#he also is ten seconds away from making out with the statue made in her image

[duckghosttoad]

This is funny

[draculasfavoritewife]

El Hambre (Hunger)

Summary: Getting Miguel to take a break is a full-time job unto itself, and requires a little extra incentive.

Pairing: Miguel O'Hara x fem!Spider!Reader

Warnings: Lots of suggestive talk. Miguel being an ass hehe. A risky make-out in a public space, idiots in love CANNOT keep their hands to themselves. I put far too much of my descriptive powers into talking about how devastatingly sexy Miguel is. Also for my intents and purposes, Reader understands and speaks Spanish.

Note: I use the shortened version of his name "Mique" in my own writing just because I personally prefer it. Swap it with whatever nickname you prefer in your head :)

This is one of my personal favorite pieces I've written, and still makes me giggle like an evil maniac whenever I return to reread/edit it. I have shamelessly watched every Miguel scene in ATSV far too many times and will continue to do so; his image is already tattooed on the backs of my eyelids. As mentioned in my HCs, reader is a spider-hero, but I left her pretty vague on purpose -- feel free to fill in her costume/powers/skill set with your own spidersona!

*Spanish translations at the end! (I am fairly bilingual, but if I made a lil mistake here or there do forgive me)

He hasn’t turned away from his myriad glowing monitor screens in nearly ten minutes, standing like a damn statue with his feet wide apart and hands braced on his trim hips, only lifting to sharply swipe through any screens that serve him no purpose. Each tiny shift of weight, the rise and fall of his ribcage as he breathes, all the little things that prove he is still, in fact, alive, cast soft highlights over the swell and dip of taut muscle, every part of him coiled and ready to explode into action like the perfect hunting machine he is. 

Right now, though, his eyes are burning from overexposure to even the dim interior of his watch station, and with an annoyed sigh he turns his face to the side, long fingers rubbing furiously at where the bridge of his nose meets his brow in the hope of chasing away the dull ache gnawing there. 

“You do know that even though I don’t have spider-sense I can still hear you, right?” 

You let go of your strand of web and drop lightly to the platform behind him, pulling off your mask and tucking it away. “What gave me away, the sound of me drooling as I stared too long?” 

Shocking hell.

You’re in one of those moods. 

Miguel can’t quite decide if he’s too tired for this right now or if he’s curious how far you’ll try and push him on his home turf. And it’s that indecision that starts him digging his own grave. 

“I was going to say the way your heartbeat spikes every time you set foot in this room.” His voice comes out sweet and thick as honey, because he knows exactly what that tone does to you when he uses it.

“...And I can still smell my clothes on you. Did you sleep in my shirt again?” 

“Maybe.”

Actually, you’d fallen asleep in a veritable pile of his clothes — it had been a bit since he’d had a free night, okay, and you weren’t desperate you just missed him. 

That makes him chuckle. He can probably tell you’re omitting the whole truth. 

Miguel finally turns to fully face you, and you inhale quickly as always, at the way he towers so far above your head, how his wide shoulders block out the light from his screens so his silhouette swallows you in darkness. His hair is messy, and there are deep shadows under his eyes, but his pretty mouth is slanted in a wry grin and the set of his thick eyebrows hints at underlying amusement. 

“Cute,” is what he remarks at your wide blinking eyes and rapidly heating skin, and it makes him smirk wickedly, to see how that one word flusters you for the barest of seconds. You’ve told him multiple times that you hate being called “cute” by anybody else, but ever since the first time the word slipped past his lips when he really realized just how much smaller you were underneath his body….

Well, he knows the effect it can have. 

You scowl and regain your composure. “Don’t call me that.” 

Miguel’s only response is an easy shrug, a lift of one shoulder. “What’d you bring me?” He nods at the containers in your hands. 

“Entitled prick.” With a dramatic flourish, you whip them away from his claw-tipped fingers. “What makes you think these are for you?” The exchange is back in your court with his query, and you intend to keep it there. 

“Aren’t they always?” Dark eyes zero in on yours, their softness in the gloom betraying what the gesture means to him even if he won’t say it. 

With a huff, you thrust the thermos and small box into his chest, pretending you don’t keenly notice the way the impact sends a ripple through his impressive pectorals. “Coffee. And those stupid little empanadas you love so much.” 

“Not stupid.” He takes them from your grasp much more delicately than someone with hands so large should be able to. “Don’t tell me you’ve never had a single craving for subpar food? Keeps me human.” 

He’s baiting you, knows that the words “not since I tasted you” are on the very tip of your tongue, because that’s just how your dirty mind works and he loves it. Can see the struggle on your face as you resolve not to say them aloud, and that almost goads him on more, to know you’re thinking it and just barely holding out so he doesn’t get the upper hand again quite yet. 

You settle yourself on a nearby console and gaze expectantly at him, swinging your legs. 

He gives you the side-eye as he sets your offerings down next to his work station.

“What.” 

“I’m not going anywhere until I see you eat something,” you inform him sweetly. 

Miguel groans. “Ay, loca, no eres mi madre. I’ll eat when I’m done running these last projections, okay?” 

You obstinately sit cross-legged on the console and make a show of getting comfortable for the long haul. “Then I guess you’re stuck with me, Handsome. I meant what I said.” 

He glares.

You glare back. 

Finally he opens the box with painstaking slowness — you see the way his nostrils flare at the scent of hot food, though you know he’d deny it — and he takes a large bite, maintaining eye contact the entire time he chews and swallows, each motion dripping with mockery. His tongue runs across the length of his upper lip far too sensually to be accidental, and you just catch the points of his fangs glinting in the partial darkness. 

“Better?” he drawls, dropping the empanada back in its container and leaning towards you. 

“That was one miserable bite! Doesn’t count.” 

His lip curls in a taunting sneer, and before you know what’s happening one of his powerful arms is on either side of you, his head cocked to one side as he studies you through half-lidded eyes. “Maybe your ears don’t work, Sweetheart. Tú no eres mi madre. ¿Comprendes?” 

You decide to change tactics. “Fine, fine. I’ll let it go. But —“ you gently push a few stray strands of hair away from his forehead, pausing to kiss the stress lines between his eyebrows. “— when was the last time you slept, Mique?” 

He rolls his eyes. “This morning —“ 

“For more than twenty minutes.” 

That makes him think. And by the way his gaze guiltily slides away from yours, he knows you won’t like the answer. “…When was the last time I stayed with you?” 

You sigh and cradle his strong jaw in your hands, thumbs massaging soft circles into his skin to get him to unclench his teeth. “That was four nights ago, Mique.” 

A long exhale escapes him, and he rests his head against your chest. It warms you, that he feels safe enough in the moment to let down his guard and actually show such intimate affection in his workspace. 

Or maybe he’s just that tired.

Either way, you’ll take it. 

You start working his back and shoulder muscles, kneading deeply into the firm knots where you know he holds onto everything — anger, grief, guilt, worry — Miguel does not talk through the mess in his head, preferring instead to let it fuel his savage strength. But when the adrenaline at last wears off, you know the toll it can take on his body. 

A sound halfway between a groan and a growl, and altogether far too suggestive for the time and place, rolls from deep in his chest and his hands tighten on the edge of the console, metal protesting as his talons curl into the hard surface. “Mierda. That’s tight.” 

“Should I stop?” You can’t quite tell if his reactions are spurred more by pain or pleasure.

With Miguel, the two often travel hand-in hand, anyway. 

“No.” To your disbelief, his hands uncurl from where they’re sunk into the console and travel to find your legs, teasing them apart so he can shove himself even closer and you have nowhere else to put them than around his waist, your heels resting just above his ass. “Keep going. Feels good.” 

“Someone’s touchy today, huh? And not in the usual way,” you tease, and then suddenly yelp as his hot, searching mouth lands right in the center of your chest, very noticeable through the thin material of your suit. One of his hands immediately clamps over your mouth to stifle any further sounds. 

“Cállate, Chula,” he warns, finally raising his eyes to yours again. You can see the crimson starting to smolder through in his irises, a sure sign that he’s giving in to having you right here in front of him, that you just might be a better use of his time than his projected calculations of multiverse-wide collapse.

He could use a break.

“You know people can hear you.” 

You push his hand aside. “Right, and that was totally way more audible than whatever sound you just made a minute ago.” 

“You know how I feel about it when you’re a brat to me,” he growls, snagging your lower lip with his thumb. 

“I think you love it,” you whisper, one of your own hands sliding up the back of his head, tangling your fingers in his dark hair. 

“I think that disrespectful mouth needs to be put to better use.” 

He hasn’t ever kissed you in his workspace before, and the forbidden feeling of it as he pushes you down on your back, pinning you to the console and stopping your mouth with his own sends a jolt down the entire length of your spine. Miguel has always been a wild kisser when he’s properly worked up, and you gasp out loud as his sharp teeth nip your lip, immediately followed by his tongue soothing the momentary sting. 

“I told you to be quiet,” he hums as he at last lets your mouths break apart. 

“You didn’t say you were gonna bite me, Cariño!” 

His answering smile is a wider one than you’ve seen in days. “Why would you ever assume no biting with me, Baby?” 

“…Fair point.” 

It takes you a minute to realize his fingertips are teasing the neck of your suit down bit by bit, leaving more and more of your throat exposed. “¿Qué haces, Mique?” 

He shushes you, this kiss a little more romantic and drawn out than the last. “You said you’d sit here ’til I ate something, hmm?” 

“Y-yes….” 

His gaze burns dark red and you suddenly feel the entire weight of him trapping you in place. 

“Well lucky you, pretty girl — you look a lot tastier than a cafeteria empanada right now.” 

He keeps one hand over your mouth as he attacks your neck, your shoulders, your wrists, anywhere that he knows gets a shiver out of you and that you’ve told him he can leave a mark. You try to keep still, you really do, but it's almost impossible with the Spanish endearments he mutters in your ears and the way his lips, teeth, and tongue take you on a seemingly endless rollercoaster of sensation. You hear him hiss once or twice when his onslaught makes your thighs tighten around his hips, but you can’t help it, can’t help trying to pull his body even closer, even though his heartbeat is already thundering against yours and your desperate breaths are rocking his lungs. 

When he finally uncovers your mouth again to let you take in more air, you splay your hands across his wide chest, prodding at the nearly-nonexistent layer of his digital suit. “Off.” 

“Mmm, I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” he murmurs regretfully, and to your dismay, he suddenly releases you, picking up the coffee you brought him and swearing briefly in Spanish when he realizes it’s not as hot as he wanted anymore. “They’re looking for you.” 

You sit up quickly at the sound of youthful voices echoing faintly in the corridors but getting closer — your spiderlings, no doubt, wondering what on earth took you so long bringing O’Hara his dinner. You’re a mess, you realize, hair disheveled and suit boasting several tears in unfortunate areas where his claws caught, the skin beneath already bruising wherever his mouth was. 

“Catch your breath,” he advises around another bite of empanada, with all the smug tone of a life coach having just witnessed a breakdown (as if he wasn’t the sole cause of that breakdown). “You’ll need it, to explain away all of that.” 

“I hate you, Miguel O’Hara.” You grit your teeth and slide off of his equipment, halfheartedly readjusting yourself and tamping down the rising tide of desire he had the audacity to start. “You and that fancy body glove of yours.” 

“Just because no one can see what your nails have done to my back doesn’t mean it isn’t there,” he offers flippantly, as if that will do anything to fix your current state. “And I know by ‘hate’ you really mean ‘violently need me to make up for stopping short’. I have to come by for some of my missing clothes later anyway.” 

Hope blossoms in your chest. “You’re coming over tonight?” 

A thoughtful sip of coffee. “Unless LYLA kills me first for making her watch us go at it. I’ll pick something up for dinner, too. And who knows….” He steps closer, his free hand wandering from your back all the way down to your thigh and up again. “Maybe, if you tire me out real good, I’ll even get some sleep like you want?” 

Anticipation bubbles through your veins at the thought.

“Yeah. I’ll be waiting.” 

He gives your hip a sharp squeeze. “Atta girl.” 

A burst of chatter below heralds the arrival of your little clan of doting spider-kids, so you gather your wits and swing down to meet them, praying none of them put two and two together and actually get four. 

Miguel glances over the edge of the platform, and barely hides his satisfaction and amusement at the immediate flood of concern and questions that greets you: “What did this to you?! Are you okay?!”. 

He almost considers coming down there and setting the record straight when he hears you say, “It’s okay, Kids, really, don’t worry about it. Just got chomped a few times by a giant angry spider while I was on a mission. But he’s gonna pay for it next time, I swear.” 

No eres mi madre = You're not my mother

¿Comprendes? = Understand?

Mierda = (Expletive)

Cállate, Chula = Be quiet, Cutie

Cariño = Honey, Sweetheart

¿Qué haces? = What are you doing?

[bagopucks]

T. Zegras - Family Reunion

✄————————————

Trevor Zegras x Reader

Requested✨

Word Count: 2.9k

Warning(s): none!

—————————————

It was the first time I was taking Trevor home to meet the entirety of my family. So many people in one place. Rambunctious, loud, intimidating people.

Trevor would fit right in.

I knew that, but he wouldn’t listen. No matter how many times I told him, he never believed he would be fine.

We had to fly to the city nearest to my hometown. After bidding goodbye to his lizard and leaving the poor thing with his roommate. He begged to bring Drago at first, but I insisted it wasn’t happening. My father was not a fan of animals in his home. Anything other than a dog would not pass. I knew my mother would wrinkle her nose at the sight of a lizard too.

There were certain family members I was worried about Trevor meeting. One side of my family tended to be a little more judgmental than the other side. One side was full of fun and insanity. The other side was.. well they were fun too, but sometimes new people could throw off the dynamic.

I worried Trevor would do just that, but I also told myself it was a simple Fourth of July party. Nothing to fret over. A few days we would be home, and then we’d go back to Anaheim.

I got him started on the hour drive from the airport to my childhood home, thankful that my parents wouldn’t be there to see him as soon as we got there.

We utilized the time alone. I let Trevor roam around the house, and eventually I led him up to my old bedroom. He was concerned by the sight of a twin sized bed, but I told him we’d make do with the space we had.

He asked about all of my tiny trinkets and decorations, getting to know a part of my life he was never fully immersed in. Then my parents came home and we spent the evening in the living room. Catching up, telling stories, and laughing the night away.

By the morning, Trevor was up well before me. Not early by any means, but we’d been up late, so sleeping in felt necessary.

He shook me awake around ten a.m., and we laid together for close to an hour before we slipped out of bed to get ready.

“Do you think this is overkill?” I stepped out of my closet to peek at Trevor. His blue polo was matched with a pair of white shorts. He didn’t have any red on. Nothing looked too overdone or extra. His hair looked a little poofy, but I’d blame that on the shower he took before bed, and all the moving he does when he sleeps.

“Trevor, you look fine.” I assured before I stepped back into the closet. I gave my own outfit one last look before I stepped out to slip on my shoes. I was met with the sight of a very unconvinced looking boyfriend, and I let out a sigh the second I noticed his tension.

He looked great, honestly. A piece of me wanted to stay home and celebrate the Fourth of July in another way with him. His skin was such a pretty golden color, and his cheeks were slightly pink from the beginnings of a sunburn he got back in Anaheim. I reached out to grab one of his forearms while my other hand traced the tattoo he had on the opposite arm. Nike, a beautiful statue and a meaningful symbol in his life.

“My family is going to love you. Just be yourself, yeah? Maybe don’t curse as much.. but other than that, be yourself.” I teased softly. Trevor was slow to nod before a smile made its way to his lips.

“I can’t believe I’m meeting your whole family.”

I couldn’t believe it either. I couldn’t believe it up until the moment we were pulling into my grandmother’s driveway, parking off to the side, and climbing out of the car. Then my body was buzzing with electricity. I could already hear everybody inside. We were early, so it was only immediate family there.

I walked Trevor through the garage and into the foyer. My heart was beating a mile per minute. I’m sure his was too. His hand squeezed my own as the conversation slowed. I kicked my shoes off just in time to see my baby cousin come flying out from the living room.

The little guy shouted my name in excitement before he looked back at his parents to see if they heard him.

Soon my whole family was rushing into the foyer to greet.

“Holy shit.” Trevor mumbled as he stepped up behind me, his body pressed into my back.

The hugs and endless, “how are you’s” eventually died down enough for me to introduce Trevor. The moment of truth.

“This was that plus one I was telling you guys about.”

“I’m Trevor. It’s nice to meet you guys.”

He was accepted into the family almost immediately. After he was introduced and got to know my family, he blended. He was regarded as just another visitor after more people began to arrive. I lost him after a while, only to hear him in the kitchen where my grandmother was asking him to help her carry things out to the fire pit.

