#he probably refuses to attend holiday parties though

[transgenderfivepebbles]

gabriel yesod lobotomycorp loves winter i think. can stay fully covered and no one questions it. being able to focus better because cold weather clears his head. no getting wet and gross from sweat. crisp, clean white snow everywhere. excuse to stay in and chill without having to deal with the noise and irrational standards of other people. no bug bites to worry about getting infections from. it is his natural habitat

[saneijeijei]

Boy and Dragon

William looked out of the carriage window with displeasure, watching as the city streets were replaced by fields and trees. He didn't want to go to another hunting competition, even though it was the opening of the season. All his friends stayed in the capital with their mothers and he was forced to travel with his family to a remote part of the empire.

"Why couldn't I stay at home?" William whined. "Count Grey promised Jacob to go to their summer residence so that they could ride horses together in the valley of eternal flowers. Rick's father promised to buy a continuation of the famous recordings of the knight of the white swords! What about me? I can't even participate in the hunt, because I'm still too young! What should I do there?" "Will, we've talked about this many times," Marianne sighed. "Your father is the emperor's assistant. He must follow him. And we, as members of the Porter family, follow our head. Anyway, when was the last time you attended an event?" "Well, uh… A year ago? All the recent holidays have been for adults only.." "That's exactly why the whole family attends the opening of the hunt." "Hey, father will let you hunt rabbits this year," William's older brother said, nudging him in the side with his elbow. "You can't spend your whole life reading boring books among the same bookworms. You also necessary to see something alive in your life". "Daniel!" "I'm sorry, Mother. I just wanted to cheer him up." "What, are you afraid that you won't catch a deer this time?" Vililam snorted. "What did you say?!" Daniel yelled. "Both of you! If you don't stop immediately, both of you will stay with me at tea parties all the time and won't even stick your nose out into the grounds!"

William Porter was the youngest child of Marianne and Cedric Porter. His mother was the only child of Count Terosi. And his father was the only boy in the family of Count Porter. They met at the birthday celebration of the Crown Prince - the current emperor. As the Countess once told, everything happened because his father was in such a hurry that he accidentally bumped into her and almost knocked her down. Because of the awkward situation, a dialogue began between them and soon they danced together at the ball.

And year later, they got married, despite all those terrible events that shook the tranquility of the capital.

His father married much earlier than his master, which, of course, was bad form and the cause of unflattering rumors about him. But the emperor only jokingly reminded him of this in the presence of Porter's family. William remembered that attentive look of tired red eyes that carefully examined him and his brothers and sisters. The emperor himself never married, rejecting any offers of his vassals to find a bride.

"Why doesn't the Emperor want to get married?" Will one day asked and his father. "Everyone gets married. Is there anything wrong with that?" "Willie, His Majesty has his own reasons for refusing all of them. Once upon a time, he was in love with Duke Eckhart's daughter." "The one that Leila pretended to be in order to take over the empire?" "Yeah. But the duke had another daughter. Not own." "Oh?" boy listened to his father with interest, as if he had learned someone's very terrible and dark secret. "Emperor was madly in love with her and the lady also loved him. But Leila brainwashed His Majesty… And she was gone. When he broke free of the spell and defeated Layla, he searched for the lady day and night, hoping that she was hiding somewhere and waiting for him to come for her. But days, months, years passed. But the lady didn't come back." "Is that why we attended the duke's daughter's wake?" "To my great regret, I am afraid that she is no longer among the living."

"It's probably sad. Hope that the person you love is alive, but realize that he will no longer be around?" William sighed. "If something happened to Mom, you have us. And the emperor has no one. He's very lonely." "Yes." Cedric ruffled his son's hair. "But let's not think about the bad, okay? Your mom will always be there. I'm doing my best to keep you all safe and sound."

The boy nodded, and then thought about it.

"But His Majesty's character is heavy. I wouldn't be able to make friends with him either."

Porter Sr. laughed.

"Why is that?" "He has stupid jokes." "Be lenient with him, okay?" "Like you? You always put up with his unfunny jokes, which he thinks are funny and laughs at them himself." "Hey, I laugh when you tell me jokes that I heard when I was your age? Show a sense of tact to His Majesty."

Since then, Porter's family has become a frequent guest of many state events. A year later, his father got him into an elite academy sponsored by the emperor. The entire elite of the aristocracy studied there.

Mom hoped that William would become a clerical worker or a minister. But Willie dreamed of becoming a knight and serving in the palace, although his parents and older brothers did not share his dream, saying that this was an extremely dangerous and harsh job. But he hoped that he would succeed and…

"We're almost there!" the sister shouted, seeing the residence in the distance.

The Porter family arrived in a small town a week before the hunt. As well as many other close houses to the crown, including the Duchy of Eckhart, the Marquis of Verdandi and many others. Thanks to the efforts of the imperial servants and aristocratic houses, the hunting grounds were to be ready by next Monday.

Brothers, having barely received permission, dragged William with them to train. They put leather armor on him so as not to accidentally harm him and gave out a small simple wooden bow. Daniel and Oliver, taking swords, began to fight among themselves, practicing blows. William, under the careful supervision of a teacher, trained to hold a bow and direct an arrow, which was very difficult and quite unusual.

The training lasted until lunch, until they were interrupted by a sister who called everyone for lunch.

"My mom and I took a walk around the city. And do you know what I heard in the boutique?" "My God, what could our chatty gossip girl have found out besides rumors?" asked the older brother. "Hmm! How rude! By the way, this is not just some kind of rumor, but a real urban legend!" the girl was indignant. "So what's the legend? A ghost? A tragic love story?" William interrupted the exchange. "I heard that a real dragon lives in the mountains. The last living dragon. And sometimes, he cries from loneliness that his howl can be heard from here!" inspired by an interested listener, young Porter enthusiastically told what she heard. "Can you imagine? A real dragon!" "Another urban fairytale to attract tourists, and you fell for it. Dragons haven't existed for a hundred years. Stop talking nonsense." Daniel snorted. "It's true! Ask mom, she'll tell you the same thing as me!"

William thought about it. A real dragon? He read a lot of books telling about the old days, when the whole earth was inhabited by mythical creatures. Including dragons. One of them was the founder of the house Regulus - the golden dragon. But the history of the extinction of this species has sunk into oblivion. Historians have each adhered to their own theory of why dragons did not survive to the present day. And the chance to see a real dragon gave rise to a burning curiosity in Willie.

"Dani, if catch a real dragon at a hunting competition, will it cost like a brown bear or more?" "What? What nonsense is this? Do you think there really is a dragon living in the mountains? Will, it's just city gossip. There are no dragons there, forget it. Besides, father told you that you can try to hunt rabbits. You're not allowed to leave the small beast zone, remember?"

William looked away in frustration. "What if I catch a whole dragon? Still?"

Daniel rolled his eyes.

All week, William has been training hard. He wanted to prove to everyone that he could catch something bigger than a rabbit and maybe it would be a dragon. And so. The long-awaited opening of hunting competitions. All the guests, ambassadors and diplomats gathered together to listen to the speech. The Emperor, as always, says parting words and wishes everyone a successful hunt. William grabs his bow and arrows and goes to the lands of small animals, overtaking his brothers. The teacher swears and asks not to hurry, because without him, he can't go there, but William jumps on the spot, asking to get ready as soon as possible.

Teacher just grumbles and slowly gathers. Seeing the younger brother's excitement, Daniel and Oliver offer that they will look after him while the teacher is getting ready. To which the man agrees and William, along with his brothers, goes into the forest.

But because of the banter and unsuccessful hits, William takes offense and deliberately shoots an arrow far, far into the forest. The brothers say to go and pick her up, which the boy took advantage of.

After finding the arrow, he did not return, but decided to go deeper into the forest to look for a bigger target. For example, a fox. After walking a few tens of meters, and hearing the screams of the brothers, William went deeper and, not noticing the root, stumbled.

Suddenly, a strange sound followed, low and very loud.

"Richard, I hope you didn't hit the Baron!" "Not he's on our right." “What? Then what was that sound?" "Maybe it's a white tiger that was brought by the ambassador from that small kingdom in the south?"

William fell silent in the bushes until he heard footsteps receding.

Trying to get up, his foot caught on something. “what? Scales?" Willie picked up strange pieces of golden scales from the floor and it was clearly smeared with something. "Where did the scales come from?"

After looking around, William decided to go a little further forward, when suddenly a noise was heard behind him. He barely had time to turn around when something heavy pushed him back to the ground and covered him with hot breath.

It was a dragon.

The idea came to my mind after re-reading several Kuro fanfics(@kuroneko1815). I decided to reread all the finished fanfiction and it just so happened that it was Kuro's fanfiction that went in order. And when I wanted to go to bed, the idea came to me: "What if?". Well, here you see the result of this "if".

[ozma914]

Halloween Costumes for Fending Off the Cold

          There’s probably no better timed holiday than Halloween. After all, it comes just before the two most frightening times on the calendar: Winter, and elections.

            It’s hardly surprising, then, that one popular Halloween mask is any famous politician. Some years ago I went out as a Senator, stopped all the other Trick-Or-Treaters, and collected 28% of their candy. The problem is, half the people don’t recognize political figures, and the other half get too scared.

So my criteria for choosing a costume: Warmth. It’s not unheard of here to have snow by the end of October. Any Hoosier parent will tell you the main task in designing their kid’s costume is incorporating a heavy coat and snow boots. Dressing as an astronaut is very popular.

            I stopped celebrating Halloween after realizing I can just go to the store, buy all the candy I want, turn off the porch light and eat it inside, in the warmth.

Yes, I know--but I already spent one Halloween in that outfit, and never got any candy.

No human can produce a Halloween more frightening than staring another Midwest winter in its frostbitten face. So those times when forced to go out for Halloween, I dressed as an Eskimo (These days I'd be an Inuit, or Yupik). Once, to mix it up, I went as that kid Kenny from South Park, even though it killed me. He dresses as an Eskimo. I still wasn't warm – an entire calendar worth of Playmates of the Year couldn’t warm me up in autumn or winter –  but at least I tried.

My wife loves Halloween--it’s one of her few faults. She refused to marry me until I agreed to go annually to my brother’s Halloween parties, which were sadly held outside. Usually I hovered near his wood burning stove in the garage, especially after Emily decided I'd used up my Eskimo turns and had to try something new.

One year we went as zombies. We attended the Zombie Walk in Kendallville, shuffled  to a cemetery for a photo op, and then, just for fun, walked into a grocery store and demanded bran. The clerk said, “Last year you were way scarier as Dick Cheney”.

We tried to do costumes on the cheap, because I’m cheap. That gave me two possibilities, both wearable with insulted long underwear:

My adopted brother Martin gave me bags of hand-me-down clothes. Being that I’m a small town white person and he’s a black guy from Fort Wayne (which is big city by my standards), we didn’t have the same fashion sense, but see above about me being cheap.

Anyway, I found a couple of items that I’m fairly sure he threw in just to mess with me. One was a uniquely loud puffy shirt, the other a pair of oversized parachute pants that buttoned all the way down the side. I refuse to believe he ever wore these things in public.

I could go to Halloween as a stereotypical 70’s disco black guy, or as a clown. While I’ll never be politically correct, we all know I’m not brave/dumb enough to tackle the former.

The second choice was something my mother bought for me, back when she (correctly) thought I needed to get fit. It was designed to hold in body heat and moisture while you exercise, apparently under the assumption that you’ll sweat yourself healthy. It’s like a portable sauna. I used it once on the treadmill, and lost twelve pounds in thirty minutes. That day I could have gone trick-or-treating as a zombie without needing any makeup, assuming I could walk in a straight line, which I couldn’t.

That's what I'll choose if I ever go again: Any candy I ate would sweat out of me by the time I made it home. Plus, anything that reflects that much body heat back is bound to keep me warm, no matter how cold it gets outside. Since my one and only goal from October through March is staying warm, I could celebrate Halloween for months … even if the upcoming political campaign leaves me cold.

And if that doesn’t work, the Eskimo costume is standing by.

Amazon:  https://www.amazon.com/-/e/B0058CL6OO

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Remember, everyone who doesn't read is risking a visit from Edgar Allan Poe.

[writingwithcolor]

Hey, I have kind of hc'ed myself into a corner. I'm working on a oneshot based on someone else's art, which takes place at an office christmas party. Somewhere along the way I started hc'ing one of the chars as jewish tho. I went through your tags and it appears to me that it wouldn't actually be a problem for him to be at the party, as long as it's not overly religious? (Which it isn't. It's just a "christmas party" because of christian culture.) My main question is now, what would be good, small ways to keep the character noticeably jewish, esp in a relatively short story? My thoughts so far were that he'd probably object to someone putting a santa hat on him? And/or his colleagues might thank him for taking some extra shifts during christmas itself so they can stay home (in exchange for covering shifts for him during Chanukah? I know it's not a major holiday but around the same time so an exchange would make sense?) Mostly I'm just looking for every-day details, maybe something you guys would like to see more of? Thanks in advance!

Jewish character attending office Christmas party, also Chanukah

I like thanking him for working on Christmas — but working for him "on Chanukah" really doesn't make a whole lot of sense because you wouldn't be missing work. Recognition of the holiday is done mostly through lighting candles at night. If you want the exchange to be fair, they could always have traded just for him traveling at a different time — like oh, thanks for working for us on Christmas, now I'll work for you the following Tuesday — a day off is a day off.

Mileage may vary on the Santa hat. I wouldn't necessarily have a problem with someone putting that on my head if I was already at a Christmas party but someone else might, so I'm curious what our Jewish followers will say about this in the notes. 

He can maybe bring something traditional like rugelach or babka as his contribution to the party's dessert potluck... or if you want something specifically seasonal, jelly donuts (which are a Chanukah thing for some people.)

--Shira

I'll start with a caveat I've made before: Jewish people are varied. Our practices, views, and choices are manifold. 

All of that being said, there's no way I would go to a Christmas party. I know what you mean when you describe the party as not being overly religious but "Christmas because of Christian culture." From where I'm sitting though, you can take the Jesus out of it, but it's still a Christian holiday, Santa, trees with lights, caroling, Christmas music (even the heaps of songs written by Jewish people) are all still Christian culture. Christian being the operative word, and with my operative word being Jewish. 

Now, let’s say I went to a secular, winter-party. We'll imagine that there are no decorated trees, no gifts being given, just snowflake decor and mulled wine. If someone at that party (or any other), who knew that I'm Jewish, tried to put a Santa hat on my head, I would be immediately arguing with my fullest, deepest voice. Christmas is pervasive, it's music in the stores, lights on every street, public buildings closed, and everyone wishing you a "Merry Christmas," and then angry when you smile and say "thank you, but I celebrate Chanukah!" Even if you use your cheeriest voice, and your happiest smile. It's great that other people are so excited, and happy at the time, but it can be exhausting to have to be constantly reminded that I am largely forgotten, and when I am remembered, I'm expected to assimilate. Why would I put myself through an extra portion of that?

I don't mind one, or two examples of stories where Jewish people go and participate in Christian holidays, plenty of us do! But it's all the time, in books, tv, movies, comics... I'm exhausted by the premise, and frustrated as the overabundance of that particular story contributes to the broader culture's expectation that I should be willing to be culturally Christian for a night, a week, a month, or more. 

-- Dierdra

Like Dierdra, I have largely stopped going to these, but I would reiterate that there are many reasons why people would go. For example, being Orthodox, it’s hard enough not being able to join colleagues for drinks on Friday night or dig in when a manager takes pity on us and orders pizza. I don’t want to be that Jewish girl who never gets involved.

With this in mind, I would avoid using refusal to take part, or even getting annoyed at being forced to take part like with the Santa hat, as the parameters that define your character’s Jewishness. Especially at Christmas, where there’s already the common assumption that only the biggest killjoys refuse to celebrate.

Because of the seasonal aspect, this is one of the few times that I actually would consider Channukah to be one of your best options for introducing Jewish identity. Pre-Covid, I would often bring a dreidel and a box of chocolates to my very non-Jewish office during Channukah, and anyone who wanted could play with me at lunchtime. There’s no reason this couldn’t be taking place at a Christmas party, since it’s a very simple game to learn and most people find it fun the first few times. If you can, try slipping into the dialogue that this isn’t the only holiday the character celebrates though, since we are very tired of seeing that.

If you’re confident in your ability to write microaggressions, you could also create one or two uncomfortable moments for the character, because when people get drunk they often ask really weird questions about your religion and culture. For example, I was once at a work party where someone managed to get out of me (despite my attempts to dodge his invasive questions) that I was Jewish, and he immediately asked me why all the Jews in a particular ultra-Orthodox neighbourhood drove similar cars. The same night, my boss’s boss told me three times that he had loved going to Israel as a kid and thought of it as Christian Disney Land. You don’t have to get into microaggressions if this is just supposed to be a short, festive story, but I think it would feel very real and refreshing for a lot of Jewish people to see those experiences validated.

Other than that, I also like Shira’s suggestion of bringing Jewish food. I’ve turned up to many a ‘winter holiday’ party with latkes, even if I was the only Jewish person there. Covering Christmas day and getting a day back later is also very common, although I agree with Shira this wouldn’t be for observance of Channukah. It would either be a random day in the near future, or saved up for Passover, which is the next holiday requiring time off work.

