#he's so humble so smart so polite so friendly and on top of that he is handsome as fuck 😭😭😭😭😭😭

[theflyingfeeling]

the love of my entire life

[xxxavo]

Sin getting upset bc he see’s Kouen flirting with his s/o (I mean they both already don’t like each other).So sins getting all alpha dog and is trying to get him to bck off

Requested by: anonymous

Warnings: A hint of verbal NSFW towards the end? (better known as...LIMEy) Not swear words but a few rude words? Idk

Suddenly getting back into Magi so might be a few imagines being thrown around here and there, depends on how long this lasts!! Feeling a NSFW scenario manifesting itself into my drafts after writing this, I won't lie, but no actual NSFW content today my little imuchakk's! Hope you enjoy!

Sinbad had always liked banquets, weather they be ones held in the kingdom of Sindria, or at his biggest rivals, the Kou empire. There was something exciting about the prospect of consuming alcohol in foreign lands after an important political meeting that made Sinbad feel on top of the world. It was rare for things in Sinbad’s life not to go his way, or to not end up leading towards something better then what he had lost. For this reason, King Sinbad was to an extent, a go-with-the-flow kind of man. Especially with loyal followers such as his generals and his beloved wife!

His beloved was of course very loyal, incredibly so...but, there were people who did not care for that loyalty of hers. This included a certain Kou empire red head who went by the name of Kouen.

“No need to look so sour, Sin.” Ja’far commented beside him, though he was enjoying the fact his King was abandoning his poor drinking habits to instead stay sober and focused, even if he was focusing on his wife and Kouen Ren flirting. “You told her to be pleasant and friendly towards Kouen to gain his favour. I don’t understand why you’re so jealous.” That was enough to make Sinbads eyes flicker from the generous laughter of his wife to the smug face of his right hand man.

“Me!? Jealous!?”

“Hmm.” Masrur agreed from the other side of Sinbad. The King’s neck practically snapped to the fanalis.

“Why would I, of all people, be jealous?”

“Because you’re wife is a smart, sophisticated lady who could do a lot better than a man who drinks sake and shamelessly prances around woman as if he was a young teen in his glory years.” Golden eyes met red ones in a baffled expression of offense.

“That’s a low blow, Ja’far.”

“Hmm.” Again, Masrur voiced his opinion rather humbly. Unlike the other two, Masrur had not taken his eyes away from the Queen, curious to see how her little game would play out; He loved how cunning she was.

The Queen, unlike Sinbad, was sensible. When he was busy hiding from Ja’far she was busy doing the work for him and cleaning up all his messes. Masrur liked how through thick and thin she stayed by Sinbad’s side whilst being the role model his country needed. She may as well have been a general. However, that didn’t mean she didn’t find herself sick of him sometimes.

Unfortunately old habits died hard. Sinbad was an infamous lady killer, flirting and charming any woman he deemed beautiful. No longer did he take it any further but Masrur could always see it in the Queen’s eyes whenever she got upset or jealous with his ministrations. As much as she tried to hide it, Masrur was a man who saw much, yet said very little.

The fanalis saw the way the cogs in her head turned the moment Sinbad had told her to “Gain Kouen’s favour in any way you can! I’m sure he’ll be much more linient with me if he enjoys the company of my other half” and the way she made sure her corset was on tighter and her breasts were pushed up higher only confirmed his supicions. Sinbad was about to get a very bitter taste of his own flirtatious medicine.

The Queen was, despite being middle aged, very beautiful. If she wasn’t married to King Sinbad, Masrur was certain many men would be throwing themselves at her feet. Kouen would possibly be one of those.

The next thing Masrur knew a grumpy Sinbad was pulling on his cheek, his gaze in the same direction as his. “What is it Masrur? What are they saying!? Surely you will stick by your King! Unlike this traitor—“

“Tsk.”

“Please Masrur. My wife could be in danger.” Sinbad dramatized. Masrur practically had to stop himself from commenting on how pathetic the King looked. “I need those fanalis ears of yours...”

“Fine.”

“Did you know, you’re my favourite?”

“I swear to Solomon Sinbad if you—“

Drowning out the advisor and the King, Masrur honed his attention on the Queen and Kouen who sat sharing a bottle of red wine.

“Oh no. No more for me please.” Just as Kouen was about to tip some more of the red liquor in her glass, the Queen politely bowed her head, fluttering her lashes. “My tolerance for alcohol isn’t the greatest thing in the world.”

“Oh?.” Kouen hummed, nodding in response before filling up his own. “I expected you to perhaps be a little more like you’re husband.”

“An old drunkard?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But is it not what you meant?”

“I—“ Kouen seemed at a loss for words for a second, perhaps embarrassed, but saved himself rather quickly without a hint of emotion on his face. “What I meant was, a lover of a banquet. Sinbad has attended many, I assumed you would have been more on par with him when it came to drinking and party games.”

The Queen watched Kouen take a sip of his wine, her lips pulling up into a soft smirk. “Something tells me Kouen if I was anything like my husband you wouldn’t want to be sat here with me.” Kouen was slow to place down his drink, his sharp eyes meeting Sinbad’s wife’s.

“Would you rather me sit elsewhere?”

“That’s not what I said.”

“But is it not what you meant?” Now, it was his turn to smirk.

“I—“ With a soft laugh, the regal woman before Kouen grew flustered, picking up her glass and swirling the remaining wine contents around to allow her to look elsewhere. “You really are as they say Kouen. Quite an interesting man. I enjoy getting to know you.” Lifting up her head, the Queen rose an eyebrow, a smile now residing on her face. “Every word I say sinks in doesn’t it?”

“Your highness. If any man does not listen to you, does he really deserve to be in your presence? If my sisters were simply cast aside, I wouldn’t be so forgiving to the suitor who was to do that.” It was a lie, the Queen had heard of Kouen and his family sending off the young princess to he married to a King who wanted nothing more then a pretty face. Was there more to the story? Most likely. But was that the gist of it? Yes. However, to indulge both Kouen and continue to gain the nervous attention of her husband shuffling in his seat, the Queen sighed out gently.

“You’re close to your family...?” It was hard to hear the rest, Sinbad practically chewing off his own hand right beside Masrurs ear.

“What are they saying!?” Simply, Masrur shrugged. “Something about family.” It was no fun telling Sinbad everything. Groaning, Sinbad flopped back into his seat, picking up his wine with a pout.

“It doesn’t taste the same knowing at the end of the night she’s not going to be dragging me back to our room...”

“Who? Her highness?” The three men all turned abruptly to face Kogyoku, who smiled sheepishly. “I’m awfully sorry...” she stuttered out. “I didn’t mean to pry, I just came to say hello and over heard you talking."

Knowing that any ill intentions towards Kougyoku’s older brother would harm his reputation with the Kou empire, Sinbad put on his best charming smile, acting as though he wasn’t emotionally conflicted on the inside. “Ah Princess. What a pleasure to be seeing you again. Are you enjoying the banquet?” With a smile, the pinkette nodded her head.

“I am very much your highness. I hope you’re also enjoying yourself.” With that, her eyes flickered upwards to the Queen of Sindrian and the most influential man in the whole of the Kou empire. “It seems her highness is enjoying herself to. I’ve never seen Kouen so invested in somebody. It’s a real testimony to your wife.” Kougyoku was of course NOT JEALOUS. Not once had she imagined herself sat on Sinbad's lap as he whispered sweet nothings into her ear! Nether the less, she continued her façade, knowing that after all it was her duty.

”They’re so deep in conversation, I wonder what they’re talking about.” Her words aren’t helping the purple male.

“As do I...”

“Kouen seems so relaxed around her highness. They really do get along don’t they?” Was she trying to give him a heart attack?

With a delightful laugh Sinbad nodded before finally rising to his feet. "They do indeed. In fact I feel a little bit left out. Perhaps I should pau the two a visit. Excuse me Princess, I do hope of seeing you again soon." Lifting her hand to his lips, Sinbad placed a soft kiss to the back of her hand before walking towards his wife and that thing trying to take her away. The King of Sindria looked at peace with all around him as he strode over, all intentions of causing havoc and disrupting the calm atmosphere completely gone for his being. At least it looked that way. If it didn't, he wouldn't have been a good King.

The two at the table saw him coming before he arrived and where as Kouen greeted him with a cut nod, seemingly displeased he was interrupting his time with his wife, who simply sent him a passive smile.

"Ah Your highness." Not Sin, not Sinbad, not my King, not my love. Just your highness. "Me and Kouen here--" Yet they were on first name basis? "Were just discussing-- Hmmph!"

As done many times before by the womanizer, Sinbad encased the back of his wife's head, bringing her face towards his own and then slamming their lips together in a rather mighty display right in front of the red princes eyes. He made sure it lasted. And his Queen? Who was she to deny Sinbads advances? As usual she practically melted into his affectionate assault, fragile hands moving to clasp at Sinbad's robes in an attempt to lull him closer...but two could play at that game. Pulling back from his beloved, Sinbad made sure to smirk, staring into her eyes for a brief moment. It was his way of saying "I'll get you back for this".