Nothing meant more to me than knowing Trevor got along with my grandmother, who was usually high strung and easy to stress out.

As more people came around, the party moved outside. Kids ran about while family caught up. Everybody made their rounds meeting Trevor. He communicated well with people, that I knew, since the day we met. But he communicated even better with my family.

“He’s real sweet, you know that?”

I looked away from him to see my grandmother peering down at me with a proud smile.

“Works hard too.” She added.

“Yeah.. I love him a lot.”

“I can tell just by the way he looks at you, that he loves you too.” She pointed a finger at me. “I was so worried when you left for California. I don’t really know what I was worried about now. I should have known you’d be bringing somebody home.“

“Thanks.. that means a lot.”

When I looked back, Trevor was gone. I heard a squeal from behind me, and when I turned in my lawn chair, I caught sight of Trevor playing wiffle ball with the kids. His shoes and socks were gone, kicked off to the side with a bunch of other tiny pairs. I couldn’t help but giggle at how he played with them. Chirping and smack talking, chasing them down and laughing all the while. That awkward breathy giggle laugh that was so contagious it had me chuckling in my seat.

Trevor and I agreed we weren’t ready for kids, but when we were.. I knew he would be a great dad.

I set my drink down and stood up, walking across the yard. I kicked my own shoes off and slipped my socks away.

“Can I join? Or is the game strictly for kids?” I called, and caught the attention of all the little eyes. As well as the big pair in the midst of all the fun.

“You have to be on the opposite team.” Trevor responded, heaving for air.

“You bat!” The little girl at home plate called. “Trevor throws too fast.” I walked over as she slipped the bat into my hand and ran off to the side, giggling excitedly.

“Are you playing unfair?” I asked accusingly. One didn’t have to be athletic to play wiffle ball. Hand eye coordination was all it took. And I’d been playing this since I was as old as the toddler standing on second base with his older brother.

“Me? No!” Trevor and I both assumed our stances as he responded. “But I’m not taking it easy on you.”

“Same here, Zegras.”

He pitched. I swung. The ball went flying. We weren’t far from the house, and I felt accomplished the second I heard the plastic ball whistle through the air and hit the wood siding of the old home. Trevor took off after it, I thought it funny to prance around the bases. Until I spotted Trevor running full speed ahead at me while I was in between third and home plate. One rule in family wiffle-ball. A rule as old as time. No home runs. If it was possible to get tagged out, you were going to get chased down.

“Trevor, no!” I screamed as laughter immediately fell from my lips. I picked up the speed, as did he.

He reached for me just as my feet touched home plate, one of them getting caught beneath it and managing to fall forward.

Trevor grabbed ahold of me, but he went down too.

I heard my team shouting in victory, and the rest of my family laughing and shouting as well, but I was too busy laughing along with Trevor. Our legs covered in grass stains, as were our elbows. Trevor carefully touched the ball to my side.

“You’re out.” He spoke.

“I am not! I crossed home plate!” I gave him a shove, and soon I felt a pair of tiny knees digging into my back, and a child drape herself right over my side. Another kid joined, and I groaned as he climbed on top of me as well.

“Man pile!” I heard a little boy yell, and I gasped when he jumped on top of Trevor.

Soon there was a whole lot of us laying in the grass and laughing. Trevor tried to push a few kids off, but they only returned. We accepted our fates until parents came by to help us out, pulling their kids aside and giving us some space.

“I definitely scored,” I mumbled as I pulled away from Trevor.

“Did not.” He reached out to brush the grass from my knees, ever the gentleman despite our argument.

“Did so!” I countered, soon feeling the tickle of his fingers against my sides. I broke into a fit of laughter.

“I won, fair and square!” Trevor pulled an old dandelion from the ground around us, shaking it in my face. I grimaced and tried to wipe the fuzzy seeds away.

“Damnit Trevor, quit that.” I groaned softly with a smile.

No wonder he got along with the kids so well.

I finally slipped away from him and stood up, brushing myself off while Trevor made a show of the ‘pain’ in his joints while he stood up. I rolled my eyes at him.

I heard a few kids shouting about s’mores when one of the adults brought the marshmallows out.

“Are we making s’mores too?” When I looked back at Trevor, his eyes were wide with excitement.

“Obviously, T. Though I’m not sure you need any more sugar.” I turned around, hearing him huff and feeling his hand slip into mine as I guided him back toward the fire. Kids were already gathered around the table, and I giggled before I slipped away from Trevor to make my way over.

“You guys have to be careful with all these pointy sticks, okay?” I instructed as I grabbed one of the bags of marshmallows and opened them. “Everyone tell me how many they want.”

It was a hot mess trying to figure out which kid yelled which number, but soon Trevor was at my side, helping me with the little ones.

“Be careful, and don’t run!” I called to the last child as he left to find his mother. I glanced up at Trevor before grabbing a one of the metal skewers.

“We have to send a picture to Jamie. He’ll be so jealous.” I couldn’t help but chuckle at how excited Trevor looked. The way his eyebrows moved with his mouth, and his eyes squinted when he was excited.

“Give me a marshmallow, Zegras.” I chided. He pulled two from his half empty bag and slipped them onto the stick. “I said one.”

“You won’t make one for me?” He pouted.

“Ugh.. god Z, you’re so needy.” I whipped my body around in a sluggish manner, whining playfully over his own pout. Trevor chuckled at me before his arms wrapped around my body.

“I know, I’m the worst.” He mumbled with a giggle. “I’m gonna put the rest of our stuff on a plate, then I’ll come find you.”

“Grab peanut butter cups!”

When he joined the rest of my family around the fire, we found ourselves seated in the grass. Trevor sat next to me while I roasted our marshmallows, the plate of Graham crackers and chocolate in his lap.

The kids quickly began to gather around us, plopping down left and right, mostly around Trevor, but a few with me as well.

“Trevor look what I have!” A kid held out her messy marshmallow. Her face was covered in evidence of the other three she ate before.

“I’m about to have one too.” Trevor giggled. “I’ll tell you guys how it tastes.”

“Oh auntie makes them the best!” Another little boy called. He practically lunged into Trevor’s lap, settling himself in the space where his legs were folded criss-crossed. I giggled at the surprise on Trevor‘s face.

When I looked back at the marshmallows, I realized they were beginning to melt off the skewer.

“Trev! Crackers!”

The kid seated in Trevor’s lap leaned back against his chest while Trevor helped me make the s’mores. I leaned the skewer up against the fire ring after, and we clinked our snacks before I allowed Trevor to take the first bite.

The look of pure bliss on his face was enough to boost my ego for a lifetime.

“Wow.” He spoke through a full mouth.

“That’s why I suggest the peanut butter cups instead of normal chocolate.” I quipped before I took a bite out of my own s’more.

“I want a bite!” The boy reached for Trevor’s snack, and I giggled when my boyfriend pulled it out of the kid’s reach.

“Don’t worry, honey. I’ll make you one.” I stretched an arm out to ruffle his hair. “Kelsey, can you go grab me another marshmallow?” I asked a little girl to my left. She smiled and quickly got up to go find the bag. I leaned into Trevor’s side while I waited.

The little boy in his lap aimlessly played with Trevor’s shoe strings, before looking up at the hockey player with a blank stare. Trevor was busy finishing the last bite of his s’more before he made eye contact with the kid.

“Hunter?” The little boy’s head perked up at the sound of his mother’s voice.

“Gotta go.” He mumbled as he climbed out of Trevor’s lap, with a bit of assistance.

“Bye, Buddy.” Trevor offered him a fist bump before the kid ran off to find his mother.

I stared my lover down with an incredulous smirk. When Trevor looked back at me, his brow rose quickly.

“What?”

“Nothing. I just love how good you are with kids. And my family.”

“Really?” He looked surprised. “God I was afraid they’d hate me.”

I laughed softly, wrapping an arm around his back. “They could never hate you. You’re the first guy I’ve dated who’s actually treated me nice.”

“Oh don’t tell me that.. that makes me sad.” One of his hands came down to rest on my thigh. I brought my free hand to rest on top of his.

“You’d have to kill me or burn my apartment down before they hated you.” I joked, earning a small laugh from him.

“I don’t think I’ll end up doing either of those things.”

“Eh who knows? You might manage to cause a small kitchen fire one day.”

“Hey!” He gently pushed me, and I giggled at his offense.

Our conversation settled into silence before I looked back up at him.

“How many kids do you want?”

“Huh?”

“Kids.. Trev. Do you want kids?”

I watched him contemplate my question.

“A few? Maybe like.. three? I grew up with two siblings. I feel like three kids balances out a house well. Ya know?”

I didn’t quite understand his logic, but if Trevor wanted three kids, I figured I could go along with that.

“What about two and a dog?” I suggested playfully.

“Oh, a dog like Louie?”

“Yeah, we can get a dog like Louie. I was thinking maybe something a little more protective though. A Great Dane?”

“What if it eats our kids?” Trevor’s question caused a quiet fit of laughter to fall from my lips.

“They’re very gentle dogs. Just territorial with strangers and intruders.” I explained.

“Well that’s what we have Jamie for.” Now we were both laughing.

“I’m not having three kids and Jamie.”

Trevor playfully gasped. “I’m gonna tell him you said that.”

“He’ll get over it.” I gently squeezed his hand.

“He’s gotta be the uncle to our kids. He’d better get over it.”

“What about Griffin?”

“Eh. Jamie’s closer.” I rolled my eyes and giggled softly, leaning back into Trevor’s side.

“I’m gonna tell Griffin you said that.” I mocked quietly.

“He’ll get over it.” He responded in time.

✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾❀✾

[atlafan]

based off this blurb...

Why would someone ever want to be a lawyer? It’s three extra years of school, a ton of hard work and memorization, interning for no pay, and dealing with the politics of actually working at a firm. Growing up, there was a lot of pressure put on Blake to become something important. By important, her father meant someone of status in society. Apparently, doctors and lawyers are the only important people out there. Blake is squeamish, so becoming a doctor was not an option. So, her father pushed her into the lawyer  track.

In high school, Blake made sure to take advanced psychology, U.S. history, government, and public speaking courses. For undergrad, she went to Duke. She knew she would end up going to a law school in New England, so she wanted to get out and away for a bit. Besides that, Duke’s pre-law program is one of the best in the country. Blake couldn’t decide what law she wanted to practice, all she knew was that she couldn’t major in criminal justice. Her father told her to stay away from criminal law because, “there’s no money in it. If you’re going to break your back and work 80-hour weeks, at least make some money”.

So, she majored in business with a minor in pre-law. Most corporate high-paying firms deal with business and entertainment. Blake made sure to study public relations and media studies as well. Her father was pleased with her decisions. He was even more pleased when Blake was accepted into Harvard Law School. Three years of non-stop studying and hard work got her to be in the top ten of her graduating cohort. None of that really meant anything, though. Just because she was good at taking notes and applying her studies to cases didn’t mean she would excel at a firm. It didn’t mean she would excel in a boardroom. It didn’t mean shit.

Blake interned at a firm for two years while still in law school. That’s where she first met Harry. He was a junior associate at the time. He was one of the few associates that didn’t treat her like a secretary. It’s a man’s world. She knew that, of course, but it’s still annoying to live through it day after day. Harry never let his eyes wander, he never made lewd comments, and he certainly never crossed any lines that would warrant HR’s involvement. Harry had also gone to Harvard Law, so he was a great person to rant to about certain professors. Blake never minded working late if she was assigned to help Harry.

And of course she developed a crush on him, it would have been impossible not to. He’s funny and sweet and smart. He’s the total package. But Blake couldn’t take it further than friendship. There was a multitude of reasons why. She needed to stay focused. She didn’t have time for a relationship. Getting involved with an associate when you’re just an intern is a major no-no. And the biggest reason was that Harry was in a committed relationship. He was twenty-eight and engaged. He and his fiancé hadn’t set a date yet. He wanted to wait until he was bumped up to senior associate.

Blake never got the chance to find out when that wedding date was. When she entered her second year of interning, Harry had accepted a position at another law firm. He’d be a senior associate on the fast track to becoming a non-equity partner. He couldn’t pass that up. Blake thought of him often, but she didn’t think it would be appropriate for her to contact him just to see how he was. However, she did find it appropriate to contact him three months before her law school graduation when she was applying for firms and she saw that he had, in fact, become a non-equity partner at a firm she really wanted to work for. She had his personal email, so why not?

Harry remembered Blake…just barely. But he recognized her name and was happy to see that she had made it through law school. He told her about an upcoming networking opportunity the firm would be having – some sort of “Spring Mixer”. Just about everyone from the firm would be there, including human resources, and it was open to prospective associates. She’d just have to pay a small fee for a ticket. Harry told her he’d take care of that because he knows how broke law students are. He told her to put the money towards a nice outfit, and business cards with her contact information on them.

Blake was nervous for the event. She knew how to network, but the event itself was at a really exclusive, swanky club. She had to spend a lot of money on a proper cocktail dress. Her father insisted on her buying a pair of red bottoms as well. She thought it was excessive, but she also knows that first impressions are everything. Harry gave her his contact information so he could meet her at the entrance. She was relieved when she saw him. They shook hands, and he guided her inside. He pointed out various people she would want to talk to if she wanted one of the open junior associate positions.

“Just so you know, I think you’ll at least get an interview.” He told her after handing her a seltzer with lime. He had mentioned it’s best to make it look like you’re drinking at these events. “Diversity, equity, and inclusion are hot buzzwords right now. You’re a woman and you’re Jewish, so you’re the perfect diverse candidate.”

“I’m a white woman, that’s not exactly diverse.” She muttered.

“No, but a lot of these old shits will think so. They’ll think they’ve done their part to meet their quota. It sucks, and I’m not a fan of it, but it’s something you’ll want to play up right now to help yourself stand out.”

Blake understood what Harry was saying. It wouldn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. She worked her way around the room, speaking with various equity partners and management partners, giving out her business cards and making herself look good. She dropped Harry’s name a few times, which many people smiled at. Harry even told her she could use him as a reference for when she applied. She didn’t take that lightly. She didn’t take any of the night lightly.

When she got home that night, she immediately took out her blank cards, and wrote Harry a thank you. She wrote a number of thank you cards, but she made Harry’s much more personalized. These little things go a long way.

She applied to various law firms, but the only one she wanted to hear back from was Langley, West, Monroe, and Associates. That’s where Harry worked. And she wanted to work in their entertainment law division. It’s what she was most passionate about, but she also mentioned that she has expertise with business law as well.

Two weeks before graduating from Harvard Law, Blake got the call she had been waiting for. An interview. The interview led to a second interview, the second interview led to an offer, that offer led to negotiations, and the negotiations led to an acceptance of that offer.

Her father couldn’t have been more proud.

Blake and Harry work in the same division, often working on some of the same larger projects. Harry works one on one with quite a few sports agents. He helps the agents and the players go over their contracts. It’s simple stuff. He also does a lot of work with copyright and fair use laws, helping artists get their money, those sort of things. Blake usually helps with those. She loves getting to combine business and entertainment law. And thanks to all of her study skills over the years, her brain is like a search engine. She can whip out cases left and right to help her clients. The junior and senior associates usually all hang out together, some even live together. The only times Harry and Blake are at the same social gatherings is if there’s an event for the entire firm, or there’s business to be done. And since there’s always business to be done, neither of them have the time to talk about things in their personal lives when they’re working together. No, Blake saves those chats for her fellow associates over drinks and dinner. She’s made some good friends at the firm. She’s grateful.

{READ WHEN YOU'RE READY ON PATREON NOW}

[sapphic-scylla]

First Impression Best to Worst Boss Fights in Shadow of the Erdtree

DLC has been out for a minute and I’ve done my initial runthrough and taken as much as I could from it. Suffice to say, I did love it a lot and thought that it has a solid amount of staying power. This list covers the main bosses only (and a few notable side bosses) and as usual, unless you don’t care about SPOILERS, I recommend not reading past this point:

Midra, Lord of Frenzied Flame: Now, already, I feel like people are gonna disagree with me. Hear me out. When I first hit this fight, I was like “they integrated a PVP-centric status condition into a boss fight. How is that fair?”. And then I thought about it for a second. No fight style makes this fight easier. No weapon, no spell, no armor makes this fight easier. It is as you see it. This man’s attacks can cover almost an entire room, snipe you from a thousand miles away, his melee attacks hit like a train, and builds up your Frenzy, which can leave you vulnerable and chunk your health and FP. But, he also is easy to stagger, he doesn’t move very fast, and his attacks are telegraphed a year in advance. It’s perfect. He doesn’t have a ton of health, but he is absolutely savage. He’s what difficulty SHOULD be and the sigh of satisfaction when you beat him is REAL. You can’t really cheese or simplify this boss beyond KILL HIM and it’s so refreshing to find a boss that no matter your choice of loadout, Midra will keep you on your toes in the most horror game-like way. Also lore wise, the vibes in this entire area were unsettling and immaculate and the “Eyes of Sauron/Winter Lantern” enemies actually made me jump in that horror game fun way and I adored it.

