What exactly were you doing before the Captain here cleaned your clock?”

“I was…” There was a pause, as if he were hesitant to give an answer to that question. His eyes seemed to break contact with her for a moment, trying to gather his words. “I uuh, I just got this armor, and decided to have a little harmless fun.” He emphasised, daring the Captain to challenge him… a challenge she took with pleasure.

“You were posing as a Taken, and using it to get a rise out of Huntir.” She pointed out, shaking her head lightly. “You were very clearly distressing him, so when you refused to stop, I decided to make you stop.” She declared, seeing no reason to deny the obvious. “You’re damn lucky I didn’t headbutt you with the helmet on. I’ve seen this beak do terrible things to Fallen.”

“You ever heard of a practical joke before? What kinda nutjob goes around attacking people for petty shit like that?” He questioned sharply, pointing at her in an aggressive manner. The Captain, for her part, finally set the helmet down so that she might give her arm a rest, speaking as she did so.

“It was mean, no matter how you cut it. As I’m sure Cayde could tell you, he’s sensitive about the Taken and Hive. Hell, I’m sure anyone with a shred of common sense could gather that from your ‘performance’.” She dusted off her robes before standing up straight again. “You weren’t playing a prank at that point, you were being a dickhead.”

“Maybe you’re friend here should man the fuck up and grow a pair.” He practically snarled in annoyance. “You don’t see anyone else here having a fucking fit over the Taken.”

“Excuse me?” As the words left her mouth, everyone present felt a shift in the mood. It was as if the air had begun growing so cold it burned, and it seemed to be coming from her. Her expression was unreadable, but it was clear that that was the the wrong thing to say. As soon as the Titan felt that shift, he turned to Cayde, as if he meant to call for him. The Hunter Vanguard, for his part, took a step back, hands raised in a show of surrender.

“Do you even know just who my friend is?” She asked, her voice seemingly calm, yet carrying an edge that could cleave the Traveler in twain. “Huntir happens to be a member of the fireteam that lead the charge against the Taken. The same team that ultimately killed Oryx himself. My team.” As she spoke, she began to close the distance between them, which lead to the Titan backing himself up against the storage tower yet again.

“He rose up to defend this City from the Hive and Taken, despite having watched them consume his former associates. He pushed past that crippling fear to save us all from being swallowed by the Darkness.” It was here that she was practically pressed into him, her eyes drilling into his, the Titan feeling her breath on his face as she spoke in a downright chilling tone.

“So don’t you fucking give me that crap. Huntir’s the bravest Guardian I know, and has accomplished more than you could ever hope to achieve. So why don’t you stop being such an immature brat and back off?” There was a pause, neither of the Guardians breathing as she tried to burn a hole through his head with her gaze alone. Finally, as if to finally relieve the tension, Cayde spoke up.

“Well, I think this has served as a great lesson on the dangers of bullying.” He quipped, the poor guy doing his best to defuse the tense situation. “I’m gonna head down to the Hall now, gotta meeting to catch.” He directed his attention to the Titan. “Ford, why don’t you swing by later? I’m sure Zavala would like a word with you later. Same goes for you Isra.” It was at this point that the Awoken took a few steps back, letting the human loose from his pinned position. Without hesitation, he stepped over to his helmet to retrieve it, the Guardian quickly departing.

Cayde excused himself, shooting Isra an almost impressed smirk as he departed, leaving the plaza in silence. Only the Captain, Huntir, and Master Rahool were present now, the latter of which had buried himself in his work to avoid the situation that unfolded before him. The silence was broken by the sudden appearance of a Ghost beside her, sporting a red and white New Monarchy shell.

“GodDAMN! That was awesome, Fadia!” Came his excited reply, his synthetic voice conveying a surprising amount of enjoyment. She scoffed at her Ghost, running a hand through her cobalt hair.

“Yeah… I really need to stop doing that to people, I don’t wanna build a reputation as an ice queen.” She commented idly, moving to check on her friend. Though her indigent demeanor began to grow when she saw the wowed expression the Awoken Hunter wore. She was never going to hear the end of this, she could already tell.

So this was a thing I thought up of during a shower. A few friends of mine have been playing Destiny, and have sorta been building up our characters as we went. Here we have Captain Isra Fadia, my Warlock, defending her teammate Huntir the Hunter, @babebot‘s character.

[salty-dracon]

ace hang plays noctis umbra part 2

CHRIS HEMSWORTH, IS THAT YOU? | Noctis Umbra Part 2 | Ace Hang Plays Otome

Lily: *pointing to Rana and sobbing* You’re the only son of a bitch I respect in this goddamn game... you’re the only person I trust... 

----------

Brid: Hey guys, welcome back to Ace Hang! I’m Brid! 

Lily: And I’m Lily! Last time, we finished the prologue of Noctis Umbra, where we learned we were half succubus, we ate a dude, and we, uh... joined the goth club? 

Brid: And choked out a guy! 

Lily: And now we’re going to choke him out again if he doesn’t give us answers. Which he won’t. Because he’s a bitch. 

Brid: How fun! 

Lily: Also, since you guys informed us that the game wouldn’t really continue if we didn’t select at least someone to romance, we went with Valerius, because people seem to ship him with the MC. It didn’t really change anything, so it’s fine, probably.

Brid: Also we didn’t really see any options for Rana, who we both like. 

Lily: This story’s ramping up, and I can’t wait to romance a fucker, so let’s go! 

---------

Brid: OHHHHH, GRIZZLED THIRTY SOMETHING HOT KOREAN ALCOHOLIC-

Lily: Please clap, it took us five minutes to come up with that. 