The sexual tension was undeniable and Sinbad had hoped Kouen could sense her thighs rubbing together like he could, because that was the closest Kouen would get.

"Hm? Talking about what? I didn't quite catch that my Queen."

Meanwhile, back at Sinbad's table, Ja'far sighed in aggravation as he watched the scene Sinbad caused in absolute horror. "Honestly, this man really does test my patience! Can he not just let his wife butter up Kouen! If anything it benefits us!"

"Hmm."

"Just for one second, can he think about anything else other then his-"

"Dick?"

"I was going to say pride but that works too."

[nightswithkookmin]

Goldy I never thought I would reach out to any Jikook blog but after your last post I have to. I am an east asian american and trans. I have never spoken on this issue, commented or posted about this. I am a Jikook supporter but sometimes Jikook supporting blogs don't feel like the friendliest place. I want to thank you for changing my opinion on that. It is an insult to BTS to say Jikook don't know they seem gay or that they don't know what gay looks like. It is an insult to fans like me to say it would be OK to do the things they do if they were cisgendered straight men. I personally saw a few people say or dance around this and they got intimidated by big blogs for it. I would never name names because I beleive in free speech and the right of people to express themselves, as long as it isn't hate speech. Supporting lgbt people and making sure they don't feel endangered is MORE IMPORTANT THAN STANNING A KPOP BAND and I say this as a 4 year long bts and Jikook stan. So many people don't want to touch this issue and I understand why.

But thank you for supporting ACTUAL lgbt people as well as bts and showing stubborn people that BTS mean gay rights when they say gay rights.

I don't know why but this Ask made me cry...

I've been reading it over and over for the past two days and each time I feel humbled by it. Thanks so much for sharing this with me.

I think the era of the obsessed 'kids' and '13 year old shippers' in this space is coming to an end. I think it's time for a more nuanced mature conversation on what it means to ship and stan our faves in today's sociopolitical climate.

Let's intellectualize shipping and use it as a vehicle for social change not just pleasure. Sabotaging political hashtags is a start. Trending and donating to BLM is equally important. Fighting for gay rights and recognition is the next step and a natural progression from here- and about damn time!

Gone are the days where celebrities and idols were immune to accountability and personal responsibility. We live in a world where everyone is required to be converstant in and sensitive to social issues. Awareness is woven into our collective consciousness and for some of us we cannot divorce that from our pleasure receptors.

Hate to quote my pastor but, 'As a kid, I spoke, thought and reasoned like a kid. As I grew up, chilee darling, I put my ghetto ways aside. You feel me?' Lol. Yea, my pastor hood like that. Lol.

The fact of the matter is, BTS has a higher mature demographics now. Majority of us grew with them, if not past them. They are not seventeen anymore, Jin is almost thirty, the youngest in the group is past twenty three and majority of their fanbase are breaching Young Adult well into Adulthood and beyond.

We simply cannot view them with the same lens anymore. If we did, we would be infantilizing them if not enabling them.

We ought to be able to have certain conversations that reflect our age, hearts, backgrounds, experience, values and beliefs.

We can't sit behind our television sets and smart phone screens in this day and age and assume BTS sat through a performance like this and did not for a second think about what it meant, why the crowd cheered at certain moments or even understand the impact, message and intent behind it- especially not when Halsey, an openly bisexual woman and advocate for LGBTG rights is an acquaintance of thiers.

I don't know how a fraction of this fandom can assume BTS would have a collaboration of this nature and not know anything about the gay rights discourse or what queer baiting is or not consider how their actions may or may not be contributing to the marginalization of persons as these- to not have agency and personal responsibility or empathy.

JK cannot stan a gay artist such as Troye Sivan and divorce his music from his sexuality because it flows from it. Not when Troye has openly spoken about the struggles he went through as a closeted gay man, coming out and how that affected his mental health.

JK knows what gay is, he is aware of the struggles queer people face on a daily. His decision to cover, license and recommend songs by this artist is a deliberate act coming from a place of being informed on the matter.

Jimin knows. RM knows. Suga knows.

BTS cannot prepare a speech like this while oblivious to the plight of the LGBTQ plus community. I refuse to believe that simply because it's not true. Anyone who says otherwise is a scammer. Lol.

And I think they are intelligent enough to have cognisance of the fact majority of the world view certain aspects of their home culture as problematic and non-progressive and that this same world is watching them and what they do in this space matters.

They are part of the conversation. And it's in their interest to present themselves as queer a queer friendly band and company by distinctifying themselves from these 'traditional' Kpop bands.

I believe they know that being woke gives them a competitive advantage as MCs and advocates for the youth in today's world.

I believe they are aware certain things in their 'fan service culture' doesn't fly in the space they compete in and want to compete in. They are competing and rubbing shoulders with top LGBTQ plus advocates, sharing seats with them at awards, standing next to them- they best to look sharp.

It's obtuse for anyone to fall on the 'culture' rhetoric to excuse certain behaviors of their idols when actual queer people from and within that same culture fight against it.

Most S. koreans I know and have come across complain about their 'culture' and some even harbor strong resentments against this whole fanservice culture.

Holland, an openly gay Idol from South Korea, has equally spoken out against the 'fan service' culture prevalent within Kpop on several occasions and laments how it depoliticizes queerness and affects actual queer people within S.K.

And isn't it funny that the same conservative Christian population who strongly oppose homosexuality in S.K often lead online campaigns against Jikook for 'promoting homosexuality' because of certain fanservice and skinship they do?

If skinship is normal and fanservice is culture, why does conservative S.K keep pushing back against it? It's their culture uno?! Lmho.

Queer south Koreans and conservative Christians hate fanservice culture and yet here we are using their culture to defend it as if it's all black and white. Lmho.

Did they or did they not see South Korean's reactions to this performance by Jikook? The mixed feelings most had about it?

Men can nibble on men's ear but God forbid they toss them in the air and catch em💀

South Koreans are not a monolith. Their culture is nuanced like any culture. It's not static and not clear cut black and white either.

It's one thing to respect other's culture, it's another to perpetuate it in ignorance. Perpetuating their culture and being religious about it does not allow for the dynamism inherent in their culture.

Troye Sivan talked about how he'd stop in the middle of his concerts and performances upon seeing the hyper fangirls in the front row and then think to himself, 'I know they know I'm gay, so why are they still here...'

And this was before he came out.

Jikook know we know they are queer or that we think of them as queer. When Jimin talks about 'those that love me for me' he knows exactly what he is talking about or rather who he is talking to- it's not these hets I'm afraid.

Troye also talked about being privileged because he lived in a rather queer friendly neighborhood where everyone is gay and so he'd always felt safe coming out.

Isn't that what JK is doing?

Now this is a person who's without a doubt had a lot of influence on JK in his early formative years as an Idol right down to his decision to move into a much queer friendly neighborhood of Itaewon.

They know we know. Jikook is gay.

Thankfully, there are reports of a rising number of LGBTQ plus in South Korea, a lot of allies, a lot of queer folks coming out and a lot of companies opening up to working with gay idols and aspiring idols.

It's such a relief but a lot of work still needs to be done and I stand with them on behalf of Jikook and any queer folk in SK.

My sister is helping me reach out to an LGBTQ plus advocate from Seoul for an interview for my blog. If everything goes well, I'd love for her to share her thoughts on queer passing, queer baiting and fan service within Kpop and how that affects LGBTQ youth in South K.

It's a conversation I'm really passionate about and interested in.

I love me some ships, but I also love me some queer advocacy and human rights uno? Lol.

Thing is, I may quit BTS one day, but I can never quit being me. Being human. Always put the human first is my motto.

Oh and I hear people are plotting to cancel me? Chilee. Y'all do that but:

Let it echo.

Signed,

GOLDY

[leechobsessed]

Book Club

A look back in time to see why Ella, Beatrice and Leila weren’t regularly invited to social functions. 

characters: Ella Sagen, Beatrice Viano (of @juliandev0rak) and Leila Lonan (of @leila-of-ravens) pairing: beaellaleila words: 2.2k warnings: swearing, sneaky use of alcohol

notes: this fic takes place before the events of the game and was inspired by a very specific tea cup that Leila owns, referenced in this fic

“We’re doing what?” Beatrice half-whines, half-exclaims, literally dragging her feet as Leila pulls her toward the door.

“We’re going to a book club,” Ella repeats, sighing. She and Leila had, unbeknownst to Beatrice, enrolled them in a group that reads and discusses books in an attempt to expand their social circle.

“I haven’t even read the book!” Beatrice protests, yanking her hands from Leila to fold them across her chest. “Isn’t that the only prerequisite for such a club?”

“Did you read that book I lent you last week? That one romance novel?” Leila asks, mirroring her friend's stance. Beatrice nods slowly. “Then you read the book.”

“You— you… tricked me into reading a book?”

“Yes and no. Trick is a bad word for it, seeing as no one has ever needed to work very hard to convince you to read something.” Ella sighs again. “Come on, Beatrice, it’ll be fun. You have a very keen literary eye, and it will be a good chance to meet people.”