-     Shoshi

[ptergwen]

from one kid to another

w/c: 6.0k

warnings: mentions of drinking, lots of swearing, implied smut, and angst at times

summary: it was a mistake, a beautiful one that you didn’t make on your own

a/n: this genuinely is my favorite thing i’ve ever written :,) i say that a lot but this time i mean it, it’s really special i think and i so so so hope y’all do too <3 enjoy my loves

-

there’s only one thing in life that testing positive for is actually positive.

depending on the situation, obviously. yours isn’t ideal, or planned or a blessing or whatever people say. it’s a gigantic mistake that you didn’t realize you made until a minute ago.

you’d noticed something was wrong when your time of the month came and all you experienced was the symptoms. cramps, cravings, everything except your actual period. as everyone is pretty much taught to do, you ran to the closest drug store for a pregnancy test. what the hell else could it be? you messed around a few weeks ago, so there’s a possibility.

your heart felt like it was going to explode out of your chest the whole time you waited for the results. you’d thought of calling tom over for support, but there are a couple of reasons why you couldn’t do that. you realized you made the right decision when your timer for the test went off.

two red lines. you’re pregnant. you’re pregnant, and your best fucking friend is the father.

where do you go from here?

the test falls from your hand and hits the floor with a mocking clank. you slide down until your back is against the bathtub. well, you’re fucked. what an ironic word choice.

the fact that you aren’t ready in the slightest to be a parent when you’re still growing up yourself is one thing. it’s another that this could ruin the most important relationship you’ve ever had.

no, tom won’t be mad. he’s never once fought with or even raised his voice at you. in your times of need, he’s been the one to uplift you and kiss your puffy cheeks dry. no matter how he takes this, you know it won’t be out on you. he is half responsible.

but, with how you left things the last time you spoke, you’re not sure you’ll be able to get past it.

tom is alarmingly good at hiding how he truly feels. you always tease him that it’s because he’s a gemini. he’ll come back with shut up, i’m an actor and stick his nose in the air to give you the full image. in all seriousness, it does take a toll on how well he can communicate.

you’ve seen it in small ways, like when he brings you along for press days and uses unenthusiastic smiles to cover up his yawns. how he’ll be polite in a conversation with people he’d rather not speak to, then mumble about it once you’re home. he tries to put forward the “appealing” parts of himself even though he’s more than them.

tom’s biggest communication issue is that he’s been in love with you since year nine and hasn’t said a word about it. you’ve yet to figure that one out.

you two became friends while tom was starring in billy elliot. his schedule was so scattered between shows and school, so he struggled to balance both. he often had to stay late for extra help on the lessons. you’d also been there a few times. you worked better in the classroom, and he was grateful he didn’t have to be alone with the teacher.

most kids made fun of tom for his interest in theater, to his face and behind his back. not you. you thought it was just incredible that someone in your own classes worked at the west end. you’d told him on your way home one night.

he’d heard you before he saw you. “you’re tom, right?” you asked from behind him, the two of you making your way through the hall. the question sounded friendly, and it wasn’t every day kids were nice to him. tom stopped walking so you could catch up. “yes, and you are?” you gave him a small smile, books clutched to your chest. he instantly returned it.

“y/n. i heard you’re in billy elliot?” you laughed at your understatement, then corrected yourself. “that you are billy elliot, i mean. that’s so cool.” “oh, i am. thank you,” he chuckled back, a full grin taking over his face. you were both walking again, you by tom’s side. “i was hoping to come see you soon.” your voice got quieter as you told him, like you were nervous.

tom never had much luck with girls, not at this point in his life. this was an opportunity to change that. at the very least, to make a new friend. he offered something you said yes to without a beat of hesitation. “what if i got you the tickets?”

from then on, you began talking during class and not only when it ended. tom really knew how to keep the conversation going, telling story after story that left you laughing so much your teacher would shush you. you’d eventually moved to hangouts at either of your houses. harrison came into the mix at some point, the three of you forming your own group.

the difference between tom and harrison was that while harrison linked with other girls, tom was only interested in you. he’d gotten a crush on you pretty fast, if he was being honest. it might have been your shared sense of humor or the way you said his name.

thomas, when he was being cheeky. tommy, which took the place of a pet name. even regular tom. that might have been his favorite. he loved how it rolled off your tongue. he loved, and still loves, you.

you’d gone to all of tom’s performances you possibly could, the ones for school theater included. you also gave him the push to take his talents to hollywood. tom was afraid he wasn’t cut out for the big screen, that he needed more practice and experience first. you told him that if this was what he wanted to do, he had to start somewhere. why wait?

tom then landed his first movie role in the impossible at the age of fifteen. he’d received tons of praise and almost gotten nominated for an academy award, all because you convinced him to audition. you played a huge part in keeping him grounded when he was between films, and caught him up on whatever schoolwork he’d missed.

you practically zoomed to tom’s house when he was announced as the next spider-man. you’d been constantly refreshing every social media platform marvel was on since tom became a finalist for the part. that process was probably the most difficult experience he’s ever gone through. you’d know, having heard all about it from tom.

the two of you celebrated along with the rest of tom’s family that night. you kept giving him little proud of you squeezes on his shoulder or knee. tom is eternally indebted to you for being the most supportive of everything he does.

he of course sends the support right back. although he went down the movie star path, acting wasn’t for you. you’d gone off to university and studied hard as hell and aced all your shit. tom quizzed you on material whenever you needed. he wanted to help you somehow, and this was all you’d let him do.

he’d offered to pay off your loans and any other expenses necessary because he had the money to do that now. you refused every single time, not trying to become dependent on him. he admired your drive, yet hated it at the same time. everything you’d done for him, it was his turn to be the caretaker. it should’ve been.

whenever tom wrapped filming for the holidays and came back home, you were always preparing for final exams. he kept you company, content with simply being in your presence. you typed away on your keyboard and read over notes until your eyes burned. tom occasionally brought you snacks, tea, asked how you were and what he could do.

sometimes, he would have to cut your study time short. he’d say it wasn’t healthy or you were overdoing it and to come relax with him for a bit. other times, tom let you be. he didn’t want to get in the way of your already stressful assignments. those were the nights you’d fall asleep in front of your laptop. drool on your chin, hunched over at your desk.

tom made sure to tuck you in, press a light kiss to whatever part of your face wasn’t covered in spit, then let himself out. he knew where your spare key was, so he used that. you’d wake up to a “Fell asleep studying again. Rest today x” text the next morning.

when it came time for you to graduate, tom was on the first flight there. it was during another round of reshoots for chaos walking. he respectfully told doug that he’d have to work around his schedule or replace him, which couldn’t be done so late into filming. tom didn’t care that it made him seem like a prick. he was getting to you no matter what he had to do.

he’d earned plenty of stares and whispers from people as he took his seat in the crowd. he was a proper celebrity now, so he expected it. his solution was to ignore everything and chat with your family about how proud they were of you, tom the most. he saw you go from a kid attempting algebra equations to an adult at her uni graduation. you’ve really grown up together.

it was why he teared up hearing them call your name, seeing you beam as you walked across the stage. your mom grabbed his hand and nodded at him, like she could tell exactly what was going through his head.

you ran right up to tom after the ceremony was over, leaping into his arms. he let out a couple of chuckles as he spun you around. “i didn’t think you’d make it,” you’d admitted, happy yet sad tears in your eyes. tom put you down so he could pull you in for a real hug. “i’ll always be wherever you are, y/n,” he said into your ear, rocking you while you gripped at his suit collar.

flash forward to a year later, your career is finally taking off, tom’s is flourishing like it has been for years, and you’re pregnant with his child. you’re trying to recall the series of events that led you to this moment.

you were both drunk, blackout drunk because the only reason you remember sleeping together is that you woke up naked in the same bed. harrison’s bed.

he threw a housewarming party for himself, having recently moved out of tom’s and the other boys’ place. the three of them, sam, and you were all in attendance, along with a lot of others you hadn’t met.

neither you nor tom could figure out where he knew all those people from. he’d clinged to you two for the most part, more so you now with tom usually away. they could have been from work. harrison is breaking into the business himself, small roles here and there. tom actually met him in your school’s theater program, then he introduced him to you, ten years ago already.

sam entertained himself by making concoctions with the snacks harrison set out. harry got together a playlist for the party. harrison and tuwaine struck up a conversation with some of harrison’s actor friends. that left you and tom alone, out of stuff to do, and with one way to fix it.

“drink?” tom had asked you, a smirk playing on his lips. “love one,” you hummed back and set off for the kitchen. the two of you raided harrison’s liquor cabinet, grabbing his biggest bottle of wine. he’d dumbly pointed it out during the house tour he gave you before the other guests arrived.

you were about to search for glasses, but tom’s fingers threaded through yours. he gently tugged you away and nodded behind him. “let’s bring this upstairs. seems much more fun there,” he’d murmured over the music, a grin breaking across your face.

tom is big on clubbing and socializing, however, you aren’t. he comes up with ways to get you out of these events, just in case.

“we can break in harrison’s bed for him,” you said as a completely harmless joke, no intentions of that becoming your reality later on. spoiler alert: it did. “and how are we gonna do that?” tom quirked a suggestive eyebrow and breathed out a laugh as you dragged him towards the stairs. despite yourself, you’d giggled at his words.

not one drink in either of you yet, and you were stumbling and cracking up as you ran upstairs. you’d pulled tom by your still attached hands into what you remembered as harrison’s room. tom shut the door, locked it, saying under his breath that would be a “convenient investment” for him to make as well.

he took out a bottle opener that he must have put in his pocket at some point and got to work on your wine, you getting comfortable on the new mattress. the two of you passed it to the other after every sip, tom licking the taste of your lip gloss off his own lips every so often.

the equivalent of three drinks in, you were making out. both of you were just tipsy at this point, tom holding you by your hips as you lied down, your legs around his waist. god, he could’ve done this sober. he’d dreamed about kissing you, really kissing you since he was fourteen. you’d always felt like you two had something more. ah, there it was.

halfway through the bottle got you past the next two bases, and you were ready for the fourth and ultimate one by the time you shook the last few drops onto the tip of your tongue. tom groaned at the sight of that, drawing your half naked body in closer to his.

you two had forgotten to use protection in each of your drunken states. without a doubt, you both would’ve agreed to a condom had your minds not been everywhere but where they should have.

you’d woken up first the morning after, panic immediately coursing through your veins thicker than blood. a fully nude and sleeping tom had you in his embrace, arms secured around your middle, facing you. you gasped when you made the connection, loudly enough to wake tom up. his long eyelashes tickled your face, a confused pout on his lips. uh... um...

“did we fucking...” you trailed off, no words to describe whatever unfolded. “fuck?” tom finished for you. a very blunt explanation, but true nevertheless. “looks like it,” he rasped, pout changing into a smile. your face fell at the vague memories of how you spent your night.

you definitely wanted to do it. just, he’s your best friend, who’s seen you at your least sexy moments over the years. when you were sick, had breakdowns from stress, you name literally anything, tom was there. it took one bottle of cheap wine for him to forget that?

the real answer was no. tom is entirely in love with you, for a decade at that. you were beginning to discover you feel the same, only you had no idea he already loves you. you’d assumed this was meant to be merely a hookup. from the frown your face held, he’d thought you were regretting it. oh, were you both so wrong.

“um... we don’t have to talk about it,” tom told you halfheartedly, under the impression that’s what you preferred. you physically felt yourself get weaker in tom’s strong arms. he’s not interested. “yeah, that’s probably for the best. i...” you were lying. his heart shrunk, shriveled up inside his chest. she doesn’t love me like that.

“you have to go. aren’t you behind on some emails?” tom hoped you didn’t hear his voice strain from the tears pushing at his eyes. “right. almost forgot, thanks.” you’d plastered on a smile, slipping out of his grasp. a tear rolled down his cheek, so he wiped it away before you noticed. you’d already gotten out of the bed and begun picking your clothes up off the floor.

“i’ll drive you home, then.” he rolled on to his other side, you thought so he could give you privacy to change. it was that, and also because he was crying. he couldn’t hold it in. tom is naturally an emotional person. imagine finding out the love you’ve had almost half your life is unreciprocated. it’s soul crushing.

you two found harrison snoring and on top of tuwaine as you left the house. no silly remarks or shared glances for the first time in ten years. tom couldn’t muster anything up, and you felt numb.

the drive was painful. you’d said your goodbyes after tom pulled up to the curb, which held an odd weight to them. once you were out of the car, a sob wracked through him, banging on the steering wheel and not giving a shit about the loud horn going off. you collapsed face first onto your bed. hours passed by while you stared at nothing and contemplated everything.

since it happened, you haven’t spoken much. small talk over text every few days or so, both of you pretending things are normal for the other’s sake. about a month later, today, is when you found out you’re pregnant.

there’s no use wallowing in any of this. you need to figure out your next move, one that should probably involve tom. first, you want to talk to someone else. you want other opinions and a voice in your head that isn’t your own. harrison gets a text from you saying to come over now, the now in all caps. he does.

you let him in after the second knock, his eyebrows furrowing in concern. however torn you are, you must look it. shirt balled in your fists, lip quivering. he keeps his eyes on yours as he steps inside, pushing the door shut behind him. this is all becoming too real. “y/n, are you okay?”

you’re about to cry in three, two...

“haz, i fucked up,” you choke out, tears unable to stay at bay. he takes you into his arms for a hug. half your face is hidden in his shoulder, hands clutching at his back. he lets you cry it out, holding you until your heavy breathing steadies. “what’s happened?” harrison asks quietly, both of you leaving the hug.

“if- if i tell you, you can’t freak out. you can’t tell anyone else, either,” you instruct, searching his eyes for certainty that he won’t under any circumstances. “i won’t, y/n/n,” he assures you and puts an encouraging hand on your arm. your heart pounding abnormally fast, you spit it out. your first time saying it aloud. “i’m pregnant.”

harrison flinches and doesn’t even try to conceal it. he takes his hand off of you, worry swimming across his features. he blinks at you, unsure of what to say. you’d react the same way, maybe worse, so you don’t blame him. a discussion you, him, and tom had a couple years back replays in his mind.

the three of you were talking about your futures, seeing as you were close to living them. when tom asked you two where you stood on having your own families, you didn’t hesitate to answer. “nope, the factory is closed for a long ass time.” until you were in your thirties, you aimed to focus on yourself. harrison distinctly remembered because of how you phrased it.

“you’re... you... wow,” is all he replies with. you head over to the couch, more tears welling up in your eyes. do the pregnancy hormones act up this early? harrison follows you over and sits down next to you with an awkward clearing of his throat. “do you want to be pregnant?” he has to ask because he’s not sure if he should congratulate you or what.

“i don’t know,” you answer honestly, voice airy. your eyes are fixed on the wall in front of you. you haven’t given yourself time to think about it. there are so many reasons you don’t, and a single one you do. “do you, um, know who the dad is?” harrison glances over at you. “yeah.” your voice cracks. you’re both afraid for him to ask what he does next.

he shifts so he’s sitting up. “can i know?” a sniffle passing through you, you finally look at him. “it’s tom,” you say it before you lose the nerve to. harrison’s face doesn’t change this time. he isn’t surprised you and tom went there. he’d seen your friendship growing into more the older you all got. what he can’t believe is where it took you.

his best friend pregnant, and his other best friend responsible for it.

“when did you...” “at your party,” you explain, bringing your legs up so they’re criss cross on the couch. “i thought you were gone a little too long.” he says that to try cheering you up. you appreciate the effort, but it doesn’t work. you’re not in a joking mood. he’ll stick to the main issue. “so, have you told him?”

“clearly not,” you scoff, not at him but at what you two have gotten yourselves into. “y/n... i think you should tell him,” harrison sighs out, then adds, “whether you keep it or not.” “why? that would ruin everything, it already has.” you’re getting angry now, which plunges you into angry crying, voice unsteady as you go on.

“the last time i saw tom was that night, and i guess it meant more to me than it did to him because we haven’t talked about it at all. he didn’t want to.” you swipe the back of your hand across your eyes, gaze stern compared to harrison’s soft one.

he drapes an arm around your shoulders, you curling into him with another sniffle. he doesn’t say anything for a minute, then he tries again. “i know you, y/n, and i know tom. you’ll kill yourselves not talking about this.” he’s right, no shit he is. avoiding telling tom how you feel, and your pregnancy on top of that, it’s eating you up inside. it’s swallowing you whole.

“what if he doesn’t want to be a dad? or- or i’m a shit mum?” you croak out, your doubts getting the best of you. “i can barely take care of myself. what am i supposed to do with a baby?” you’re leaning forward with your hands pressing into your temples. harrison’s hand moves to your upper back. “i- i don’t think i should have them. i... we can’t,” you conclude.

“tom loves kids,” he gives you a gentle reminder. “why would his own be the exception?” another good point, yet you still have rebuttles. “right, he’s a godfather and he’s really good with them and all that, but i’m not the right person, and it’s a terrible time,” you tell him all at once, in a rush to get your words out before harrison’s sway you.

“he’s never around, i’m doing my own stuff. we’re not meant for this.” you lift your head out of your hands and sit back on the couch. harrison returns his hands to his lap. he’s frowning at you, which you see from the corner of your eye. “i’m not going to force you to have the baby. just saying you have options.”

yeah, really shitty ones.

“either way, talk to tom.” harrison says this more like a demand so you’ll take his advice into actual consideration. “at least about the hookup.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, eyes watering for the nth time already.

you have no choice because he’s right again. you’ll never move on from what happened unless you and tom address it.

the next morning, you do what harrison told you to and invite tom over. he replied saying he was on his way maybe a minute later. he’s nervous to see you because yeah, but more so looking forward since it’s been so long. you’re so nauseous you barely have room for nerves. it’s morning sickness with a hint anxiety.

it feels almost normal when he first gets here, no how’ve you been and what are you up to these days? being as close as you and tom are, you’re not capable of such a dry conversation. personally, you still feel uneasy while he recounts a golfing incident him and harry got into the other day. you know something he doesn’t.