Brid: This is the first time we’re seeing Tae. 

Lily: I like him. I like his design. Actually, yeah, I really like him. 

Brid: He seems like a pretty cool dude. 

Lily: Oh, and Ae-ri! Nice to see you again, girl! Lookin’ good! 

Brid: Oh my god, don’t tell me it’s like, sibling culture between these two. 

Lily: Eyyyy, Rana! You’re cool too! Didn’t, you, like, fucking deck a dude at the end of the last episode?

Brid: Oh yeah, Luka. That fuckin’ hippie ass. 

Lily: And now Bitch Lasagna wants us off duty. 

Brid: Looks like we’re going demon hunting elsewhere. 

Lily: And we were at an orphanage. That’s nice. That’s not edgy at all. 

Brid: “Be careful!”

Lily: “What, no be careful to me?”

Brid: “You ate my cheesecake.”

(they both start laughing)

Lily: Now I need fanart of them both T-posing at each other across a room. 

----------

Brid: Do you know what a Bul-Gae is? 

Lily: I kinda thought you’d know. 

Brid: You’re Vietnamese. 

Lily: You’re Chinese. 

Brid: ... Whatever. Yay, Nocturnal jokes. Whee, Nocturnal jokes. 

Lily: “Valerius must be having one hell of a hard time.” “He’s not Nocturnal, actually.” ... 

Brid: ... 

Lily: ... 

Brid: Oh my god, not again... 

Lily: MyDude is already pulling out her gun. 

Brid: I’m about to sock a bitch!

Lily: We just get out of the car, walk all the way back... throw our high heel through his window... 

----------

Lily: HOLY SHIT WAS THAT A BABY SCREAMING

Brid: RUN RUN RUN

Lily: WE’RE EDGELORDS BUT WE’RE GOOD PEOPLE

Brid: ... 

Lily: ... 

Brid: ... IS THAT THOR? 

Lily: THOR?! WHAT IS THOR DOING HERE?!

Brid: I COULD ASK THOR THE SAME QUESTION! 

Lily: Wait, who the fuck played Thor? 

Brid: Chris Hemsworth. 

Lily: Got it. HOLY FUCK GUYS IT’S CHRIS HEMSWORTH

Brid: *valerius voice* “God damn it, My Dude, we do not fuck with preps-”

Lily: She’s just verbally keysmashing while just being like “HOLY FUCKING SHIT GUYS IT’S CHRIS HEMSWORTH”

Brid: Meanwhile Tora over there’s like... *sound clip of Tora from Xenoblade Chronicles 2 shouting “Meh meh meh!”* before just using her little hands to punch Thor. 

Lily: I swear, if Thor has magic powers... 

Brid: Okay, so she’s an ala? What’s an ala? 

Lily: Hell if I know! 

Brid: “The Ascendency?” So... there’s another organization out there? 

Lily: OH THIS KID’S ANGRY

Brid: ... Did we just get blasted with lightning? 

Lily: The real Thor... was the girl.

----------

Lily: Finally, Ae-ri’s getting the rest she needs. 

Brid: Ey, Rana! “I’ll make sure she rests.”

*Luka appears*

Lily: Oh my god. 

Brid: Don’t tell me she’s using him as house labor. 

Lily: Call the IRS.

Brid: “MAKE HER SLEEP” “GOD YOU DON’T HAVE TO TELL ME TWICE” “JUST DO IT”

Lily: Looks like Thor- the bad one- is part of a human organization fighting against demons. 

Brid: Oh no, we succed Tae!

Lily: Sorry!

----------

(six minutes of frustration because Valerius won’t tell MC anything)

---------

Lily: RANA ON THE ROOF! 

Brid: WELCOME TO THE ROOF! 

Lily: You’re the only person I respect in this game and I love you! 

Brid: Ohhhh, three wishes! 

Lily: But they’re costly. 

Brid: Not in DND, they’re not. 

Lily: “Have you ever murdered a child?”

Brid: “Nope. Do you think the others have?”

Lily: “Maybe...”

Brid: “Nope. They haven’t.”

Lily: “Anyway Valerius treats me like a child.”

Brid: “No one can treat you like a child.”

Lily: Thanks, Rana. OH MY GOD WE CAN ROMANCE HER

Brid: ... I’m tempted. 

Lily: GO FOR IT!

Brid: Ooooh, spicy!

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

Brid: I love how we walk in on Ae-ri about to kick Luka’s ass. Again. “Pwease help, they’re using me as a reusable sleeping pill”

Lily: Then pewish, punk. 

Brid: “You wanna go back in the bottle?” “Halp”

Lily: oh my god

Brid: He tortured my baby, and I will end his life for it. 

Lily: Oh, you’re damn right you will! 

Brid: KICK HIS ASS!

Lily: Okay, now a new character. Leo. And the Legion’s about to take Tora. 

Brid: We’ll beat his ass too! 

Lily: So much ass beating... 

Brid: And now we’re going to kick everyone else’s asses for making us babysit Luka

--------

Brid: “Wanna play Monopoly?”

Lily: “Shut up.”

Brid: “Come on, it’s fun capitalism!”

Lily: “I will kill you”

Brid: I like Luka. He’s funny. 

Lily: Nah, he’s difficult, actually. Look, he’s trying to tell MyDude some more secrets. Fake news. 

Brid: “Do you know what Valerius actually is?”

Lily: Oh my god. 

Brid: “He was always a hunter... “ Was he an angel or something? 

Lily: Huh. 