“Who came up with this idea anyway?”

“Me?” Leila shrugs. “Maybe your aunt? Or maybe Ella? Hard to say, it became a bit of a team effort.”

The hazel-eyed magician purses her lips at her two friends, who have come to stand next to each other, smushing their cheeks together and batting their eyelashes at her.

“Pleaaassee?” they whine in unison, which makes Beatrice laugh.

“Fine!” She huffs, grabbing her cloak from the back of her kitchen chair. She disappears into her bedroom and emerges a moment later, clutching the book Leila had given her the week prior. “It wasn’t even that good of a novel.”

“I didn’t think it was terrible,” Ella offers, but is quieted by Leila’s finger pressed to her lips.

“Hey! The whole point of this is to discuss the book with others!”

“Isn’t that what I was just doing?” Ella asks, her voice muffled from the finger against her mouth.

“Don’t get smart with me, Ellanora. We’ll be late to our own party if we don’t hurry up.”

The three women exit Beatrice’s home and wait patiently for her to lock up, then immediately lock arms and start down the street.

“Where are we going?” Beatrice asks, adjusting the book under her arm.

“To my place,” Leila answers.

“What about Leda?”

“She’s at my house,” Ella responds. “Your aunt Cora should be heading over there soon for their own version of a girls night.”

Beatrice shakes her head. “Was everyone in on this aside from me?”

“Pretty much,” Ella laughs, giving her a kiss on the top of the head. “Don’t worry. This will be fun,” she says again, though Beatrice remains less than convinced.

At Leila’s home, Beatrice and Ella hurry up the stairs to the living area and begin to pull couches and chairs around a tea table, while Leila starts a pot of tea in the kitchen.

“How many people are you expecting?” Beatrice asks, frowning at the number of chairs they’ve gathered. “And who exactly are they?”

“Four?” Leila says, though it’s more of a question and she peeks out of the kitchen at Ella for confirmation. Ella nods, even though her back is to her friend. “Four.”

Leila retreats into the kitchen to put some cakes on a serving dish, and Ella takes a seat on the couch and explains that those who were invited to this book club were regulars at either Vivian, Leda or Cora’s shops. They were all around the same age and had all just moved to Vesuvia or just moved back within the past year.

“Have either of you met them?”

“Um, I think I met one of them,” Ella shrugs. “And Leila knows of two. The other girl is friendly with the rest of them, which is why she was invited, but none of our aunts have met her.”

Leila returns to the living area, setting the cakes on the table beside the tea. “I do know that one of them has their eye on you, Beatrice,” she says, nudging her friend's shoulder. “Your aunt said so. But I won’t tell you who it is, because then you’ll just be a blushing mess any time they try to talk to you.”

“I would not!” Beatrice exclaims, her cheeks already burning. “I feel it would be better to know ahead of time!”

Ella rolls her eyes toward the ceiling and then fixes Leila with an unamused gaze. “Why would you tease her like that?” She mutters, standing from her seat to answer the door. “Sounds like our guests have arrived.”

Only three of the four invited guests were able to attend, and they each say hello to the three magicians before sitting down and gratefully accepting the tea Leila offers.

Anita was the first to make her introduction. The girls liked her immediately, with her very bubbly, loud personality and whooping laugh. She had kind gold eyes and a bright smile, and easily made herself at home with Ella on the couch.

Alice followed closely behind Anita, shaking hands with each of the women as she introduced herself in a soft, melodic voice. Beatrice quickly recognized the redhead as a nursing student that frequently made an appearance at her aunt’s shop. The two women made eye contact, and Alice smiled shyly and blushed before immediately looking away.

Charlotte, a very pale, very blonde, very pretty woman only nodded in acknowledgement as she was introduced by Anita, who was the one who had invited her. Charlotte found her seat quickly, at the head of the gathering, her dark eyes scanning the magicians up and down in silent judgement as she made a show of removing her fur coat.

Once they are all seated, the six women spend a decent amount of time making small talk, getting to know each other better, though it quickly becomes obvious Charlotte thinks too highly of herself to be associating with her hosts. She comments on how “small and humble” the home is and turns her nose up at the cakes offered, informing the others the only cakes she will eat are from a specific, high-end bakery in the Heart District. Not too long after, Charlotte makes a comment to Leila about magicians in a tone that suggests she thinks quite little of them, smiling as if daring Leila to challenge her statement. Instead of responding, Leila gives her a dangerously polite smile and excuses herself to the kitchen to get more tea.

Now alone, Charlotte holds her book open in her lap, waiting for the conversation to die out before she clears her throat to begin the discussion.

“We’ve all finished the novel, correct?” She asks, making eye contact with each person sitting around her, waiting for them to nod before looking to the next woman. “Good. I thought we could start by discussing general feelings toward the story.”

She waits patiently, her rings catching the light as her perfectly painted pink nails drum on the open book in her lap, her eyebrows raised like a teacher waiting for her students to participate. Out of the corner of Ella’s eye, she sees Leila return to her seat, now holding a different cup than she had before.

“I enjoyed it,” Alice offers. “It was an easy read, and the story had a nice flow to it.”

Charlotte nods and hums in agreement before turning toward Beatrice, placing a delicate hand on her knee and giving it a squeeze. “Beatrice, honey, what did you think?”

Beatrice blinks down at the hand on her knee, her gaze flickering up toward Ella and Leila. From the brief moment of eye contact, the three magicians silently agree that they are not fans of this guest.

Anita senses Beatrice’s discomfort at the unwanted contact, and offers instead her own opinions on the book, adding that it was refreshing to read a novel where some of the characters were meant to be unlikable.

Charlotte frowns at this, leaning back in her chair. “Unlikable? Would you elaborate on that?”

“No,” Anita responds, taking a bite of her cake. Ella clears her throat to cover a laugh and Beatrice and Alice share a small smile.

The tendons in Charlotte’s neck tense momentarily, but she shrugs off the comment and launches into her own analysis of the novel, which lasts at least a good thirty minutes alone.

She continues to dominate the discussion, asking questions of the others that she immediately disagrees with, calling them idiots in not so few words as she picks apart their opinions on the book.

The energy in the group continues to deflate as Charlotte drones on. Leila excuses herself again to get more tea, returning with more cakes as Charlotte admits that this book happens to be her least favorite romance novel of all time.

“Why is that?” Ella asks, reaching for a cake. “I thought it was pretty good.”

“Pretty good? No.” Charlotte scoffs. “Poor decisions were made on the part of Mr. Chauncey.”

“Elaborate on that,” Leila remarks, standing up to disappear to the kitchen again, and Anita lets out a chuckle.

Charlotte seems to miss the joke and straightens up in her chair, flipping a gold ringlet over her shoulder. “Well, the woman he was pursuing was incredibly beneath his status. Marrying her was a poor choice, as it only elevated her status and tarnished his own.”

“But they were in love,” Alice murmurs, frowning. “One doesn’t care much for social status when matters of the heart are involved.”

Charlotte snorts, dismissing Alice’s thought. “Mr. Chauncey’s mother worked so hard to keep them apart, to save her family and protect what they had made for themselves. I believe she is one of the characters you alluded to earlier, Anita, the ones that were written to be unlikable?”

Anita nods, but Beatrice speaks up before she can respond, surprising Ella and Leila.

“She is unlikable. The son she was trying to protect was not the heir to their family fortune, seeing as he was the youngest of five. He could marry much more flexibly than his brothers. The main character, Julia, was a respectable, intelligent woman, who didn’t pursue him out of respect for his status, and whom Mrs. Chauncey only disliked because she didn’t think a ‘mere seamstress’ was worthy of her family.”

“A ‘lowly peasant,’ actually, but—” Charlotte starts, only to be interrupted by Anita.

“Oh come on, Charlotte, you can’t actually believe she was written to be a likeable character.”

“I do.” She sniffs, tilting her chin upward. “I quite like her, and she even reminded me a bit of myself.”

“I think she’s a bitch,” Leila says, her eyes locked on Charlotte’s.

For a heartbeat, there is silence. Then Anita and Ella both let out a bark of laughter, falling into each other as their bodies shake. Alice and Beatrice giggle, attempting to hide the sound by covering their mouths with their hands.

Charlotte’s nostrils flare as Leila takes a sip from her mug, her eyes still on Charlotte.

“Mrs. Chauncey believes she’s better than everyone, that she always knows best, and that she deserves more respect than others, just because she was lucky enough to be born into money and status.” Leila shrugs, cocking her head to the side. “Having nice things doesn't automatically make you a good or important person.”

Charlotte fingers the diamond pendant around her thin neck, raising her eyebrows at the soft purple shawl wrapped around Leila’s shoulders. “Oh, but it does.”

Ella sees the flash of anger in Leila’s eyes and stands up quickly, moving her body in between the two women and clapping her hands together loudly. “Oh-kay! What a riveting discussion! But I am beat, whew, what a long day it’s been!” She pulls Charlotte off of her chair by her elbow despite her protests, leading her toward the door as Anita and Alice grab their things.

“Some of us need to work in the morning, so,” Ella opens the door and almost shoves Charlotte out. “Get home safe now!”