Messmer, The Impaler/Base Serpent: Now, this was the fight I forced myself to learn through sheer force of will. I literally slammed my head against this man for a day because I knew that the only thing that was killing me was my own arrogance and IT PAID OFF. By the end when I finally beat him, I adored this fight. This man lets you fucking have it, but at no point did it ever seem unfair or bullshit or, hell, even free. This fight is a perfect mix of cinematic, difficult, and a riot to learn and improve at and I genuinely look forward to this fight each playthrough now.

Rellana, Twin Moon Knight: A scaled-up version of my favorite base game Dark Souls 3 boss and she didn’t disappoint. Incredible fight, solidly learnable, and definitely one of the highlights of my first runthrough.

Bayle the Dread: The quickest love-hate relationship I’ve ever had the pleasure to wade through. In my first ten tries, I could not help but think “this is the worst. What can I do against this man except die?”. But the more I fought him, the more I enjoyed it and the more fair I found it. He is overwhelming, yes, but his tells are obvious and when you recognize the areas his attacks affect, he becomes a lot less oppressive. He also has the greatest phase 2 transition of all time. I mean my love for Placie has grown over the past few months, but I think Bayle edges out for Second place in best Dragon fights in Elden Ring. Fortissax takes first.

Scadutree Avatar: This fucker seems easy at first, and then he starts driving around. I severely underestimated this boss at first due to how much damage he was taking compared to everything else. Then he hits second phase and until then, I’d never been jumpscared by a sunflower before. Still not the hardest boss by any means, but definitely checks you at the door.

Romina, Saint of the Bud: I mean, outside of the obvious, I don’t know why I enjoyed this fight. Her rushdown is legendary and she deals in Scarlet Rot, so you’d think I would hate this fight. But her tactics ended up being fairly straightforward, her Rot wasn’t as oppressive as I thought it would be, and she really is such an aesthetically pleasing fight.

Putrescent Knight: The goofiest looking creature on this list by far, but this dude kicked my ass several times. He definitely came with his fair share of surprises, but he never felt overly obnoxious or overstayed his welcome. Not the most fun fight, but definitely worthy of more praise than scorn.

Allies of Miquella: Debated putting this in here because it’s more of a PVP standoff than a boss fight, but I feel it’s worth a mention. Nothing particularly exciting, but it definitely is much more of a marathon than I was expecting and a very difficult one at that. Come prepared here. These people don’t pull punches.

Ghostflame Dragons: More a mention than anything. Nothing unique, but it did force me to rethink how to fight dragons a la Darkeater Midir which I enjoyed.

Metyr, Mother of Fingers: Well, we had to hit the lower half eventually. Metyr doesn’t have a ton of health which puts her up here, but I generally dislike bosses that remind me of The One Reborn where it feels like no matter where you hit the boss, you’re still being dealt damage just for walking up to it which, I’m sure, incentivizes spellcasters, but frustrating nonetheless.

Promised Consort Radahn: Malenia without all of the charm and enjoyment. Malenia, I still firmly believe takes the cake in terms of hardest (and best) boss in Elden Ring, but Radahn did not skimp on the difficulty round two. That being said, his move set is far less enjoyable to learn than Malenia’s and often, it just felt the impressive amount of health and the absolutely unhinged amount of capable range this man has is unjustifiable. Plus, Malenia invites aggression and allows for so many ways to contest her despite her making you work for it while Radahn just hurts. Pain for the sake of improvement is great. Pain for the sake of pain is a lot less fun.

Ancient Dragon Senessax: I did not think that the thing that would make me hate a fight like Lansseax or Fortissax would be just setting the damn thing in a pool of water, but here we are. The lightning AOE’s in this fight are ruthless and are a lot less avoidable for how much they stagger on a regular day. Definitely not the worst, but not a fun development.

Golden Hippopotamus: This thing definitely killed more innocent players than real hippos do every year in real life. This thing SUCKS to fight. Camera monsters in general are just a pain, but when half of your screen is covered in porcupine quills (yes, YOU HEARD ME), this thing becomes substantially more of a drag. That and this abomination punches above its weight class and I just generally found this fight as entertaining as a mosquito bite.

Commander Gaius: Fuck this man. I’ve never had a dude kill me so consistently or so consecutively in the first 5 seconds of the fight. It’s been a minute since a boss legitimately made me yell at my TV screen and I did not welcome the experience. Also, this man had absolutely no right or privilege to ride my ass this fucking hard unless he bought me dinner first. Will not enjoy revisiting this dude.

Divine Beast Dancing Lion: Brace yourself. This is gonna be a long one. I apologize in advance. *breathe in* *heavy sigh* I’ve never actively thought any boss in any Dark Souls game was purely unwarranted or worthy of true hatred. Despite all of the bosses I dislike fighting across all FromSoft games, I always attempted to find a bright side or something like lore or environment or something to justify its existence and I had succeeded. Until I met this fucking thing. This menace didn’t have the most kills on me (that goes to Malenia and Messmer) or did anything in particular that actively exploited my playstyle (like Maliketh, Mohg, or the Crucible Duo). This cockroach merely existed and it was enough. Its body is a giant blob. Its hitbox is horrific. It punishes aggression. It punishes passivity. This thing has ranged attacks, melee attacks, magical attacks, passive effects, movement patterns, retaliatory tactics, and even him just looking at me hits like a goddamn truck. He is so hard to read and does so much damage and does the most unhinged, wtf follow-ups that I’ve ever seen with the most hairpin trigger aggression I’ve ever experienced in my life. He does frost damage, lightning damage, physical damage, I’m pretty sure there is fire damage in there somewhere, emotional damage, and mood damage. And, to top it all off, THERE’S A FUCKING SECOND ONE OUT IN THE BOONIES THAT IS EVEN FUCKING WORSE. Basilisks have been in the Soulsborne conglomerate for as long as I can remember and I’ve tolerated their existence until FOUR OF THEM WANDER INTO THIS FUCKING FIGHT AT THE BEGINNING OF PHASE 2. THIS LION HAS A DEATH BLIGHT PHASE. You know, the one status effect in Elden Ring that INSTANTLY KILLS YOU. And the best part? If you don’t kill him fast enough, HE CAN DO IT AGAIN. It would not surprise me if the same sadist that came up with the Double Gargoyle fight came up with this one. And like I said, he doesn’t have the most health I’ve ever seen, but it doesn’t fucking matter. The only thing that matters is how fast you can remove his health because he WILL kill you if you give him any leeway. I fought this thing twice and I know about as much about how to fight this thing as I did the first time I walked into its arena. I succeeded twice by SHEER DUMB LUCK. I despise this thing and if I could actively avoid it, I would not hesitate.

[bts5sosempire]

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: miguel o'hara x gn! reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬: n/a

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: crack/ comedy, fluff, (name) with that gremlin attitude, ✨asstheticque✨, getting on his nerves, established relationship, spider/non-spider (name)

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: "hey, it looked at me first."

𝐚/𝐧: help, I kennot escape this man...😔 there are some things in here that are what me and friends used to do in high school too. For funsies, especially the 2nd one. I hope some of my Spanish isn't lost to me too.

You were swiveling in your chair, legs propped up like a frog while spinning around like a circle. Miguel had been staring at the screen for who knows how long before standing up. Your spin slowly stopped when you stopped directly with his back turned against you and heard the chair cracking from the weight being lifted off. You weren't trying to make it obvious, but goddamn him. Every. Single. Time.

All those cakes all up in your face like it's your birthday.

"Holy fuck," you mutter before swinging your head to look at the screen again, acting like nothing happened, 'monkey do not see, monkey do not know'. Miguel looked over his shoulder at you, and he saw you eyeing him out of your peripheral view before averting to look at the bright screens within split second.

"Something the matter?" He caught you, and you smack your lips together before saying it was nothing. Miguel then hums. Idling around, your eyes looked at your fingers that rapport against the desk.

You smack your lips again, turning your head to look at Miguel, "Actually, there is. How do you carry all that ass on a Thursday morning?"

Miguel groan at that, "(Name)..."

You: "It's a valid question. You ever wonder you can replace Perseu's statue in the museum too?"

Then Layla's presence was announced on Miguel's shoulder with loud laughter.

°

"Izquierdo, derecho, izquierdo, derecho," (left, right, left, right) was your new sudden prayer when you suddenly lagged when a wild Mayday had appeared; then they nestled in your arms as they babble away. But your eyes were intense on one thing, and Miguel doesn't need to know what it is.

Miguel: "Querido/a..."

You: "Hey, it looked at me first."

With a whole bunch of spiders added into the mix, then you also added in there is a formula for chaos. Especially when Hobie is around, it's like having two devils setting the place of fire, Miguel should've kept you as a secret. The man internally groan.

"What's with you and...ass?" The man stops walking, pinches his brow with two fingers then turns around to look at you. Mayday had your face in both her puggy hands as you made puffer fish lips at her. She giggles when you tried to made the attempt to pretend you were going to kiss her.

"I like the extra cushion, okay? I'm sure you look at mine too when I'm not looking." Miguel was about to open his mouth to say something, but close it up when the only word that managed to pass his lips was, 'That..' A little smug look went across your lips.

°

There were rare days when Miguel was out of his suit; he was antsy like he was allergic to regular clothes for once. His work was always a 25/8 job, not a 9/5, then call it a day. There's no sleep for the wicked, you guess.

"Hey, hey," you appear into the room where he mostly stays and hooked onto a belt loophole and slowly spin the man around to face you. It wasn't until your hands settled into the back of his pants pocket. You were looking up at him, your chin resting against the crevice of his pecs and you smiled up at him. "I thought it was chill day?"

Miguel swoops down to kiss your forehead as a greeting by lowering his head. "I'm just checking," you squint your eyes at him and made a face, "I really am."

There was a knowing hum from you, and he swooped in again to kiss the side of your temple this time. "That's hard to believe; once you work, you work. There's no rest, not even a ten-minute break." Wiggling your fingers inside his back pockets to press the cakes, he tenses up, and you happily laugh when he is caught off-guard. You both almost topple at how he stumbles a bit back; if it wasn't for him putting a hand against the monitor's desk.

"Don't play with me right now, Corazoncito/a," Miguel warned, and you only let out another hum for him to go on if he dared. And he did. Miguel, broad arms encase around your midsection and change the position by hoisting you up, twirling you, and seating you on the desk. "I told you so," he then frees an arm. Miguel's fingers grab your jaw and press a thumb to your lips. "Now get ready for me."

Oh boy.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

What you say to this

Let's debunk all the lies:

1 - "Kataang is one-sided" We literally hear Katara talk about how he gives her hope in the begining of EVERY SINGLE EPISODE, she canonically starts thinking of him as potential boyfriend instead of just a friend right in the middle of the first season (and after it we never see her having a crush on another boy like say Jet), the kiss on the cave at the start of season two is HER idea and she clearly enjoyed it, she is visibly upset when he's pulling away from her after Appa's kidnaping, her rage at his death is a clear parallel both to Tui and La as well as Oma and Shu, she is jealous when he's paying attention to other girls and flirting with him, she clearly liked the kiss during the Invasion even if she didn't see it coming, she threated to murder Zuko if he ever hurt Aang again, and even in the Ember Island fiasco she full on says to Aang that what her actress said about her only seeing him as a little brother is not true.

2 - "The age/maturity gap makes it weird" It's literally the same age gap as Zutara. It's TWO years, not twenty. Katara likes having fun and goofing around just as much as Aang does. Aang steps up and embraces his responsibilities just as much as she does when he discovers what the Fire Nation did to the world, and his people. Honestly, despite being older, Zuko is the least mature of all three - hell, 16-year-old Zuko is less mature than 13-year-old Zuko, which makes perfect sense because his abuse and banishment made him double down on all of his flaws, mainly his stubborness and tendency to lash out in rage.

3 - "They spent the second half of book 3 always fighting and disagreeing" They literally were only in conflict during The Southern Raiders, Ember Island Players, and then on the first episode of a four-part saga. Three episodes out TEN. Katara and Zuko meanwhile spent 5/6 of the entire series being enemies, AND she only forgave him when there was only ONE more episode left until the finale.

4 - "Zutara doesn't have any real red flags" Ya know, besides the fact that Zuko's nation and family commited genocide against Katara's people, and that he believed that was 100% okay, and that he chased her and her friends all over the world being openly hostile and violent, and he once hit her so hard it knocked her out cold, and he constantly calls her a peasant because he's very classist AND racist to the point of not recognizing her father's authority/status, and he attacked her when she offered to heal his uncle and then again in Ba Sing Se after she thought they had bonded, him helping Azula in battle was why she got to murder Katara's best friend and then he also sent an assasin after the Gaang to finish/repeat the job, and after all that he still felt entitled to her forgiveness after he was accepted into the group. Once again: this is why no one takes zutarians seriously. They love bragging about their ship being "complex and intriguing" then try to completely negate canon because for all their talk about "calling out abuse in Kataang/Maiko", they are, at their core, enablers.

5 - "Zutara was part of Ehasz's vision for book 4" No, it wasn't, and the man said so himself. He liked Mai and Maiko, and wrote lots of Kataang episodes. He has repeatedly let everyone know that the supposed interview in which he talks about how Bryke forced Kataang to happen at the last minute is FAKE.

6 - "We didn't get book 4 because Bryke wanted a movie" Bryke didn't really WANT the Shyamalan movie, but Nickelodeon, their bosses, wanted money. They literally walked out on the production because they were unhappy with it. They were OFFERED to make season four, but didn't feel it was necessary and stuck to three - and while I don't think that was the best choice, it still worked and it was a decision fully divorced from any movie deal or ship war.

7 - "People get angry at mention of zutara despite there being nothing wrong with the ship itself (besides not being canon)" Literally no one is obligated to like a ship just because YOU think it's perfect, and that kind of entitlement, the "I'm better/smarter than everyone else" complex, combined with all the lies, is exactly why people tend to hate the SHIPPERS and by extension the ship itself.

Admiting that zutara has always been pure fanon and that it isn't for everyone doesn't mean you have to stop liking it. Quit acting like a spoiled child, go enjoy your ship in peace, and respect other people's right to be indifferent to it or actively disliking it. Their personal preference is not a personal attack against you, stop treating it as such.

[joesalw]

Man it's literally embarrassing how Taylor Swifts PR tries to manipulate and convince everyone she's bigger than Michael Jackson or the Beatles. Like given the narcissistic vibes this woman gives me she probably enjoys the comparsions and wants to be seen as bigger. But if you really look into it. It's bullshit.

Like her having 3 number one albums or something this year. Yeah she also released 3 albums. Not saying it's not impressive. But Mj did like one album every 5 year. He had admitted countless of times that he is a high perfectonist and doesn't get the product out until it was perfect. Why else does he have tje highest selling album (Thriller) and second highest selling album by a solo artist ( Bad). He has 5 out of 6 albums to sell over 20M.

He also wrote like 120 songs per album. So if he wanted to get like 3 or more number one albums he easily could have. But if you know a little bit how he was you would know that being just good wasn't good enough for him. With that man everything had to be perfect. That's not something I think just the fans it's knowledge of the general public in general.

Second the 1 billion Tour gross. Yeah impressive. But what about her attendance. MJs Tickets were cheap. Even for todays Standards. 16 Dollars back then or 20 Dollars and he also gave some of them away for free.

What matters actually is attendance. But ofc they never want to talk about that. MJ had a 12.4M or 13M attendance in a span of 3 solo tours. Taylor Swift has 9.7M in the span of 5 tours excluding the Eras Tour. So probably will have a higher attendance in total eventually but what he could done with 3 tours ( 2 of them not even touring in the US) she had to do with 6 tours.

And it MJ didn't Tour in the US during his History Tour where he pulled 4.5M attendance.

Second is that bullshit Eras suprassing This is it. First This is it which most normal people know can't even be a concert tour because he died before doing any show. Second Eras only grossed more in the US. Globally he is far ahead.

He has a top ten hit during 5 different DECADES! 6 if you included the Jackson 5.

And some said that she sells 1M albums (not specifically said which ones) per week. Which is very hard to believe. Couldn't find any data on that. The only thing I have that she sold like 13 or 14M in this year. MJs Thriller ( one album) sold like 1M for a week for a year. Bad sold 7M in the first week.

Like nobody cares how much money she makes or how many albums she gets to chart on billboard during the streaming era. It just shows how money hungry and chart obsessed she is.