Brid: Oh, he is an angel! 

Lily: “Find them.”

Brid: “Yay, adventure!” See, this is why I like him. 

Lily: You do you. 

----------

Lily: Welcome to the fucking woods! We’re all fucking feral here, folks! 

Brid: Oooooh, I do not like his beard! 

Lily: It’s the old man fuzz. Damien wasn’t actually Chris Hemsworth, it’s this guy. Leo. 

Brid: I love how literally the whole Noctis Umbra team is ganging up on him. 

Lily: “What do you want?” 

Brid: “A peaceful retirement.” Don’t we all. 

Lily: Oh, they’re arguing. 

Brid: Even he knows the angel secret, huh?

Lily: And here comes our girl! 

Brid: Our girl! 

Lily: And Leo is pissed. “That-” No. NO WAY. “That’s my daughter you’ve got there.”

Brid: DAUGHTER??

Lily: Daughter. I mean, I do see the whole racially ambiguous thing going, but other than that... 

Brid: Oh, we killed someone. That’s cool. 

Lily: And Valerius isn’t an angel anymore? Is he a fallen angel?

Brid: Fun. 

Lily: Oh great. Are we going to spend a night with this fucker? 

Brid: Right, and he’s pulling out the royalty line again. 

Lily: “Are you king of demons?”

Brid: “No, I’m dad.”

Lily: ... 

Brid: ...

Lily: DID WE JUST GET DAD JOKED

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

Brid: “She’s asleep, but in shock.”

Lily: I think anyone would be, if that happened. Oh, wait, they’re referring to Tora.

Brid: Oh no, Luca escaped! I liked voicing him!

Lily: “We’re gonna need a new place if we keep taking in people.”

Brid: “That’s a great idea!”

Lily: Oh, there we go. “Fallen angel”.

Brid: So does that make him a demon?

Lily: Who knows.

----------

Brid: Okay, he’s actually gonna tell us a secret now?

Lily: He’d best be tellin’.

Brid: Wow, and his secrets are “it’s complicated” and nothing more.

Lily: Asshole.

Brid: But he’s right, we need someplace to rest for a bit.

Lily: Yup.

Brid: So are we leaving or not?

Lily: Oh, a choice. Since we romanced Valerius this time around, I think we’ll stay.

Brid: Good answer!

Lily: And he says so. Former angel. Ooooh, show me your wings, bitch!

Brid: He just strips immediately.

Lily: “Show me.”

Brid: Oh my god.

Lily: HE’S ACTUALLY GOT WINGS LOL

Brid: We just start screaming that from the sky.

Lily: He’s not gonna drop us, is he?

----------

Lily: Oh, and now Luca’s in trouble. Great.

Brid: I’m about to deck him again. 

---------

Lily: And the chapter concludes. Okay guys, looks like this is going to be it for this episode of Noctis Umbra! 

Brid: Our boy’s being a little more honest with us, though perhaps less honest than we’d like. Also, we met our dad. And that’s not good at all. 

Lily: He ugly. 

Brid: He ugly. 

Lily: What are your thoughts? 

Brid: Everyone here except Rana, Ae-ri, and Tae, and also Keelan... basically, a lot of people need to be punched in the face, and I will facilitate that. 

Lily: Same. Mood. Worm. 

Brid: Anyway, that’s all for this episode! Tune in next time for more weird otome! 

[cookiemonsterindisguise]

the whole thing .__.

“Oh great, you’re back! Get dressed; we’re going out in half an hour.” My roommate’s sister and temporary roommate, Olivia states matter-of-factly, as soon as I enter my shared flat, completely ignoring my wrinkled work clothes, wind-blown hair and weary eyes.

“I’m sorry but I can’t, not tonight.”

“Did she just say she can’t?” My roommate, Grace pops her head in from the kitchen, looking at Olivia.

“Yes, she said she can’t because she cannot be bothered to drive you bitches around until 3 in the morning when I’ve got an early shift tomorrow.” I mutter as I make my way to the couch and flop down on it.

My friends look a fraction more sensitive upon acquiring this new piece of information.

“That asshole is making you work early again? After making you work until –” Olivia pauses to check the time, “like 8 tonight?! What’s he playing at?”

I shrug my shoulders, dejected.

“Why don’t you just quit? What he’s doing is so unfair.” Grace huffs angrily.

“Because I need the money.” I say, “I really need the goddamned money.” Even though I’d be happier if I was mopping floors than I am at my current job.

Olivia puts a hand on my shoulder, bright green eyes boring into my coffee ones with concern.

“Listen Alex, I think it’s time you leave this job. Grace and I’ll help you find another one and do the rent and groceries and stuff until then.”

“I agree. You’re miserable and you’ve been complaining about this for months – it’s time.” Grace adds, picking up the house phone and holding it out to me, “Call the scumbag and tell him you’re done, say you’re not coming in tomorrow.”

I look at both of them and I know they’re right but the idea of sitting around all alone, doing nothing makes me worry.

“Go on, call him.” Urges Olivia.

“But I can’t just be a potato watching you guys work and pay for things!” I murmur.

I’m met with expletives from both sides of me and then Grace says, “You can pay us back later, okay? Now for fuck’s sake, call him.”

I tentatively take the phone and stare at it for a couple of seconds, before dialing my boss’ number.

“Um hi Nathan, it’s Alexandra.” I say quietly and wait for him to respond until Grace says, “Cut the niceties. Just tell him he’s a dick and you’re quitting.”

“Yeah, what?” He replies brusquely and it gives me the courage to say what I was afraid of.