“when i tell you we flew, we flew,” tom makes a pushing forward motion with both hands. “right into the tree. i think harry, like, dented part of his face.” he lets out a breathy laugh, you forcing out one of your own. you’d be more interested without the fact that you’re expecting a child, his child, at the back of your mind.

tom exhales, shifting to face you on your couch. it’s funny how different things were when you and harrison sat in these same spots yesterday. so much has and is about to change.

“they had to send another golf cart to come get us. it was wild.” “it sounds wild,” you hollowly agree. he can tell you’re not too invested in hearing about harry’s terrible driving skills, so he changes the subject. “anyway, harrison told me he came over last night?” your stomach drops, heat coming over your whole body.

“did... did he say why?” you murmur with a look of urgency in your eyes. tom shrugs a shoulder, and casually. there’s no way he knows. “no, was he supposed to?” his tone stays playful, which you can thankfully tell. that puts you more at ease. “no. no, never mind. i would’ve asked you to come, but...” you’re searching through your catalog of excuses.

thank god tom says something else because you can’t find a good one. “it’s alright. i actually, um, had a work call.” a small smile spreads across his face, a proud one. intrigued, you raise both eyebrows. “what’d you talk about?” tom twiddles with his fingers in his lap. “i’ve been offered an audition for this really amazing film. everything works out, it’ll be huge for me.”

you’re smiling back this time, putting a hand over one of his. “woah, that’s incredible. i’m so happy for you, tom.” you lock your fingers with his from the back of his hand. he looks down at them, humbly shaking his head. “when is it?” “a few weeks from today. it films in brazil...”

oh. you can’t tell him now. it’s not worth him missing out on a milestone in his career for a baby you’re not sure you should have. that would be so unfair of you to ask. what are you going to do, not support his dreams for the first time in a literal decade? and, you’d call yourself his best friend through it all?

you guess this also means the way you feel about tom is one sided. he’s okay with leaving you after the most intimate moment you two have ever shared. you’ll dance around it the rest of your lives. better yet, act like the night never even happened. that’s not so easy to do when you’ve got a permanent reminder of it.

the thought makes you sick to your stomach. so sick, you could...

while tom is talking more about what the audition entails, you suddenly bolt up from the couch. you run for the bathroom, a hand cupped over your mouth. his face twists up in confusion from your disappearance. tom calls, “y/n/n?” out to you, but you can’t respond because your head is in the toilet. he rushes in when he hears you retching.

he gets onto the floor with you. you’re bent over, puking your guts out, back in another place where your life changed forever less than twenty four hours ago. tom pulls your hair out of your face and into a makeshift ponytail with one hand, his other on your back. that’s all you have in you. you stay over the toilet just to be sure.

saliva drips from your mouth, making you cough roughly, the sound echoing. tom moves so he’s next to you, keeping his hand in your hair and not caring one bit about the smell because he loves you and he’s utterly concerned about what he witnessed.

“love, are you sick?” he coos, searching for your eyes. they water from the intensity of everything. “morning sickness,” you answer without thinking first. shit. shit, shit, shit. it came out of you like more vomit, word vomit. there’s no going back now.

tom lets go of your hair with his eyes still on yours. his hand on your back then leaves you, fingers trailing down your body as they go. “morning sickness,” he repeats, putting it together. “you’re pregnant?” guilt taking over your features, you sit across from tom. you’re once again leaning against the bathtub, him against the counter.

“this isn’t how i wanted you to find out,” you admit and bring your knees up to your chest. “i took a test yesterday. it was positive.” your arms wrap around your legs, you now tearing up because tom figured it out. a shaky breath passes his lips. “i haven’t gone to my doctor or anything yet, but i-“

“are you keeping the baby?” tom cuts in. not to judge you for your choice, to find out what the fuck is going on before he travels across the world. you tighten your arms around yourself, grabbing your wrist. “i haven’t decided.” he gives you an understanding nod and reaches out for you. you dodge him. he might not want to do that after what you say next.

“tom, i... there’s more,” you whimper out. “yeah. i’m... i’m listening,” tom croaks, unable to hold in his infinite amount of emotions for a multitude of reasons. he’s losing you a second time. more tears spill from your eyes as you break the news, the news that will destroy what he’s been working towards his entire life.

“the baby is yours.” his face relaxes, looking almost relieved when you confess it. “when we slept together, uh,” you’re sure it’s obvious enough that you don’t have to go over the details. he’s tearing up himself. you reluctantly continue. “if you still want to audition, i get it. we don’t have to do this.”

“fuck the audition. fuck the whole movie. all of my movies, really,” tom surprises you by blurting out. he moves in until your legs are touching. “i’m staying. even if you don’t have the baby, i have to be here.” you watch in disbelief as he wipes away what are actually happy tears. “really? i was scared you’d resent me for it, or hate me even,” you mumble to him.

“y/n, what? why would i ever do that?” tom places a hand on your cheek, touch gentle and filled with love. you part your legs so he can be closer to you. he takes the space between them, thumb brushing over your skin. “i didn’t think you’d want to deal with all of this. i thought that night was only a hookup for you.” your voice wobbles under his gaze.

“no, are you kidding? i thought that’s what you thought.” he’s smiling now, eyes twinkling along with it. what he’s been meaning to tell you since you were only kids finally comes out. “i’ve loved you as long as i’ve known you, y/n. i always imagined myself doing this with you.” his words draw a quiet laugh from you, a happy one. “i know we were drunk, but i meant it all.”

the sincerity in his voice, the warmth in his eyes, they make you cry all over again. you’re getting used to it.

“i love you, tom,” you lean into him with a sniffle and a grin, his forehead now resting on yours, using his thumb to catch one of your tears. “i really do.” “i love you forever. i always have,” tom speaks lowly, breath fanning across your face. your hands grab at his shoulders. “so, you’ll stay? you’ll do this with me?” he reminds you of what he said before, this time a promise.

“forever.”

-

you ended up having the baby, and tom held your hand through the entire labor. nikki was holding his other hand, your mom holding your other hand. harrison had originally been in the room as well. when you started to push, he got freaked out and had to leave. your support system remained strong either way.

despite his repulsion of your daughter’s birth, you and tom decided to make harrison her godfather. he eventually became the godfather of your other two children also, which you had a few years later.

tom took a paternity leave from the industry so he could be with you and jamie. he’d also used his time off to propose to you, something else he fantasized about since year eleven in school. it wasn’t anything too grand because the whole world was already buzzing about you two, and a big gesture felt too impersonal with everything you’d been through together.

he did it in the form of passing a note, something you often did in class to avoid being scolded by your teacher for talking. the note came with a pencil to check off either the yes or no box, “will you marry me?” written above them. anyone else would have found it so unromantic, but you giggled as you checked off yes before your lips crashed into his smiling ones.

you were married shortly after the proposal, jamie as your flower girl and all your friends and family in attendance.

to do what he loved and stay with the people he loved, tom created his own version of hollywood in london. he took it upon himself to assemble a team and make a production company. harry behind the camera, harrison and tuwaine in the films, and tom either starring alongside them or directing. they give so many young actors tons of opportunities.

you eventually went back to work, too. it was like you’d never left, coworkers offering endless hugs and going over what you missed, not that you struggled getting into it. tom was there to celebrate every promotion, every compliment from your boss, every part of your life. jamie was also there, then liam and lucy.

all three of them are running around the house right now, putting on shoes and collecting their supplies for school. you take a sip of the orange juice liam didn’t finish with a lighthearted eye roll. tom chuckles as he passes you in the kitchen, getting the kids’ lunchboxes for them to minimize the chaos.

“you have that pitch meeting today, right?” he slips his hands through the lunchbox handles and walks over to you. “mhm,” you hum, mouth full with juice. his lips press to your temple, giving your waist a one handed squeeze. “you’ll smash it. always do.” “thanks, tommy.” putting down the cup, you reach up to button whatever parts of his shirt he didn’t have time to.

“aren’t you doing a casting? for the new script they sent?” you wonder aloud and smooth down the cotton material. “me and harry. should be interesting,” he remarks, you giving him a quick kiss back on his chin. they tend to have their artistic differences. “good luck with that. you do drop off, i’ll do pick up?” you pat one of the lunchboxes around his arms.

“deal.” tom goes in for a kiss on your lips, then a chorus of dad, we have to go led by jamie rings through the house. with a knowing smile, you push at his chest. “see you later. love you.” “love you, holland,” he bites back a grin of his own. his last name, now yours, suits you perfectly.

[benevolentbirdgal]

Purim: a Jewish holiday and wild ride from start to finish

So let me tell you about the absolute soap opera that is the Jewish holiday of Purim. The scene is set in ancient (appx. 4th century B.C.E.) Persia during the first Jewish Diaspora, in the city of Shushan (typically identified in secular sources as Susa, a now-abandoned ancient city in what is now Iran). I’m telling you, as a work of literature (even beyond theological implications for Jewish people), this book has everything: love, drama, royalty, intrigue, ego, plots, irony, mystery, and a strong female lead. 

[some non-slur swearing below]

Ahasuerus, party-loving king of Persia executed or exiled (translations argue) his wife Vashti, and had to find a new queen. Why did he do this, you ask? Well, it really starts with an 180-day party across his kingdom for all his subjects to celebrate the third year of his reign. After that absolute rager, party-bro KA has another one immediately after for a week, this time just for the capital city of Shushan. Vashti was having a woman’s party in her quarters, presumably living her best life, when party-bro sends his top seven yes-men to deliver a message to Vashti. This sleaze-ball wants her to appear at his party in front of everyone, wearing her crown, with the clear implication being only her crown. Vashti more or less tells him to pound sand (I mean, not the literal translation, but that’s the sentiment). 

KA’s advisors convince him that this is not only an offense against the king but also against all the men in the country (ah, the joys of ancient patriarchy and toxic af masculinity). KA writes a degree that women must respect their husbands so he has an official reason to get rid of Vashti. Vashti is soon thereafter out of the picture and the king is short a queen. Whether she was a Wise Lady With A Point Who Got Screwed Over or a Vicious Jew-Hating Adulteress Who Had It Coming has been a matter of furious debate for over two millennia (the Babylonian Talmud and the Jerusalem Talmud vociferously disagree on her). In any case, KA regrets it pretty quick and wants a new queen. 

At the behest of his advisors (you know, since their last advice worked out soooooo well), KA had a big contest/forcible gathering of young women from around his kingdom and a Jewish woman, Hadassah, was the winner.  Hadassah was an orphan raised by her cousin Mordechai in the city of Shushan. Hadassah is more commonly known as Esther, because she changed her name to hide her identity as a Jew (at the behest of Mordechai). In any case, KA decided he liked Esther best and she became queen (it’s specifically mentioned both that he loved her most and that the palace staff liked her because she was nice to them-it’s unclear how much of an influence the latter was). 

Concurrently, a wicked man named Haman was the top advisor to the king and the king would basically rubber-stamp whatever Haman wanted. Haman was a raging Jew-hater-this will be relevant later. 

Some time into Esther’s reign as queen, Mordechai, who has taken to hanging around the gates of the palace to keep in touch with Esther, overhears a plot by two guards, Bigthan and Teresh, to kill the king. Mordechai alerts his cousin, and she tells the king. It’s recorded in the book of deeds and life keeps moving. 

Some time later, Haman decides (after a promotion to head lackey) that he wants all to bow to him as he passes. Mordechai refused to bow to Haman every single day (citing that as a Jew he bowed to no man), and that did not sit well with Haman. So despite being prime minister and presumably having more important things to do, “genocide the Jews” made it to the top of to-do list. He didn’t like them before, and Mordechai refusing to treat him like a special snowflake was something he took really, really personally (totally can’t think of any modern politicians like that, nope). He told KA, who frankly doesn’t seem to ask enough questions, that there was a people disrespecting the king and his laws throughout the land, and could he pretty-please exterminate them. As a bonus, Haman would “donate” 10,000 silver kikar to the royal treasury (modern conversion vary, but all agree this an absurd amount on money). 

KA handed him the royal seal to do so. Haman was feeling lucky I guess so he decided the best course of action was to draw lots to pick the day for the massacre. [Purim is lots in Hebrew, so that’s where the name of the holiday came from]. The message went out to all the provinces that on the thirteenth day of the twelfth month, that they citizens and leaders should murder all of the Jews, young and old, man, woman, and child, rich and poor and take their possessions as spoils. 

As this wasn’t exactly a state secret, the Jews knew and were quite distressed. The planned slaughter was like a year out, but what the actual fuck were they supposed to do? If you lived in Persia at that point that, the empire was functionally your entire world, unless you were fabulously/ridiculously wealthy and well-connected. Having several months notice the other locals and your rules were going to slaughter you and take your stuff isn’t particularly useful when there’s really nowhere to go. 

In Shushan, Mordechai (who, although not explicitly in text, is in oral/Talmudic tradition a leader of the Jewish community) goes into mourning. He dresses in sackcloth and ashes, he weeps, and he fasts at the gates of the palace, as Jews throughout shushan and the kingdom are doing. Esther hears of her cousin’s mourning behavior and tries to send along nice clothes through a messenger, which he refuses. It is then that she learns of the decree. Mordechai (through the messenger) implores her to go ask the king if the Jews not getting murdered could be a thing. Esther explains that she could be killed for approaching the king unsummoned. Mordechai stresses the severity of the situation. Esther agrees to ask the king and tells Mordechai to have the Shushan Jewish community fast day and night (as opposed to just day as prior) for three days, and she and her handmaidens will fast too (no word on what the handmaidens thought of this).

On the third day, Esther bravely approached the king, asked him if she could request something. He said anything, up to half his kingdom (which implies to me that homedude, for all his flaws, was actually into her). Esther invited him to a party, where he and Haman would be the only guests. At the party she asks if she can another request. KA is open to it and she invites him to another party the next night. Party-bro king is obviously down and Haman is tickled to death at this second invitation. 

He goes home to brag to his wife, Zeresh, about the invite and also to bitch about how angsty he is Mordechai is still alive (this angst reignited by passing him on the way home). Zeresh suggests he have fifty-foot gallows built to make Mordechai an example on, with the king’s permission, ASAP. Haman orders the building of the gallows, feeling secure in the knowledge that his bestie the king will execute Mordechai on them. 

Back at the castle KA can’t sleep. He demands a bedtime story from the his records, because those will presumably put him to sleep. The story that gets read, ~coincidentally~, is of Mordechai saving KA’s life. Haman had sidled on up to the castle to speak to the king about killing Mordechai, and the king called him in. KA asks Haman, if he were to honor someone, what should he do? Haman is thinking “this is obvi about me” and tells the king that the honoree should be donned in royal clothing, and ride through the streets on a fancy horse with people someone shouting how great he is. KA is like great, love it, perf, go do that for Mordechai. Haman is not a happy camper but does the thing. After that, he goes home and tells Zeresh about it, who warns him that this is a very bad sign. 

Finally, that night is the night of Esther’s second soiree. Haman and KA attend. The latter offers to Esther anything she wants, up to half of his kingdom. Esther asks that her life, and the life of her people be spared. KA is like “whomst” and Esther revealed it was Haman. At this point Ahasuerus.exe stops working and he takes a walk to the gardens. He comes back to see Haman begging Esther for his life, and KA thinks Haman is assaulting her. Haman was seized by nearby guards.

One of the chamberlains is then like, hey, KA, coincidentally there’s these super high gallows Haman just had built. Why not take care of the problem that way? (The fact that the random nearby chamberlain was like yup, that dude, hang ‘em in the morning, probably says a lot about how Haman treated most people around him, even more than forcing all to bow to him). KA orders it be done. 

Not that Haman was around to be sad about it, but what happened next would have massively pissed him off, as his old job then went to Mordechai. Esther then implored of the king that the degree to allow the massacre of the Jews be reversed. The king couldn’t Cntrl+Z the order to murder-all-the-Jews, but he could issue an order that they could fight back. The proclamation was sent throughout the land, and the Jews were able to prepare. Since the royal decree had been amended, the governments (princes, governors, satraps) largely reformulated their plans accordingly, but plenty of Jew-haters still wanted to use the opportunity. The ability to self-defend meant that the communities weren’t massacred. In most of the kingdom, the Jews were now safe. Outside of Shushan, the fourteenth of Adar became a feast day. 

Shushan was still not safe though. Antisemites were still out and mad (and apparently had not learned from the previous day), so Esther asked the Jews of Shushan to be allowed to defend themselves once more. Her wish was granted, and the Shushan Jews were able to defend themselves once more (so Purim is celebrated a day later in walled cities). 

The story ends with the decision to write it down, and although there some debate on authorship, it is traditionally attributed to Esther herself cowriting with Mordechai. 

Nowhere in the book is God mentioned. Nowhere is there divine intervention (at least not explicitly). Just Jews sticking up for themselves, being brave in the face of mortal peril, and a metric fucktown of chutzpah. 

[biromanticbooknook]

My Most Ambitious Crossover

I got bored by posting only my second gen Amazon AU, so I’ll get back to that tomorrow, but enjoy this one-shot about Chloe and Marinette creating their own trip instead of their class trip in the meantime. Can’t have you all thinking I’m a one-trick pony, can I?

“-and that’s why we think you shouldn’t go on the trip this year.” Mlle. Bustier tried to look apologetic, but it was as much her idea as the students. Between Marinette refusing to set an example and Chloe associating with her, neither of them deserved to go.

“Oh, thank goodness. I was afraid I would have to get my daddy to donate 30% of the funds like he does every year.”