Alice thanks Leila for the hospitality and shakes Beatrice’s hand, giving it a small squeeze before she follows a fuming Charlotte out the door and into the night. Anita, still laughing, gives Leila a hug.

“You were spot on with that character analysis,” she chuckles, winking. “Thank you for having us. I’d really love to see you all again sometime.”

Ella closes the door after Anita and leans her head against the wood. She lets out a long exhale before returning upstairs to Beatrice and Leila, ready to scold Leila for blatantly antagonizing a guest. Instead, she finds both of them in hysterics on the couch, their heads leaning against each other as they shake with laughter.

“Well, I’m glad you two think that was funny. I think it’s safe to say we didn’t make many new friends tonight,” Ella says, flopping down next to them on the couch. “What am I going to do with the two of you?”

“Hmm,” Leila hiccups once, adjusting herself in order to rest her head on Ella’s shoulder. “I dunno, but I think you’re stuck with us.”

“It does seem that way,” Ella laughs. “At least we won’t have to plan any more book clubs.”

Beatrice wipes at the corner of her eyes, still giggling. “That sounds fine with me.”

[pickalilywrites]

HI LILY!! oh my goodness i just saw your pokkopikku list and it brought back all the feels 😭 could i maybe possibly request a pokkopikku canonverse where porco has to deal with jealousy from pieck’s unit because of how close he is to her? you are literally so amazing

ahhh this is such a good idea!! i loved it immediately. i hope this is everything you hoped for and more ^^

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This Isn’t What I Was Trained For 

GalliPieck. Canonverse. 

8456 words. 

Read on Ao3!

When Porco was informed that he would be the next inheritor of the Jaw Titan, his chest swelled with pride. Was he surprised at the news? Not at all. He had trained for this his entire life. Even when the chance had eluded him in the past, the military officials passing over him and selecting (in his humble opinion) the lesser-qualified Reiner Braun, Porco had bitten his tongue but still pressed on with his military training. As a child, he was a formidable soldier on the battlefield, charging into enemy territory with a rifle in his hands even as dust and burnt gunpowder stung his eyes. As he grew older, Porco grew more strategic on the field, planning missions instead of just forcing his way through battles with brute force. By the time he was fifteen, he was included in meetings with military officials (not to speak, of course, but it was an honor to just be let into the room) and had killed more men than he could count. Really, there was no one more qualified than Porco to inherit the Jaw Titan. 

Porco thought the transition from Marleyan soldier to Titan Warrior would be a smooth one. After all, he had already been informed on what wielding the Titan’s power would entail twice now: once when he was a potential candidate, and again now that the opportunity is presenting itself once more. He wasn’t concerned about the Titan transformation itself. He knew all the grotesque details: the injection of the serum into his spine, the strike of lightning that would crack through the sky before electrifying every bone in his body just as his Titanized form manifested, or the horrifying memories he would inherit from his predecessors. They were necessary if Porco was to become a Warrior, and he had accepted these horrors years ago when he was informed that he was one of the final candidates to be chosen as a Titan. When they had chosen Reiner over him, Porco was crushed, but it seems like all of those years of training were not in vain if the Jaw Titan is to now be in his possession. 

Dealing with military personnel was actually what Porco would consider more of an issue, especially with the tension between the Marleyan commanders and the Eldian soldiers. The grudge that the Marleyans held against the Eldians for their crime ran deep, but it was just. After being trained underneath Marlayan instructors for all of his youth, Porco knew that he wouldn’t run into any trouble so long as he kept his head down, answered orders with a simple yes or no along with a “ma’am” or “sir” tacked on at the end, and said as little as possible. 

Even dealing with the other Titan Warriors didn’t bother Porco. He had never been on the best terms with Reiner. Porco didn’t trust him to wield a Titan’s power back when they were children, and he certainly doesn’t now. Still, he’s not stupid enough to say so out loud and he’s smart enough to be civil whenever the Armored Titan’s holder comes near. He got along well enough with Bertholdt, the Colossal Titan, but he didn’t count on them becoming close friends. That’s fine anyhow. The military officials had said that the Jaw Titan would work more with the Cart and Beast Titans in future missions, so Porco only had to learn how to be comfortable with Zeke and Pieck. 

To be honest, Porco had always found the War Chief to be rather intimidating. He was nearly a decade older than Porco and the other Titan Warriors, so they hardly had anything in common aside from wielding a Titan’s power. He had stood in the same room as Zeke more than a few times, often to listen during military meetings. Zeke was the only Eldian allowed to speak during these meetings, confidently speaking his mind and bringing forth suggestions that weren’t, to Porco’s surprise, brushed off by the Marleyan officials. After all those times in meetings, Porco hadn’t uttered a word to the War Chief, although he would bow his head and keep his eyes lowered whenever Zeke approached and the Beast Titan would occasionally acknowledge Porco with a nod. Warming up to Zeke would take some time, Porco thought, so it’s a surprise when the War Chief comes up to him one day without warning to congratulate him. 

“I think they made a good choice in selecting you to inherit the Jaw Titan,” Zeke says, hand outstretched. There’s a smile on his face that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s the warmest expression Porco has ever seen on the man’s face. Porco’s so surprised that he almost forgets to take the War Chief’s hand. 

“It’s an honor to be chosen,” Porco replies and he firmly shakes Zeke’s hand, trying not to wince at how strong the man’s grip is. It’s a relief when Zeke finally lets go, his hand falling away from Porco’s. 

“I know you’ll be a powerful asset for our team.” Again, the smile. Zeke continues, “Feel free to reach out to me if you need any help with anything.” 

Porco blinks in surprise. Zeke had always been such an aloof man. He had this unapproachable air to him at times, and it makes Porco wonder if he had heard the man correctly. “Anything?” Porco repeats, regretting it immediately because it makes it seem like he’s questioning the validity of his superior’s statement. He’s about to apologize for his insolence when Zeke laughs and claps a hand on Porco’s shoulder. 

“Of course,” the man replies, patting Porco on the shoulder. “I’m your superior, after all. If you have concerns about anything at all, come find me. I’ll help you as best as I can.” 

“O-oh,” Porco says. He nods, unsure if he should smile back at the War Chief or give him a salute. The safest response, Porco decides, is a grateful “thank you” and an assurance that he will make sure to reach out to the War Chief if he ever needs it. The reply is enough for the War Chief, who nods back at the Warrior before leaving to attend to his other duties. Porco stares at the man’s retreating figure, wondering if the War Chief had meant the words he said or if they were just a formality. Porco doesn’t think he’ll need to seek Zeke if he runs into any problems. He’ll probably fumble through his issues like he did for the past 15 years, which has worked out for him so far. Still, he does file away the War Chief’s offer in the back of his mind on the slim chance that he needs it, but he hopes he never does. 

Pieck is a lot easier than Zeke. Unlike Zeke, she was the same age as Porco and, because she and Porco trained together when they were children, Porco felt more comfortable around her than he was around the War Chief. Although they hadn’t spoken much after she had inherited the Cart Titan and was whisked away to complete more important missions, she was still relatively friendly to him on the rare occasions their paths did cross. When Porco is informed about becoming the inheritor of the Jaw Titan, Pieck is one of the first to congratulate him, even bringing him a box of chocolates as a gift. 

“You didn’t have to,” Porco says in surprise as Pieck shoves the sweets in his face. The smell of cocoa is fragrant even through the packaging. He’s about to welcome Pieck in, but she slips past him easily even with her crutches. 

“It’s fine,” Pieck assures him, crossing the living room so that she can collapse on the couch. She lets her crutches fall against the floor with a dull thud. She’s lying on the couch, limbs splayed out and an arm across her forehead. “It’s a special occasion. It’s not every day that you get to be chosen to be a Titan Warrior, right?” Across her face flashes a smile, tired but cheeky. 

“I guess …,” Porco mumbles. He lets the door shut behind him and shuffles awkwardly to the living room where he settles into the armchair beside Pieck. He opens the box of confections and stares down at the little chocolate squares inside, some of them topped with nuts and sprinkles or drizzled with white chocolate. His mouth waters just looking at them and he wonders when was the last time he had eaten something so delicate and sweet. It must have been ages ago. Porco’s hand hovers over a particularly delectable-looking sweet, a dark chocolate in the shape of a star and dotted with little specks of white, but he remembers his guest and stammers, “D-did you want one, Pieck?” 

“Hmm?” she asks, rolling around lazily to lie on her side. She looks at him, expression somewhat amused. “No. It’s for you. You should eat it all.” 

Porco is about to insist that she takes one, but Pieck rolls back into her previous position, eyes closed like she’s sleeping. He wonders how she can do that, waltz into his home and act like she had been coming in and out for years like they were friends and they did this all the time. It should probably annoy him that Pieck was acting so comfortable in his house, especially since they weren’t exactly friends, but he finds that he doesn’t particularly mind it. It made him feel like they could be friends, that working with her wouldn’t be too difficult if they could be here like this so comfortably. If he could get Pieck on his side, then everything else would be easy. But Porco’s wrong. 