I take a deep breath, clear my throat and begin, “Do you know what Nathan? I work for your company; I wasn’t employed to answer to your individual becks and calls or to get your coffee or your lunch. I’m a well-qualified and honourable human being who will not put up with your shit any longer. So yeah, I’m officially quitting and I won’t bother with writing a Letter of Resignation because frankly, you don’t deserve it. I expect you to pay me for this month’s work by the end of the week and I’ll be around sometime tomorrow to clear my desk. Bye, I hope I never have to see you again.” And I hang up.

Both my friends look at me with shocked but satisfied grins on their faces, thoroughly impressed.

“Didn’t know you had it in you Alex,” Olivia compliments, walking towards her bedroom, “now get your butt off the couch and put on that grey skirt. We’re getting shitfaced tonight!”

~~~~~

It’s been nearly two weeks since I quit my job. So yeah, as of now, I’m unemployed. I’ve applied to several places but haven’t heard back from any so I’d say my current state of unemployment is here to stay. I get off the Underground and make my way to the shop to get groceries because while my roommates are decent with money, they suck at domestic stuff. They wouldn’t know they’re out of food until they’re starving and realise their fridge is empty. Naturally, stocking up is one of my responsibilities. As I’m filling my cart with cereal and grains and vegetables, my phone pings. Since I’m not the kind to text for idle chat, I’m slightly taken aback but I take it out anyway.

It’s an email and on seeing Farley Media as the sender’s name, my heart skips a beat since it’s one of the companies I’ve applied to. I quickly open it and upon reading through the first paragraph, I’m disappointed. They don’t think I’m right for their organisation and blah, blah, the usual excuses you make when you don’t want to hire someone. As I reach the end though, my heart starts to pound again.

Apparently, Farley Media works really closely with Parlophone, the record label, the huge ass record label that The Beatles, Coldplay and Paul McCartney are signed by. Turns out they’re looking for someone to handle the website management and other related stuff of one of their wings – I’m a web developer by the way –  and that I’d be perfect for them and they’ve recommended me to Parlophone and there’s a number that I need to call to schedule an interview and I might actually get this job. AM I DREAMING OR WHAT?!

Breathing heavily, I grab whatever food I can see and quickly rush to the checkout. Once I’ve paid for my groceries, I make my way back to the underground station and as I wait for the Tube, I call both Grace and Olivia, telling them about the email. They urge me to contact Parlophone instantly and after arguing for about two minutes, I give in. The number from the email belongs to some guy named Jackson Grier and he asks me when I can meet up with him, which frankly surprises me because they’re the big guns, I should be the one asking when they’re free because I’m just begging them for a job. Anyway, because I didn’t want to sound rude, I told him that anytime next week would be fine with me so he suggested Wednesday and obviously, I agreed but I honestly don’t know what a record label is looking for in a web developer (especially me) and what the protocol to interview with them is.

Once home, I fire up my laptop with the intention of thoroughly researching every possible scenario.

~~~~~

It’s Wednesday.

I’m stood outside the Parlophone headquarters in Brook Green, London, dressed in my best black, formal dress that hugs my slight frame in a sort of flattering way, along with a coat and I. Am. Shitting. Bricks. Not literal bricks, of course, but you get my drift. Although I am curious about how that works.

Mr. Jackson Grier told me to get here by 2 o’clock and it’s only half past 1 right now, because I left early to avoid traffic. Even though I mostly travel on the Tube. But hey, if I had a car, I would be stuck in traffic, wouldn’t I?

I walk into the building which is all sleek, shiny metal and contemporary design and glass and it seems so detached and far away from the real world, it scares me a bit and I wonder how on earth I’d fit in here. If I get the job, that is. I walk to the reception where there’s a smartly dressed man sat, engrossed in his Mac screen and I feel a bit rude interrupting him but then I remind myself that I was invited here by someone who is most likely his boss, so I go ahead.

“Excuse me?” I try to sound confident and I think I succeed to some extent.

He looks up, annoyed but I’m far too nervous of my own accord to dwell on his demeanour.

“I have an interview with Mr. Jackson Grier scheduled for 2.”

“Well it’s not 2 yet, is it?” He speaks in an irritated voice. I’m slightly affronted but I power on.

“No, it isn’t, but I was wondering if you could let him know that I’m here anyway?”

He rolls his eyes and glares at me for a second before picking up the phone.

“If you could just wait over there, that’d be great.” He says, pointing to the couches off to the side of the lobby.

“Of course.” I smile at him, trying to be polite and move to one of the couches. I pull my phone out and check to see if I’ve missed anything.

I haven’t.

Of course, it doesn’t surprise me since I’m rather antisocial. I’m usually very reserved and quiet, don’t have a lot of friends but do have a more than mild case of agoraphobia, general anxiety disorder and OCD. Yeah, I’m just your usual dork who hibernates in the comfort of her home in her spare time.

I wasn’t always this nerdy. There was a time when I tried to channel my awkwardness into being a rebel, trying to be different while still being ‘acceptable’ to others. Clearly, it didn’t work out. I grew out of it soon enough and realised, gradually, who I am.

“Mr. Grier is ready for you!” The receptionist calls out, breaking my chain of thoughts.

I get up, smooth down my dress and am about to ask him where to go when he states the answer anyway.

“Straight down the corridor, last door on the left.”

Hurriedly thanking him, I walk towards Mr. Grier’s office, trying to calm myself on the way.

I knock on the last door to the left that has his name on it.

“Come in.” He calls out and I walk in.