“I’m just glad I don’t have to take 60% of the trip funds out of my commission profits. That will give me a much bigger budget for fabric and accessories.” Everyone blanched at the statements of the 2 girls. They were saying that they paid for 90% of the trip every year, but that couldn’t be right. They worked so hard on fundraisers every year, they must be lying about how much they contribute.

Marinette just ignored them, turning to her seatmate. “Do you think that our other friends would want to go on a trip with us? Most classes take their trips during May, so we could leave at the beginning of June and take the entire summer.”

“Nice thinking, Maribug. With fewer people, prices go down and we can afford more bang for our buck.” They walk out of the classroom, discussing who to ask and when.

The class just made a big mistake.

-----

By the time the weekend rolled around, Marinette and Chloe had their group list finalized. The people going on their trip were themselves, Luka, Kagami, Aurore, Mireille, and Marc. They got together and started brainstorming fundraisers.

Marinette started. “There are the given examples; you know, car wash, bake sale, raffle. What else?”

“We could host a show.” Luka suggested.

“Like an exhibition?” Marinette asked. “We could have you perform, Kagami do a fencing demonstration, and I could do a small fashion show, using Chloe and Marc as models. Aurore and Mireille could be our MCs.”

“To capitalize on money-making, we could sell tickets, food and drink, and merch for Luka’s solo career as well as commission spots for our resident designer.”

“That’s good.” Marinette starts scribbling in the shared notebook.

“At Le Grande Paris, we could host parties. I know days when the grand ballroom is open. We could host an auction, sell lessons and creations and stuff. We could also host a masquerade ball that we sell tickets for. We could charge for food and drink. The pools are open for private reservation quite often, we could have parties there too.” Chloe takes the notebook and starts writing down her ideas, mapping out all the resources needed while muttering.

“We could also host a carnival or a gaming tournament in the ballroom.” Kagami looked thoughtful. “I’ve never actually been to one.”

Chloe added that to the list. “Should we do anything else?”

“We could start a go-fund-me. Artists and writers do it all the time to get their creations off the ground.” Marc murmured.

“That would be great. What’s our goal for this entire endeavor?”

“Our goal, Maribug, is €45,000. That should cover travel, boarding, tours, food, and souvenirs. Whatever we don’t spend gets redistributed to the group.” Chloe supplies.

“Then that should be it. Nice job, guys!”

“My, what a whirlwind of a planning session. I hope nothing rains on our parade. I wonder weather Mlle. Bustier’s class is doing this well.” Aurore beams at them.

“Mm-hmm.” Mireille agrees with Aurore.

“Probably not. Our classmates couldn’t pour water out of a boot with instructions on the heel. They’ll just listen to Lila that the boot will empty by itself through the toe because ‘I worked on patenting this boot’, then they’ll get mad at the boot for not doing it.” Chloe chuckles dryly.

“Be nice.” Marinette reprimands half-heartedly.

-----

Chloe immediately filed the paperwork with the school board so they could go on their trip with no safety or legal concerns. She recruited Mme. Mendeleiev and M. D'Argencourt to be their chaperones, who were more than happy to go on an all-expenses-paid trip to Los Angeles, Star City, Central City, Metropolis, Gotham, New York City, and Tokyo.

They had their first fundraiser at the end of September, a pool party at Le Grande Paris. Even Mlle. Bustier’s class attended, though they didn’t know who had set it up, only that Luka was performing. They hadn’t even started their planning  yet. The group made €3,041.

The next was a car wash in the middle of October. It was cool enough for a car wash to be pleasant while being warm enough that everyone was still out and about. They earned €2,632. Bustier's class was getting ice cream and listening to Lila brag.

They then had an All Hallow’s Eve bake sale, complete with candy decoration reminiscent of the American holiday. They earned €1,800.

During November, they held a carnival, with a full fall theme. It was wildly popular with families from all over Paris, earning them €6,483. It was around this time that Mlle. Bustier’s class held a bake sale, and earned €1,594. They celebrated.

Throughout the holiday season, they took advantage of peoples’ spirit. They held a raffle throughout the 12 Days of Christmas, while also holding a bake sale the day before winter break. Overall, they earned €10,749.

Over winter break, Chloe bought plane tickets and reserved tours and hotels, so all that was left was to get money for the tours and food. They were over halfway to their goal.

During January, they rented a theater, and held their exhibition. They had a crowd of fencing enthusiasts, rock music lovers, and fashion followers. They made €5,830.

They held a date auction and a masquerade to celebrate Valentine’s Day. It was amazing, and they earned €7,284.

They had checked their go-fund-me, and had found that €10,000 was there, putting them €2,819 over their goal. They were ecstatic!

They still held the gaming tournament at the end of April, but let it be free for everyone to enjoy as their celebration of reaching their goal.

-----

Mlle. Butsier’s class had made €7,000 over their 3 fundraisers, and they were pretty proud of themselves. No doubt they would be going somewhere much better than whatever Maribrat and Chloe have planned. Once the girls walked into the classroom, the class started to brag.

“We’ve finished fundraising!”

Marinette smiled and decided to be nice to them. “Cool. Where are you going?”

“We are going to New York City.”

Chloe was not as kind. “Oh, so are we! It was so hard to raise the €45,000 needed for our trip, but we did it. It was so euphoric to meet our goal. How much did you guys raise?”

“We made €7,000.” The smiles slowly slipped off the faces of the class. “What do you mean the €45,000 needed?”

“Well, we needed to cover food, travel, boarding, and tours, and that was just for the 7 of us. I can’t imagine what the budget would’ve been like for an entire class.” Her smile got an edge, like a lioness who knew she had cornered her prey.

Her classmates blanched. “What was our budget, Alya?” Rose looked towards their new class representative, hoping that she had an answer.

“We never had one.”

“Well, at least you filed the paperwork right?”

“What paperwork?”

Marinette responded this time. “The paperwork needed to go on a trip. You were supposed to submit it to the school board for approval of safety and legality. It was on page 17 of the packet I gave you at the beginning of the year. Didn’t you read it, Alya?”

“I-I-no. Lila said that was just extra work that you had given me to throw me off my game. She said you didn’t actually need to do all of that.”

“I didn’t know that Lila had more experience being a class representative than me and Marinette, the only 2 people who have ever been class representative here.” Chloe’s voice became as sharp and sweet as her smile. “Well, have fun with your trip. Marinette and I have to do last-minute checks on our arrangements.”

The class looked at the people that had carried them the previous years, and realized how much they relied on the girls. Lila was cursing herself for pushing away the only people who actually did anything in this class.

-----

The class ended up going to Disneyland Paris, and tried their best to look as upbeat as possible on their social medias. Meanwhile, The group was having the time of their lives.

They stayed in LA for 2 weeks, visiting movie sets and meeting actors. They spent another week just going on everything at Disneyland and California Adventure.

They then spent a week in Star City, touring Queen Industries and having a meet and greet with Oliver Queen and his ward, Roy Harper, who seemed to enjoy Aurore’s outgoing personality. They even saw the vigilantes.

They spent another 2 weeks in Central City, touring STAR Labs and watching the rogues try to fight the Flash family. It was the most meta-filled city in the world, and They toured a forensics lab with Bart Allen. Chloe seemed grimly pleased with seeing the bodies. She might’ve been projecting certain people onto them, not that she would ever admit it.

2 weeks in Metropolis was really fun. They toured the Daily Planet with Clark Kent and Lois Lane. Mireille was amazed by what you could do to report without having to be in front of a screen. They made a scavenger hunt of how many Supers they could find, and they found 2 different superboys. Lex Corp also gave them a tour, although it was more professional than the tour of the Daily Planet.

They spent 1 week in Gotham. They toured Wayne Enterprises and stayed out of the Bats’ way. Luka got the phone number of Tim Drake. Marinette enjoyed the inspiration that the gothic architecture brought her. There wasn’t much of a nightlife scene, considering only fools stay out after dark in Gotham.

Their 1 week in New York City was hectic. The Avengers were all at the tower when they were touring with Pepper Potts by Chloe’s request. Chloe might’ve been unofficially adopted by Tony Stark when she stood up to them and made them ‘cease their bullshit’. The Black Widow also took a liking to the girl. They also ran into these weird teens muttering about monsters when they were waiting for the elevator at the Empire State Building.

2 weeks in Tokyo. Their last stop. They visited the prestigious Ouran Academy, the host club getting Marc to come out of their shell by constantly helping boost his self-esteem. Chloe enjoyed talking business and finances with Kyoya Ootori. Kagami led them all in a traditional tea ceremony, before they all stormed the streets to try the unfamiliar street food.

Marinette ended up being unofficially adopted by 3 heroes, 2 rogues, and 5 billionaires. She was happy getting to spend 7 weeks on the road with only her closest friends.

The class was incredibly jealous of the trip their classmates took. They hoped next year they could go on a trip like that as well, but they had missed their shot.

[plus-size-reader]

Pirates

Halloween Special

Dallas Winston x Plus size!reader

Word Count: 1664 words

Warnings: none

Summary: Reader wants to get Dally dressed up as a pirate like her for a Halloween party. He eventually gives in and ends up having too much fun

——————————————————————————————————

Buck had a Halloween party every year.

For a lot of people, especially in your close knit circle, it was the it day of the year and you weren't going to miss it. While you acknowledged that Buck saw every holiday as nothing more than an excuse to get everyone together to finish a keg or two, Halloween was your favorite holiday.

It wasn't something you had in common with a lot of your friends, who saw a party as a party, no matter what it was for, but at least they were going to partake.

If nothing else, they would make some attempt to dress up, that Buck had assured you.

However, as excited as you were for the party itself, you found yourself even more interested in the costume element of the Halloween party. Buck had made it very clear that he was going to be dressing up like a hippie, something you couldn't wait to see.

...And if Buck was dressing up, that mean you all had to as well.

It was essentially a requirement to get in, but even knowing that, you knew convincing your boyfriend Dallas wasn't going to be easy. He had never been one to go out of his comfort zone, or do anything he thought would make him look stupid.

You were sure that he wouldn't partake in some couples costume business, even if you tried to get him to do so.

He was hard headed like that.

Even still, you rushed toward the corner store in anxious excitement,  having just finished your shift at the dinner, with one thing on your mind.

You had been perusing the windows of a new pop up Halloween shop for days on your way to work and while most of the stuff you saw there didn't really interest you all that much, there was one thing you hadn't been able to stop thinking about.

All week, you'd had your eye on a couple pirate costumes that looked straight out of Swiss Family Robinson, and you wanted to get them more than anything. You were just sure that it would be a hit.

The only thing stopping you was Dallas.

Even as you walked down the dark isles, looking at character masks and goofy props, you felt sure that there was no way in the world that you were going to be able to get your greaser boyfriend in something like that.

He would probably just laugh in your face like he had a habit of doing when he thought you were out of your depth. Though, not even your confidence in that stopped you from grabbing a costume from the rack in his size, as well as one in your own.

It was perfect.

Besides, you were so happy when you left there, skipping down the street that not even the fact that you may be going to Buck's party entirely alone didn't bother you. You just allowed yourself to ride the wave you were on, watching cars go past.

It wasn't until you turned the corner to Buck Merrill's place that you started to actually get nervous about proposing your idea to Dallas. He'd made it pretty clear that he wasn't even much of a fan of Halloween in the first place.

For all you knew, he'd throw a fit and refuse to attend at all.

You didn't hesitate as you knocked on Buck's front door, confident that Dally was already there and he'd be expecting you at some point. This was always your first stop after work, knowing how rarely Dal actually went to his parent's place.

He'd been staying with his rodeo partner for as long as you two had been an item and after a couple weeks, Buck had adapted pretty quickly to your presence in his place. At this point, he didn't even question it when you showed up.

After a few moments the door swung open, the lanky blonde standing behind it with that gapped smile you'd grown so used to.

"Hi Buck. Is Dal upstairs?" you asked, handing him the mornings paper as you passed him into the house, barely pausing before heading up the flight of stairs toward where you knew he'd be. Really, you didn't even need to ask, using that as a greeting more than anything.

Still, when the male nodded, you thanked him and headed up fully until you found yourself at Dally's door.

You knew that he'd be waiting for you, just like he did every day, but you hesitated slightly, terrified of how he'd react. You stood there for a minute or so, clutching the paper bag in your arms before opening it.

Whatever happened, you knew that you were overreacting. No matter how bad a fit Dally threw over this whole thing, you would still be able to go to the party, wearing the costume you enjoyed so much.

"What took ya so long?" he grumbled, rolling over in bed to find you standing there in the doorway, his shirt tossed across the room along with his belt and work boots. Dal always paid close attention to how long it took you to get back from work, a bit paranoid ever since you had a bit of a run in with some socs a few months back.

As aloof as he sometimes appeared, Dallas really did love you and he had no idea what he'd do if something happened to you. Frankly, he was just about to head out on his own to go track you down when you showed up.

"Sorry Dal, made a stop on my way back" you shrugged, tossing the male the lighter from the nightstand that he'd left there, which he caught without a second thought. He sat up against the wall, lighting himself a cancer stick mindlessly.

You always told him you thought that was a nasty habit, but he didn't care too much for listening to you about it. In his eyes, you were just listening too much to the gossip at the dinner. All those old birds liked to complain about their husband's smoking problem.

"What for?" he wondered then, taking note of the bag you were holding. He had no idea what could have been so important that you made him worry, but that all melted away as soon as he saw what you were holding.

It had to be a joke.

"Nope. Not gonna happen" he scoffed, not even giving you a chance to try and make a case for yourself before he refused. There was no way he would ever be caught dead in that, the guys would never let him live it down.

"Please Dal, just try it! It's cute" you tried, holding the bag out to him which he took with a heavy sigh, still not convinced. It wasn't until you pulled out the bag that contained your matching costume that his interest was peaked.

It was cute.

It had a starch white blouse and a red pleather skirt that would have made your mother call the pastor, along with a cute tricornered hat that was inevitably too big for you. As much as Dallas didn't like the idea of what was happening, he did want to see you in that.

"One condition" he started, rubbing his brow as he looked you up and down. Uh oh.

That was what Dally always did when he was up to no good. Normally that was enough to make you abandon whatever half-baked idea you'd cooked up, but you were desperate. You wanted to have a good time at the party.

"What is it?" you wondered, rolling your eyes, your hand falling on your hip as you waited. He could be so dramatic sometimes.

After a few moments, he smirked. "You put that on, and maybe I'll try it" he suggested, cocking his head to the side, a wide smile playing on his lips. He was up to something, you knew he was, but that was quite the offer.

If there was even a small chance that Dally would put the costume on for the party, you were going to do whatever it took, and you both knew it. So, you rolled your eyes again and started unbuttoning your dress.

You should have known this was where the whole thing was going, and thinking about it, you laughed. "You're a dog, you know that don't you, Winston?" you teased, fetching the costume from the bag and pulling it on.

It took just a little adjusting over your frame, your thighs taking up more of the skirt than you'd anticipated, but over all it was really cute...something you confirmed by turning around to show it off to the waiting male.

He practically choked on the cigarette at that, taking in every bit of the view in front of him. You looked real good, and it took all he had not to blurt that out like a dunce.

"It'll work" he decided after a few seconds, turning away to crack open a beer. After that, he didn't look back up directly, taking sneaking glances out of the corner of his eye. It wasn't until you scoffed that he met your gaze.

"That's it? Aren't you going to tell me if you'll go or not?" you hummed, reminding him why you'd done this all in the first place.

There was silence for a moment.

Dallas glanced up at you with a small twinkle of mischief in his eyes, before speaking again. "I'll wear it, but you best take it off before I ruin it" he teased, winking at you in that way he always did that flustered you and twisted your tongue.

That was one way to put it.

You weren't entirely sure if he was bluffing or not, but you knew him well enough not to question it. For all you knew, Dallas was telling the truth and you'd have to go out and find a new costume before the party.

[natasharomanoffhasmyheart]

Platonic!Avengers x Reader

Tony Stark was throwing a party tonight. He would use any excuse to throw one like celebrity birthdays, holidays going on in random countries, the 'birth date' of each of his iron man suits and more pointless reasons. This time it was because 'life was peaceful and that itself should be celebrated.' You rolled your eyes at his poor reasoning. Looks like you would be attending another party tonight. They weren't half bad though, and you would do anything to pay back the debt of kindness the Avengers had all shown toward you.

You had grown up in the Red Room Academy which was a Russian organisation that trained helpless girls from a very young age and turned them into deadly weapons. At the age of 17 you were sent to assassinate the Black Widow who also came from there but managed to escape. You were an excellent tool for them to reach their past enemies. You watched the Avengers for weeks and let your emotions get in the way of the mission when you felt guilty for what you were ordered to inflict on them. You weren't supposed to show emotions. The hesitation had caused the whole plan to fall through and you had been caught. You were locked in a room for about a week. They had refused to harm you and you were fed well. But you weren't going to let your guard down easily. Apparently you had been brainwashed or something and were set free by some red dust. It was all crazy.

It took a while for you to open up to Clint and Natasha when they were interrogating you, but you learnt to trust them eventually when they explained what had happened to you and how they were there to help while Tony insisted that you stay in the Avengers tower for as long as you needed. It became your home and they became your family. Things were better now but that didn't stop the past from haunting you.

Now you were here on your 18th birthday. Well, that's what the files said.

"Hey kid, you nearly done? Tony is getting excited and impatient for this party and I'm not sure why. You should probably hurry." You heard Steve's voice from outside your bedroom door.

"Yes sir. Be there in a sec."

[reyesstrand]

18 or 22 for tarlos 🥺

thank you both for the prompts!! i put them together in one fic if that’s okay 💗 i hope you enjoy!!!

all prompts are from this list. also available on ao3!