And they still think they can speak on him. I saw some mjfans on twitter putting swifties in place as well as arianators rihanna fans and other fandoms for various reasons.

Like Rihanna is the best selling female recording artist in the 21th century. Rihanna made like 8 studio albums and Taylor Swift 10 so far. On top of that Rihannas last album came out in 2016.

But the only thing Swifties hear is Billionaire 1billion gross, economy. (Do they seriously think MJ never had an influence on the economy? The guy who saved MTV from bankruptcy? They guy who filmed They don't care about us in Brazil to showcase the poverty and had had a huge influence into making it a better place?) What has Taylor Swift done with her suppossed influence? Huh. Why does he have statues around the world and got crowned King somewhere in Africa. Taylor Swift ain't doing that. The only thing she does is ruining the planet with her carbon emissions of her private jet and stay silent on a literal genocide. Or weaponizing the word feminism ( I want to read a thesis how this woman puts feminism back instead of forward. Like I swear by misusing it for her damn white feminism and influencing her impressionable stupid fans she's actually doing more harm than good. )

.

[startanewdream]

For @hinnyfest, prompt #7 - Getting caught in the act.

Surprisingly rated T. Set during HBP.

***

you know

The whispers finally reached them by dinner time. Considering how his newfound relationship status had been the subject of many debates for the past ten days, Harry was surprised it took all day for the gossip to spread through the castle back to where it had started.

A Second Year girl was stealing glances at them. “His brother caught them—”

“Did he fight for her honour?” Her friend asked, eyes widened. “If my brother saw me like that—”

“No, they are friends… But Romilda said he was pissed.”

“What exactly Romilda said?” Asked another, with his face burning red. “Have they really…?”

“She heard from Lavender who heard from Seamus who saw them talking about it,” said the first girl solemnly. “And what her brother said was that he didn’t want to catch them sleeping together again.”

Harry let out a dismayed sigh. Across the table, keeping a distance from him that looked too proper for everyone and too large for Harry’s taste, Ginny threw him a consoling smile.

“They will be talking about something else tomorrow,” she promised him. “Merlin knows there is enough gossip to entertain them.”

“More than the fact we are supposedly sleeping together?”

“Well.” Her cheeks pinkened as she lowered her head, suddenly busy with her book again. “We did sleep together.”

“Not as how they are making it sound. I will have a word with Seamus about spreading this kind of gossip.”

“Hum.” She didn’t elaborate. There was a small frown on her forehead that made him lean closer on the table, his hand reaching for hers.

“What?”

“I just—you look more nervous about this gossip than all the others. I don’t know—if this is really about my honour or something like this—”

“No, it’s—” His face reddened. Harry wished they weren’t at the Common Room to discuss this, but he also knew he wouldn’t get to take Ginny to any secluded corner that night with all those prying eyes. “It’s also my honour—I don’t want people thinking we were—you know—here.”

He gestured around the Common Room, still filling with people coming back from dinner.

Ginny leaned closer as well, her face a mask. “So the problem is with ‘you know’, or ‘here’?”

“Here,” he said truthfully.

“So if people were assuming you took me to the lake to steal away my precious flower—”

“What? No, I mean—that would also be a problem—I don’t want people talking about us, you know, anywhere!”

She let out a laugh suddenly. “You are too cute when you get flustered, Harry,” she said, moving her chair closer to him and clearly forgetting all about the distance they had cultivated that day. “Don’t worry—Ron knows we just fell asleep on the couch, he won’t spill any gossip to my family.”

“That’s a relief,” he mumbled, still recalling the way Mrs. Weasley had once treated Hermione; if anyone would think he was taking advantage of Ginny... “All this talk and it’s not even true—”

“And did you wish it were?” She asked innocently.

Harry frowned, confused. “What?”

“A true gossip for once. That you and I, you know—”

She was just teasing him, he knew, but still, his cheek burned bright, his mind always easily compelled to imagine any scenario that involved Ginny, and even more, you know.

“Well,” he said slowly, caressing her hand. “What I do wish is that Ron wouldn't catch us then.”

[onceazzie]

so i found a spunky au generator (find it here!) that gave me a slay idea. so, here's some pearleo for yall tumblr folks <3

"For someone who's standing face to face with a gorgon, and is about ten seconds away from being turned to stone and thrown off a cliff, you seem awfully calm," Cleo says, crossing their arms.

The newcomer-- who had introduced herself as Pearl, Pearlescent Moon-- simply shrugs, the movement lifting the large, bluish-purple wings folded across her back. "Well, I'm wearing sunglasses. You can't freeze someone with glasses, can ya?"

"That...is some sort of logic, but it doesn't really work like that."

"Why not?" Pearl smiles. "You can't see my eyes. Neither can the snakes. Problem solved, hm?"

The orange snakes that made up Cleo's hair hissed, not in malice but more in confusion. "Well, even if that were true, I'd easily be able to take your glasses and then freeze you. So make your choice."

"Ouch," Pearl mutters, shifting the bag hanging off of her shoulder before sighing and reaching for her sunglasses. "Fine! Freeze me then. You're mean."

And time seems to stop for a moment, as the woman pulls the sunglasses off her face and shields her face from the sun, before staring right into Cleo's eyes. And usually this would kill her instantly, and she would turn into one of the statues currently lining the edges of the mountaintop, but it didn't, because--

"Heh. Surprise! I am unfreezable!" Pearl grins, spreading her arms and wings, the action toppling one of Cleo's statues over the edge of the cliff. "Oh. Sorry about that."

Except Cleo can't find it in herself to care, not when this-- this being, who surely wasn't human or god or anything in between, was staring at her with what looked like an entire void hiding in the places where her eyes should've been. Stars sparkled within them, glowing and glittering, a whole universe contained within one person.

"Is it the eyes? Damn it, that's why I bring the sunglasses," Pearl huffs, wings curling around her body, a pout growing on her lips, reminiscent of a small, scolded child.

"Who...who even are you?" Cleo finally manages to say, head tilting slightly as Pearl fiddles with her sunglasses. "What are you?"

"Good question. I dunno, I was kinda born like this." Pearl shrugs. "My brother, my twin brother-- he was born as a normal kid, I guess. And then whoops! Weird void baby came right afterwards. It was pretty crazy."

The pieces were starting to fall together, Cleo realises. The bag slung over Pearl's shoulder, the sunglasses.

"They've sent you away, haven't they?" Pearl's shoulders sink as the words leave the gorgon's mouth, only solidifying their assumption. "You've been exiled...like me."

"It's fitting they'd send me here, hmm? Send me to another outcast." Pearl manages a small smile. "But, yeah. That's basically it."

Obviously, the subject what somewhat upsetting for her, so Cleo did what Cleo does.

"Oh, who would've known that the people don't appreciate an eldritch being with stars instead of eyes walking around their neighbourhood?"

Sarcasm.

But, also--

"Well. I know," Cleo says, holding out a hand. "Turns out people also don't appreciate a kid with snakes for hair freezing all the other kids to stone. So, you're safe with me."

Pearl's expression turns from sad to overjoyed in what seems to be a millisecond. "Wait, really?! Can I stay here with you?"

"I mean, if you don't take up too much roo-- hey, what are you doing? Off!"

Pearl didn't seem to hear and only squeezed Cleo harder, arms around her waist, wings covering them both. "Thank you thank you thank you! You're the best gorgon I've ever met!"

"You've met others?"

"No, but I bet you would still be the best if I ever were to meet any others!"

Cleo grunts in acknowledgement, and Pearl quickly lets go of her waist, jumping back with her wings extended, a huge beam on her face.

"I like the flowers in your hair, by the way," she says after a moment, eyes curving into a crescent smile, the stars inside them brightening. "They're really pretty. What kind are they?"

"Oh. Uh, probably...sunflowers, orchids, tulips...that kind of stuff," Cleo mumbles. "I don't really choose what grows there? They kind of just come out of my skull when they feel like it?"

The eldritch being leans in for a closer look, her form looming over Cleo's. It's...slightly intimidating. "That's so cool! I'm really excited about staying with you! We're going to be best friends!"

"No, we're not."

"We are now!"

bonus:

"Hey, Cleo! So I noticed your comfy little cave only has one bed. Mind if we share?"

The thought of sharing a bed with an actual eldritch being, not to mention one with wings that spanned the entirety of Cleo's cave, was much less than appealing to them. Except Pearl was looking at them (or-- at least perceiving them) with a hopeful beam on her face, and suddenly every rational thought left their brain as they sighed loudly. "If you even try to touch me with your wings, I will find some way to turn you to stone and throw you off this mountain."

"Yay! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I'll hug you to sleep!"

"Don't you dare."

hehe hiii, it's me, azzie again! thanks for sticking around <3 if you have any requests or anything feel free to pop em into ye olde ask box! i'm happy to write for you. if it's for the life series, anyway

[ziltoidcoffee]

CK Drabble: Mail-Order Omega

(A Silverusso drabble based on old photos of Ralph where he looks absolutely bratty.

Daniel is an omega whose mother signs him up for an alpha-omega dating agency. Refusing to marry some random alpha, he tries to sabotage himself, but an alpha named Terry Silver is still interested. When the alpha flies to Newark to visit him, Daniel is forced to go on the date, but he spends the entire time trying to get Terry to hate him. It doesn’t quite work.)

At nineteen years old, Daniel has no interest in getting married.

He just finished high school and has his whole life ahead of him. Only he’s an omega, the rarest of the second genders. This means nothing really, except that he has a heat every other month and got picked on by every alpha growing up. Thankfully, he started reading about karate sophomore year and was able to fend for himself—at least for the most part. But being an omega also means he’s a very eligible bachelor.

Most particularly to alphas, who are almost as rare. Therefore, omegas are often arranged to marry and mate them, and their families are given a hefty paycheck. But Daniel wants to marry for love, not money. Always has, always will.

Yet he’s riding the bus on his way to an arranged date with an alpha he’s never met before.

It’s all his mother’s fault. She signed him up for this arranged marriage agency through the mail. Not against his will. Daniel agreed. But not without a fight. At first, he refused and threatened to move out. Then she revealed how far behind they are on the mortgage payment. She got let go from her job a month ago and hasn’t been able to find work since.

Daniel didn’t want to lose the family house, the one his father bought for them. So he tried to help, applying to hundreds of jobs around town. But apparently, an omega is worth more as a fiance than an employee. Especially one with no experience and only a high school diploma.

He kept searching though. Cause there’s no way he was marrying some random alpha, no matter how much they were willing to pay. That’s what Daniel told himself. Then he walked in on his mother crying over a picture of them with his dad.

“Fine, ma. I give up. Call the agency,” he told her at the time. “But I doubt anyone will wanna marry me.”

That was two weeks ago.

Since then, his mother found a new job, and they’re no longer behind on mortgage payments. So Daniel assumed she’d drop the idea. But his mom played the guilt card and begged him to go. She claimed she wanted Daniel to have what she and his father did. That world for like a minute—until he had to pose for photos and fill out some long-winded survey. He felt like a piece of meat up for sale.

Disgusted with himself and the whole idea, he took the worst photos and gave the most annoying answers, guaranteeing no alpha would want him

Except one stupid alpha did.

His mother broke the news to him last night. A wealthy, older alpha from California was interested in Daniel. So much that he apparently flew in last night and arranged a date at the most expensive restaurant in Newark. He begged his mother to cancel the date, explaining that any alpha who wanted him was probably crazy. But after accidentally revealing his plan to sabotage, he gave her fuel to guilt trip him into going.

Only he wasn’t going to “behave” like she urged him when he stomped on the bus. Daniel’s going to make this alpha hate him, even if he had to embarrass himself in front of the entire town.

Because there’s no way he’s marrying this alpha. He wants to mate with someone he loves—not for money or status.

Daniel’s plan begins when he arrives at the restaurant. The bus dropped him off a block away, but he doesn’t walk in the door until his date’s already been sitting there for ten minutes. He almost feels bad. But after clocking the snide look from the hostess at his cheap suit, he’s reminded why tonight has to be a failure. This alpha isn’t from his world, and after tonight, he’ll know Daniel isn’t made for his either.

Yet the alpha seems completely unbothered when the hostess leaves him at their table. He smiles wide, stands up, and offers his hand. “Hello, Daniel,” he greets. “Terry Silver. It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

His voice sends a shiver down Daniel’s spine, as does the alpha’s rich, intoxicating scent. He smells of the ocean on a sunny day with hints of cherry blossoms, leather, and sandalwood. It’s so strong that he can hardly think and even takes a second to respond.

“Uh, you too,” he manages and shakes the alpha’s hand while trying not to stare. Because if the scent of him wasn’t enough, Terry is one of the most handsome men he’s ever met, with his dark blue eyes, statuesque proportions, and charming smile.

But this changes nothing.

Terry may be an attractive alpha, but he’s still willing to spend money on an omega he doesn’t even know. Clearly, there must be something wrong with him, and Daniel isn’t willing to marry him to find out. He sits down across from Terry and brings his attention to the leather-bound menu, preparing to launch into plan a: acting like a rude, spoiled brat. Hopefully, the restaurant staff will forgive him, and if not, it’s not like he’s coming back

“Did you already order?” he snaps, changing his tone entirely.

“Oh, no. I assumed you’d want to order your own meal.” When Daniel glances up, he half expects the alpha to be laughing. They’re known for walking all over omegas, some going as far as controlling what they eat. Yet Terry is smiling innocently and adds, “Please, order whatever you’d like. This is all on me, of course.”

Daniel scoffs. What a typical alpha, assuming he has no money. He might not. But he should at least get the opportunity to split the bill. At least he doesn’t have to pretend to be angry. “Of course? Because I can’t afford it?”

Terry frowns. “Would you like to pay for your share? I’d love to treat you, but maybe we can get dessert somewhere after where you can pay.”

His eyes go wide. He must be joking. “What?” Daniel never expected some wealthy, older alpha from L.A. to suggest eating somewhere in Newark—beyond their finest, most expensive restaurant.

The waitress arrives before Terry can answer. She asks what they’d like, and he orders the most expensive dish, tagliolini pasta with lobster and truffles. Daniel doesn’t even like seafood, but it's worth pissing off the alpha. Or he thought so anyway. Terry smiles and says he’ll have the same, along with a bottle of red from their top shelf.

He grits his teeth. Maybe the alpha is being polite, or he doesn’t know the price. It doesn’t matter though. Daniel is straying from his plan. But Terry beats him before he can even speak, asking, “So, how was your day, Daniel?” His tone is so friendly that a real answer almost comes out of Daniel.

Instead though, he crosses his arms with a pout. “Shit, I hated it.” Simple but effective.

Terry frowns. “Why? What happened?”

God, that sounded genuine. Daniel pretends to be unphased. “Oh, nothing particularly. I just fucking hate it here. Everyone sucks, and there’s nothing to do.” Which is such a lie. “You wouldn’t understand.” But that isn’t.

“I have bad days sometimes too,” Terry tells him. “Yesterday, I had a difficult work meeting, and then I sat in two hours of traffic.” Daniel rolls his eyes. Like that could even compare. “I remember you said in the letter that your favorite place is the Bahamas. Have you ever been there?”

Shit, he completely forgot everything he wrote. Now he’ll have to come up with an excuse that isn’t “I picked somewhere expensive and impractical so you’d be annoyed.” Daniel shrugs and says, “No, just thought it sounds—I don’t know…peaceful. Why? You hate it? Or been there too many times to count?”

A laugh rumbles out of Terry. The sound makes Daniel’s heart flutter, more than he wants to admit. “Only once or twice. For business. That’s how I’ve done most of my traveling. Or with a friend if he isn’t busy.” His lips draw into a smile. “But I would be open to doing more traveling, preferably with a mate to enjoy the trip with.”

Daniel hates how amazing the idea sounds, being able to see the world with someone you love. “Sounds nice.” The comment comes out before he can restrain himself, and his tone is hopeful, nothing close to rude.

Terry’s smile widens. Before either can speak, the waitress returns with the wine. She pours them both a glass, sets the bottle in ice on the table, and notes the food will be ready soon. Once she leaves again, the alpha lifts his glass into the air with a smile.

“To a wonderful evening,” he cheers, and Daniel smirks at the perfect opportunity.

“We’ll see,” he mutters and ignores Terry’s toast to take a drink.

The wine is fine, really. Not that much different from cheap stuff Daniel’s had at family gatherings. But that answer isn’t rude enough. He’ll have to take it up a notch. “Ugh.” Daniel slams his glass down with a groan. “Gross. It tastes like cheap grape juice.”

Any decent person would be annoyed. Instead, Terry hums and stares at the bottle. “I think you’re right. Perhaps she got the order wrong.” He looks around the room with a frown. “I’ll ask the waitress to double-check when she comes back around.”