“Ah, Miss Mason! We spoke on the phone, good to meet you.” He gets up from his chair and shakes my hand, smiling kindly.

He is middle aged and looks experienced, but humble. He doesn’t have that obnoxious quality about him. Or at least it seems that way.

“Do sit down.”

“Yes, thank you.”

“Look, I’m not going to beat around the bush here. We saw your work samples and my team and I honestly feel like you’re very good at what you do. We just need to make sure that you’re a right fit for us because as you know, we’re rather big and we need to be overly precise with all our operations, leave no room for second guessing or doubts.”

I nod along.

“So, can you convince me that hiring you will be the right decision?” He asks, and since this is the most commonly asked interview question in the history of interviews, I launch into my well-rehearsed answer, careful not to make it sound too practiced, speaking slowly but thoughtfully.

~~~~~

“Alright, do her eyes.” Grace calls out to Olivia, who is standing in front of a mirror, putting on lipstick.

It’s Saturday night and I’m being passed around, courtesy of my best friend and her sister who completely ruled out a quiet night in. They know no such thing. As a result, I’m being slathered in makeup and made to wear high heels and a short dress.

“Do I need all this?” I ask, knowing fully well that it’s pointless to try and refuse their orders. It’s just not worth the fight.

“If you want to go out, yes.” Olivia says, stalking over to me in her scarlet dress and easy, confident elegance.

“But I don’t want to go out!” I whine, once again knowing it’s pointless but trying to find an out anyway.

“No one asked you, love.” Grace flashes me a smile and proceeds to curl her shiny blonde hair into pretty beach waves.

I exhale a loud sigh and surrender myself to Olivia and her makeup skills.

Minutes later, I’m hauled up to my feet and am standing in front of a mirror. Much to my surprise, I don’t look bad at all.

“Can you believe how good this bitch looks dressed up when she just lazes around in baggy clothes?” Grace asks Olivia, both of them staring at me with an adoring expression.

I frown at them.

“Alright, let’s get this party started!” Olivia yells, ignoring me.

The three of us pile up in Grace’s car with Olivia choosing to drive. I’m in the backseat and once we’re on the main road, Grace leans back to look at me.

“I’ll give you 10 to get drunk and pick up a guy.” She says.

I laugh. She always tries to get me to drink.

“Not enough money.” She opens her mouth to retort but I cut her off.

“Besides, who’d drive you lot home?” I add.

“I could. I’ll be sober if you want to have fun Alex.” Olivia volunteers but I shake my head.

“Hey, I can have fun without alcohol okay? And I don’t mind it guys, honestly, don’t worry about me.”

Yeah, I’m one of those no-alcohol freaks, or teetotalers. I’ve had no problems with it in the past and there are no alcohol related issues in my family either but I abstain from it nonetheless. The truth is that I just don’t like the idea of voluntarily inhibiting your senses and doing stupid things under the influence of alcohol. Where’s the fun in that?! My friends gladly provide me counterarguments from time to time but still respect my decision at the end of them all, so it doesn’t really matter.

We reach our regular bar and my friends order vodka shots to ‘get in the mood’ while I order a Coke. When we’ve downed our drinks, I check my phone but my friends drag me over to the dance floor. The track is an upbeat dance number and I can’t help but move in time with the beat. As soon as the next track starts though, my phone starts to buzz in my hand and I move away from the dance floor.

“Hello?”

“Miss Mason, this is Jackson Grier.”

It’s hard to hear anything over the loud music but I make out his name.

“Oh, hello Mr. Grier. How are you?” I speak into the phone.

“I’m very well Miss Mason, but I was hoping to speak to you about some things. Is now a bad time?”

“Um, no. Just give me a minute.” I say and make my way out of the bar and onto the sidewalk where the music can still be heard but is not as deafening.

“Yes Mr. Grier, you were saying?”

“I just wanted to inform you, on behalf of Parlophone Records that we would be thrilled for you to join our team, should you so wish. You don’t have to give me an answer right now, take your time and if you do decide to take up the job, we can discuss the specifics whenever it is convenient for you.”

I open my mouth a couple of times, my mind reeling from this news and despite not having done anything all day, I feel exhausted. One million thoughts run through my head and I try to come up with some appropriate response, but I suspect I stay quiet for longer than I’d assumed because Mr. Grier speaks again.

“Miss Mason? Are you still there?”

It pulls me back down to the Earth.

“Yes, sorry, I’m here.”

“So, are two days enough for you to decide if you want to do this?”

“Actually, Mr. Grier, I’d love to do it.” I say, a grin creeping its way on to my face.

“Are you sure, Miss Mason? We’re willing to wait a couple days?” He offers but my mind is made up. Who says no to Parlophone anyway?!

“Yes, I’m sure. Thank you so much for the opportunity, I’m really excited about working with you.”

“As are we.” He says and I hear a hint of a smile in his voice, “Just to let you know, we’ve decided to hook you up with Coldplay. Have you heard of them?”

My eyes widen and my hearts pounds louder than the bass in the bar.

Are you honestly joking?! I love Coldplay’s music.

“Yes, I do like them a fair bit.” I lie, containing my delight.

“Then you’d love it at The Bakery. I’ve forwarded your details to their creative director, Phil Harvey, to whom you’d be reporting and he’ll take it from there.”

“That sounds wonderful! Again, thank you so much, Mr. Grier.”

“It’s a pleasure, Miss Mason. Good luck.”

Grinning, I thank him and head back to dance the night away.

~~~~~ 

"Why is it that I've nothing to wear?!" I exclaim, slamming my closet shut with a bang.