The most difficult thing about becoming a Titan Warrior is not the transformation, the Marleyan officials, or integrating himself amongst the other Warriors. The most difficult thing about becoming a Titan Warrior is the Panzer Unit. 

It’s not that the Panzer Unit has never crossed Porco’s mind. Because the group of specialized soldiers is specifically trained to fight alongside the Cart Titan, the Panzer Unit and Pieck come as a packaged deal. Porco is always sure to be polite to all the soldiers in the Panzer Unit and is even sure to remember all their names: Carlo, Hermann, Egon, and Theodor. He doesn’t expect them to treat him like a friend. They work exclusively with the Cart Titan and, although the Marleyan commanders plan for the Jaw Titan to work closely with the Cart Titan, Porco isn’t expected to have the same bond with the Panzer Unit as Pieck does, which is fine with him. The thing is … he hasn’t expected for the Panzer Unit to treat him so coldly either. 

At first, Porco thinks that the members of the Panzer Unit just need to warm up to him. The blank stares they give Porco whenever he greets them don’t bother him, and he doesn’t think much when their conversations fall silent whenever he approaches. Porco sometimes invites them to lunch whenever he goes for his break, but they always decline, mumbling incomprehensible excuses underneath their breath. He doesn’t even mind it when the Panzer Unit invites both Pieck and Zeke out to lunch and excludes him. 

“I think the Panzer Unit still needs time to warm up to me,” Porco comments absentmindedly to Pieck one day as they’re walking through town. He waits for Pieck to agree but, after she doesn’t respond, is surprised at the perplexed expression on his comrade’s face. “What?” 

“You mean they haven’t warmed up to you yet?” she asks. Pieck looks genuinely confused, which only makes Porco confused because he doesn’t know why she’s confused. 

“I mean … not yet. But I’ve only just started getting to know them recently,” Porco says. It makes sense that they haven’t gotten close yet. At least that’s what he’s been trying to tell himself, but Pieck’s expression is starting to make him rethink himself. “Are they … do they not like me or something?” 

Pieck’s eyebrows are raised in alarm. “No, nothing like that!” she says quickly, although her brows soon knit in concern and Porco can hear her mutter under her breath, “At least, they haven’t said anything like that to me. It’s a little strange though …” 

“What? What’s strange?” Porco asks. He probably shouldn’t blurt it out so desperately. Pieck looks at him in alarm, but he can’t help it. If Pieck thinks the Panzer Unit is acting strange, then she’s probably right. She’s worked with them for years, so she knows them best. Now, the Cart Titan looks hesitant to answer, but Porco begs, “Please just tell me. I don’t know if I’ve offended them without knowing, but I’d really like to work this out, especially since we’ll be working together in the future.” 

Pieck looks at him sympathetically but can only offer him a helpless shrug. “I honestly don’t know,” she tells him. “They’re usually so sweet. When I was introduced to them, we didn’t have a problem getting along. Even Zeke didn’t have any problems with them when we started working together on the field. I really don’t know why they aren’t friendlier to you.” 

If even Pieck doesn’t know why the Panzer Unit is treating him so coldly, then maybe there isn’t anything to be done. Porco should probably just accept it, but he feels his shoulders slump disappointedly anyway. He’s never felt the need to be liked, but it would be nice to be on friendly terms with the Panzer Unit. He can’t imagine working with them for the next thirteen years, being ignored by them every time he passes by. 

Porco forces a smile on his face. “It’s fine,” he assures her through gritted teeth. 

But it’s not fine at all. 

The first thing Carlo, the blond man in the Panzer Unit whose glasses are always constantly slipping down his nose, asks Porco the next morning is, “What did you say to Pieck yesterday?” It’s probably the most Carlo, or any in the Panzer Unit really, has ever spoken to Porco and the Warrior almost forgets to answer until Carlo stomps his foot down angrily. 

“Uh, nothing,” Porco says, wondering why his voice is wavering. Carlo is shorter than Porco, the Warrior towering above the bespectacled man by a few inches, but Porco still finds himself backing up. The glares Porco is currently receiving from Carlo’s comrades right now are also not helping. It’s clear that they don’t believe him, so Porco fumbles for an answer. “I just … talked to her about you guys and … how you treat me.” 

Carlo turns around, throwing his hands in the air frustratedly. “I knew he would do this! It’s just like him,” he spouts while the rest of his team stares daggers at Porco, Carlo whips his head around to shoot Porco a glare filled with pure hatred. “I hope you’re happy with what you’ve done. Do you know what Pieck said to us yesterday? Do you?” He’s in Porco’s face again, poking a bony finger into Porco’s chest while the rest of the Panzer Unit crowd around the Warrior. 

“I … not really, no,” Porco stammers. 

“She said she was disappointed in us!” wails Egon, the dark-haired boy behind Carlo. Beside him, the rest of the Panzer Unit nod angrily. There are even tears brimming in Carlo’s eyes as he glares up at Porco. “She said we had to be nice to you, as if we aren’t nice enough to you already!” 

“I hope you’re happy now,” sniffs Hermann, a man twice Porco’s age. Despite being much older than Pieck, the man looks just as affected by Pieck’s scolding as Carlo and Egon. 

Porco can’t truthfully say that he’s happy about all of this. In fact, he kind of wishes he hadn’t said anything at all. Porco had thought that the dismissive looks he had received before were bad, but they’re nothing compared to the glowering he’s receiving now. 

“I just don’t understand why you guys don’t like me,” Porco says. He feels pathetic as he hears the words that come out of his mouth. It’s not as if he’s five years old. He doesn’t need everyone to like him. 

Hermann scoffs. “And why should we like you? You don’t even know Pieck’s favorite color.” 

Porco’s not exactly sure what Pieck’s favorite color has to do with anything. Was he supposed to know everyone’s favorite color before he began working closely with them? Nobody informed him of that. 

“Look, I didn’t mean for her to get involved or anything,” Porco says hastily because the Panzer Unit is clearly unimpressed when the Warrior doesn’t deny not knowing Pieck’s favorite color. Porco why he’s so nervous around these men when he’s worked under drill sergeants that were far more intimidating. “I can just talk to her again, tell her it was a misunderstanding -” 

“Don’t you think you’ve done enough damage?” Hermann hisses, and the man’s words fill Porco with guilt. 

Porco is about to insist that he make things right between everybody when the Panzer Unit freezes in front of him, eyes wide. For a moment, he thinks there might be someone behind him — maybe Zeke or some Marleyan official — but the soldiers suddenly turn around, their backs straight as they salute Pieck. Porco hadn’t even noticed that she was approaching. 

“Pieck! How are you?” Egon gushes in a far more cheerful tone than he had used with Porco. “You look wonderful as always.” 

“Thanks, Egon. You’re very sweet,” Pieck giggles. She looks over the Unit, her eyes settling on Porco. Raising an eyebrow curiously, Pieck asks, “I trust you’re treating Porco well.” 

“Of course!” says Theodor, the eldest of the Panzer Squad. He glances back at Porco, eyes filled with disdain, before looking back at Pieck with a bright smile. “It’s like you said. He’s our comrade now, so we should work well with him and treat him as part of the team.” 

Pieck’s eyes crinkle as her smile widens. “That’s great to hear. It makes me feel so much better knowing that you guys are getting along well now,” she tells them, and the members of the Panzer Unit are practically vibrating with joy at the small bit of (undeserved) praise. “Shall we eat together then? I’ll treat.” 

The members of the Panzer Unit all heartily agree, but Porco hesitates. He’s sure that the Panzer Unit will be on their best behavior so long as Pieck is around, but they’ll probably resent him if he joins them. He’s even more certain when Pieck turns to him, waiting for his answer, and the members of the Panzer Unit also whip their heads around to glare at him. He doesn’t think he’s ever received such scathing looks. 

“Er, no, thank you,” Porco says, trying his best not to look at Pieck. He’s afraid his expression might give him away. If the Panzer Unit was upset about being scolded once, they’ll definitely be angry about being told off a second time. “I have … a thing to get to.” 

“A thing,” Pieck repeats. She waits for Porco to elaborate, but he never does. She sighs through her nose and gestures for the Unit to follow her. “Come on then. We’ll just have a delicious lunch without Porco. Let’s go, boys.” 

After Pieck’s back is turned, the Panzer Unit leaves, but not without passing by Porco with smug expressions on their faces. Carlo even has the gall to make a rude gesture as he walks past, one that definitely would have gotten Porco’s fingers broken in his school days had an instructor ever seen him make it. Porco would say something, but it’s pointless anyway. If Pieck can’t make the Panzer Unit like him, then it’s probably impossible. 

Porco had never felt the need to be liked. He was fine being by himself. He didn’t make many enemies, but he didn’t make many friends either. It’s how he lived for most of his life, and he was fine with it until now. He can’t explain why, but he wants the Panzer Unit to like him. He wants to get along with them, or at the very least he wants them to stop looking at him like they want to murder him. 