Oh God. The last thing Daniel wants to do is get someone in trouble. He’s fine pissing off Terry but not a hardworking innocent woman. “No, don’t,” he blurts, then remembers he’s supposed to be rude and crosses his arms. “She’ll just fuck it up again.”

For a second, he swears the alpha’s lip quirk up, almost looking amused. But whatever was there is gone in a flash. Terry frowns and glances toward the back of the restaurant. “I just hope the food is acceptable. This was supposed to be the best place in town. I had my assistant Margaret check.”

Terry did research for their date? Did he care that much about trying to please him? Daniel’s heart flutters in his chest, but he ignores the feeling, remembering his mission.  “We should’ve gone to the city.” He slouches against the booth and lets out a loud groan. “God, this town’s going to the dogs.”

It hurts Daniel to talk trash about Newark, but at least his performance is successful. Everyone nearby turns to stare at them, and Terry looks less than enthused, glancing around the room. Daniel pretends not to care, sipping his glass of wine. When silence follows for several minutes, he’s ready to declare a victory. But then a hand settles over his on the table, bringing the alpha’s scent closer, and his gaze jumps to Terry who smiles back.

“I’m sorry you’re not having a good time” He rubs his thumb across Daniel’s. “If you wish, we can leave now, and I’ll take us somewhere more acceptable. I know a chef who owns a restaurant on the upper east side. I’m sure he can find a table for us.”

His tone is so sincere that Daniel almost groans in annoyance. Clearly, Terry isn’t bothered by his bratty behavior, but he’s not willing to act any more rude than he has already. Which means it’s time to switch to plan b: acting like a slut. Because while the alpha doesn’t care if he’s impolite, there’s no way he’s going to want an omega who’s slept with half the town. Only Daniel’s never been past second past—with only one beta no less. Thankfully, he’s prepared an act for this strategy too.

“Nah, might as well stay. We’re already here.” Daniel slides off his suit jacket and undoes the top few buttons of his shirt, exposing a sliver of his mating gland. As expected, this draws the eyes of Terry instantly, but his expression doesn’t change.  “It’s just—I know the chef. He might spit in our food.”

The alpha’s brow raises, eyes coming back to his face. “Really? Why’s that?”

Daniel glances back at the kitchen door. “Let’s just say the alpha couldn’t get enough of what I was serving,” he says with a smirk, and Terry’s lips press together tightly.

Jackpot. Now he’s getting somewhere. “Didn’t help that was cooking for his beta brother too.” Daniel shrugs. “But what can I say? I’m an experienced chef.”

There’s silence for a moment, as Terry simply stares at him. Daniel can’t help but curl his fist in victory under the table. He’s going to be asked to leave, maybe even yelled at. But then a laugh escapes the alpha, and he stiffens in confusion. “Well, that’s good to hear…because I can’t cook at all,” Terry says with a grin. “Maybe you could give me cooking lessons sometime. Or at least share your recipes.”

God dammit. He rolls his eyes. Is this alpha stupid or what? Didn’t he catch the innuendo? “Christ,” Daniel mutters under his breath. He’ll have to get more obvious. But before he can say anything else, the waitress returns with their food and places a dish in front of each of them.

“Looks better than I thought,” Terry chuckles, reading for his fork and knife. “Have you had this before?”

“Uh—” Daniel unwraps his utensils while he thinks of a response. “Yeah, but I don’t remember the taste much. Had too many garlic knots that night.” To punctuate the words, he winks and stuffs a helping of the pasta in his mouth.

Terry nods but doesn’t respond until he’s taken a bite himself. “I’ve never been one for garlic,” he admits. “But maybe you could convince me” Daniel coughs, almost choking in shock at his ignorance, and the alpha’s eyes widen. “Are you okay? Here, let me—”

He swallows with a gasp and pushes away his hand, wanting the alpha’s addicting smell as far away as possible. “I’m fine. Just went down the wrong pipe.”

“Good, you had me worried.” Terry smiles, and Daniel looks away, irritated at the failure of his plan. Maybe he has to be more obvious. Even though he hoped to leave with some dignity.

An opportunity arises when the beta waitress returns to their table. “How is everything?” she asks with a smile Her friendliness only makes Daniel feel worse, but hopefully, she’ll understand. He can always come back later and explain someday.

“It’s—” Terry begins, but he cuts the alpha off. “It’s wonderful!” Daniel exclaims with a smirk.

She nods. “Good to hear. If you need anything else, please don’t hesitate to ask.” “Well, there is something else I want,” Daniel purrs, leaning in close enough to smell her faint rose and vanilla scent. “What time do you get off tonight?”

He brushes his hand against her thigh, and her eyes go wide. “I—” She glances between them. “That’s—”

“That’s all.” A low, commanding voice cuts in. He sucks in a breath, snapping his gaze to Terry leering across the table. Daniel pulls his hand back, reacting to the alpha growl before his brain can catch up.

This seems to please Terry. He smiles and nods at the waitress who scurries away. But his eyes narrow again when he turns back to Daniel, still frozen for some strange reason. “Are you done yet?” he asks with a sigh, tone dripping with irritation.

Daniel blinks at him. “What?”

Terry takes another bite before answering. “This—” He waves the fork between them. “Your act.”

His stomach drops at the accusation. Does he mean—he can’t possibly know—was Daniel being that obvious? He clears his throat. “W-what do you mean?” Despite playing dumb, he can’t strip the nervous stutter from his words.

“You know very well.” Terry’s chuckle sounds more amused than angry.

Still, even if he’s not mad, there’s no way Daniel’s confessing. Not until he has to. “I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about,” he snaps, slamming his fork on the table. “I’m not doing anything!”

His rising voice earns the attention of a few guests nearby, but Terry doesn’t react more than glancing at the silverware before returning his gaze to the omega. “Yes, you are,” he declares while reaching for his glass. “But I’ll play your little game and explain—this time anyway.”

Daniel swallows, waiting for an answer. He swears the alpha takes longer than necessary to drink his wine. But once he sets the glass back down, Terry smiles and steeples his hands on the table. “Where shall I begin? Perhaps the beginning. When I first received your application.” Daniel shrugs like he doesn’t care, but his heart is thumping in his chest.

Terry nods. “First, let me be honest. I wasn’t really interested in an omega—or mating. Not in the slightest. But my assistant Margaret—she’s ‘concerned’ about me, apparently. So she signed me up for this alpha-omega matchmaking agency—behind my back.” Daniel snorts. She sounds like his mom.  “Anyway, I glanced at a few applications, but nothing stuck out. Like I suspected. I am a man of particular taste…But then yours came across my desk, and your picture alone interested me.”

Heat rises to Daniel’s cheeks. He never thought a man like Terry would be interested in him. At least not for his looks. Though that would explain why the alpha still wanted to meet him after the photos and answers Daniel sent.

“But,” Terry continues with a growing smile. “Your photos—they looked very…staged.”

The word is like a kick to Daniel’s face. But to avoid looking phased, he swallows and stares straight ahead.

“So I did my own research, of course. Or rather, Margaret did.” Uh oh. Daniel didn’t like the sound of that. “She was able to get a hold of your school yearbook. But those photos looked posed too. So I reached out to the agency, and your mother sent out some more photos the next. Didn’t she tell you?”  His jaw tightens. No, she didn’t. God dammit. He got played by his own mother. “Well, the Daniel in those photos seemed nothing like the brat you were trying to portray in the first batch—and today.”

Before he can stop himself, Daniel lifts a hand to palm his face, But once he realizes and pulls back, it’s already too late. From the grin on Terry’s face, he clearly saw everything. “So, you see.” The alpha glances at the door then turns back to Daniel. “The jig was up—long before you even walked in here and put on that act.”

Daniel’s heart stutters in his chest. He’s been caught. Terry knows everything. But wait—what about the questionnaire? He still has that at least. “Think whatever you want. But that was me, and this is me,” he defends. “Didn’t you get my survey? Everything I wrote was the truth. It’s not my fault if you can’t handle me.”

A bark of laughter erupts from Terry. “Oh, Danny-boy,” he chuckles, the nickname a shiver down Daniel’s back. When did that start? “I can handle you well enough. Even if this—” He spreads his arms wide between them. “Is the real you.” Daniel’s hand curls to a fist under the table. Fuck, he embarrassed himself for nothing. “But I know it’s not,” Terry adds. “At least, not to this extent.”

That’s a hell of a claim. “How could you know?” Daniel growls. Did his mom redo the questionnaire too? He swears she sent the letter as is.

Terry shrugs. “I did my homework, like any good businessman would.”

Daniel raises a brow. “What the hell does that mean?”

“Exactly what you think,” he answers. “I hired a private investigator to look into you. He spoke with your friends and family, pretending to be a potential employer, and they painted an entirely different picture of Daniel LaRusso. One that looked nothing like the person you pretended to be today, or in those photos, or the survey.”

A shiver runs down Daniel’s spine. He’s not sure what’s more unsettling, that Terry sent a stranger to investigate him or that the man knew who to ask and where. “I can’t believe you did that,” he hisses. “You’re crazy."

The alpha barks a laugh. “You really think I’d fly all the way here without doing a little digging first?” Daniel’s face burns with self-consciousness. Maybe he was stupid for assuming, but still, a phone call would have sufficed. “But I’m not saying that to offend you. I would do the same for any omega I was interested in.” He leans in closer, and the distance makes his scent grow stronger. “And it’s a good thing I did because all that talk about you ‘cooking’ around town might’ve fooled me. But we both know that’s not the truth, is it?”

Shame burns like a flame under Daniel’s skin. He can’t believe this is happening, that the alpha would go that far. “Jesus Christ.” He starts to button his shirt back up, feeling like a fool. “What the hell did he ask them?” Because he can only imagine the worst.

“Relax,” Terry chuckles, but Daniel doesn’t miss his gaze flickering to Daniel’s chest. “I told him to be discreet. But let’s just say…your family likes to gossip. He didn’t have to say much before your past relationships came up. Or should I say relationship?”

Daniel groans and drops his head back against the booth. “God dammit.” Having a big mouth seems to run in his family, and sadly, he’s not an expectation from that rule. They know way more than any relative should about his sex life, which means Terry was right when he said “the jig is up.” His act was a complete waste of time.

“Fine.” He slams a hand on the table. “You’re right, okay? I was faking it.” His hands come together to clap slowly and sarcastically. “Congratulations, you found me out. Can I go now?” Daniel glances around, looking for the waitress. “Maybe I can get this to go or—”

Terry’s hand on his stops him mid-sentence. He freezes and glances up at the frowning alpha. “Wait, Daniel, hear me out.” His plea sounds sincere, and he even retracts his touch, earning Daniel’s silence to continue. “I wasn’t lying when I said I was interested in you, and despite everything, I still am. So let’s start over and make this a real date.” He holds out his hand with a charming smile. “I’m Terry Silver. Nice to meet you.”

He stares at the alpha’s fingers in silence, trying to decide what to do. On one hand, Terry has been creepy and manipulative, and every instinct in Daniel is saying to run, as far away as possible. But then again, he hasn’t been much better, lying and playing the alpha because he can’t stand up to his mom properly. So in a way, he feels like he owes him a genuine date, and when he was acting earlier, Terry was being a gentleman.

Plus, he’s probably the most handsome man that’s ever shown interest. And he smells ridiculously good, better than any alpha Daniel’s ever met. Even now, with his hand so close, Terry’s scent is wafting across the table, and Daniel has to close his eyes a second to concentrate on making a decision.

Ultimately, he comes up with the same answer. “Sorry,” Daniel starts, and the mere word makes Terry drop his hand. “I don’t think it’s a good idea. I’m not really interested in dating right now, and I don't even know you. But thanks for the offer.” He tears his gaze from the alpha whose smile has faded to glance around the restaurant. “I wonder if I can get a box from the—”

A sigh from Terry cuts him off. “I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do this…”

“Do what?” Daniel asks as the alpha reaches into his suit jacket and retrieves a small device that he sets on the table. “What’s that? Is that a recorder?” He’s seen them a few times in movies, but that doesn’t explain why Terry would have one. “Were you recording this? Why?”

“Leverage.” Terry shrugs. “I told you, Danny. I’m a businessman, and a good one at that.”

Is he really calling him Danny at a time like this? “Stop calling me that,” he hisses. “And what leverage? Nothing I did is illegal.” It isn’t, right? “Not illegal per say but certainly against the contract you and your mother signed.” Terry slides a hand into his jacket again, this time to pull out a folded up piece of paper that he slides across the table. “Take a look at section a, sub-section d.”

With a sneer, Daniel snatches the contract and unfolds to find the specific section, which he reads out loud. “If the omega provides false information or lies on the application or attached documents, such lies are grounds for contract termination.” He shrugs. “So what? Void it? I don’t care.” That’s exactly what he wants.

Terry taps the paper with a finger. “Go on.”

He rolls his eyes but continues. “Once the contract is voided with proof of falsification, the alpha has the right to seek payment for any—” Daniels goes silent as he reads the rest of the sentence then peers up at Terry with wide eyes.

“I take it you understand, yes?” Daniel nods, still too stunned to speak. “Good. Then if you still want to end this date and void the contract, you’re now responsible for the bill and my plane ticket here.” Terry takes back the paper and winks. “And I only fly first class.”

Daniel swallows. He can pay the restaurant bill. It might be everything he has left in savings, but he can, if he has to. But the plane ticket—there’s no way he can pay for that. His mom probably can’t either.

He runs a hand over his face and lets out a sigh. “What do you want? Cause I’ll finish this date. Whatever.” Daniel points at him with a glare. “But don’t expect me to be in a good mood now. Not when you’re sitting there threatening me.”

This earns him a laugh. “Oh, the offer’s changed now,” Terry says, reaching for his glass of wine. “We’ll finish this meal, but that’s not all I want.”

“What then? What more do you want? Cause I ain’t got much to offer.”

“You’re more than enough,” Terry purrs, and Daniel hates how that warms his cheeks. “I want you to come out to California with me—for at least a week. Give me that long to plead my case, or rather, court you. And don’t worry, you won’t be responsible for paying for anything while you’re there, and you’ll get to stay in my mansion, in your own bed. I promise.”

The offer sounds too good to be true. A free trip to California where he’ll get to stay in a mansion with a handsome alpha? Daniel would say yes in a heartbeat—if Terry were anyone else. But right now, he wants to be nowhere near the man who threatened him and interrogated his family. Well, technically he didn’t, but still.

When he doesn’t answer right away, the alpha sets his glass down with a frown “Fine, I’ll leave,” he sighs, setting the napkin from his lap on the table. “The agency will be in touch with you and your mother about payment. Have a good day, Daniel.”

Terry only gets a foot away before Daniel blurts out, “Wait.” He turns around slowly and sits back down.

“I’m listening.”

“I’m probably gonna regret this,” Daniel starts, but when Terry’s jaw tenses, he rushes to finish. “Sorry. I’m just—” He sighs and forces out the words. “I’ll do it. I’ll go with you to California. For a week. That’s it. As long as you leave my mom alone…and don’t ask us for any money. That’s my offer.”

A sharp smile worms itself to Terry’s lips. “You got a deal.”  Daniel sighs in relief but startles when his plate is pushed toward him. “Eat up, Danny-boy. Our plane leaves in a few hours.”

He sucks in a breath. Yeah, he’s gonna regret this.

[dramaisthelifebloodofgoodstories]

I honestly think us Hansanna shippers are sleeping on the Hansanna potential in A Frozen Heart. Like the scenes before everything goes bad and Elsa freezes everything are just...beautiful. I actually have the book with me and it's just...fascinating how smitten Hans is with Anna. (I'll be focusing on Hans's perspective here)

Like when Hans meets Anna for the first time he's just like: I didn't mean to like her this much. He pays a lot of attention to how she looks, and enjoys her spirit and liveliness.

And at the coronation, Hans smiles when he sees Anna, and compares her to very beautiful fish. He again appreciates her spirit.

And then Hans takes like one look at Elsa, decides he does not like what he sees, and then decides he's gonna woo Anna and completely abandon his very elaborate and well thought out plan to woo Elsa. Like I get there's better odds with wooing Anna but Hans was 100% determined to score Elsa no matter what, and was prepared to get through her cold misanthropist exterior (he spent a lot of time thinking about how to overcome that obstacle), and then just abandons those plans in ten seconds because he likes Anna better. And when Anna waves at him after he's made that plan, he's just like: I like this new plan where I woo this lively redhead better.

The man is smitten so bad...love at first sight.

When Anna is dancing with the duke Hans doesn't like it. At all. He sympathizes with her when the duke steps on her feet, and soon the duke's techniques get so bad that Hans just decides to step in and stop the dance entirely.