I'm supposed to be meeting with Phil Harvey from Coldplay in two hours and I. Don't. Have. Anything. To. Wear!! A tad dramatic but I'm very nervous so I think it's acceptable. Barely. But still acceptable.

Since my conversation with Mr. Grier a week ago, I’ve received several emails from Mr. Phil Harvey, Coldplay’s ‘creative director’ – his words, not mine – and he’s informed me that I’d be working under him and another man called Dave Holmes, who is the official manager.

Grace walks in my room, mouth set in a thin line and arms full of a mountain of formal dresses. She glares at me and sets them on my bed.

"Pick one so I can iron it for you. I can't take anymore tantrums, Olivia is already throwing one because I'm making tacos today." She throws up her hands as if she cannot quite understand why Olivia would do that.

To be honest, I'm glad she was the one to take the fall this time. Grace's tacos are a bit... Well horrible, if I'm being kind.

I make a big show of deciding but actually, I randomly pick two dresses and hold them up, "Which one's better Grace?" 

She looks convinced enough as she considers both of them.

"The peach one makes you look too pale, so not that. The emerald one's good enough I suppose. Give it here, I’ll iron it out and then you can put it on, we'll see then.”

I nod and hand her the emerald green dress. She takes it and then re-emerges with the smoothed dress just a minute later. Complimenting her efficiency, I head into the changing room. When I walk out, Grace is smirking lightly.

"What?" I question gruffly.

"You can keep that dress Alex. It was a little too tight on me anyway." She answers simply and it makes me smile. 

I thank her, quickly putting on a pair of moderately high, black heels because I hate wearing heels. I'm much better off in my Vans. I sling my bag over my shoulder, run my fingers through my hair to make it look a little less like… I don’t know, a bird's nest, to put it simply, and am almost out the door when I hear Grace call out my name.

"Yeah? What is it?" I question from the doorway.

She appears in front of me and takes me by surprise as she wraps her arms around me.

"Good luck." She says once she has released me.

I grin at her and run out to the elevator.

I reach "The Bakery", apparently the headquarters for all things Coldplay, with ten minutes to spare. After about two minutes of debating whether to wait or not, I walk in to the visitors lobby and I'm immediately struck by how different it looks from the Parlophone HQ. If that was cold and detached, this is incredibly homely and welcoming. 

A young man, not more than twenty five years old, sits at the reception and he smiles as I approach him. I'm about to introduce myself but he beats me to it.

"Alexandra Mason, isn't it?" He even sounds smiley and it’s kind of contagious.

“Yes, I hope I’m not too early?”

He smiles widely at me.

"No, you’re right on time. Dave isn't in today but Phil is and his office is just down the corridor. He told me to send you right in when you came."

Oh.

"So I can just go in, then?" I ask stupidly, still a bit unsure if I've heard him right.

He nods enthusiastically and I have to suppress a laugh. This guy is way too joyful.

"Oh, okay. Thank you."

Giving him a genuine smile, I walk to the only corridor that's connected to the lobby.

Once I reach the door that says Phil Harvey, I take a deep breath and knock.

Several seconds pass without any action and then I hear footsteps descending towards me.

A tall man opens the door and as soon as I make eye contact, I feel my face heat up because this man in front of me is wearing an emerald green shirt, untucked and unbuttoned at the top. And yes, the emerald green is the exact same copy of the colour of my dress, in case you were curious. For a couple of seconds, I just stare blatantly, forgetting all my manners along with the fact that he's my boss to be.

Then, a slow, understanding smirk spreads over his face as he gives me a cool once-over and my cheeks flush. I look down on the floor.

"Alexandra Mason, right?" He asks, jolting me into consciousness.

"Uh, yes. Mr. Harvey, I presume?" I question stupidly, offering my hand.

He takes it and shakes it firmly.

"Call me Phil." He beams, then gestures to a chair inside. "Come on in, let’s discuss your work."

I walk in and just stand in front of the table, feeling a bit frazzled at our first interaction. When he stalks over to his own chair on the other side of the table and gives me an expectant look, I sit.

Phil Harvey is a well-built man with spiky yet shiny brown hair and warm, brown eyes. His cheeks have a pink tinge and I would have thought he was blushing if his eyes weren't so full mirth, telling me otherwise. In fact, he's rather handsome and seems very charming but he's more Grace's type than mine. If I have one, that is and I really don’t think I do. He also looks quite young and although I’m not aware of his exact age, I suspect he’s at least in his thirties because Coldplay has been around a long time –this, I know for a fact.

"So I'm sure you've heard of us?" He asks me, still smirking.

"Yes I have, and I must say, I'm rather thrilled to be working with you." 

His smirk grows bigger and I find myself smiling at him.

"Very pleased to hear that. Now I'm sure Joe has already told you that Dave isn't in today, but you don't really have to worry about him. You'll mostly be working with me and the rest of the team. Dave has very little involvement in that."

"Okay." I nod my head.

"You'll find out the absolute specifics of your work once you start but it's mostly to do with our website maintenance and such, so I hope that's clear enough?"

"Yes, absolutely."

"There is one little thing..." He says and pauses for effect and it makes me want to laugh. But of course, that'd be inappropriate, so I control myself and look at him in anticipation, instead.

"If you're okay with public attention, it won't be a problem but if you're keen on avoiding it, I'd suggest you come up with an alias because our social media and website posts are written by the web team and we believe in giving credit where credit is due. So all our posts have some initials or aliases at the end of them to indicate who created that particular one. Since there is always media attention surrounding these things, and mind you there would be lots of it once the album comes out, I want to make sure if you'd be comfortable under the spotlight."