TK’s first birthday in Austin ends up being all he could ever ask for. 

He’s still getting used to a new December climate, and part of him doesn’t even want to mention the fact that it’s his birthday to the team. They all have enough to worry about, after all. But of course his dad would never keep quiet about the occasion, and now TK’s coming off a twelve-hour shift and he’d had to clean himself up the best he could in the firehouse’s locker room, to at least be somewhat presentable for his party at Grace and Judd’s. 

Carlos glances at him for the fifth time since pulling away from the firehouse, and wordlessly reaches over to place a hand on his knee—the same knee that’s been bouncing nervously since they got in the car. 

“Sorry, sorry,” TK murmurs, running his hand through his hair. 

“What’s wrong?” Carlos asks, moving his hand from TK’s knee to instead grab his free hand, smoothing his thumb along his knuckles. It immediately centres TK, and he takes a deep breath. “Hey, you okay?” 

“Yeah, I just—it’s overwhelming,” TK admits quietly, staring down at his fingers linked with Carlos’, finding it a perfect fit. 

“Everyone loves you, Ty,” Carlos says, still moving his thumb in a calming rhythm as he drives. “This party is a way for us to show it.” 

“i don’t need all this to know that, though,” TK says, feeling warmth creep up his neck. He remembers the stress he felt he put on his parents, not only having a birthday so close to the holidays but by being a product of their marriage that eventually failed. They were still friendly, sure, but TK can’t just forget the plethora of times a party was thrown for him just so he could forget his dad was three hours late or his mom had to slip away to handle a big client. 

“Hey, if it’s too much, we’ll come up with an excuse, okay?” Carlos offers, understanding immediately because of course he does. “We’ll—we’ll say one of us isn’t feeling well, though I guess that’s not the best course of action when almost everyone we know has medical training—”

TK feels the dopey grin spread over his face as his boyfriend rambles. Carlos finally trails off and catches the look on his face, a small smile of his own pulling at the corner of his mouth. 

“What?” 

“I just love you,” TK says, squeezing Carlos’ hand tight. “And thank you. But I think I’ll be okay. I just,” he waves a hand in a vague motion next to his head, “get a little too caught up in here, sometimes.” 

“I know,” Carlos drags his thumb over his knuckles once more, before he’s parking the car right in front of Grace and Judd’s place. “And Ty?” 

“Hm?” TK turns his head and is met with a gentle kiss, slowly blinking his eyes open when Carlos pulls away. 

“I love you too,” Carlos smiles, and TK rolls his eyes and huffs a laugh but feels his heart beat rapidly nonetheless. 

He’s a little apprehensive as he gets out of the Camaro, fidgeting with the cuffs of his sleeves, as he follows Carlos to the front door. 

But it turns out that his found family loves him more than he could imagine, because they know him. They know he didn’t want them to go crazy for his birthday, because once they walk into the living room there’s tasteful decorations and various platters of food set up, but it’s just family present. Marjan tackles him into a hug first, ruffling his hair when they pull away; Judd eventually blocks his path until he can smack a kiss to the crown of his head and fist bump him. 

“Grace, you didn’t have to—” 

“You better not finish that sentence, TK,” Grace says, cocking a brow at him. He lifts his hands in response. “It was an honour to pull this together for you, because you deserve it, love.” 

He knows his face is warm, but he doesn’t care. “Thank you.” 

She pulls him in then, for a signature Grace-Ryder-hug that’s all swaying and arms squeezing tight around his ribs. He gets a kiss to his cheek, too, and he stalks back toward Carlos and Paul with what he knows is a huge grin on his face. 

The whole night is low-key, everyone gathered around to chat and drink and stuff themselves on Grace’s cooking. That is, until the lights suddenly dim and TK hears the beginning of his dad’s tone-deaf attempt at singing “Happy Birthday.” 

“Oh, god,” TK mutters, pressing his palm over his face. Carlos just pulls him closer, arm around his waist as he sings quietly into his ear, everyone else joining in at various levels of enthusiasm. Eventually his dad ends up in front of him, cake proudly displaying a candle in the shape of a 27, the light flickering against his face. 

TK glances around the room as the song comes to an end, and he’s smiling even as he shakes his head and dramatically takes a deep breath to blow out the candle. 

When he’s passed a piece, he can sense something happening by the way the air seems to shift around him. 

“What’s—” TK trails off, fork in his left hand and flimsy paper plate in his right, glancing over at his boyfriend. 

Who, deep down and just like his friends, is an absolute menace. 

“There might be one tradition we didn’t tell you about,” Marjan says, already grinning gleefully. 

Carlos slowly comes closer, and TK realizes what’s about to happen too late because in what feels like a nanosecond, he’s suddenly got his piece of cake smashed into his face. 

The team howls with laughter, as his mouth falls open in shock and he wipes two handfuls of icing from his eyes. 

“Reyes!” TK shouts, already chasing after him, the others in attendance snickering as they move out of the way. 

“Baby, come on,” Carlos tries to say through his laughter, but eventually he’s backed up against the wall with nowhere to go. 

“Don’t I get a birthday kiss?” TK asks, far too innocently, and Carlos holds him at arm’s length as the others start chanting for them to kiss, several teasing oohs filling the room. TK really lays it on thick, puppy-dog eyes and all, and sees the exact moment Carlos melts. 

“Like I could ever refuse you,” his boyfriend murmurs, reaching forward to gently wipe away as much of the bits of cake and frosting stuck to his lips as he can. 

It doesn’t do much about the rest of the mess on TK’s face, but neither of them seem to care, as the moment Carlos’ thumb drops from TK’s bottom lip he’s lurching forward to kiss him, trying to pour all the love and gratefulness for this night into one press of their lips. 

They’re grinning into it like always, and eventually TK’s frosting-smeared hand comes up to cup Carlos’ cheek, and Carlos’ hands drop down to TK’s sides, and the last thing they’re worried about is cake or their friends standing all around them. 

Someone—probably Judd—yells at them to get a room. TK flips him off, lovingly of course, before he kisses his boyfriend once more to get the point across. He pulls back and almost breaks down in tears with the force of his laughter at the sight of Carlos’ face. 

Carlos just smacks a kiss to his temple, and TK knows in that second it’s the best birthday he’s ever had. 

[chelsfic]

Leftovers - Part 7 - Nandor the Relentless x Reader Fanfic

Previous parts: Masterlist

A/N: Well...this was unexpected. I wasn’t planning to go in this direction quite YET, but the characters had minds of their own...

Summary: While planning for the upcoming biannual orgy, the reader gets a lesson in seduction from Laszlo and Nandor finally surrenders to his desire.

Warnings: Smut, Female reader, Blood drinking, First time, Loss of Virginity

---

Nadja’s voice echoes through the house as she rushes into the library clutching a letter in her hands.

“Laszlo! Nandor! Colin Robinson! House meeting!”

Guillermo trails after her carrying the rest of the mail. Bills, a grocery circular, and a stack of computer parts catalogs addressed to Colin. He drops the pile on an end table and takes an unobtrusive position by the doorway as the other housemates start to file in with varying expressions of annoyance, curiosity and boredom.

You’re the last one to arrive, traipsing into the room looking vastly under dressed, as always, compared to the old world vampires in their elegant finery. Even Colin and Guillermo keep it business casual. You, on the other hand, are dressed in a pair of neon pink capri leggings and the USA Men’s Basketball jersey you stole from Nandor. The jersey falls down to your knees and the wide arm holes reveal the sports bra you’re wearing underneath. When Nandor first caught you wearing it a couple weeks ago he’d groused at you about disrespecting his belongings. But then he found himself strangely pleased with how his garment dwarfed your smaller frame. He rather liked the idea of his human wearing his shirt. So, he stopped complaining.

You give him a cheeky grin and flounce the bottom of the shirt around your thighs saucily as you flop down beside him. It’s been just about a month since the rave and since things between you and Nandor...advanced. You’ve started secretly thinking of him as your vampire boyfriend. You spend more nights in his coffin than you do in your own bed and you’ve both enjoyed the closeness that comes with sleeping in an enclosed box. 

You’ve continued to touch, kiss, and explore each other physically. Your progress has been slow, though you’ve gone further and experienced more with Nandor than you ever have with anyone else. But he is being downright mulish about taking the next logical step. On the one hand it’s comforting to have a more experienced partner who is so willing to go slowly. On the other hand...you’re horny. And you can’t tell if he’s being considerate and cautious or if he’s being selfish and wanting the best of both worlds: sexy times and virgin blood.

You sit so that your leg brushes against his and take his hand, twining your fingers together happily. You probably look like a preteen with her first boyfriend but you don’t really care. 

Colin Robinson grins and his eyes flash blue as he drones, “PDA! Get a room, you guys.”

Nandor hisses angrily and you roll your eyes. You spot Guillermo standing rigidly by the door and wave him over, patting the cushion on your other side.

“Memo! Come sit down for the meeting,” you invite.

Guillermo’s eyes flick to his master automatically and Nandor proclaims, “Vampires--non-familiars only, Guillermo!”

“What!?” you exclaim, slapping his arm. “Stop being mean to Guillermo!”

“Mean!?” Nandor scoffs. “I’m not mean to Guillermo! I saved him from being executed by the Vampiric Council last year, didn’t I?”

Guillermo nods, “Yes, master...although I did save you as well--”

“And I let you have the human giving thanks holiday off, didn’t I?” he interrupts.

“That was...three years ago…” Guillermo mumbles.

Nandor is gearing up for a full on hissy fit but Nadja interrupts, “Enough! Gizmo, go and sit with the human, you know Nandor is going to surrender to her eventually and I have news to announce!”

You smile in triumph and Guillermo reluctantly slinks forward to sit on your other side, eyeing his master over your head with a worried look.

“That’s strike one, Guillermo,” Nandor grumbles irritably, as Nadja takes over.

“I didn’t want to tell you until I had their answer,” Nadja smiles beatifically and folds her hands over her heart, “but I petitioned the vampire orgy committee and they’ve decided to give us a second chance to host the biannual orgy! I explained that my husband had been unnaturally deranged by some putrid blood--”

“Don’t you mean, betrayed by my wife?” Laszlo interjects.

“--and so we’re hosting it this weekend!” Nadja finishes, ignoring her idiot husband.

“Wonderful!” Nandor cries, dropping your hand and standing up to pace the room. “We’ll need to begin preparations at once. Guillermo, I’m giving Nadja permission to boss you around. It needs to be perfect this time!”

“Thank you, Nandor,” Nadja trills, obviously euphoric with plan-making already. “This time we’ll chain the virgins up, so there’s no chance for the cheeky buggers to spoil our fun…”

“Excellent idea, darling!” Laszlo praises, eager to show his support and avoid sleeping in one of the basement coffins tonight.

Nandor nods, “Yes, good suggestion, Nadja. Guillermo, you’ll bring the chains up from the basement...”

Nandor continues rattling off orders and you listen with increasing bafflement and alarm. He’s clearly giddy as he lists the “supplies” they’ll need.

“The sex net, obviously… the swing… assorted dildos… we should get a few Devil’s butt plugs, shouldn’t we? Those were popular at Marcus’s orgy last year…”

You turn, wide-eyed, to Guillermo and find him looking resigned and pulling a notebook from his back pocket to write this down.

Laszlo, Nadja and even Colin Robinson join in the discussion and they don’t seem likely to lose momentum any time soon. 

Finally, you clear your throat and speak up, “Um...I’m sorry. So...you--all of you--go to...sex parties? Like, where you...have sex all--all together?”

God, could you sound more virginy? You direct the question to everyone in the room but your eyes focus on Nandor. He looks away with an uncomfortable grimace.

Nadja tuts and puts a hand to her forehead as she croons, “Oh my sweet, baby virgin! I have forgotten how stupid and innocent you are. Do you not know what an orgy is? It is like a dark, bacchanalia of the flesh… a joining of bodies into one, throbbing mass of pleasure. And it is a great honor to host it! Vampires from all over New York will attend.”

“But…” what you really want to do is talk to Nandor in private. Your mind is racing with half-formed concerns, but mainly you’re hoping your new vampire boyfriend isn’t planning to have casual sex with a dozen strangers after spending the last month refusing to deflower you because he’d rather preserve the taste of your blood than deepen your...well, what you’d thought of as your relationship.

But you can’t give a voice to these worries even if the idea of Nandor with someone else stabs at your heart. You don’t want to be the needy virgin. The silly little girl who thinks a 758-year-old vampire is interested in “going steady.” Are you being unreasonable? Are you being unrealistic? Are you being insensitive to vampire culture? All at once you feel tears stinging your eyes and you blink rapidly to clear them before anyone notices. 

“I know what you’re worrying about, my warrior,” Nadja breaks through your thoughts. “But you’ll be perfectly safe during the orgy. Look!”

She poofs into a cloud of vapor, reappearing a few seconds later holding a pair of matching plain white t-shirts with the words “Do Not Eat” printed on them. 

“One for you and one for Gizmo!” she exclaims with a proud smile as if this solves everything.

---

“So…” you start and then trail off, not really knowing what you want to say.

You’re up in the attic with Nadja and Laszlo, helping them sort through boxes with labels like “Sex Dungeon,” “In Case of Orgy,” and “Emergency Dildos.”

Laszlo uncovers something wedged behind the StairMaster and exults, “My darling! Do you remember this…?”

It looks like a dildo circa the Renaissance period, smooth and hand-carved with a leather harness attached. Laszlo throws his head back and his hands twitch excitedly at his sides as Nadja stalks up to him with a seductive smirk.

“Of course, I do, my naughty boy. And if you are good and don’t ruin this orgy with your moods then maybe we’ll have ourselves a nice little time with it…” her voice goes high-pitched and squeaky as she grabs the phallus out of Laszlo’s hands and strokes it along his jaw, bringing it up to his lips and squealing as he opens his mouth to run his tongue lewdly over the shiny, smooth wood.

“O-okay, I’m just going to give you guys some privacy…” you stand and start to make your way over to the stairs.

Nadja drops the dildo and calls after you, “Wait, mortal! You had something you wanted to ask?”

You stop in your tracks, turning back to the couple and taking a breath to steady yourself. You have to talk to someone about this.

“Yeah, it’s...well, Nandor and I haven’t had sex yet--”

“We can tell that very well, my yummy friend,” Laszlo cuts in and Nadja slaps his arm.

“Go on, little horny infant,” Nadja says encouragingly.

“--but we’ve done other stuff,” you continue, “and I...I have feelings for him. But the thing is, I’m not as comfortable as you all seem to be about...sharing…”

“Ahh!” Laszlo murmurs with an arch look. “And you don’t want a load of randy vampires diddling your man.”

“Right,” you confirm, heat spreading over your face under their scrutiny. “But he seems so excited and I...I still don’t really know if he feels the same way that I do…”

“Hmm, yes this is very tricky,” Nadja muses. “Of course...there are some vampire couples who attend and only pay attention to each other…”

“Bloody boring, if you ask me…”

“Shut up, Laszlo!” Nadja hisses. “Can’t you see our human needs us?”

“Alright, alright!” he says irritably. He turns in a small circle, rubbing his chin abstractly before snapping his fingers and pointing to you in excitement, “I’ve got it! It sounds to me like what you really need is a little help in seducing our warrior friend. Once you’ve done the dirty deed you can enslave him to your feminine wiles just like my darling Nadja did to me.”

“Good idea, Laszlo! Then you can attend the orgy together and if anyone tries to tempt him away you will do the whip on them!” Nadja declares with delight.

You’re not sure if she’s misusing roller derby lingo or actually suggesting that you use a whip on your rivals. Probably both…

“But he won’t have sex with me because he’s obsessed with my stupid blood…” you whine, plopping down on one of the boxes with an exasperated sigh. 

“Trust me, human. With our help, Nandor won’t know how to resist!” Laszlo assures you with a self-satisfied grin. “Nadja, darling, get the projector!”

“Oh, no, Laszlo...she’s just a poor human girl. Don’t subject her to your boring pornos…”

---

By the time you come down from the attic you’re pretty sure the image of Laszlo’s orgasm face is permanently burned into your brain. And you’re not exactly sure how “Vampire Tricked in Steamroom” is supposed to help you with your conundrum, but Laszlo’s proud enthusiasm is adorable. Nadja’s words as you walk down the stairs are a little more helpful.

“Nandor is just thinking too much with his fangs and not enough with his penis. Use your natural talents--” she glances meaningfully at your chest, “--to make him realize his mistake.”

You’re not sure you have it in you to play the seductress like Nadja does. Still, your footsteps automatically take you in the direction of Nandor’s room. When you walk into the crypt you find him bent over a long roll of paper on the floor with a paintbrush in his hand and glitter stuck all over his head. He holds his work up to show you with a proud grin.

It’s a banner with large, bright, sparkly letters spelling out, “Welcome Orgy Guests!”

“What do you think?” he asks shyly. “Too much glitter?”

You blink and bite back a laugh at the sight of your fearsome boyfriend with his hair and beard covered in glitter. He’s smiling at you, revealing the wicked gleam of his fangs and you’re suddenly overcome with the desire to kiss him until you’re covered in glitter too. You stride forward, gingerly taking the banner from his hands and setting it back down on the floor.

“Just the right amount of glitter,” you assure him and then you hop up, wrapping your arms around his neck and trusting that he’ll catch you with his strong arms. His beard is scratchy against your face as you claim his mouth with yours, kissing and nipping his lips with a needy growl. Okay, wow--maybe Laszlo’s cheesy movie instruction has some merit?

“I knew it,” Nandor smirks. “You like the glitter, don’t you? Like Twilight!”