He tries to approach them alone the next few days, but they give him the cold shoulder. Even if they put on their brightest smiles around Pieck, they make it clear that they only tolerate Porco because it’s Pieck’s request. After Pieck’s gone, they want nothing to do with him. Porco has never wanted to be liked so badly. 

There isn’t anyone he can really talk to about this predicament. Pieck is definitely out of the question. If Porco were to bring this up with any of the military officials, they’d probably just laugh at him for having such a childish problem. And Zeke … 

The man did say that Porco could come to him with any problems he had, but Porco doubts that this is something that Zeke had in mind. Zeke had probably meant for Porco to ask him about any problems he had with his Titan or inquiries about future missions. Porco’s not even sure what Zeke would say if the Warrior told him about the Panzer Unit. Then again, maybe Zeke might be helpful. After all, Zeke also had to be introduced to the Panzer Unit when he first began working closely with Pieck. Maybe he had a similar experience and could give Porco a few pointers. Porco only regrets asking Zeke for help when he arrives at Zeke’s office and Zeke gives him a blank stare. 

“You … told me I could come to you whenever I had a problem,” Porco says as the War Chief stares. The Warrior almost doesn’t dare speak to Zeke about the Panzer Unit. There’s a chance that the War Chief will send Porco out of his office immediately and then spend the rest of the day at his desk wondering why the young Warrior was coming to him with such a childish problem, but Porco so desperately needs help and Zeke is the only person he can think of turning to that it’s a chance that he’s willing to take. 

“Ah, did I?” Zeke asks, putting down his paperwork. He leans forward, fingers steepled. It looks as though the War Chief doesn’t quite believe Porco. The War Chief must be busy if he’s forgotten an offer he made hardly a week ago. When it’s clear that Porco isn’t leaving until his problem is resolved, Zeke sits back with a smile. “Oh, of course. It’s only natural that I should help you with your problems. What is it again?” 

“The Panzer Unit hates me,” Porco sighs, slumping miserably in the chair across from Zeke’s desk. “Normally, I wouldn’t mind, but we’ll be working closely together now that I’m the Jaw Titan. I’d like them to be able to trust me, but it’s clear that they despise being in the same room as me and I don’t know why.” 

“Hmm,” Zeke hums as he fiddles with a pen, twirling it between his fingers like a baton. He doesn’t even really look as if he’s paying attention to a word Porco is saying. Porco’s about to repeat himself once more until Zeke opens his mouth to ask, “And you really have no idea why? They haven’t said anything to you?” 

Porco wrinkles his nose. To say that they haven’t would be a lie, but the short conversation he did have with the Panzer Unit a few days ago didn’t seem to be helpful. Maybe Porco just needs a new perspective. “They did mention something … about me not knowing Pieck’s favorite color?” he finally admits. He expects Zeke to look just as bewildered as he felt about this entire thing, but the War Chief just chuckles. 

“You don’t know Pieck’s favorite color?” Zeke asks, finally putting his pen down. His full attention is on Porco. Porco should be happy about that, but right now he just feels himself getting frustrated. 

“Nobody told me I had to know these things!” Porco protests, nearly throwing up his hands. He doesn’t understand why Zeke is still sitting there with such an amused expression. “What? Do you know Pieck’s favorite color?” 

Zeke grins lazily at Porco, leaning on his elbow with his chin resting in his hand. “Of course, I do,” the War Chief replies easily as if it would be ridiculous not to know Pieck’s favorite color. “Why wouldn’t I? It only makes sense for me to know such things about someone I work so closely with.” 

“I … I guess?” Porco says with a frown. Of course, it’s only natural that you would learn your comrade’s likes and dislikes after working with them, but he’s only really talked to Pieck for a few weeks. Surely, he isn’t expected to know everything about her in such a short amount of time. “Do you … do you know a lot about Pieck?” 

“Of course,” Zeke hums, but he doesn’t offer any information on what he does know about Pieck. Porco was hoping that Zeke would offer some details about Pieck — her favorite color, her least favorite foods, her pet peeves, anything — but the War Chief says nothing more. Porco isn’t sure if getting information from the War Chief is always this difficult or if the man is just that oblivious. 

“Alright then,” Porco says, standing up suddenly. He doesn’t think he can bear being in the same room with Zeke any longer. The silences are becoming more and more aggravating, and all he can think about is escaping from the War Chief. With a thin smile and a quick salute, saying, “I’ll be sure to take your words to heart, Sir.” 

“That’s good,” Zeke replies, although he’s not really listening to Porco anymore. He’s already going back to his paperwork, his pen in hand. “Be sure to come by and talk with me whenever you’re free. It’s refreshing to have a casual conversation with my fellow Warriors.” 

Porco doubts that Zeke means what he says, but the Warrior assures Zeke that he will stop by another time. As he hurries down the hall, the heels of his boots clicking against the hardwood floor, Porco vows to never again seek help from the War Chief. 

While the talk Porco had with Zeke was overall very disappointing, Porco decided that Zeke had a point. If he was going to work with the Panzer Unit, he had to learn as much about Pieck as possible. It’s clear that the members of the unit held the holder of the Cart Titan in high esteem. Porco himself respects Pieck a great deal, although he doesn’t show his appreciation for her the same way as the Panzer Unit does. Compared to the unit, Porco is quite ignorant regarding Pieck. Of course, the Panzer Unit would take Porco’s lack of knowledge on Pieck as an insult to the very woman they worship. If Porco had to learn everything about Pieck in order for the Panzer Unit to treat him like a human being, then that’s just what he was going to do. 

Over the next few weeks, Porco collects as much information on Pieck as possible. Some things he learns during casual conversations with Pieck. Occasionally, he slips in a question here and there, although he’s sure to keep the questions as unsuspecting as possible so that Pieck doesn’t catch wind of what he’s doing. He slips into stores and restaurants right after Pieck does to ask the employees what Pieck had bought or if there are things she makes sure to avoid. There are store clerks and waiters that give that information up willingly while others are a bit more difficult to work with, insisting that they can’t give up any details about customers’ purchases because it’s a breach of privacy. They usually change their mind after Porco slips them a few bills under the table. 

Of course, the closest and most abundant source of information about Pieck would be the Panzer Unit, but Porco can’t get close to them. Whenever he gets close to them, they shoot daggers out of their eyes until the Warrior escapes around the nearest corner, so asking them for any information about Pieck is out of the question. Fortunately, his military training has made him an expert in sneaking around and spying on others. He eavesdrops on an alarming amount of Panzer Unit conversations revolving around Pieck. He’s not sure if it’s because they have nothing else to talk about or if the Panzer Unit just likes Pieck that much. 

Whatever it is that compels them to talk about Pieck all day and night, Porco is grateful for it because he’s fairly certain that he’s become an expert on her before two weeks is even up. He knows her favorite color (green, but the mossy green you’d find in a forest), her pet peeves (people who sneeze loudly, men who take up way too much space when sitting down but for some reason she’s absolutely fine if a woman does it, and people who wake up before 8 AM), and her allergies (shrimp, chestnuts but it’s fine if they’re roasted, and certain citruses). Without looking at her, he knows the exact color of her eyes (a very dark brown with black flecks although the Panzer Unit swears they’ve seen little specks of gold in the right light), the angle of her nose (110 degrees, which Carol insists is the perfect angle for a nose), and her height down to the nearest centimeter (155.3 cm). If he were to be given a pop quiz on Pieck, Porco would be able to complete it in under ten minutes and he’d be more than confident about getting every single question right. Porco says as much to the Panzer Unit when he’s finally finished with his research on Pieck. 

“I know everything about Pieck,” he announces to the Panzer Unit one afternoon. This time, he doesn’t cower when they all turn to glare at him. He stands there confidently, his head held high as they glower. 

“Tch. Don’t kid yourself, Galliard,” scoffs Hermann, the thin man mirroring Porco’s stance. He’s taller than Porco by a few inches, but Porco still doesn’t back down. 

“Go ahead then. Ask me a question about Pieck and I’ll answer,” Porco challenges. 

The members of the Panzer Unit glance at each other, Carlo looking particularly hesitant. Egon, however, just shrugs, figuring that entertaining Porco won’t hurt anybody. The dark-haired boy steps forward, clearing his throat before asking, “Alright then … What’s Pieck’s favorite color?” 

The question is so easy that Porco has to laugh. “A deep mossy green, the kind you’d find in the forest on the side of a tree,” he answers while the Panzer Unit’s eyes widen in surprise. Porco lets out another guffaw before gesturing for Egon to continue. “That one was too easy. Ask me another one, one that’s actually a little hard.” 

Egon is starting to look a little uneasy now, shrinking back into himself like a turtle into its shell. He stammers something, but no coherent words come out. The boy glances nervously at his comrades, waiting for one of them to save him. 

Hermann steps forward, still at his full height but this time his hands are shaking even as he clasps them together behind his back. The man’s mouth is set in a grim line. “What foods does Pieck hate and why?” 

Porco pretends to think, enjoying the way the Panzer Unit tenses as they watch him. He rubs his chin and hums, drawing the silence out as long as possible even though he can answer in a heartbeat. “Let’s see,” Porco says, clicking his tongue as he pretends to struggle with the question. He knits his brow together and purses his lip in a pout. “It’s mushrooms, isn’t it? She hates their rubbery texture and would, I believe she said, ‘eat a leather boot.’” 