And then they dance, and have a good time. People have actually talked about how Hans slips up a bit around Anna at this time, is more honest. And he is. Hans prides himself on his self control and he's now practically blurting out stuff, stuff he doesn't want Anna to know.

And he pays attention to her hair enough to notice her streak. That's commitment.

As the night goes on, Hans starts pretending less and less. He's actually enjoying Anna's company. And then he blurts out his proposal.

Dun dun dun. This is important! I started writing this post for this moment!

Hans is genuinely, truly happy when Anna says yes. Like truly happy. And he has to remind himself that he's pretending, that he's only here to get away from his abusive family. And then he says that the upcoming marriage will make it happier than he ever thought, he thinks the exact same thing, even citing Anna as a cause of his happiness in his head.

Hans also starts trying to think like Anna after everything goes "boom snow winter in summer!"

And I'm not going to be citing specific moments, but Hans does appreciate Anna's intellect, bravery, and leadership skills. It's the perfect opportunity for a "Evil prince was only pretending to like princess so he can get her status and then actually fell in love with her" romance.

But as the situation goes on, things get harder, until Hans is so focused on surviving everything and taking care of Arendelle and most specifically staying away from his abusive family that his love for Anna dissipates and his desperation and apathy that he came into Arrendelle with get stronger.

Henceforth the betrayal.

[verena-targaryen-writes]

The Duke and I (part 3)

It has been whispered to This Author that Nigel Berbrooke was seen at Moreton's Jewelry Shop purchasing a diamond solitaire ring. Can a new Mrs. Berbrooke be very far behind?

Lady Whistledown's Society Papers, 28 April 1813

The night, Diana decided, couldn't possibly get much worse. First she'd been forced to spend the evening in the darkest corner of ballroom (which wasn't such an easy task, since Lady Danbury clearly appreciated both the aesthetic and illuminating qualities of candles), then she'd managed to trip over Philipa Featherington's foot as she tried to make her escape, which had led Philipa, never the quietest girl in the room, to squeal, "Diana Bridgerton! Are you hurt?"

Which must have captured Nigel's attention, for his head had snapped up like startled bird, and he'd immediately started hurrying across the ballroom. Diana had hoped, no prayed that she could outrun him and make it to the ladies' retiring room before he caught up with her, but no, Nigel had cornered her in the hall and started wailing out his love for her.

It was all embarrassing enough, but now it appeared this man—this shockingly handsome and almost disturbingly poised stranger—had witnessed the entire thing. And worse, he was laughing!

Diana glared at him as he chuckled at her expense. She'd never seen him before, so he had to be new to London. Her mother had made certain that Diana had been introduced to, or at least been made aware of, all eligible gentlemen. Of course, this man could be married and therefore not on Violet's list of potential victims, but Diana instinctively knew that he could not have been long in London without all the world whispering about it.

His face was quite simply perfection. It took only a moment to realize that he put all of Michelangelo's statues to shame. His eyes were oddly intense—so blue they practically glowed. His hair was thick and dark, and he was tall—as tall as her brothers, which was a rare thing.

This was a man. Diana thought wryly, who could quite possibly steal the gaggle of twittering young ladies away from the Bridgerton men for good. Why that annoyed her so much, she didn't know. Maybe it was because she knew a man like him would never be interested in a woman like her. Maybe it was because she felt like the veriest frump sitting there on the floor in his splendid presence. Maybe it was simply because he was standing there laughing as if she were some sort of circus amusement.

But whatever the case, an uncharacteristic peevishness rose within her, and her brows drew together as she asked, "Who are you?"

Aemond didn't know why he didn't answer her question in a straightforward manner, but some

devil within caused him to reply, "My intention had been to be your rescuer, but you clearly had no need of my services."

"Oh," the girl said, sounding slightly mollified. She clamped her lips together, twisting them slightly as she considered his words. "Well, thank you, then, I suppose! Pity you didn't reveal yourself ten seconds earlier. I'd rather not have had to hit him."

Aemond looked down at the man on the ground. A bruise was already darkening on his chin, and he was moaning, "Laffy, oh Laffy. I love you, Laffy."

"You're Laffy, I presume?" Aemond murmured, sliding his gaze up to her face. Really, she was quite an attractive little thing, and from this angle the bodice of her gown seemed almost decadently low.

She scowled at him, clearly not appreciating his attempt at subtle humor—and also clearly not realizing that his heavy-lidded gaze had rested on portions of her anatomy that were not her face. "What are we to do with him?" she asked.

"'We?'" Aemond echoed.

Her scowl deepened. "You did say you aspired to be my rescuer, didn't you?"

"So I did." Aemond planted his hands on his hips and assessed the situation. "Shall I drag him out into the street?"

"Of course not!" she exclaimed. "For goodness sake, isn't it still raining outside?"

"My dear Miss Laffy," Aemond said, not particularly concerned about the condescending tone of his voice, "don't you think your concern is slightly misplaced? This man tried to attack you."

"He didn't try to attack me," she replied. "He just...He just...Oh, very well, he tried to attack me. But he would never have done me any real harm."

Aemond raised a brow. Truly, women were the most contrary creatures. "And you can be sure of that?"

He watched as she carefully chose her words."Nigel isn't capable of malice," she said slowly. "All he is guilty of is misjudgement."

"You're a more generous soul than I, then," Aemond said quietly.

The girl let out another sigh, a soft, breathy sound that Aemond somehow felt across his entire body. "Nigel's not a bad person," she said with quiet dignity. "It's just that he isn't always terribly bright, and perhaps he mistook kindness on my part for something more."

Aemond felt a strange sort of admiration for this girl. Most women of his acquaintance would

have been in hysterics at this point, but she—whoever she was—had taken the situation firmly in hand, and was now displaying a generosity of spirit that was astounding. That she could even think to defend this Nigel person was quite beyond him.

She rose to her feet, dusting her hands off on the sage green silk of her skirts. Her hair had been styled so that one thick lock fell over her shoulder, curling seductively at the top of her breast. Aemond knew he should be listening to her—she was prattling on about something, as women were wont to do—but he couldn't seem to take his eyes off that single dark lock of hair. It fell like a silky ribbon across her swanlike neck, and Aemond had the most appalling urge to close the distance between them and trace the line of her hair with his lips. He'd never dallied with an innocent before, but all the world had already painted him a rake. What could be the harm? It wasn't as if he were going to ravish her. Just a kiss. Just one little kiss.

It was tempting, so deliriously, maddeningly tempting.

"Sir! Sir!"

With great reluctance, he dragged his eyes up to her face. Which was, of course, delightful in and of itself, but it was difficult to picture her seduction when she was scowling at him.

"Were you listening to me?"

"Of course," he lied.

"You weren't."

"No," he admitted.

A sound came from the back of her throat that sounded suspiciously like a growl. "Then why," she ground out, "did you say you were?"

He shrugged. "I thought it was what you wanted to hear."

Aemond watched with fascinated interest as she took a deep breath and muttered something to herself. He couldn't hear her words, but he doubted any of them could be construed as complimentary. Finally, her voice almost comically even, she said, "If you don't wish to aid me, I'd prefer it if you would just leave."

Aemond decided it was time to stop acting like such a boor, so he said, "My apologies. Of course I'll help you."

She exhaled, and then looked back to Nigel, who was still lying on the floor, moaning incoherently. Aemond looked down, too, and for several seconds they just stood there, staring at the unconscious man, until the girl said, "I really didn't hit him very hard."

"Maybe he's drunk."

She looked dubious. "Do you think? I smelled spirits on his breath, but I've never seen him drunk before."

Aemond had nothing to add to that line of thought, so he just asked, "Well, what do you want to do?"

"I suppose we could just leave him here," she said, the expression in her dark eyes hesitant.

Aemond thought that was an excellent idea, but it was obvious she wanted the idiot cared for in a more tender manner. And heaven help him, but he felt the strangest compulsion to make her happy. "Here is what we're going to do," he said crisply, glad that his tone belied any of the odd tenderness he was feeling. "I am going to summon my carriage—"

"Oh, good," she interrupted. "I really didn't want to leave him here. It seemed rather cruel." Aemond thought it seemed rather generous considering the big oaf had nearly attacked her, but he kept that opinion to himself and instead continued on with his plan. "You will wait in the library while I'm gone."

"In the library? But—"

"In the library," he repeated firmly. "With the door shut. Do you really want to be discovered with Nigel's body should anyone happen to wander down this hallway?"

"His body? Good gracious, sir, you needn't make it sound as if he were dead."

"As I was saying," he continued, ignoring her comment completely, "you will remain in the library. When I return, we will relocate Nigel here to my carriage."

"And how will we do that?"

He gave her a disarmingly lopsided grin. "I haven't the faintest idea."

For a moment Diana forgot to breathe. Just when she'd decided that her would-be rescuer was irredeemingly arrogant, he had to go and smile at her like that. It was one of those boyish grins, the kind that melted female hearts within a ten-mile radius.

And, much to Diana's dismay, it was awfully hard to remain thoroughly irritated with a man under the influence of such a smile. After growing up with four brothers, all of whom had seemed to know how to charm ladies from birth, Diana had thought she was immune.

But apparently not. Her chest was tingling, her stomach was turning cartwheels, and her knees felt like melted butter.

"Nigel," she muttered, desperately trying to force her attention away from the nameless man standing across from her, "I must see to Nigel." She crouched down and shook him none too

gently by the shoulder. "Nigel? Nigel? You have to wake up now, Nigel."

"Diana," Nigel moaned. "Oh, Diana."

The dark-haired stranger's head snapped around. "Diana? Did he say Diana?"

She drew back, unnerved by his direct question and the rather intense look in his eyes. "Yes."

"Your name is Diana?"

Now she was beginning to wonder if he was an idiot.

"Yes."

He groaned. "Not Diana Bridgerton."

Her face slid into a puzzled frown. "The very one."

Aemond staggered back a step. He suddenly felt physically ill, as his brain finally processed the fact that she had thick, chestnut hair. The famous Bridgerton hair. Not to mention the Bridgerton nose, and cheekbones, and—Bugger it all, this was Anthony's sister! Bloody hell. There were rules among friends, commandments, really, and the most important one was Thou Shalt Not Lust After Thy Friend's Sister.

While he stood there, probably staring at her like a complete idiot, she planted her hands on her hips, and demanded, "And who are you?"

"Aemond Targaryen," he muttered.

"The duke?" she squeaked. He nodded grimly, "Oh, dear."

Aemond watched with growing horror as the blood drained from her face. "Good God, woman, you're not going to swoon, are you?" He couldn't imagine why she would, but Anthony—her brother, he reminded himself— had spent half the afternoon warning him about the effects of a young, unmarried duke on the young, unmarried female population. Anthony had specifically singled out Diana as the exception to the rule, but still, she looked deucedly pale. "Are you?" he demanded, when she said nothing. "Going to swoon?"

She looked offended that he'd even considered the notion. "Of course not!"

"Good."

"It's just that—"

"What?" Aemond asked suspiciously.

"Well," she said with a rather dainty shrug of her shoulders, "I've been warned about you."

This was really too much. "By whom?" he demanded.

She stared at him as if he were an imbecile. "By everyone."

"That, my d—" He felt something suspiciously like a stammer coming on, and so he took a deep breath to steady his tongue. He'd become a master at this kind of control. All she would see was a man who looked as if he were trying to keep his temper in check. And considering the direction of their conversation, that image could not seem terribly far-fetched.

"My dear Miss Bridgerton," Aemond said, starting anew in a more even and controlled tone, "I find that difficult to believe."

She shrugged again, and he had the most irritating sensation that she was enjoying his distress. "Believe what you will," she said blithely, "but it was in the paper today."

"What?'

"In Whistledown," she replied, as if that explained anything.

"Whistle-which?"

Diana stared at him blankly for a moment until she remembered that he was newly returned to London. "Oh, you must not know about it," she said softly, a wicked little smile crossing her lips. "Fancy that."

The duke took a step forward, his stance positively menacing. "Miss Bridgerton, I feel I should warn you that I am within an inch of strangling the information out of you."

"It's a gossip sheet," she said, hastily backing up a step. "That's all. It's rather silly, actually, but everyone reads it."

He said nothing, just arched one arrogant brow. Diana quickly added, "There was a report of your return in Monday's edition."

"And what"—his eyes narrowed dangerously—"precisely"—now they turned to ice—"did it say?"

"Not very much, ah, precisely," Diana hedged. She tried to back up a step, but her heels were already pressing against the wall. Any further and she'd be up on her tiptoes. The duke looked beyond furious, and she was beginning to think that she should try for a quick escape and just leave him here with Nigel. The two were perfect for each other—madmen, the both of them!

"Miss Bridgerton." There was a wealth of warning in his voice.

Diana decided to take pity on him since, after all, he was new to town and hadn't had time to adjust to the new world according to Whistledown. She supposed she couldn't really blame him for being so upset that he'd been written about in the paper. It had been rather startling for Diana the first time as well, and she'd at least had the warning of a month's previous Whistledown columns. By the time Lady Whistledown got around to writing about Diana, it had been almost anticlimactic.

"You needn't upset yourself over it," Diana said, attempting to lend a little compassion to her voice but probably not succeeding. "She merely wrote that you were a terrible rake, a fact which I'm sure you won't deny, since I have long since learned that men positively yearn to be considered rakes."

She paused and gave him the opportunity to prove her wrong and deny it. He didn't.

She continued, "And then my mother, whose acquaintance I gather you must have made at some point or another before you left to travel the world, confirmed it all."

"Did she?"

Diana nodded. "She then forbade me ever to be seen in your company."

"Really?" he drawled.

Something about the tone of his voice—and the way his eyes seemed to have grown almost smoky as they focused on her face—made her extremely uneasy, and it was all she could do not to shut her eyes. She refused—absolutely refused—to let him see how he'd affected her.

His lips curved into a slow smile. "Let me make certain I have this correctly. Your mother told you I am a very bad man and that you are under no circumstances to be seen with me."

Confused, she nodded.

"Then what," he asked, pausing for dramatic effect, "do you think your mother would say about this little scenario?"

She blinked. "I beg your pardon?"

"Well, unless you count Nigel here"—he waved his hand toward the unconscious man on the floor-—"no one has actually seen you in my presence. And yet..." He let his words trail off, having far too much fun watching the play of emotions on her face to do anything but drag this moment out to its lengthiest extreme.

Of course most of the emotions on her face were varying shades of irritation and dismay, but that made the moment all the sweeter. "And yet?" she ground out.

He leaned forward, narrowing the distance between them to only a few inches. "And yet," he

said softly, knowing that she'd feel his breath on her face, "here we are, completely alone."

"Except for Nigel," she retorted. Aemond spared the man on the floor the briefest of glances before returning his wolfish gaze to Miss Bridgerton. "I'm not terribly concerned about Nigel," he murmured. "Are you?"

Aemond watched as she looked down at Nigel in dismay. It had to be clear to her that her spurned suitor wasn't going to save her should Aemond decide to make an amorous advance. Not that he would, of course. After all, this was Anthony's younger sister. He might have to remind himself of this at frequent intervals, but it wasn't a fact that was likely to slip his mind on a permanent basis.

Aemond knew that it was past time to end this little game. Not that he thought she would report the interlude to Anthony; somehow he knew that she would prefer to keep this to herself, stewing over it in privately righteous fury, and, dare he hope it—just a touch of excitement? But even as he knew it was time to stop this flirtation and get back to the business of hauling Diana's idiotic suitor out of the building, he couldn't resist one last comment. Maybe it was the way her lips pursed when she was annoyed. Or maybe it was the way they parted when she was shocked. All he knew was that he was helpless against his own devilish nature when it came to this girl.

And so he leaned forward, his eyes heavy-lidded and seductive as he said, "I think I know what your mother would say."

She looked a little befuddled by his onslaught, but still she managed a rather defiant, "Oh?"

Aemond nodded slowly, and he touched one finger to her chin. "She'd tell you to be very, very afraid."

There was a moment of utter silence, and then Diana's eyes grew very wide. Her lips tightened, as if she were keeping something inside, and then her shoulders rose slightly, and then...

And then she laughed. Right in his face.

"Oh, my goodness," she gasped. "Oh, that was funny."

Aemond was not amused.

"I'm sorry." This was said between laughs. "Oh, I'm sorry, but really, you shouldn't be so melodramatic. It doesn't suit you."

Aemond paused, rather irritated that this slip of a girl had shown such disrespect for his authority. There were advantages to being considered a dangerous man, and being able to cow young maidens was supposed to be one of them.

"Well, actually, it does suit you, I ought to admit," she added, still grinning at his expense. "You

looked quite dangerous. And very handsome, of course." When he made no comment, her face took on a bemused expression, and she asked, "That was your intention, was it not?"