“Shut up, Nandor,” you laugh, stroking your fingers through his thick hair and angling his head so you can kiss along the edge of his jaw. You playfully drag your teeth against his neck and his whole body shudders in response. 

Curious, you do it again and this time he moans low in his throat and gasps out your name. Your lips curl into a mischievous smile and you bite down sharply, not hard enough to break the skin but enough to bruise if he didn’t have supernatural healing.

“Gah! Human…” Nandor pants, walking you over to the luxuriously upholstered couch set against the wall and dropping down with you in his lap. His voice breaks as he begs, “Harder.”

You draw back, locking your eyes with his for a moment, your breath coming quick as you feel the stir of his hardening length beneath you. His eyes are nearly black with desire and he digs his fingers into your hips in encouragement and repeats himself, “Harder, my mortal.”

You bend forward, brushing your lips gently along the crook of his neck like always does before he feeds from you. You bring your hands to his collar and loosen the ruff of his shirt, pulling it aside and cradling his head as you sink down to bite. You’re tentative at first, somehow afraid of hurting him, but he growls in impatience and swats your butt with his open hand to spur you along. You increase the pressure, feeling his skin give beneath the blunt edges of your teeth and the cool, coppery taste of his thick blood spreading over your lips and tongue. You swallow it, lapping at his neck eagerly as he squirms beneath you and mewls in pleasured surrender. 

When you finally pull away, your mouth and chin are painted an obscene red and Nandor goes wild at the sight. He grabs the back of your neck and pulls you into a rough kiss, arching his hips upward so he can grind against you.

“Now, I get to taste you,” He whispers against your lips, shifting out from beneath you and kneeling on the floor between your legs.

“It’s not--” you’re out of breath and your head is spinning. “It’s too soon, baby”

He purrs at your use of the pet name and slides his hands up the outsides of your thighs, catching the waistband of your leggings and dragging them down your legs along with your underwear.

“There’s more than one way to taste you, my human,” he explains, pressing his palms to the insides of your knees and pushing your legs further apart. He drags his beard along the sensitive skin of your inner thigh, scenting you with a pleased sigh. He scoops you up in his hands, pulling you closer to the edge of the couch and finally lowering his face between your legs. His breath is cool against your heated flesh and then he’s dragging his tongue along your slit in one long stroke that ends on your needy, throbbing clitoris. 

“Oh my go--”

Nandor rears back, hissing, and you rush an apology, “Sorry, sorry, sorry! I forgot.”

“Be careful with that shit!” he grouses but then he’s dipping his head back down and attacking you with his mouth. 

He’s gentle and thorough and--you think--very good at this. A few times you feel the sharp edge of a fang just brush against your most sensitive skin and you start to flinch away but he shushes you and strokes his fingers along your thighs to settle your nerves. His lips and tongue move against your clitoris in perfect, rolling motions that have you melting under his attention. You let your hands fall down to rest in his glitter-specked hair and stroke your fingers along his temples as he laves and sucks. When the mounting tension in your core grows to be too much you roll your hips up, grinding yourself into his face and twisting your fingers in his hair as you cry out. 

Nandor climbs back onto the couch and settles beside you, watching with a pleased smile as you tremble and gasp through the aftershocks. He’s lazily palming himself through his trousers when you finally turn to him and press the full length of your body into his, capturing his lips for a kiss that tastes of mingled blood and arousal--both your essences combined. 

“I’m ready…” you whisper, sliding your hands beneath his loosened collar and along his shoulders. “If you can possibly stand my blood tasting all ordinary and non-virgin flavored…”

You emphasize the last statement by edging your leg between his and grinding your thigh against his fervent erection. Nandor groans loudly and it sounds like a surrender. 

“Yes…” he pants. “My human...yes. I’ll make you mine. But...but--” he growls in frustration “--wait a moment!”

He hops up, leaving you half naked and bemused on the couch as he darts around the room, locking the door, positioning a fur rug on the floor next to an ornate candelabra, and finally opening a drawer and removing a folded piece of paper.

He comes back to you, kneeling at your feet and handing you the sheet of paper. He watches with a gleam in his eyes as you open it.

Inside he’s written in glitter pen:

“Happy Deflowering!

Love,

Nandor the Relentless”

And there’s a drawing of you laying on a fur rug with an artfully modest sheet draped over your nude body and Nandor floating in the air above you, his cape flying out behind him and his fangs bared. Well...now you know he hasn’t been planning to keep you a virgin for all eternity...

You bark out a laugh and press the drawing to your heart as you look up at him and gush, “I love it, Nandor!”

His lips part in a light smile and he presses forward, taking your face in his hands and catching you with his intense eyes.

“I wanted it to be--” he frowns uncomfortably as he forms the word “--nice...for you, human. Perhaps we had a rocking start…”

“You mean with you kidnapping me, drinking my blood and treating me like a human snack pack?” you deadpan, but you dart in to peck his lips to show you’re only teasing.

“Yes, that,” he continues and his fingers are tracing light patterns through the hair at your temples. “But I...I do care about you, my mortal. For more than just your delicious blood…”

Finally hearing him say the words out loud starts your eyes misting and you set the drawing down on the couch beside you, reaching forward to take him in your arms and kiss his beautiful, stupid, warrior lips. 

Nandor is remarkably quick at removing his layers of clothing. By the time you’ve shed your stolen jersey and squirmed your way out of the sports bra, he’s completely naked. Vampire speed. He kneels on the fur rug before you, his pale skin reflecting the golden light of the candles, glowing with second-hand warmth. You forget to be bashful about your own nudity as you drink him in. Dark hair covers his chest and trails down his stomach into the dark nest around his proudly straining erection. 

His own dark eyes drop to linger on the lines of your body as he reaches out and draws you closer, laying you down on the plush rug and perching beside you. You draw your hands up under your chin automatically, but he takes them and draws your arms down to your sides, baring your body for his hungry gaze.

“You are more breathtaking than the Euphrates running red with the blood of my enemies,” he murmurs, brushing his fingertips over the peaks of your breasts and smiling as your nipples pebble under his touch. 

You smile and shake your head, gazing up at this gorgeous man and feeling, for once, entirely worthy and beautiful in someone else’s eyes. You joined roller derby hoping to gain some body-positivity, some confidence--which you have. But still, you’ve never before felt so attractive and powerful. Nandor bends down to kiss you, running one hand along the line of your neck and letting the other roam over your belly and down between your thighs. He strokes through your still wet slit, spreading your slick and rolling your clit between his fingers until you’re mewling into his lips. 

“You know…” Nandor murmurs, pushing your legs apart and shifting to seat himself between them, “there’s more than one reason they call me relentless, little human.”

The sound that falls from your lips is half-gasp and half-moan. He slides the head of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your arousal before finally--finally--pressing forward at your entrance. Even after a month of pining and yearning for this you still tense up at the final moment and Nandor kneads his hands into your hips with a soft coo, “Relax yourself, my mortal…”

He leans down to press a rough-stubbled kiss along the edge of your jaw as he finally slips inside of you and you feel, for the first time, the impossible and wonderful sensation of being filled by your lover as he gradually pushes deeper. For several seconds the pressure of him inside of you is all you can think about and it’s overwhelming. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, digging your teeth into the already healed skin.

“Does it hurt?” he asks, and there’s a distinctly vampiric edge of lustful curiosity that accompanies his concern. He’s rolling his hips against you in a slow, steady rhythm. 

“Mmhmm,” you murmur without removing your teeth from his neck. 

He slips a hand between your bodies and finds the hardened bud of your nipple with his fingers, rolling and stroking it as he continues rocking into you with deeper and deeper thrusts.

“Not for much longer,” he promises with a teasing pinch to your nipple.

His pace increases as the pain gradually ebbs into a delicious, burning ache that builds and builds. You throw back your head, keening each time he buries himself inside you. Nandor’s mouth falls open and he dips his head to run his lips over the throbbing pulse of your throat, feeling the rush of your hot blood beneath the surface and losing the steady control of his movements as he frantically ruts into you. 

“Mine, mine, mine,” he cries, wrenching his mouth away from your neck and instead slamming his lips to yours with an anguished moan as he goes rigid, pushing deeper inside of you as his release tears through him. He jerks his hips several more times, reaching between you to put his fingers on you and coax you towards your own peak as he softens inside of you.

He finally slips out of you, collapsing onto the rug at your side with a heavy groan. He hugs you to his chest, tucking your head beneath his chin and humming in pleasure. His skin is almost warm with your borrowed body heat, but where you are covered in a fine sheen of human sweat, he is as smooth and unaffected as ever.

Your muscles shake with involuntary tremors and he strokes his hands down your back comfortingly.

“Shut your eyes,” his voice is a low rumble that you can feel where your head rests against his chest. “Rest, my love.”

The word sends a warm rush around your heart and you smile, burying your face into his lovely chest hair. 

All your insecurities about the upcoming orgy are forgotten as your limbs grow heavy with exhaustion. You’re just starting to drift to sleep under the steady feel of his hands smoothing over your back when a sudden thought pops into your head.

“Nandor!” you poke your head up to meet his eyes. “Am I going to turn into a vampire?!”

He furrows his brow as he asks, “Why would you think that, human?”

“Well...I drank your blood…” you explain, relaxing back into his chest now that it seems you’re not on the brink of transitioning into an unholy creature of the night without warning.

Nandor laughs, “I would have to drink your blood first...almost all of it. And then feed you my blood. No, my human, you won’t become a vampire...not yet.”

You nod your head absently, letting your eyes drift shut without fully absorbing his last words.

---

A/N: ?????????

Tags:

@festering-queen​ @kandomeresbitch​ @strangestdiary​ @glitterportrait​ @scuzmunkie​ @redwoodshadows​

[natexarnoult]

hey all!! my name is mads and i’m 23, use she/her pronouns, and live in mst! i’m so excited for y’all to meet nathan - he’s a char i’ve had in mind for a while and i’m stoked to finally bring him to life! i’ve included some main points about him under the cut, along with his bio and a couple extras for him - please message me if you’d like to plot :D 

Nathan comes from a single-mother household... at least, until he was in high school.

Nate knows who his father is and is trying to build a relationship w/ the man but is still hurt from his mother hiding his father’s identity & not hiding the truth.

He is very much a ‘trust-fund’ kid but is working hard to distant himself from his parents’ wealth and build a name that isn’t connected to his parents.

Nathan truly is a sweetheart but has a hard time expressing this to those he cares about - he grew up in a home that wasn’t welcoming to affection and is still trying to break this habit.

He’s been in Heartsdale for several years and I’m so open to creating some pre-existing connections with him! Friends, ex friends, exes, enemies - anything! Please just message me so we can chat :)

He graduated from UCLA with an art history degree but is more interested in actually making art than learning about it - he travels a lot as he likes to make his show room diverse and brings in pieces from all around the country.

Nathan lives above his gallery but spends most of his time outside of both his gallery and his apartment - it’s either a midlife crisis and he regrets his choices or he’s just trying to meet new friends, who knows?

His pinterest is here and is constantly being update; please follow me if you feel so inclined!

Annnnnd: bio here as well:

Nate’s parents met while his father was on a school trip. A senior studying art history at Harvard, he’d taken the trip as an excuse to ‘see the world’ - if that world meant England, sure. His mother was the manager at a museum they visited on the trip & his father found himself returning to her canvas filled institute daily. They spent hours talking, sharing their love of paintings and critiquing some of the pieces her museum had chosen to display. Neither of them wanted to admit that their time together would be coming to a close - his trip was only for 3 weeks over the winter holidays - but on his last day in the country, Nathan’s father left a note within her bedside drawer, his address and phone number scrawled sloppily across a spare receipt & he snuck out before the sun was up. Saying goodbye would be too hard.

He returned to the States. He graduated. He got a job. He went years without hearing from the woman he’d met. One day, when his father was leaving The Met - he’d become a director of programs - his eye landed on a woman who looked so familiar, her hand clutched by a child, no older than 10. That moment was Nate’s first memory of his dad.

He remembers sitting in his dad’s house, a wide and bright space that was 20 minutes from where they’d met on those huge steps. This man had given them a ride and was now setting tea in front of his mother, but Nate was playing with his dog. He remembers snippets of the conversation - his mom was apologizing a lot. Apparently she hadn’t wanted to see him. They were in the States to visit her sister, Nate’s aunt. He remembers that this man kept looking between his mom and him & he looked so confused. Finally, he remembers a silence falling over the room and the man asked a question. Nate couldn’t make it out but his mother’s response was clear, definite; “Yes. He’s yours.”

At the time, Nate had no idea what that meant. He hadn’t yet been given the talk and his mother didn’t explain her relationship to this man. She introduced him - Nathan couldn’t remember his name - and said that he was an old friend from college. But soon, he found himself with this man more often. His mother invited him to join them at his aunt’s birthday party. When they flew back home to England, his mother would often be stuck on the phone with her old friend from college. One day, a year or so after their New York trip, his mother was picking him up from school, nervously pressing her thumb nail into the steering wheel. She asked if he remembered her friend from college, the one they’d seen while in New York. Nate did. She asked if he’d like to take another trip to New York to see his aunt, to see her old friend from college & maybe stay longer this time - like maybe the whole summer holidays?

They stayed the whole summer and when fall came around and it was time for Nathan and his mother to return home, he was sad - he was going to miss his aunt, he was going to miss the excitement of living Stateside. The rest of his year was almost a blur - his school year went by relatively painlessly, though he had begun to feel the hurt of being one of the only brown kids in school - and eventually spring had returned. His mom, again, sat him down and began asking questions. Eventually, and now Nate was smart enough to see where this was going from the start, she asked Nate how he would feel about moving to the States, about living with his aunt for a while. The move itself was quick and before he knew it, Nate and his mother settled in the States. He spent his days at school and his afternoons in extracurriculars - his new school had an art program that Nate was excelling in. They spent nights hanging out with his aunt or his mom’s college friend and for the first time in his young life, Nate felt comfortable. His mom’s friend had begun taking him to the museums, explaining the complexities of the canvas hanging on the walls and asking for his opinion on the work.

When Nate was about halfway through his junior year of high school, his mother and her college friend were both in the car when he was picked up from school. It wasn’t entirely all that weird - he wasn’t dumb enough to think that they weren’t dating, but Nate did always wonder why his mother never broached the subject with him. It’s not like he was a little kid anymore, for fuck’s sake - if your kid is old enough to date, they’re old enough to know who you’re dating. Nate probably couldn’t tell you the rest of what happened that day. He remembered getting home and grabbing a snack, as he always does, and he remembered getting told to sit down by his mother, that she had something important to tell him.

Nate’s life split into the before and the now - before Stephen was his father & now. While typically a rather well-mannered teenager, Nate was furious. Sure, his mom didn’t have to disclose her love life if she didn’t want to, but to know that Stephen was his That they’d known since the start and never told him? He thought back to their first visit to New York, when they ran into Stephen on the steps of the Met - he remembered his mom was surprised, thrown off her guard, but never uncomfortable, never not wanting to be around this man.

He slammed the door on his way out of the house, hopping on his bike and riding off. That night was the first night he ever acted out - Nate made it to his friend’s place out in the suburbs and snuck in their basement window. The rest of his friends, along with a couple girls he knew from his English Lit class, were circled around a small table, upon which sat a small tray & a bong. Nate welcomed the small act of rebellion, in the face of such shocking news, & spent his night testing his limits.

His parents, as he now so affectionately referred to them as, soon regretted telling Nate at such a volatile age. He soon spent all his evenings with his friends, sneaking into the house after midnight (if he’s early) and going straight up to his room. They tried not to push it and Nate was torn between appreciating being left alone and pissed that no one cared how he felt. His mom had tried to address it a couple times but Nate always shut down, refusing to give her more than a two word response.

It went on like that for 2 years, silence, short answers, tension. At 18, Nathan found himself going off to college, moving across the country to attend UCLA. He lived off his parents money, figuring the least they could do after years of absconding from the truth. And he lived lavishly - drinks on him every time his friends went to the bars, new clothes, new shoes, everything he could want.

He graduated with minimal rule infractions, an MIP here, possession of controlled substance there. But his parents always paid for a lawyer, flew out for the week and handled everything for him. After college, Nathan bounced around for a year, spent a couple months in LA, three in New York, and another 6 or so in a van his parents had financed, driving around the US.

Six months on the road proved to be exhausting, however, and Nathan found himself back in one of his first stops at the start of his trip, Heartsdale. It wasn’t long before he signed a lease on an apartment downtown and spent his days as a barista at Legal Grounds. He didn’t necessarily need the job - his parents still financed his whole life - but it was nice to have something to meet people in town. After a while, however, being a barista became boring. Nate spent his time admiring the local work they had pinned for sale on their walls, admiring the fine line work and critiquing in the way he’d spent four year training to do. On a walk, he found himself fantasizing about owning his own gallery, having his space to curate an experience. Nate’s eyes caught on every single ‘For Lease’ sign downtown, pausing and forcing himself not to take a peek inside. It wasn’t reasonable, he told himself. Irrational, at best. He had no experience managing anything, no experience building something from nothing.

And yet… he couldn’t help. One brisk morning, the sun was bright against a For Lease sign, practically screaming the numbers at him. His fingers were typing the numbers into his phone before he even realized what he was doing. It was 4:23am, the downside of an opening shift at a coffee shop, and he wasn’t expecting anyone to pick up anyway. “Morning, uh,” he paused - was he really doing this? “My name is Nate Arnoult and I’m interested in the space you’ve got on 1st and..”