The soldiers are shaking now, practically quaking in their boots. Porco wants to gloat, wants to dance around them and laugh. They wanted him to become an expert on Pieck, and now he is. The fools probably thought he’d never be able to do it. 

“W-well, what about … her favorite place to go to relax?” Theodor asks, but he’s shaking too. He leans away when Porco moves in closer, turning his face away from the Warrior’s growing sneer. 

“The lake by the schoolhouse, of course,” Porco replies swiftly, and Theodor lets out a pathetic whimper. He cackles, his gray eyes scanning across each member before landing on Carlo. The boy looks as if he might faint, but it doesn’t stop Porco from stepping menacingly towards him. Porco juts his chin out, eyes shining. “Come on then, Carlo. You haven’t asked me anything yet. Surely, there’s something I don’t know about Pieck that you guys do.” 

Carlo cowers, trying to hide behind Theodor and Hermann, but it’s no use. Porco can already see in the boy’s eyes that the Panzer Unit has been defeated. Still, the boy feebly tries to ask, “W-what is Pieck’s favorite animal?” 

The question makes Porco throw his head back in raucous laughter, his cackling loud enough to make the Panzer Unit flinch. Porco’s shoulders are still shaking when he looks down on Carlo, ready to answer the boy. “The fencepost jumping spider,” Porco replies with a little laugh at the end. “She likes how cute and fuzzy they are.” 

The Panzer Unit stands there, stunned. Porco can see it in their faces: they’re torn between accepting defeat and screaming in his face that they’ll never accept a fiend like him in their team. 

“You think just because you know everything about Pieck that we have to accept you!” Carlo cries. There are even tears streaming down his face now, his cheeks a ruddy and indignant flush of red. “There’s more to being a part of the Panzer Unit than knowing Pieck’s every like and dislike!” 

Porco is about to roll his eyes and tell the squad to just give it up, but Carlo’s words make him pause. The Warrior hadn’t thought much of the Panzer Unit until he learned he would be working with them and even now he admits he doesn’t know much about them. He knows that they assist Pieck by acting as gunmen while the Cart Titan heads into battle and that they have a deep affection for the woman they assist, but now Carlo insists there’s more to them than just infinite knowledge on Pieck Finger and the ability to handle weaponry. 

“Really? Like what?” Porco asks, genuinely curious. 

“Well,” Carlo says, puffing his chest out. He looks around at the others a bit nervously and it’s clear that he’s stalling for time, but Porco waits patiently. Maybe the boy will come up with something interesting or at the very least entertaining. It takes Carlo another minute, but an idea comes to him and Porco can practically see the lightbulb flicker on above the boy’s head. Pointing a finger at Porco, Carlo says, “I can do a handstand for a whole minute.” 

“A handstand? For a whole minute?” Porco repeats. He’s confused about how doing a handstand would be beneficial on the battlefield. Is it supposed to help with blood flow? Porco’s done handstands back when he was a kid, but that was more for fun than anything. He can’t even remember if he’s held it any longer than fifteen seconds let alone a whole minute, but it doesn’t seem that difficult. He’s a Warrior now, so doing a handstand shouldn’t be that difficult, especially if that’s all it takes for him to be accepted by the Panzer Unit. He takes a deep breath and rolls up his sleeves. 

“Alright then,” Porco says, gesturing for Carlo to step forward so they can get this over with. He points at Hermann. “You. Count the time. We’re doing handstands.” Before anyone can say anything more, Porco is upside-down with his hands pressed against the dirt, little pebbles digging into his skin. He doesn’t look, doesn’t dare to look because his balance is precarious enough already without any extra movement, but he hears some fumbling across from him and sees an upside-down Carlo-shaped shadow beside him. 

The next minute goes by excruciatingly. Porco can hear Hermann counting beside him, but he can’t hear the numbers. Hermann might as well be counting in gibberish and it would be all the same to Porco. Porco can only focus on keeping himself upright, not even daring to breathe because he’s afraid the subtle movement will send him toppling over and there’s absolutely no way he’s losing to a shrimp like Carlo. The Warrior tries not to think too much about how all his blood is currently flowing to his head or how the pebbles on the dirt road are digging into his palms. He does his best to empty his mind, telling himself that this pain will soon be over even though it feels like an eternity has passed already. 

Carlo seems to be struggling just as much. The boy’s face is beet red and although he doesn’t sway on his hands nearly as much as Porco does, his arms tremble as he tries to hold himself up. Every so often, a strangled groan escapes the boy's lips, but he doesn’t dare give up. As Hermann continues to count down the seconds, Egon and Theodor crouch down next to Carlo to whisper-shout words of encouragement to the boy. 

“You can do it, Carlo! Just a few more seconds!” 

“Imagine how proud Pieck will be when she finds out you’ve beaten Porco Galliard!” 

“You’re almost there. Hold on, Carlo!”

Porco wants to tell them to shut up, but he doesn’t open his mouth for fear that he’ll fall over as soon as he gets the words out. He has to put up with it — the pain of pebbles pressing into his skin, the distracting words of encouragement that leave him to be ignored, and the dizziness that is slowly overtaking him — if he wants to win, and he wants to win so badly. 

“...fifty-nine, sixty!” Hermann announces, holding a hand up. As soon as he’s finished counting, the soldier steps back so that the two competitors can fall over onto the dirt road, their chest heaving as they try to catch their breath. 

Porco’s arms feel like jelly and he’s fairly certain he blacked out for half a second after hitting the ground. He turns his neck slightly to look at Carlo, who’s currently being taken care of by Egon and Theodor. 

“You did a good job, Carlo,” Egon murmurs, helping Carlo up into a sitting position and rubbing his comrade’s back. “Pieck would have been impressed if she saw you.” 

“R-really?” Carlo gasps. His cheeks are still a bright red and he looks bleary-eyed, still dizzy from standing upside-down for a full minute. 

“Absolutely,” Egon assures as Theodor hands Carlo a canteen full of water. “You were up there an entire minute! Not many can do that, you know.” 

“Hey, I ... did that too,” Porco pants. He’s not sure what kind of reaction he was expecting from them. After being rejected by the Panzer Unit even after proving he was a human encyclopedia of Pieck knowledge, Porco didn’t think they would accept him just because he did a handstand, but it doesn’t make it any less insulting when the Panzer Unit turns and glares at him like he’s an annoying pest. 

“Is that all you can do?” scoffs Hermann. His nonchalant tone is enough to make Porco snap. 

Porco stands up, not bothering to brush the dust on his clothing. The Warrior stalks up to Hermann, jaw squared and back straight. “What do you mean by ‘Is that all you can do?’” Porco snarls as he jabs the man in the chest with a finger, glaring up at Hermann. “I’ve done everything you said! I memorized everything about Pieck! I’ve done a handstand for a full minute! And you’re telling me I’m still not good enough? What do I have to do to please you people?” 

Hermann blinks, jaw opened slightly. It’s clear that the man hasn’t thought this through because he doesn’t come up with another on-the-spot challenge for Porco, and just stares blankly at the Warrior with a slightly terrified look on his face. 

“I can … I can whistle the national anthem in its entirety,” Egon says suddenly. He stands up so abruptly that Carlo nearly topples over. He puts on a brave face, lifting his chin heroically as Porco approaches, but his gaze wavers when the Warrior stops in front of him, gulping nervously. 

Porco is aware that the wicked grin on his face probably looks like it came from a villain out of a children’s fairytale, but he doesn’t care. He’s past caring now. If the Panzer Unit wants to play games with him, then he’ll play their stupid games and win every single one. He’s going to conquer every challenge they throw at him, one-up them at their own special talents, and prove that he’s the worthiest person to stand beside Pieck. 

“Let’s go then,” Porco says with a smirk, licking his lips as he rolls up his sleeves. He purses his lips and puts his fingers to his lips, ready to whistle. 

Porco spends the rest of his day proving himself to the Panzer Unit. After every challenge, they manage to come up with another one for Porco, each one more ridiculous than the next. He nearly busts a lung whistling the entire national anthem of Liberio, a complex song filled with too many soaring high notes and trills. By the end, both he and Egon are gasping for breath, wheezing and beating at their chests. 

After whistling comes apple stacking. The Panzer Unit and Porco raid a fruit stand by the roadside, insisting to the distressed fruit seller that his entire stock of apples was needed for official military business. Theodor claimed that he could stack twenty apples on top of each other without having them topple over, so Porco stacked twenty-one. He would have done more except a group of children ran past him, brushing past his tower of apples and sending them crashing to the ground. 

Porco and the Panzer Unit are in the middle of an intense push-up competition when footsteps approach them, familiar footsteps that they all would have noticed had they not been so preoccupied with their battle of brawn. 

“What the hell are you guys doing?” 

At the sound of Pieck’s voice, all five men collapse on the ground, Egon choking on the dust that flies into his mouth when he hits the dirt road. Pieck is staring at them amusedly, an elegant eyebrow raised. 