"No I'm not comfortable getting that kind of attention, I'll come up with an alias." I respond without a second thought and my promptness makes him smirk again.

"Alright then. Glad that's sorted. I believe that is all, unless you have some questions?" 

"Would I be working here at The Bakery?" I ask.

"Yes, for the time being you'll be here. But once we go on tour, depending on our requirements at the time, we might need to take you with us." He grins. I have a feeling that it’s either at my expense or he’s enjoying some inside joke.

"Oh. Okay. And when do I officially start?" 

"When do you want to?" He asks, still smiling charmingly.

"Soon?" I say uncertainly, making it seem like a question.

"How about next Monday? I'm leaving town for a few days but I'll be back by then, so I’d be able to brief you and make sure you settle in okay.”

“Sure, that sounds good.” I smile.

“That’s great then. I look forward to working with you, Alexandra.” He says, his shining eyes boring into my soul, it seems, and I flush.

“Likewise.” I force a smile and within a couple seconds, the atmosphere gets awkward.

“Uh, I’ll see myself out.” I mutter, hastily getting up.

Phil Harvey jumps to his feet and ambles towards the door, opening it for me.

“Here, let me walk you out." He says.

I arch a brow at him, wanting to snap that I'm perfectly capable of walking out by myself but I bite my tongue.

We walk silently to the main door until I turn to him.

"Monday, 10 o'clock, then?" I ask tentatively.

"Monday, 10 o'clock." He nods with a smile.

"It was nice to meet you Mr. Harv-"

"Phil, please." He cuts me off and then apologises for interrupting me, making me laugh.

"It's alright Phil." I emphasise his first name and he grins at me.

"Goodbye then." I add with a small smile.

"Goodbye, Alexandra." He says my name slowly, deliberately, making me uncomfortable and for a split second, I'm almost tempted to be that open and tell him that I prefer Alex, but that moment passes as soon as it arrives and I turn, bow my head and walk out.

I walk a few feet and when I turn around, I see Phil still standing at the door, watching me. He waves when he notices me and I smile at him, then turn back around and march on.

~~~~~~

"Did he say anything about your dress?" Olivia asks through a mouthful of pizza.

I bestowed kindness upon myself and Grace, and decided it better to simply buy a pizza than to bear Olivia's cooking. As a result, we’re sat in the middle of my bed, surrounding a box of pizza at dinnertime.

I shake my head.

"He's my boss, Liv. What would he say about my fucking dress?" I say rolling my eyes, but as if on cue, my cheeks redden as I remember the… um... incident. 

"Oh my god! What happened?" Grace shouts mid chew, forgetting all her manners and successfully deciphering my expression.

I shrug, trying to appear nonchalant as I take a bite of my pizza.

"The shirt he was wearing was the same colour as my dress." 

"Aw, that's so cute!" Olivia jumps in.

I glare at her and with narrowed eyes.

"Was he handsome?" Grace questions excitedly.

"Very, but he isn't my type. You'd like him though Gracie." I say, ruffling her hair.

"What do you mean he isn't your type? Does your type come with wings or something?" Olivia snaps, unable to understand why starting something with my boss would be a bad idea. Not to mention, to get into anything, the other person needs to like you back as well and I don’t think Phil Harvey would go for someone like me but I don’t say this out loud.

"No, but my type doesn't pay me a salary." I mutter.

"Why would I like him?" Grace pops up.

I shrug again.

"I don't know, he was the tall, fit kind you know. Shiny hair, shiny eyes, doesn’t that describe your usual type?" 

Grace blushes a little and ignores my dig.

"Sounds like you're rather taken with him." Olivia comments, no doubt still stuck on some idea of me and Phil, but when she notices the thunderous expression on my face, she wisely adds, “I mean in a completely platonic way, like ‘he’s your boss, so you respect him’ kind of way.”

“You could say that, he wasn’t intimidating or bossy, as I expected but he still had that no-nonsense attitude with just the right amount of nice.”

I pop the last bite of the pizza in my mouth and grab another slice.

“It seems like he’s a far cry from Nathan, so at least you’ll be happier here.” Olivia states and Grace nods her head solemnly.

“Yeah, there’s that. Along with the fact that I work for Coldplay now!” I squawk, finally letting my excitement show, and it earns me smirks from both my friends.

“What?” I question, rather abruptly.

“Nothing, it’s just that you’re gonna be a sort of a celebrity now.” Grace says dreamily.

“Yeah, in no time, people will be coming up to you for pictures in the streets and whatnot.” Olivia adds, widening her eyes for emphasis.

I shake my head violently, confusing them.

“That’s another thing we talked about. He asked me if I was comfortable under the spotlight.” I explain.

“And you obviously said no.” Grace concludes, rolling her eyes.

“Yeah, and so I need to come up with an alias to put at the end of the things I post and manage and basically, the fan base, and the world in general, will know me by that name and hence, Alex Mason will be safe.” I smile smugly and my friends have identical, understanding though slightly disheartened looks on their faces.

All of us chew our pizzas in silence. Olivia looks up at me after a beat.

“Have you thought of anything yet?”

I shrug my shoulders.

“I don’t know, I haven’t thought about it that much but as soon as Phil suggested an alias, all I could think was ‘Cookie Monster’.” I roll my eyes at my own immaturity.

“It’s not that bad.” Olivia suggests.

In a rare show of extreme coordination and solidarity, Grace and I cock our heads to one side, and give her looks as if saying, ‘Really?’ Olivia throws up her hands in response.

“Geez, sorry for trying to make you feel better.”

“Eh, don’t worry. I’ve got until next Monday to figure something out. In the meantime, I need you two to take your butts along with the rest of the pizza to your respective bedrooms and let me sleep.”

They grumble in annoyance at their abrupt dismissal but eventually get up and stalk out of my room. Grace even flips me off before slamming the door shut and it makes me grin.

My friends, I fondly think to myself, are dicks.