Moving in was quick, it only took 6 months before Nathan settled in the space above the retail spot. He spent his first night with his friends, drinking and dancing. His friends, just as ecstatic as he,  commended him - Nate had been hemming & hawing about opening a gallery space for months and to finally have a space, a place to start… Nathan was on cloud nine. And it went better than he thought it did. The art scene extended out of his small town and he was able to show pieces from all over Georgia. He even flew out to other states, offered small artists a space in his show room.  The rest, he supposed, is history. He’s been living a comfortable life and still maintains contact with his parents, despite their rocky past - not friendly, but not fatal either.

[rpmemesbyarat]

People break up for reasons besides just infidelity or abuse. Yet, most of the time in the RPC, the only exes that a character ever has seem to be either abusers or cheaters. There’s rarely any middle ground between “absolute true love forever soulmate” and “absolute ex from hell that it’s absurd they ever got with in the first place given how two-dimensionally awful they are” And, frankly, I think that’s an immature perspective. The reality is that a great many failed relationships are far less dramatic, and there can be many other reasons why a couple doesn’t work out, and many of those are NOT the fault of either party (though perhaps that’s why they don’t appeal to many people, since it means their character wasn’t the victim and the other person wasn’t the villain; I notice a lot of people have a real thing for that) Here are some non-abusive, non-cheating reasons for a breakup: - Differing political views. Maybe their differing politics didn’t matter to them when they first got together, but a few years down the road, it became a bigger issue, especially if something very politically divisive started going on in the country. Or perhaps they didn’t differ politically at first, but one or both of them changed their views later on. This can also apply to religion or any other strong belief (veganism, feminism, even following a certain band if they make a lifestyle out of it) People can certainly believe very different things and still be in love, but our political, religious, etc beliefs do permeate our everyday life very strongly---what media we consume (or refuse to consume), what religious centers we attend or holidays we observe, what crowds we hang out with---and it can make a lot of relationship hurdles come up that many people aren’t prepared to deal with. - They got together without intending for it to be something lifelong, but then one person wanted it to be, and the other person still didn’t, so they broke it off then. The person who caught feelings isn’t in the wrong, they couldn’t help that, nor is the person who DIDN’T in the wrong either. They probably both made the healthiest choice in that scenario by splitting. - Wanting to live different places, wanting different lifestyles, etc. John and Burt work well as a couple, but now that they’re getting serious, they have a discussion about what they each really want, and John wants to raise a family in the city, while Burt wants to travel the wilderness in a camper with just the two of them and maybe a dog. They might try to compromise, but these ideals are so far from each other that they decide it’s for the best to split up now before things get any more serious and one of them has to sacrifice his dreams. - Somebody moves for whatever reason (for a job, to take care of ailing family, etc) and the other person can’t or won’t come, and they grow apart. Sometimes long distance relationships work, sometimes they don’t. It has nothing to do with how “truly in love” the pair are or how good/faithful/devoted/etc someone is. Sometimes it just doesn’t work. - One or both of them changed. Maybe Susan and Jim were great together for awhile when they were BOTH stoner college kids, but now Susan has gotten serious, has a steady job, etc., while Jim is still a stoner college kid without the college. - One person is mentally ill and the other person cannot support them as well as they thought they could. Again, this does not make anyone bad or evil. It doesn’t mean that the other person didn’t love them enough, it’s just one of those shitty things that’s not anyone’s fault. Similarly, one person goes through some huge emotional upheaval and the other person can’t handle it. Which, okay, bailing on someone in their time of need IS shitty, but in a different way than the “abusive and/or cheater” cliche. Also, an emotional upheaval can dramatically change someone’s personality, often for the worse, and it can be more than the other person ever thought they were signing up for. - Incompatible sexuality. I don’t just mean that somebody came out of the closet (though that can be an option as well) but as in what each person wants in the bedroom is very different. Compromise is a part of any relationship, of course, including in bed (or wherever you’re doing it) but as with John and Burt, if you’re just so different that one person won’t be enjoying themselves no matter what you do, it’s sometimes healthier to call it quits. - One person realizes they’re polyamorous, the other isn’t. Again, no bad guys here. The polyamorous person is not a slut who threw away true love to chase strange tail, the monogamous person is not a close-minded stick in the mud who should have forced themselves to do something they’re not comfortable with. They’re two people with different needs who may have been otherwise compatible, but must go their separate ways on this. - Cultural differences. What wasn’t a big deal while dating might become a very big deal when it comes to becoming a part of someone’s family. - One of them had emotional/trust issues and always split when things were at their best, so they could never be disappointed. -  One of them had emotional/trust issues and always split before they got too close to someone -  One of them had emotional/trust issues and always split. . .you get the idea. Basically, think of any muse you’ve ever written as or with, and why they would split without the other person being to blame, and that can be why this muse’s ex did. - Beginning to feel like a mother rather than a girlfriend. I left the others gender-neutral, but from what I’ve found, this seems to happen mainly to women in m/f relationships. The guy seems great in all other regards, dating goes well, etc., but once they’re living together, it seems like he depends on her to clean up after him, do his laundry for him, manage all the bills and taxes and other paperwork, etc. There can be a multitude of reasons for this, but if he won’t change, the lady isn’t in the wrong to leave. And, okay, this one is definitely someone’s fault (his) but it’s still different than being an abuser or a cheater. - Addiction. It can happen to the best people, and it destroys them. A person is not bad to put their own well-being first if their addicted partner won’t---or can’t---change. - One person was just a real slob. Look, I had a roommate once who was great in almost every other way, but our condo was a fucking biohazard because of her. And she had good reasons---she struggled with mental illness, as do I---but I now know that’s a big fat dealbreaker for me, and I’m sure it is for a lot of people. - They went through something dramatic together, like an abortion, and just couldn’t soldier through together after. Not all relationships are as strong as the people involved think, and they aren’t bad, shallow, or stupid for it. So, if you need or want for your character to have exes in the past, these are all some good reasons for a “no-fault” breakup! Or some fault, in some cases, but still non-cliche.

[uhoh-but-yeah-alright]

(x)

RARE PAIR FICS

The Sunrise and Your Sins (Ziall | 15k | Explicit) [fic post]

A heartbroken Niall looking to distract himself comes across the most beautiful man he's ever seen.

He'll do.

Rear View (Zaynshaw | 12.5k | Mature) [fic post]

Nick's car breaks down at the start of a road trip and Zayn's the mechanic who tows him to his small town, where it looks like he'll be stuck for a few days.

Mangia Tucci (Harry Styles/Stanley Tucci | 7k | Explicit) [fic post]

Harry’s on holiday with his friends in Italy when he finds himself at the same restaurant as an older actor he’s had a crush on since he was a kid. His excitement is obvious, and he apparently makes an impression, because he ends up receiving an offer he can’t refuse.

Nice Boys Sometimes Kiss Like That (Harry & David Rose (Schitt’s Creek) | 7k | Teen & Up) [fic post]

Harry Styles showing up at David Rose’s latest gallery opening is certainly unexpected. The way he saves David not only from his asshole ex but maybe even his own self-loathing is nothing David could have seen coming. And it might be exactly what he needs.

like air to me (Zouis | 5.5k | Mature) [fic post]

Five times Louis’ smoke break brings back memories of Zayn and one time it brings him back to Zayn’s doorstep.

Tin Roof Series (Zouis | 5k | Gen to Teen & Up) [fic post]

Laws of Silence (200 words) - Zayn and Louis get caught in the rain on a walk through the woods and seek shelter.

Like a Switch (100 words) - Louis’ POV

Truth is Something Desperate (4.7k)  - In the weeks after Louis and Zayn’s sudden and unexpected first kiss, everything changes. All the boys sense that things are different, but no one quite understands what. Including Zayn and Louis. Hopefully more kissing will help them figure it out.

just happy getting you stuck in between my teeth (Zarry | 4.5k | Explicit | established relationship, tender bondage, anxious (pillow princess) Zayn & supportive (pleasure top) Harry) [fic post]

Zayn worries she isn’t enough of a giver in bed. Harry is determined to make her understand that all she wants Zayn to do is enjoy receiving.

I pledge my hands to larger service (Harry Styles/Tim Riggins | 4.2k | Mature) [fic post]

Harry hasn’t seen his high school crush since he graduated over ten years ago. The last place he expected to run into him is in a dark hallway while he’s sneaking out after a one-night stand. They can’t let the coincidence go to waste.  Friday Night Lights AU

Just the 2.0 of Us (Marcel/Harry | 3.8k | Explicit) [fic post]

Marcel’s had a rough day. Luckily, he’s got someone waiting for him at home who’s perfectly suited to help him wind down in exactly the way he needs.

Stable Hand (Zouis, Larry, Harry & Zayn | 3.8k | Mature) [fic post]

Harry and Zayn are wealthy ladies of leisure who bond over their shared interests, namely: dressage and cheating on their awful husbands with the gorgeous young stable boy. Though they both enjoy how submissive Louis is in bed, when they learn he might have it in him to take more control in the bedroom, they decide they might like to try switching things up.

One to Grow On (Lilo | 3.3k | Explicit) [fic post]

Liam’s booked himself a private session for his birthday to finally properly explore his interest in spanking. After all the months of build up, a simple 29 spankings for 29 years would probably be celebration enough. But he and Louis might each have a surprise in store, too.

Amenable (Zouis | 3.2k | Explicit) [fic post]

Zayn guides Louis through a marathon day of fucking, exploring Louis’ submissive side through a series of varied constraints. Louis is game for it all, because nothing makes him feel freer than following Zayn’s rules.

When witches go riding (Girl!Zarry | 3k | Explicit) [fic post]

Harry finds out Zayn is dressing as a witch for a Halloween party they’ll both be attending and hopes that surprising her with a couples costume will pay off.

The Cats that Got the Cream (Lilourry | 3k | Mature) [fic post]

When Louis accidentally releases the tiger trapped in Harry’s thigh tattoo, Harry has to explain not just what the fuck is happening, but that it’s not just a tiger. Luckily, Louis has a secret of his own that might help.

Shoulder ’n’ the Load (Louis/his bandmates | 2.9k) [fic post]

When Louis breaks his arm and ends up in the hospital in traction, Harry comes up with an idea to distract him from the pain and discomfort. Louis’ bandmates are all too happy to pitch in.

A Way So Familiar (Ziam | 2.5k | Teen & Up) [fic post]

Liam wakes up in Zayn’s arms and reminisces about some of their “firsts.”

That’s My Thing (Tomlinshaw | 1.6k | Explicit) [fic post]

Nick comes home to find Louis inexplicably primed for a fight...or perhaps something a bit more interesting.

Softly and Sincere (Girl!Zarry | 1k | Teen & Up) [fic post]

Zayn takes her new girlfriend for a drive. A tiny slice of Girl!Zarry fluff inspired by the Chuck Berry song, "No Particular Place to Go."

Word Play (Lirry | 1k | Teen & Up) [fic post]

Liam's frustrated over grading his students' papers and Harry tries to cheer him up.

Rimadan (Zouis | 786 words | Explicit) [fic post]

Zayn books a private session with sex worker Louis the day after Eid al-Fitr to keep his own personal celebration going.

I got this one. (Shiall | 600 words | Gen) [fic post]

Shawn reflects on the seemingly mundane moment he knew Niall was for him.

Gratuitous (Shiall | 500 words | Mature) [fic post]

Niall taking care of the bill has always turned Shawn on. Sometimes he feels the need to thank him immediately.

When Life Hands You Lemons, Make Pink Lemonade to Match Your Crush’s Lips (Girl!Zarry | 100 words | Gen)

While Zayn is helping her little sister with her lemonade stand, her cute neighbor stops by hoping for something sweet.

Fics with 3 or more people and non-pairing fics are below the cut!

3-SOME+ FICS

Glory Hole-idays series (Larry & Lilo & Zouis & Nouis | 17k | Explicit): Louis mans a glory hole that offers holiday specials.

Prick or Treat? (Halloween | 666 words | fic post)

Gift Opening (Christmas Eve | 2412 words | fic post)

Quiver ‘n’ Hole (Valentine’s Day | 3407 words | fic post)

Hallelujah! He is Jizzin’ (Easter | 2856 words| fic post)

Let Them Eat Cock (Bastille Day | 1789 words | fic post)

Swallowpeen (Halloween again | 666 words | fic post)

Like a Powder Keg About to Explode (Guy Fawkes Day - Niall private session) | 1605 words | fic post)

Punxsutawdry Filled (Groundhog Day | 2222 words | fic post)

Voyeur Eyes Only (International Masturbation Day/Wankers Day | 1111 words | fic post)

Bound and Determined (Zianourry | 7.5k | Explicit) [fic post]

Harry’s had Louis bind him up for when the boys come over to play. Can he handle not being able to touch all that he can see? Seems he’ll have to.

Divide and Conquer That Ass (Zourry | 4k | Explicit) [fic post]

Harry is insatiable. And lately in specific ways that require slightly more parts than Louis has. Louis wants to give Harry everything he wants, and he’s landed on an idea that turns him on just as much as he knows it will Harry. But he needs help.

Enter Zayn.

I Know My Arithmedick (2 + 2 = 4sum) (Zourriam | 3.7k | Explicit) [fic post]

Harry wants to watch Louis fuck someone else. Louis loves giving Harry what he wants. It’s simple math, really.

Take the Middle Path (Zourry | 2.6k | Explicit) [fic post]

Harry’s desires are plentiful and complicated in a way that’s always worried and confused him. Being with Louis and Zayn helps him explore the seemingly disparate aspects of who he is and what he wants, and to realize he doesn’t have to choose just one.

Fall into the Middle of her Greatness (Zourry | 2.5k | Explicit) [fic post]

Harry and Louis are gifted Wizard of Oz themed apparel and are just as eager to try out the roles as they are the garments.

Or: Dorothrry and Tomo aren’t in Kansas anymore.

Pascal’s Triangle Re-revisited (Zouis & Larry | 2.4k | Mature) [fic post]

On the eve of his second Fall semester at community college, Louis finds he can’t sleep, too anxious about seeing his study group for the first time after an eventful last night of the Spring semester and a Summer of silence. Thoughts of two study group members in particular are keeping him awake. Maybe fantasizing about them both can help him get to sleep. Community AU snippet taking place between Seasons 1 and 2.

Glory Whore (Larry + Harry/Multiple Anonymous People | 888 words | Explicit) [fic post]

Harry has an unusual glory hole. Big enough to fit his chest and all his fantasies about the varied ways his tits can be used. Louis’s on his side, always.

We’ve got that one Thing (Zourry | 666 words | Mature) [fic post]

Zayn is less than thrilled with his part of an Addams Family throuple costume. Until Harry and Louis point out the perks.

NON-PAIRING FICS

Pals and Confidantes (OT4 friendship | 2.5k | Gen) [fic post]

The Guys sit around the kitchen table sharing cheesecake and stories of bad dates. Golden Girls AU.

What’s Mine is Yours (Platonic Narry | 500 | Gen) [fic post]

Niall is settling in for a relaxing evening at home when his new neighbor pops by. Seinfeld AU.

[pastelsandpining]

Santa Baby (Christmas List)

The second prompt in 12 Days of Christmas by @zelink-prompts​

Prompt List

**Note: For the stories actually involving Christmas, I and a few other authors changed the holiday to Hylia’s Day (credit to @fatefulfaerie​ for this) so that it’s more relevant to Hyrule

Cover Art: @neezlebums​ be sure to show some love to the original here!

Words: 2264

Summary: For their first Hylia’s Day together after everything that happened, Link just wanted to gift Zelda something special.

**If I don’t have explicit warnings, read with caution. It simply means there’s nothing I could think of that could be potentially triggering, but I could’ve just missed something. In that case, please let me know and I’ll be more than happy to put a warning!**

BotW, post-calamity with angry child Eggbert because I said so

Zelink-mas 2020  l  Masterlist

Relearning everything about his past and about Hyrule was no easy feat. A world that was so familiar yet so foreign still left him unsettled at times, because he was a young adult trying to understand the things that nearly everyone else grew up with. It was fascinating to learn about traditions and holidays and how they came to be, and he did genuinely want to know everything he once knew and more.

It was how he’d ended up awake until the break of dawn, listening to Zelda tell stories of Hyrule’s past. She was in her element when she got to research or explore or teach. Watching her was something he felt incredibly lucky to do, much less sit so close to her on the bed while they poured over books. He wanted to be as prepared as possible.

He’d heard of Hylia’s Day before, but it would be his first time experiencing it (that he could remember). Zelda explained it as a celebration of love and giving, of friendship and of victory. She told him of the festivals they used to hold, and the balls they’d been forced to attend, and of the parties they used to have. She told him of the traditions of gift giving and of family gathering.

And when they finally settled down to sleep, Link asked her what she wanted for Hylia’s Day. She replied just as she always did—that she already had all she could ever want.

It didn’t stop him from trying, though. He brought it up at the most nonchalant of times, during breakfast or trips across the kingdom. He would listen intently every time she spoke, more so than usual, and tried to pick up on any instance of an “I want”. Only once did she give a direct answer, saying she wanted a Silent Princess. 

Link was not satisfied with that. It wasn’t special enough, so he took it upon himself to fill Zelda’s nonexistent Hylia’s Day List.

He didn’t expect to feel as nervous as he did when the day actually came around.

“How does this look?” came the voice of Zelda from behind him. Link paused the stirring of his soup to turn around and answer her question. She’d been adjusting the decorations all morning, no matter how many times he’d promised her they looked fine.

“It looks perfect,” he replied. “Just like everything else.”

“Well, good, because I want this to be perfect,” she said, making her way to his side. “It’s the first Hylia’s Day we’ve had since—the first I’ve had outside of a castle. Getting to decorate and set everything up however you want is incredibly stressful. I want our friends to be comfortable and happy.”