He still said nothing, so she said, "Of course it was. And I would be remiss if I did not tell you that you would have been successful with any other woman besides me."

A comment he couldn't resist. "And why is that?"

"Four brothers." She shrugged as if that should explain everything. "I'm quite immune to your games."

"Oh?"

She gave his arm a reassuring pat. "But yours was a most admirable attempt. And truly, I'm quite flattered you thought me worthy of such a magnificent display of dukish rakishness." She grinned, her smile wide and unfeigned. "Or do you prefer rakish dukishness?"

Aemond stroked his jaw thoughtfully, trying to regain his mood of menacing predator. "You're a most annoying little chit, did you know that, Miss Bridgerton?"

She gave him her sickliest of smiles. "Most people find me the soul of kindness and amiability."

"Most people," Aemond said bluntly, "are fools."

Diana cocked her head to the side, obviously pondering his words. Then she looked over at Nigel and sighed. "I'm afraid I have to agree with you, much as it pains me."

Aemond bit back a smile. "It pains you to agree with me, or that most people are fools?"

"Both." She grinned again—a wide, enchanting smile that did odd things to his brain. "But mostly the former."

Aemond let out a loud laugh, then was startled to realize how foreign the sound was to his ears. He was a man who frequently smiled, occasionally chuckled, but it had been a very long time since he'd felt such a spontaneous burst of joy. "My dear Miss Bridgerton," he said, wiping his eyes, "if you are the soul of kindness and amiability, then the world must be a very dangerous place."

"Oh, for certain," she replied. "At least to hear my mother tell it."

"I can't imagine why I do not recall your mother," Aemond murmured, "because she certainly sounds a memorable character."

Diana raised a brow. "You don't remember her?"

He shook his head.

"Then you don't know her."

"Does she look like you?"

'That's an odd question."

"Not so very odd," Aemond replied, thinking that Diana was exactly right. It was an odd question, and he had no idea why he'd voiced it. But since he had, and since she had questioned it, he added, "After all, I'm told that all of you Bridgertons look alike."

A tiny, and to Aemond mysterious, frown touched her face. "We do. Look alike, that is. Except for my mother. She's rather fair, actually, with blue eyes. We all get our dark hair from our father. I'm told I have her smile, though."

An awkward pause fell across the conversation. Diana was shifting from foot to foot, not at all certain what to say to the duke, when Nigel exhibited stellar timing for the first time in his life, and sat up. "Diana?" he said, blinking as if he couldn't see straight. "Diana, is that you?"

"Good God, Miss Bridgerton," the duke swore, "how hard did you hit him?"

"Hard enough to knock him down, but no worse than that, I swear!" Her brow furrowed. "Maybe he is drunk."

"Oh, Diana," Nigel moaned.

The duke crouched next to him, then reeled back, coughing.

"Is he drunk?" Diana asked.

The duke staggered back. "He must have drunk an entire bottle of whiskey just to get up the nerve to propose."

"Who would have thought I could be so terrifying?" Diana murmured, thinking of all the men who thought of her as a jolly good friend and nothing more. "How wonderful."

Aemond stared at her as if she were insane, then muttered, "I'm not even going to question that statement." Diana ignored his comment. "Should we set our plan into action?"

Aemond planted his hands on his hips and reassessed the scene. Nigel was trying to rise to his feet, but it didn't appear, to Aemond's eye at least, that he was going to find success anytime in the near future. Still, he was probably lucid enough to make trouble, and certainly lucid enough to make noise, which he was doing. Quite well, actually.

"Oh, Diana. I luff you so much, Daffery." Nigel managed to raise himself to his knees, weaving around as he shuffled toward Diana, looking rather like a sotted churchgoer attempting to pray. "Please marry me, Duffne. You have to."

"Buck up, man," Aemond grunted, grabbing him by the collar. 'This is getting embarrassing." He turned to Diana. "I'm going to have to take him outside now. We can't leave him here in the hall. He's liable to start moaning like a sickened cow—"

"I rather thought he'd already started," Diana said. Aemond felt one corner of his mouth twist up in a reluctant smile. Diana Bridgerton might be a marriageable female and thus a disaster waiting to happen for any man in his position, but she was certainly a good sport.

She was, it occurred to him in a rather bizarre moment of clarity, the sort of person he'd probably call friend if she were a man.

But since it was abundantly obvious—to both his eyes and his body—that she wasn't a man, Aemond decided it was in both of their best interests to wrap up this "situation" as soon as possible. Aside from the fact that Diana's reputation would suffer a deadly blow if they were discovered, Aemond wasn't positive that he could trust himself to keep his hands off of her for very much longer.

It was an unsettling feeling, that. Especially for a man who so valued his self-control. Control was everything. Without it he'd never have stood up to his father or taken a first at university. Without it, he'd—

Without it, he thought grimly, he'd still be speaking like an idiot.

"I'll haul him out of here," he said suddenly. "You go back to the ballroom."

Diana frowned, glancing over her shoulder to the hall that led back to the party. "Are you certain? I thought you wanted me to go to the library."

"That was when we were going to leave him here while I summoned the carriage. But we can't do that if he's awake."

She nodded her agreement, and asked, "Are you sure you can do it? Nigel's a rather large man."

"I'm larger."

She cocked her head. The duke, although lean, was powerfully built, with broad shoulders and firmly muscled thighs. (Diana knew she wasn't supposed to notice such things, but, really, was it her fault that current fashions dictated such snug breeches?) More to the point, he had a certain air about him, something almost predatory, something that hinted of tightly controlled strength and power.

Diana decided she had no doubt that he'd be able to move Nigel.

"Very well," she said, giving him a nod. "And thank you. It's very kind of you to help me in this way."

"I'm rarely kind," he muttered.

"Really?" she murmured, allowing herself a tiny smile. "How odd. I couldn't possibly think of anything else to call it. But then again, I've learned that men—"

"You do seem to be the expert on men," he said, somewhat acerbically, then grunted as he hauled Nigel to his feet.

Nigel promptly reached for Diana, practically sobbing her name. Aemond had to brace his legs to keep him from lunging at her. Diana darted back a step. "Yes, well, I do have four brothers. A better education I cannot imagine."

There was no way of knowing if the duke had intended to answer her, because Nigel chose that moment to regain his energy (although clearly not his equilibrium) and yanked himself free of Aemond's grip. He threw himself onto Diana, making incoherent, drunken noises all the way.

If Diana hadn't had her back to the wall, she would have been knocked to the ground. As it was, she hit the wall with a bone-jarring thud, knocking all the breath from her body.

"Oh, for the love of Christ," the duke swore, sounding supremely disgusted. He hauled Nigel off Diana, then turned to her, and asked, "Can I hit him?"

"Oh, please do go ahead," she replied, still gasping for breath. She'd tried to be kind and generous toward her erstwhile suitor, but really, enough was enough.

The duke muttered something that sounded like "good" and landed a stunningly powerful blow on Nigel's chin.

Nigel went down like a stone.

Diana regarded the man on the floor with equanimity. "I don't think he's going to wake up this time."

Aemond shook out his fist. "No."

Diana blinked and looked back up. "Thank you."

"It was my pleasure," he said, scowling at Nigel.

"What shall we do now?" Her gaze joined his on the man on the floor—now well and truly unconscious.

"Back to the original plan," he said crisply. "We leave him here while you wait in the library. I'd rather not have to drag him out until I've a carriage waiting."

Diana gave him a sensible nod. "Do you need help righting him, or should I proceed directly to the library?'

The duke was silent for a moment. His head tilted this way and that as he analyzed Nigel's position on the floor. "Actually, a bit of help would be greatly appreciated."

"Really?' Diana asked, surprised. "I was sure you'd say no."

That earned her a faintly amused and superior look from the duke. "And is that why you asked?"

"No, of course not," Diana replied, slightly offended. "I'm not so stupid as to offer help if I have no intention of giving it. I was merely going to point out that men, in my experiences—"

"You have too much experience," the duke muttered under his breath.

"What?!"

"I beg your pardon," he amended. "You think you have too much experience."

Diana glared at him, her dark eyes smoldering nearly to black. "That is not true, and who are you to say, anyway?"

"No, that's not quite right, either," the duke mused, completely ignoring her furious question. "I think it's more that I think you think you have too much experience."

"Why you—You—" As retorts went, it wasn't especially effective, but it was all Diana could manage to get out. Her powers of speech tended to fail her when she was angry. And she was really angry.

Aemond shrugged, apparently unmoved by her furious visage. "My dear Miss Bridgerton—"

"If you call me that one more time, I swear I shall scream."

"No, you won't," he said with a rakish smile. "That would draw a crowd, and if you recall, you don't want to be seen with me."

"I am considering risking it," Diana said, each word squeezed out between her teeth.

Aemond crossed his arms and leaned lazily against the wall. "Really?" he drawled. "This I should like to see."

Diana nearly threw up her arms in frustration. "Forget it. Forget me. Forget this entire evening. I'm leaving."She turned around, but before she could even take a step, her movement was arrested by the sound of the duke's voice.

"I thought you were going to help me." Drat. He had her there. She turned slowly around.

"Why, yes," she said, her voice patently false, "I'd be delighted."

"You know," he said innocently, "if you didn't want to help you shouldn't have—"

"I said I'd help," she snapped.

Aemond smiled to himself. She was such an easy mark. "Here is what we are going to do," he said. "I'm going to haul him to his feet and drape his right arm over my shoulders. You will go around to the other side and shore him up."

Diana did as she was bid, grumbling to herself about his autocratic attitude. But she didn't voice a single complaint. After all, for all his annoying ways, the Duke of Hastings was helping her out of a possibly embarrassing scandal.

Of course if anyone found her in this position, she'd find herself in even worse straits.

"I have a better idea," she said suddenly. "Let's just leave him here."

The duke's head swung around to face her, and he looked as if he'd dearly like to toss her through a window—preferably one that was still closed. "I thought," he said, clearly working hard to keep his voice even, "that you didn't want to leave him on the floor."

"That was before he knocked me into the wall."

"Could you possibly have notified me of your change of heart before I expended my energy to lift him?"

Diana blushed. She hated that men thought that women were fickle, changeable creatures, and she hated even more that she was living up to that image right then.

"Very well," he said simply, and dropped Nigel.

The sudden weight of him nearly took Diana down to the floor as well. She let out a surprised squeal as she ducked out of the way.

"Now may we leave?" the duke asked, sounding insufferably patient.

She nodded hesitantly, glancing down at Nigel. "He looks rather uncomfortable, don't you think?"

Aemond stared at her. Just stared at her. "You're concerned for his comfort?" he finally asked.

She gave her head a nervous shake, then a nod, then went back to the shake. "Maybe I should—That is to say—Here, just wait a moment." She crouched and untwisted Nigel's legs so he lay flat on his back. "I didn't think he deserved a trip home in your carriage," she explained as she

rearranged his coat, "but it seemed rather cruel to leave him here in this position. There, now I'm done." She stood and looked up.

And just managed to catch sight of the duke as he walked away, muttering something about Diana and something about women in general and something else entirely that Diana didn't quite catch. But maybe that was for the best. She rather doubted it had been a compliment.

(I posted this after deleting cause I forgot to replace the names)

@watercolorskyy @velaryon-seahores

[mdhwrites]

Kaguya-Sama: Love is War's Summer Break Sadness

I have started watching what might be the best romance THING I have ever watched and it's actually fascinating to see them touch on a subject that is done in one of two extremes usually: Time away from your partner.

So for context since this is my first blog on the show: The premise is that two people are truly, genuinely, madly in love with each other. Both are overachievers who work hard for their status, though one is poor while the other is rich. Both see Love as a zero/sum game. Whoever confesses first loses and for neither of them is that an option. So the battle begins.

It is also one of the funniest, realest shows I think I've seen. It's over the top but never forgets to let the girl be a girl or the guy be a guy. It also never forgets their teenagers so even something as simple as exchanging phone numbers or asking to share an umbrella is something they can dramatize as the end all be all moment that will show the other weakness and ruin everything! And for ten episodes, it had mostly not had any segments (it does 3-4 skits/segments per episode) that were genuinely just serious.

That changed with segment 3 of episode 11: Miyuki Shirogane (the poor boy) Wants to See You (Spoilers, obviously).

It starts with him dying from the heat in his house, annoyed at how the Summer Break has gone so far. Three weeks and nothing has happened. All he has done is study, sleep, eat and go to work. He only made plans with Kaguya (the girl) for a festival at the end of the break after all and until then, he can't text or call her to see if she wants to meet up. That's simply out of the question. So, eventually, he leaves.

It then goes to Kaguya who is in a similar boat. Miserable and denying to her maid that she wants to see Shirogane. She gets teased about it until the frustration finally makes her leave too.

Where are they going?

The school.

For the last six months, they have worked as the president and vice president of their student council. While there have been breaks from each other, nothing has lasted this long. After three weeks, it finally bursts and they rush to the school. To the student council room. To their sanctuary where they have always been safe to be with the other.

And neither catches the other.

It is heartbreaking. It is also incredibly different from how I ever see it played, let alone in a comedy setting. Most people only do one of two options: The first is that once their partner is gone, even a crush, they are MISERABLE. They cannot live without their partner and would rather be dead than even take a vacation without them! Woe be to the man who doesn't have his heart filled with the joy of their beloved every second of his life!

The other is the far more common: Thank god the bitch is gone. Finally slipped the old ball and chain for a couple of days and boys, I cannot tell you how good it feels. How much I needed a break from their nagging and whining and being under their heel. I get to be a free man until the day they come back!

But it did neither. It went for the idea that it took three weeks before they needed a reminder. A moment of that same joy they gain from their partner to be back. I've actually heard plenty of people talk about this sort of thing where they'll be married, have their partner gone and sure, it's kind of nice to get a day or two to breathe but you are with them for a reason. Their presence is something you miss. It doesn't destroy them or anything like that, they're still people, but especially if you can't reach out for some reason to one another, that time can go from a nice, novel reprieve to a cold absence with time. It's much like how you might be excited to go vacation somewhere beautiful but close to the end, the thing you miss the most is your own bed because the comfort, solidity and warmth of the familiar is something you still desire.

It honestly just reinforces one of the absolutely most shocking elements about the show: The fact that it's healthy. Shirogane and Kaguya in most writers' hands (and by no means am I confident I'd never screw up) would be incredibly toxic. The literal concept of the show is that they fear showing any sign of weakness to their partner or compromising in any way after all. Trust, communication and openness are essentially impossible in that sort of environment and it does have fun with the fact that their schemes and anxieties aren't necessarily good for them. However, each segment also ends with stating a winner or a loser because they aren't entirely stuck. They have a push and pull and neither are genuinely bad people. Sometimes someone wins, sometimes someone loses but it's all in the pokes and prods of them figuring out each other and growing closer.

It's genuinely incredibly and I'm only eleven episodes into the first season of a 4 season anime (though the last season is supposedly like five episodes). I am very excited to see where things go.

That and to keep laughing because while this was played shockingly seriously, it was predated by, and I am not kidding: A side character proving that she is a supreme ramen officianado with drama on par with the twists and pomp of a card game anime and a segment where Kaguya keeps interrupting her maid's attempts to take a bath as the tech illiterate girl tries to figure out Twitter.

This show is hilarious and wild and a LOT. And right now, I absolutely think worth your time.

(OP 1. The only one I could find on Youtube for it with an English title was in 4k 60fps which I just genuinely think looks worse.)

======+++++======

Happy Valentines Day! Which wasn't intentional but hey, at least I posted something kind of related. ^^; I do actually hope to post something writing wise today but between therapy and some family stuff going on, I suspect I won't get the second chapter to the project I've been poking at done so I feel more confident about posting it. Hope you all liked the change of pace from me though to be so positive though!

I will also admit that while this is looking at a trope, it's mostly me gushing about a thing I really like. I want this show to infect all teen romances, including mine, because of how good it is.

I have a public Discord for any and all who want to join!

I also have an Amazon page for all of my original works in various forms of character focused romances from cute, teenage romance to erotica series of my past. I have an Ao3 for my fanfiction projects as well if that catches your fancy instead. If you want to hang out with me, I stream from time to time and love to chat with chat.

A Twitter you can follow too

And a Kofi if you like what I do and want to help out with the fact that disability doesn’t pay much.

[gaps-between-stories]

Fic Preview

Check out a sneak peek at an upcoming chapter in my fic Growing Sideways

Ed knew he was being a pretty shitty passenger right now, legs bouncing incessantly as he barely managed a series of short noises in response to Kiri’s seemingly never ending chatter – he really couldn’t give a shit about the new scrub tech who managed to piss off the entire night-time nurse rotation. He would make it up to her later, all he could focus on right now were the signs counting down the kilometers to the airport; the steady shortening of distance only expanding the growing lump in his throat that threatened to constrict his airways if let go for much longer. 