~~~~~~

I rip open a packet of Lays and pop a couple into my mouth, making a loud munching noise. Olivia and Grace turn as one to glance at me, frustrated knits of their brows clearly revealing their inner thoughts of wanting to murder me, but then they look away, knowing that it’s a waste of time to bother with me.

I stare moodily into the distance and am aware of my friends pushing a shopping cart around me while saying my name but the thoughts in my head are too overwhelming so I ignore them and fill my face with more crisps almost unconsciously.

“Why can’t we just leave her here to brood?” Grace’s voice floats into my ear, sounding really far away.

Suddenly, I snap out of my mind as an overwhelming sense of panic grips me and I feel my knees threatening to buckle beneath me.

“What if he fires me?!” I yell in alarm and turn around to find my friends.

Thankfully, they’re right behind me but the roll of Olivia’s eyes and Grace’s continued engrossment in the shopping list tells me they’re impassive to my outburst.

I widen my eyes for emphasis and repeat myself, stressing on the enormity of the situation.

“Guys! What if he fires me?! I have to go and face him tomorrow!” I wave my hands around.

Grace finally looks up from the list and stares at me for a second, before turning to face Olivia.

“Can you believe how dramatic she is?” She asks, as if I throw a fit every damn day.

“Dramatic?! Dramatic?! I’m serious; this is my job I’m freaking out about, for god’s sake!” I shout in a louder voice, perhaps proving her point.

Olivia rolls her eyes again and walks over to me.  She looks me straight in the eye and I get a little worried that she’s going to slap me, but she puts her hands on my shoulders and shakes me forcefully.

“He is not going to fire you just because you can’t come up with an alias Alex!” She tells me through gritted teeth.

“But what if-” I begin but Grace cuts me off.

“From what you’ve told us, he seemed rather impressed and he’s going to help you come up with one, if anything.”

I had more than a week to find an alias that works for me – that was my only job and I couldn’t even do that, so I don’t think Phil’s going to be impressed with me any longer. I want to voice these perfectly legitimate thoughts but the looks on my friends’ faces shut me up.

“We, on the other hand, might just end up snuffing you out if you don’t help us find Nutella. You’re the only who eats most of that, anyway.” She adds in a threating tone and it makes me smirk.

“Eats most of that? She’s like a crack addict for it!” Olivia snorts.

“If I found it for you, it would just defeat the whole purpose of getting you guys to do it.” I say, acting all high and mighty because I know not only the exact aisle that contains Nutella, but also the shelf, although I would rather just stand and watch them struggle. Partially because I’m a bitch, but also because, and this is the more important reason, they might have to live without me for extended periods and they need to know how to shop, in the least. Ever since my conversation with Phil the other day, Grace and Olivia have constantly been stressing over what they’d do when I’m not around, so I have decided to make sure that they learn the basics of survival, like grocery shopping and making dinner, and don’t starve to death while I tour across continents with the biggest band in the world.

“You’re a right ho, you know that?” Olivia says and I fake a bow, graciously accepting the compliment.

They push the cart past me and head into another aisle as I munch on more Lays, chomping over the music playing in the store. I start to follow them but my phone pings with an email.

When I open it, I realise that it’s from Joe, the receptionist at The Bakery and it’s my schedule for the week. I smile to myself, remembering his enthusiasm and in that instant, I feel an unexpected rush in my body and with it comes the Eureka moment I’d been waiting for.

“GUYS! GUYS! GUYS!” I shout and run into the aisle Grace and Olivia disappeared into, accidentally pushing some people and their carts in the process. They tut loudly but say nothing else as I skid in front of my friends with a face splitting grin.

“Guys, I found it!” I manage to huff out, still out of breath from running. That’s what happens when a potato tries to run.

“For the last time, Alex, Cookie Monster is not the best choice for a twenty-four year old grown woman!” Olivia mutters in exasperation.

I try to ease my breathing.

“It’s not Cookie Monster!” I throw my hands up and roll my eyes.

“What is it then?” Grace asks, scanning the shelves.

“Zephyr.” I declare with a triumphant smile and both Grace and Olivia turn to me immediately, eyes wide in shock or horror or joy, I’m not entirely sure.

Then, as one, they start jumping up and down and squealing like they’re four year olds in the middle of a relatively crowded aisle in a grocery store. It was joy, that much becomes clear, so I grin and they tackle me into a hug, shouting things like, ‘That’s brilliant’ and ‘we’re proud of you’ and blah blah. It’s kind of hard to decipher what they’re saying because both of them are speaking at the same time and for some reason, the music has also gotten louder now, making it increasingly difficult to hear anything over it.

Once we’re all done celebrating, Grace looks at me with a serious expression.

“Listen, there’s still a ton of things on the list we haven’t found. Could you please help? We’ll watch and learn?” She suggests tentatively and Olivia flashes her baby blue eyes at me accompanied by the most sincere look on her face.

I roll my eyes and sigh heavily. Their faces light up and they know I’m a given.

“Last time.” I say sternly, jabbing my finger threateningly at them and they nod heartily in agreement.

“Last time.”