“You worry too much,” stated Link in return, bumping her with his shoulder.

“I happen to worry a perfectly healthy amount, for your information.”

He chuckled and turned back to his task at hand: finishing up their dishes for the celebration. The traditions called for a family gathering, and their family was large in both number and size. A little extra wouldn’t hurt, even if their friends were all bringing their own dishes.

“You look beautiful, by the way,” he continued. Zelda’s cheeks flushed, even after a hundred years, and it made him want to smile. He loved when she wore things that were too big for her, including the white sweater that she had to keep pulling the sleeves up on because they were too long. The golden linings made it look fancier than it really was, but she called it comfortable on more than one occasion and it was soft to the touch, so it was one of his favorites too. 

“Thank you,” she replied, hugging his arm. “I dressed myself and everything.”

“Wow, impressive,” he stated, pulling his arm free so that he could take the bread out of the oven. He didn’t miss the roll of her eyes before she turned back to the tree tucked into the corner. 

“I can’t help thinking something’s missing,” she said. Link placed the pan on a rack before turning to face her again, reaching for one of her hands.

“It’s perfect,” he repeated, spinning her to face him. “The only thing missing is a star at the top, but I don’t think you’d fit.”

She gave his hand a gentle swat and huffed.

“You’re ridiculous.” But she was smiling anyway, and that was enough of a gift for him. He considered pulling her closer, spinning her around and trying to get her to laugh, but there was a knock on the door before he could. Link let go of her hand so she could answer it, and he was unsurprised to see Purah bouncing on her feet at the door, with Symin behind her carrying a far too large bag, probably full of presents. 

“Check it!” she exclaimed--her form of a greeting, apparently. “Happy Hylia’s Day, you rascals! I’ve been looking forward to this all year!”

“Purah,” Zelda greeted. “It’s lovely to see you again!”

“You can put the bag down here,” Link told Symin, gesturing to the area under the stairs after shutting the door, keeping the cold outside. Now that Purah had stolen Zelda away for some excited conversation about Sheikah technology, Link had an opening. “Did Robbie manage to.. do the thing?”

“Fix it up? Yeah, I heard he and Purah talking last night. He was able to restore it, but I don’t know if it’ll have all the same functions as before,” Symin answered, his voice lowered to keep anyone from hearing. Some tension in Link’s shoulders relaxed. That was one thing checked off the list—the one thing he was really nervous about.

“I’m gonna owe Robbie an entire decayed guardian for this.”

“He’ll take payments in increments.”

Link snorted and shook his head. As eccentric as Robbie was, he was positive the Sheikah would try and refuse payment. But Link didn’t exactly need his permission to haul a decayed guardian up to Akkala’s Tech Lab, so it would turn out either way. He just hoped, with a glance towards Zelda, that it was the right gift.

“Is there anything I can do to help?” Symin asked. 

“You could take coats by the door,” Link joked as another knock echoed through their house. 

He was pleased to see Sidon, Impa, and Paya were the next to arrive. But he didn’t get much of a greeting out before Sidon, crouching to get through the door, lifted him from the floor in a crushing hug.

“Happy Hylia’s Day, Link! Lovely to see you!” 

All Link could really do was pat Sidon’s shoulder in return until his feet were returned to the ground. 

The arrivals began increasing faster than he expected, with Teba and his family arriving next—with Kass in tow, of course.

“I’m worried we won’t have enough space,” Zelda stated suddenly, scaring the living daylights out of him. “We could move it outside, but we’d need a fire. I’m sure the Rito are fine with the cold, but we could give everyone else some blankets and coats. Do Zora get cold?”

“I don’t think so,” Link replied, furrowing his eyebrows. “The water in East Reservoir Lake wasn’t exactly warm, and Ruta hurling ice blocks at us didn’t make it any better.” He was still bitter that he didn’t think to use Cryonsis until he’d already been knocked off of Sidon twice. 

“But the Zora are used to water, so perhaps they’re used to the cold as well.”

“Why don’t we just ask?” Link pointed out, bumping her with his shoulder. “We have a Zora.”

“You say that like Sidon is a pet,” Zelda scolded, crossing her arms. 

“He’s basically a huge Hylian Retriever, yes.”

“Besides, would it be rude?”

Link grinned and ruffled her hair as he said, “Nothing is rude in the name of science.”

“Except eating a frog, apparently,” Zelda bit back, swatting at his hand.

“Oh, let it go,” he laughed. “I ate tons of frogs.”

“And?” she asked, lifting an eyebrow with a smug smile.

“You were right.”

“What are you two love birds talking about?” Sidon asked, and Link jumped for the second time that day. How could someone so large sneak up on him so easy, even if there was a good bit of noise in the house?

“Sidon!” Zelda said quickly, her cheeks flushed with pink. “We were just discussing moving everything outside.”

“Brilliant idea! Do you need help moving anything?” 

Link thought of assuring Sidon he was a guest and didn’t need to lift a finger, but apparently those gears in Zelda’s head were turning.

“No, but we have a few extra strings of fairy lights,” she replied, tapping her chin. “We could put lights on the tree outside!”

“You,” Sidon said as he picked her up. “are a little genius, Princess! Everyone, outside!”

Link hardly got a word in before they were out the door. All he could do was laugh at them with a warm smile. This was more than he ever could’ve wanted.

“It’s good to see you happy.”

Kass was smiling at him, just in that way where he looked like he knew all he was thinking. 

“Holiday cheer,” Link replied with a shrug, but Kass hummed.

“Ah, yes. Holiday cheer and nothing to do with dear Zelda.”

“Well,” Link sputtered, glancing towards the door everyone else had gone out of. “She helps. How’s, uh, how’s your song coming?”

“Rather well, actually. I think she’ll be pleased with it. Come, we’re missing all the fun.”

And Kass was right. Riju and Teba’s son were chasing each other around the pond, occasionally being joined by other village children, and Yunobo was being used as a rock pile to climb over in the process—not that he looked to mind it much. Buliara was observing carefully from her perch on the ramp, discussing something with Teba and Saki, and he was pleased to see they were all smiling. 

Impa was busy scolding Purah for something, and Robbie was coming to her defense, and whatever Symin had interrupted with made them all laugh. 

And then, to his (pleasant) horror, he found Zelda and Paya up in the tree, wrapping strings of lights around the bare branches. Sidon was underneath, wrapping another string around the trunk. They were having far too much fun with it.

Zelda spotted him from her perch and waved, and he had no choice but to join them in the decorating.

A little later into the evening, they sat around a campfire that turned out to be a joint effort and swapped various stories while they ate—stories about the Champions, who were there in spirit, about troubles they’ve solved, and other funny recalls of their lives. Link tried to listen, but his attention shifted every time he saw Zelda next to him with a smile on her face.

A gathering so wonderful wasn’t complete without swapping gifts. They’d given and received so many things, but Link chose to wait until everyone was finished to approach Zelda with his gift. Upon seeing the big box, she lifted an eyebrow.

“Alright. I know a Silent Princess isn’t this big, so what could you have possibly gotten me?” she asked, sitting in front of the crate. Link only shrugged and gestured for her to open it up. 

Her careful fingers pulled the ribbon apart and she took the lid with both hands. He watched her closely, nervous for what her reaction would be. 

Zelda was quiet for a moment, her eyes locked on the contents of the box. When she lifted her head to look at him at last, there were tears glistening in the firelight. 

“Where did you find him?” she asked, her voice shaking.

“He was in that same crate on a shelf in your study. I brought it to Robbie and he was able to restore it,” he explained as he pressed the Sheikah Slate into her hands. Zelda tapped the screen with trembling fingers, and he bit back the urge to take her hand. 

A soft beep filled the air and a blue light burst from the crate. A metal claw gripped the edge of the box, then a blue eye appeared and flipped its lid in greeting. 

Zelda pressed a hand over her mouth and reached the other out towards the little guardian they’d found and studied all those years ago. It beeped again, pleased with her recognition, then scuttled out from the crate.

“It’s in near perfect condition. How did it get..?” But she decided she didn’t care and instead wrapped her arms tightly around Link, whispering out a million thank you’s. All he could do was press a kiss to her head and hold her close.

There were so many things he’d wanted to give her. There were so many things he wanted to say. But he knew of her love for the ancient technology, and he knew of her love for him. 

Even if her list hadn’t truly existed, he wanted to give her something special. He wanted to give her everything and more, but for now, he was okay just giving her comfort that he remembered. 

He remembered her, and he remembered their adventures, and he remembered her interests.

He remembered.

And by the kiss she’d given him, to the delight and cheering of the others, he thought it turned out to be the perfect gift after all.

Well, until the little guardian butted in with its opinion in not so polite beeps, but some things simply couldn’t be helped. 

[hallowxiu]

Jackets, Cold Winter Days, and the Feeling of Your Hand in Mine

pairing: levi x gn!mc 

word count: 1.9k

summary: You spend some quality time with your favorite demon boy.

a/n: it doesn’t get cold here but i thought this would be cute, plus i wanted to show leviathan and his stans some love LOL hopefully i did it some justice 

also this is only half edited, so i’m sorry if there’s any typos and errors. :)

It was cold. So, so cold as you stand huddled at a bus stop, your hands crammed into the pockets of your thin coat. You hadn’t planned on it being so cold when mapping out your trip back to the human realm, so you didn’t prepare any thicker clothes for your trip. Not that the Devildom exactly had any of that, as a cold day down there was still considered hotter than your average summer day. You’re tapping your foot against the ground impatiently as you look straight ahead, refusing to admit to the world that you were currently freezing your ass off. Upon finding out you were returning to the Devildom as requested by Lord Diavolo, Lucifer and Satan wasted no time in cornering you and asking if you would be okay in the colder climate. You had only laughed them off, reminding them that you had grown up there and not in the Devildom, despite how quickly you had adjusted.

Of course those words were biting you in the ass now. While you adjusted to everything in the Devildom rapidly, it seems almost as if you’ve fallen out of touch with your home realm. You don’t remember it ever being this cold, but everyone around you seemed accustomed to it. “You’re totally freezing your ass off ROTFL.” And the icing on the cake? Leviathan was here to witness it all. You sigh inwardly as you try to somehow make your jacket warmer. Leviathan was fine, the demon completely unfazed. You weren’t necessarily surprised that he wasn’t cold, but you had hoped that he’d at least have a shiver here and there. He was a demon, one that was accustomed to just about anything. He could tough out cold weather just like he could tough out hot weather. 

“I am not.” It was pointless lying, but that didn’t stop you. “If I… if I had just brought the appropriate clothing I wouldn’t be so… chilly.” It’s not exactly admitting you’re cold, but it’s pretty close. Okay, who were you fooling? You were admitting you were cold.

“If you’re cold, just say it.” Leviathan glances at you. He managed to talk not only you, but Lucifer and Lord Diavolo into letting him tag along on your trip. He told you he wanted to visit your stores to see if they had any limited edition anime merch, although unfortunately for him, you lived in a small town. You’re also pretty sure he just wanted to spend time with you without his brothers, but you knew he’d never admit to that. 

“Why? So you can laugh at me?” The two of you were currently waiting at a bus stop as you weren’t exactly… the best driver around. You’ve been in the human realm for about twentyish minutes, and you were waiting at the familiar bus stop to take you back to your apartment. 

“Why would I laugh at you? I mean, it is a little funny that you came back in the winter without bringing any winter clothes, but I’m not cruel enough to outright laugh at you.” You roll your eyes at his comment, though you keep your thoughts to yourself. “If you’re actually that cold though, why don’t you just take my jacket?” You glance at him once again, a reddish tint displayed on his cheeks. “Lucifer would kill me if you came back sick. It’s all I’d hear for the next couple decades.” He’s shrugging off his jacket before you can protest, the demon placing the oversized clothing over your shoulders. “Now put your arms through it and zip it up so you don’t catch a cold.” His cheeks were even darker than they were minutes ago. You find yourself doing as he says, zipping the jacket up once it’s completely on. 

“Thank you.” You manage to give your thanks without stuttering and making yourself look like an idiot in front of the purple haired demon, which you were internally grateful for. Truth be told, you’ve had a crush on the third oldest for a while now, and when you found out that the two of you would be spending time together- alone -and in the human realm, you were beyond excited. That being said, you were also extremely nervous, but overall your feelings were having a party as you silently stood next to the man at the stop. You have no idea how the demon feels about you, if he even wanted to tag along in hopes of spending alone time (which as stated earlier, you had a vague theory about it but you couldn’t be sure), or if he really did just want to do some human realm shopping. “Thanks for coming along with me.” You say quieter than your previous sentence. Leviathan’s cheeks are still red, though not nearly as bad as they were earlier. However, due to your comment, you could see the color deepening once again. 

“It’s not like I came because I wanted to.” He pauses when seeing your face and the brother immediately starts to fiddle with his fingers nervously. “I mean, ugh, okay yes, I did want to come, but not for you!” His face is growing redder and redder as he continues. “I just wanted to shop around! Don’t make it into something it’s not!” You snort to yourself and bring your attention back to ahead, watching as the bus approaches in the distance. Mammon and Leviathan were more alike than they thought; they two could never clearly lay out their feelings without immediately falling apart. It was kind of cute. Okay, it was very cute, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t tiring sometimes. 

“What are you even doing back here?” Leviathan asks as you fish out your wallet from your bag. “It’s not like the holidays are here yet, we still have a couple of weeks before any of that starts up again.” Absentmindedly, he shuffles closer to your side and rests his chin on your shoulder as he watches you dig around for your wallet that you somehow always seem to lose in the bottomless hole that is your bag. 

“Lord Diavolo says that I’ve spent too much time in the Devildom. He thinks I’m going to start losing my connection with the human realm and feel more at ease among demons.” Which, you thought, was some of the reason he originally had you attend RAD, but it was always a guessing game with the future Devildom King. “Solomon also said he was worried I’d start having a hard time relating to other humans.” Maybe they had some merit to their worries, afterall you could barely handle the mild cold. 

“I guess that could be a problem.” He hums in thought. “He does need you to serve as a bridge, so it would defeat the purpose if you lost your connection with one of the realms.” He watches as you gasp in triumph when finding your wallet, and you happily pull the worn object out of your bag. 

Leviathan’s holding onto the edge of your sleeve loosely as he boards the bus with you, staying close to your side as you pay for the two of you. You make your way towards the end of the bus, grabbing an empty seat and having Leviathan slide in next to you. He stays glued to your side, clearly anxious about being surrounded by strangers. “You’re doing great.” You offer some words of support and you smile to yourself when seeing Leviathan blush at your words of affirmation. He’s still clinging to your sleeve and you can’t help but feel your face heat up from the contact. He hides his face in the fabric of your jacket, the demon trying to steady his breathing and his racing heart. You pause slightly from his action, wondering if he was okay or not. “Leviathan..?” 

“I’m alright.” He responds shyly, his grip on you tightening slightly. He takes a moment, though he eventually pulls away from you and settles against the leather set. You worriedly glance at him and you notice a faint tremble to his outline. You press your lips together, unsure of what to do. You knew it was probably just his nerves getting to him again, and that he’d eventually calm down once he got to your apartment. In hindsight, maybe you shouldn’t have taken a bus. 

“We’ll be only in the next ten minutes.” You whisper to him soothingly and you rub at his side gently. “It’ll be a short ride, over before you even know it.” You notice the slight change in his demeanour, Leviathan looking a little bit calmer than he did moments ago. You freeze momentarily when noticing the glances the purple haired brother is sending to your hand closet to him and you feel your heart skip a beat. Did he want to hold your hand? What would happen if it was all a misunderstanding and you offered him your hand just for him to shoot you down? Should you just ignore it-- maybe you’ll just pretend you didn’t see that. But then what if that is what he wanted and you just ignored it? You’d probably crush his esteem, you know how hard it is for that boy to make a move. You decide that being rejected is ultimately better than ruining Leviathan’s entire self esteem, so you place your hand down palm up, offering it for the demon to take should he want to. He tentatively glances at your hand again, his cheeks crimson now (and no doubt yours are matching) as his hand shakily reaches for yours. You instinctively intertwine your fingers with his, your heart slamming against your chest as you try to keep a straight face. How many times have you envisioned this moment? Too many to count, and now it was happening and you had no idea how to act. Every smooth comment you’d ever dreamt up had completely left your mind as you two just sat there, awkwardly staring ahead at the empty seat in front of you, neither one of you wanting to say anything to make the situation even more awkward. 

He didn’t reject you at least, which is something. “Um…” Leviathan’s refusing to look at you and you’re refusing to look at him. This was painful. “My hand isn’t sweaty, is it?” To your surprise, and Leviathan’s as well, a loud laugh leaves you, one that results in passengers giving you dirty looks. “Wait- what’s wrong?” Leviathan asks in a panic, and you can only shake your head in response as tears blur your vision. You cover your mouth with the back of your head, leaning your head on his shoulder as you eventually come back down. 

“That was funny.” You say when noticing that Leviathan was staring at you with large eyes. 

“I’m glad someone thought it was funny. I think everyone on the bus hates us now.” He mumbles under his breath and sinks in his seat, the boy purposely trying to avoid making eye contact with anyone else. 

“Well of course--” you immediately jerk up in your seat and look around wildly. You probably looked like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh, fuck.” Leviathan looks at you with a questioning look. “We missed our stop! Fuck, fuck, fuck. Get up, Levi, get up.” You usher the man out of his seat, though you make a point to still keep his hand in yours. Maybe Lord Diavolo was right, you find yourself thinking as the two of you hurry up to the front of the bus, maybe you are getting out of touch with the human realm. 

Honestly? Who doesn’t even remember where their own stop is?