Stede had been texting him since he left Mary’s last night, updating him on his travel status, quippy observations about the absolute lawlessness of people in airports, telling him how much he loved him. He’d also called when he could – during layovers and inbetween way too many bloody security checks and passport control.

At some point last night Ed had fallen asleep, a few hours into Stede’s 9 hour trans-Pacific flight – Stede had paid for wifi on that one to keep messaging Ed, even after Ed had fallen asleep. 

After Ed had managed to get several not-so-helpful hours of sleep – not like he’d been having any particularly restful nights lately anyway – he’d woken up to half a dozen voice notes waiting for him. By that point, Stede was already half an ocean closer, waiting for his too long layover in Tahiti. Ed had immediately called him, desperate to just hear his voice.

They talked the rest of his layover, until an absolute monster of a flight attendant made Stede put his phone away for his second to last flight. Wifi apparently wasn’t available on that one as Stede went radio silent for close to six hours until he landed in Auckland. 

Ed had been absolutely useless the rest of the day, not being able to sit down for more than ten minutes as he moved through the motions of waiting, impatiently, desperately, for five pm to roll around. The hours seemed to take their sweet, excruciating time to roll through the day, seemingly taunting him every time he checked his phone to find it was decidedly not five pm, because the universe definitely hated him.

He was pretty sure that at some point Kiri had pressed a breakfast pie into his hands around two pm, realising that he had definitely not eaten anything that day in between waiting for updates and texts and phone calls. 

Now, from the passenger side of Kiri’s truck, his thumb swiped his phone open every thirty seconds, anxiously waiting for any update from Stede after his last text an hour ago saying that he’d boarded his final flight. The flight was a short one, less than an hour, Ed knew, so he should have landed by now. He should have landed and disembarked and be there waiting. Waiting for him. 

After another excruciating three minutes, his phone buzzed on his thigh, lighting up with Stede’s face. Ed almost dropped the phone with how quickly he moved to answer it, cutting Kiri off in the middle of some new story (he really would make it up to her).

“Stede,” Ed barely managed to choke out, voice cracking and tinged with a desperation he couldn’t even bother to be embarrassed about right now. 

“Oh sweetheart,” Stede soothed, concerned, his voice a balm against Ed’s fraying nerves. “I’m here, my love, ready for you.” Ed was barely keeping it together, chest tight with a thousand emotions that threatened to burst if he didn’t get Stede in his arms in the next ten minutes. 

“Well, I’m ready for you, they are taking quite a while to unload the baggage despite the fact we’re quite literally the only flight here.” Stede addendumed, in his little bitchy tone that Ed was desperate for right now. 

“Okay, yeah, okay, we’re, um -” he looked back at Kiri, who held up four fingers as she mouthed “minutes” – “4 minutes away.” 

Stede gave a pleased little hum, a sound that spread through Ed’s chest as it warmed him from the inside out. “Oh, fab.” There was a pause where neither of them said anything, listening instead to the other breathing. 

“Do you want - ”

“Please keep talking - ”

They spoke over each other, Ed stumbling over his rushed words to get them out before Stede could even consider hanging up. Not to be dramatic, but Ed was pretty sure that if Stede hung up now, he would actually combust before making it to the airport. 

“Please, love, just keep talking. Anything. Just need to hear you.” He managed to mumble out, trying and failing to clear the ache in his throat.

[hotchocolatelovesyou]

A monster made of clay

Um hi, this sucks and I’m losing my mind over it, so I’m gonna post whatever the fuck this is anyway because I’m not a coward. English is not my first language and you can tell. Open to criticism, but please don't be mean lol

Robert x Dadsona

Dadsona: Hector Amanti.

enjoy (or don’t idk)

pss pss every dumb mistake you can find, take it on grammarly. that bitch is so useful so useless I hate it

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It was weird. Really weird. Why did it have that shape? Why was it so long? Why was it so big?

"Robert, my very dear friend, I hope you'll pardon me for asking in such manners, but what the fuck are you doing?"

"Language, Hector. Language. You'd not want to scandalize a poor little innocent boy like me, would you?" Hector raised an eyebrow, still eyeing the weird statue.

"I would never. It's not like said poor little innocent boy is creating a giant di-"

"You lack artistic vision", he replied, interrupting the younger man. Hector clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to be mortally wounded.

The memory of him, Damien, Joseph and Hugo at the museum was still very present. He was a changed man after that: he finally understood art after many years of his relatively long but actually short life. Everything, everything, in art - and it didn't matter from where and when a piece was - revolved around butts. That's how it was. That's how it should have been. Amen to butts, one of Mother Nature's most lovely creations.

"Lacking artistic vision? Moi? That's it, cruel world. I'm ready to go." Hector hurriedly touched his throat as if he was suffocating, one hand still on his chest to stop the imaginary bleeding. Robert went back to smooth the surface of his, ehm, anatomically bizarre work.

"There has to be someone funnier than the other between us, and I happen to know who is who." Robert didn't bat an eye, apparently focused on his project.  

"Hghkk... Robert, I'm dying." The other man exhaled hard through his nose, annoyed by the distraction from his masterpiece. He was trying to create a vein with a stick for the fourth time in ten minutes. Hector stopped his theatrics then and rolled his eyes, bored by the minimal reaction. He blew a lock of curly hair away from his face, his own hands covered in green clay.

They both had stains here and there because they kept trying to make the other fuck up. Hector had to completely start again whatever he was trying to do at least three times, Robert just two. That vein not coming out right had absolutely nothing to do with Hector.

"I don't find clowns funny" was his calm reply, a second later. Hector gasped, pretending to be hurt.

"You bitch!" he whispered, getting closer to Robert with an exaggerated angry face. 

When Robert eventually appeared to give him attention, he stuck his tongue out at him and went back to his work with a raised chin.

"You don't deserve me. I'm gonna stop talking to you."

"Thank God, finally. Another word and I was going to toss this at you", joked Robert, showing the enormous dick of clay he had been working on the whole time. Hector laughed at the vision, though when the handsome older man went to fake-throw the thing, Hector almost fell out of his chair, attempting to dodge it. At that vision, it was Robert's turn to laugh, trying to hit a giggling Hector with his clay dick. 

He, Mary and Robert had become a good trio with time, they always met for drinks essentially every weekend. Sometimes one of the other dads was invited too, but it was mostly the three of them. Mind you, Hector had some veeeery embarrassing moments he’d like to bury in the back of his mind, but with the two he also created some of the best memories in his life.

Yet, this week Mary and Joseph were out of town visiting her parents with their children.

For the first time in a while, it would have been just Hector and Robert. 

When Hector heard the news, his heart skipped a few beats. It felt nice, knowing it was just the two of them for once. Really nice. And also extremely fucking stressful.

There was no need to make things weird, right? It wasn’t even the first time they hung out alone. Deep breaths, no touching, and acting like an adult would have done the trick. He was awkard already on his own, no need to overthink it and make things worse for the both of them.

So, Hector tried his best to search for something relaxing or at least, um, not too weird? 

Hector had found the course by accident, wasting precious time of his life that would've never come back - basically, he was scrolling on the internet - when puff! There was this small announcement on the online news of their town: it was a sculpting class that, coincidently, started on their usual 'drinking' night. It could have been fun, different from their typical nights at the bar, especially considering that Robert had stopped drinking months ago anyways. 

He proposed the idea, already waiting for a no, when Robert pleasantly surprised him. Hector half suspected it was because they had more than enough time to hunt cryptids later since the class wouldn't have ended too late.

And there they were now, fighting like kids who happened to be waaayyy too old.

When Robert shoved the gigantic clay dick near his face again, Hector, laughing hysterically, grabbed the upper half and attempted to move it away. Robert, grinning like an idiot, tried to make him lose his grip by pulling that monstrosity towards him holding the lower half. With the poor thing being pushed hard in two different directions, the dick tore in the middle, and both the men fell out of their seats. Two very explosive laughs echoed around the big room, capturing everyone's attention.

Hector was the first to be back on his feet, while Robert sat up, still holding the rest of his creation.  The curly-haired man fixed the glasses on his nose and went to help the bearded man with a smile.

Hector was pretty sure he had a dick-shaped spot of clay on the back of his t-shirt. He held his hand out to help Robert get up, but a mischievous grin suspiciously appeared on the older man's face. He suddenly pulled his wrist, testing his balance, trying to make him tumble. Hector miraculously resisted.

"Hah!" exulted Hector, actually helping a chuckling Robert to stand on his feet now.

He had already fallen for Robert, it was unnecessary to fall on him too.

When Robert's deep brown eyes were finally on his same level, if not a bit higher, they met Hector's gaze with an amused warmth. Robert was still smiling and the younger man couldn't help but reciprocate with enthusiasm. 

Everything was warmer with Robert. From the rays of the sun to the heat in his cheekbones when he looked at him a second too much, or even to whatever charge of electricity he could feel buzzing in his fingertips when they happened to be so close that their hands could touch; not to mention the boiling liquid in his chest when Robert allowed himself to show how tired he was, and how vulnerable, delicate and hard his new approach to his mental health and addiction was to maintain.

Those were times when he told Hector stories about his life, his daughter, and (very rarely) even his wife. Hector, in exchange, confessed his own struggles, his fight against depression, and his social anxiety. He offered comfort in grieving those who they had both lost and reassurance about how good he was doing.  

They also shared the good parts, the happy memories. They revealed themselves to the other, piece by piece.

Hector was simply honoured that Robert had learned to trust him so much. Sure, he still tried to sneak in some bullshit one way or another, but by now he had learned to call his bluffs.

They had learnt to know each other and, at this point, they seemed to be joined at the hips. There was a special bond between them, one Hector would have treasured with his whole being. 

It didn't matter that he had to fight the urge, always more often, to kiss him senselessly. Hector made a promise that day, and he intended to respect it, even 'til his last dying breath.

Okay, maybe that was a bit dramatic, but yeah, he had a lot of patience and didn't make promises lightly, so...

Besides, things were great. Hector was genuinely proud of how far Robert had come. He'd been there on some of Robert's most difficult nights, and seeing him like that made him even prouder of how he was now.

Still looking at him, Hector noticed how much more relaxed he appeared. There weren't those deep, dark circles anymore, his eyes shined a bit more of their own light, and he was taking care of his hair and beard more. He seemed happier, too. He had a better relationship with his daughter, their monthly calls slowly turned weekly, and by now they called or texted each other almost daily.

He dared to glance down, where he met Robert's soft smile again. Hector was very satisfied with himself: he was the one who put that smile on those very, very kissable lips. Robert was happy because of him. They were a bit chapped, but Hector never gave a flying fuck about those things. As if such small detail could have stopped him from totally devouring him, body and soul, never letting him go and-- ah, for fuck's sake. Hector, stop right now. 

"Hey, you two! Are you done acting like middle schoolers? I'm talking here!" Hector jumped out of his skin, having honestly forgotten where they were. A man with a red sweatshirt and sunglasses was clearly scowling at them, even if Hector couldn't see his eyes.

"Who the fuck wears sunglasses inside?" 

"The moon probably hits too hard for him." Robert snickered at that and Hector felt like he won a prize. 

"Since you're being so active, why don't you show the class what you made?" the tutor continued, heading to their table. The problem was that after a few steps closer, he recognised the duo. Hector also had the same realization, freezing in horror.

Robert, instead, was more than ready.

"Hey, I know you! You were-"

"Listen here, dude", started Robert in a low voice, to be heard just by the two of them, "we are doing a very important job here, we are undercover. Tell people to turn their attention elsewhere immediately." The tour guide-art teacher looked around angsty at the worried tone, noticing how everyone was watching them. He gulped and cleared his voice.

"Just get back to your work y'all." Robert gave him a grateful look while Hector let out a sigh of relief, immediately on with the plan. When someone had a best friend like Robert, one had to learn how to improvise quickly. 

"Good. But now our positions might be compromised", said the older man, his face turned towards Hector, seeming tense. Hector sighed again. 

"It's not said the last word. We could still be able to continue with our plans." Robert didn't look too convinced. Hector tried to reassure him by placing a hand on his arm - and felt the muscles bulge under the leather jacket - but before he could speak, the third man lowered his head, whispering his worries so fast that he almost resulted uncomprehensible.

"Is everything alright? Am I in danger? Should I end the class now? I don't want to die this way! Wait, no, maybe I do. Do I? Am I s-" Robert quietly shushed him, stopping his bumbling. The tour guide, poor soul, practically smelled of anxiety. He squeezed himself into his old sweatshirt with a shiver.

"First, you need to stay calm. You are the one in charge here. If you are nervous, people will detect it, and you might create more trouble." The other man nodded, his shoulders still too tense

“Yeah dude, be the alpha we know you are” added Hector, feeling bad for the guy.  At the words, the man in sunglasses straightened his back, with a bit more confidence. Robert kicked him under the table, Hector hit him back with a moan of pain.

"It would be better if you stayed away from us", Hector said again, without getting hit in the process.

"Second, we just need you to keep doing what you are doing. Watch the others, tell people what they should be doing and how to do it, stuff like that." The art teacher-tour guide... didn't he also work as a quiz host? seemed a bit unsure of himself, though he nodded again.

"We are trying to monitor the whole room, it's not as easy as it looks. It would be a huge help if no one disturbs either of us. Subtly. We don't need to get attention." What was his name? Quinn? He listened attentively to his words before hugging himself.

“But, uh, why are you here? What is your mission?” Robert clicked his tongue at that. Hector rested his forearms on the workbench, in a conspiratory tone.

“We can’t reveal anything, it’s for your own good” murmured the curly-haired man, tucking a curl behind his ear and staining his cheekbone green.

“B-but I’m the alpha, I need to know if-”

“All you need to know”, interrupted Robert, rolling his eyes, “is that you shouldn’t play too much with this material.” A flash of pure panic crossed the teacher’s face.

“We have been testing it the whole time, it’s very bizarre” revealed his partner in crime.

“I-I have no idea where this is from, it was already here! I-” Hector gently gestured for him to lower his voice.

“Just pretend nothing is happening, we’ll take care of the rest” ordered Robert, with a spooky look in his eyes, one of a man who was ready to go on a battle. Hector loved this type of theatrics.

"I'll do my best to let you go under the radar." He was going to say something else, probably wondering if to give them an earful since they probably were the loudest angle in the room. Hector was aware of that, at least. He couldn't see his eyes, he was still wearing sunglasses (why? Just why?), but the frown he was reading on his face didn't please either of the fake-ass-ghost-hunters.

"If you see us behaving like idiots..." began the younger idiot in question, "... just know that it's part of the plan. We can't act like we are constantly studying people, it'd be too suspicious", ended Robert, throwing a glance at the man on his side. Hector immediately caught it.

"Obviously. Duh." Their tutor for the night smacked his hand on his forehead at their words. He bit his lip, unsure, and lowered his head.

"I, uh, would thank you but... ehm, I forgot your names..." he admitted shyly, shoving his hands in his pocket, his black lens shining under the white lights.

"You have forgotten them?" Hector asked, sounding truly hurt. 

"You know what? Maybe it's better this way" intervened Robert, apparently trying to console Hector. 

"Tell people you don't know us and we've never met", commanded Robert gravely, a serious look on his face. The teacher threw them a glance from over his glasses. He opened his mouth, thought better of it, then simply turned around and left, going back to his station. 

Hector bit his lip, trying not to laugh. He elbowed Robert gently.

"What even was my name that night?"

"Fuck me if I could remember", Robert simply stated, immediately working to create a new dick, even bigger than the one he previously made. Hector looked sympathetically at the cute, little panda he had shaped.

I'm gonna call it Po.

It didn't take much more time for the class to end. Hector gave Po to Robert as gift a few minutes later, already knowing the poor guy would get lost in the woods. He liked it though, and that was enough.

Surprisingly, it wasn't Po the one they had to let go, but Greenzilla (the name Robert chose for his mastodontic work), when Hector, a proud coward, took it to protect them from God knows what. 

He had to make the rational choice of throwing it at something hiding in the trees. Because there was something in the trees, right? Right, Robert?

They both started running back to the car, scared shitless, and cracked up from the adrenaline rush once on the road.

Sure, Hector had to listen to Robert scolding him when things calmed down - he had spent so much time on Greenzilla, and now he was just gone. They had a moment of silence, to commemorate the friend they failed so soon - but it was worth it. The whole night had been worth it.

And for Robert? He'd have thrown as many gigantic dicks as needed, if not more.

Hector went to sleep with a warm laugh still in his mind.