“H-hey,” Porco coughs, rolling over on his side before sitting up. He’s too tired to even brush the dirt off his clothing. As he catches his breath, Theodor pats him on the back sympathetically. The man is similarly winded, but he looks like he could get in a few more push-ups than Porco. The Warrior is kind of grateful they stopped when they did because he’s starting to lose all sense of feeling in his arms. He winces as he squeezes his tricep, not at all looking forward to how sore he’s going to be in the morning. “We’re just … having a push-up contest.” 

The answer must not be convincing enough for Pieck because she hums and asks, “For?” 

“Um. To see how many push-ups we can do?” Carlo swallows. The poor boy tried to keep his tone as neutral as possible, but lying must not be his strong suit because the end of his stance tilts upward ever so slightly and Pieck’s frown grows deeper. 

“And that is supposed to prove what, exactly?” Pieck prods, staring down at them. It’s a look that says that she knows that they’re all up to some nonsense and, whatever it is they’re doing, they had better tell her what it is or else she’ll be more disappointed about their lying than she’ll ever be about their mischief-making. Suddenly, Porco knows exactly why the Panzer Unit was so distraught when Pieck had been disappointed in them because he’s starting to feel equally distraught if not more so at merely the thought of Pieck being disappointed in him. 

“That we’re worthy of fighting beside you,” Hermann finally answers, muttering ashamedly as he draws a circle in the dirt to avoid Pieck’s gaze. 

Pieck only sighs. “I told you guys to quit doing this,” she says, sounding exasperated. “Being part of the Panzer Unit is a privilege, but it’s not an exclusive club and you shouldn’t treat it as one.” 

Porco and the Panzer Unit sit in front of her, heads held down and expressions like puppies getting scolded for soiling the carpet. They’re too ashamed to even answer her. 

Wither another sigh, Pieck gestures for them to stand up. “Come on then. Single file, all of you,” she commands and the Unit immediately follows, standing in line from youngest to oldest. Noticing that Porco is the only one left sitting down, Pieck snaps at the Warrior. “Come on, Porco, you too.” 

Porco doesn’t know why they’re standing in a line, but he does as ordered, slouching sadly behind Hermann. He doesn’t lift his head when Pieck walks to the front of the line, but he does hear Pieck share a few disappointed words with Carlo before hearing a sharp smack! The noise is enough for him to try and sneak a peek, but all he sees is Hermann moving forward while Carlo leaves, sniffling as he rubs a reddened spot on the center of his forehead. 

Porco has been flicked on the head when he was a kid, usually by his parents for being such a brat, but those flicks only ever left a small pink mark that disappeared within a few minutes. From the looks of Carlo’s forehead, Pieck looks like she flicks hard. Porco’s heard of the torture Marley inflicts on prisoners of war, but Pieck’s finger flicks look far worse than any form of torture. 

Thwack! 

Porco isn’t sure if it’s because he’s gotten closer to the front of the line or if Pieck’s flicking has gotten more powerful. He does hear Egon whimper as soon as Pieck’s finger hits his forehead, and the poor boy walks away with a spot that’s even bigger and redder than the one Carlo had walked away with. If Pieck flicks him, Porco’s pretty sure he might pass out from the sheer force of her finger hitting his forehead. Porco was a Warrior, but he wasn’t trained to deal with an exclusive clique, joining a Pieck fan club, an endless battle of useless talents, and he sure as hell isn’t trained to take a finger flick from Pieck. 

The Warrior’s feet move without Porco realizing. He only becomes aware of his subconscious desire to escape when Hermann holds him back, the man shaking his head sympathetically to show Porco that any attempts are futile. 

“We have to do this,” Hermann tells Porco almost sorrowfully. 

“Why?” Porco asks in a pathetic whisper. 

“Because it’s what comes with being a part of the Panzer Unit,” Hermann answers sagely before turning around so that Pieck can flick her finger against the man’s forehead. 

It’s a little comical seeing Pieck tiptoe to reach Hermann’s forehead, but the soldier does bend down a bit to give her easier access. Porco can hardly watch as Pieck places her left hand gently over the man’s face and pulls back on her middle finger with her right. Her finger hits Hermann with a loud thwack, and the man’s knees nearly buckle from the pain. Not at all sympathetic, Pieck merely scoffs before gesturing for Hermann to move out of the way so that she can get to Porco. 

“I would have let you off the hook if you had informed me about how they were treating you, but you just had to engage with them instead,” Pieck says. She glares up at him, somehow looking more intimidating than any of his military instructors ever looked despite being hardly over five feet. Then she says the most devastating words, completely shattering Porco into pieces: “Porco, I’m very disappointed in you.” 

Porco hardly has time to process these words when he feels Pieck’s finger smack across his forehead, the force of it knocking him onto his ass. Stunned, he lies there in the dirt, staring up at the sky wondering if his life was worth living anymore. 

He hears Pieck’s footsteps as she walks away and when he blinks, the Panzer Unit is surrounding him, looking down at him with expressions that say they know exactly how he feels. Surprisingly, Carlo offers a hand to Porco and, after the Warrior takes it, helps him up. 

“It’s okay, Porco. We’ve all been there,” Egon says as Theodor rubs Porco on the back.  

“It’s not all bad. She usually gets over it after a day or two,” Carlo adds. 

Porco knows that Carlo is trying to comfort him, but the Warrior isn’t sure if he’ll ever be over it. All he wants to do right now is bury himself in the ground in shame and never come out. It’s what garbage like him deserves anyway. 

“Come on, kid,” Hermann says, wrapping an arm around Porco’s shoulder. “Let’s get you some ice cream. It’s always what we do in times like these. I’ll even buy for you.” 

They start walking, Porco trailing behind confusedly. When the Panzer Unit notices Porco lingering behind, they turn back. Carlo even gestures for Porco to hurry up. 

“What are you doing? Hurry up!” Theodor says. 

“You guys really want me to join you?” Porco asks. He wonders if he had passed out when Pieck had flicked him. He’s half-convinced that he’s unconscious and that this is all a dream. 

“Of course,” Hermann says with a snort. “You’re one of us now. Now come on before I change my mind and make you pay for your own.” 

Porco doesn’t need to be told twice. He trots behind them, still feeling a little light-headed from the punishment Pieck had inflicted on him but oddly happy. It’s not exactly what he had in mind when he had first thought of getting to know the Panzer Unit, but he’ll take it. 

[unholyplumpprincess]

Desire

Commission for the ever so cute @candy-diick with a heaping helping of Caustichound ft-ing them going from FWB to lovers in this case of: Caustic is emotionally constipated, PLEASE someone peg him lovingly.

Fandom: Apex Legends

Relationship: Caustic/Bloodhound

Warnings: R18+/NSFT, Caustic in cute lacy lingerie, biting, bruising, dom Bloodhound, Bloodhound has a vulva, strap ons, monster strap ons, piercings, Bloodhound hcs mentioned, FWB arrangement to lovers, uhhh mildly public first scene so uhhh, exhibitionism kinda.

Words: 4.2K

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It wasn’t every day you met someone like Bloodhound. A fearsome apex predator in the arena, just as they were a mysterious enigma out of it. They stalked and hunted contenders in the games just like they were nothing but deer for their sacrifice. Never treated it like it was a game, more of a religious experience.

It was of no surprise Caustic became interested in how this hunter worked. Bloodhound was a mysterious ally and foe, more active talking when on a squad, and ever respectful when sticking a knife in your throat. It appeared they did not play these games for the money or the glory, they appeared to be doing their gods’ wills.

It was interesting to think that someone such as Bloodhound, almost feral yet beautifully regal, would ever bow their head to someone they could not see.

Fascinating, if you were to ask Caustic that is.

~Rest under the cut~

There was such power behind everything they did that just sparked something in him that Caustic hadn’t felt in- well, awhile. Some sort of interest, the need to pick them apart, to know them inside and out. He wanted to know why the bulky armor if their build was smaller underneath- wouldn't they be even more agile without such bulk in the way? He wanted to know why the mask, was it a religious thing or was there something more lying just underneath the surface?

How did they get so good wielding any blade? Why ‘the Allfather’? How could they hit their target straight on and not brag about it, but instead humbly accept the kill and offer it to a being that could not be seen?

What, on any planet, made Bloodhound tick?

It starts off as an innocent fascination, Alexander tells himself that much when he’s not in the ring. When the games weren’t going, he tries not to think about them. They way their weight on top of him before they sheathed a blade in his throat had him going more than anything. How watching them lie prone on a building near him on his squad, pulling a trigger and seeing the flex in their forearms and bicep had him fighting to tear his gaze away.

All...innocent curiosity. He just wanted to know who Bloodhound was.

That’s all.

A lie he can believe until the legends are offered dorms to stay in to be close by. A compound for all of them. A few of them are friendly to one another, after a few tense days. Alexander tries to stay mostly out of the way, not looking to befriend.

Until he sees Bloodhound much later, dressed down and out of armor. In skin tight black jeans, a high necked tight tunic, a leather jacket with feathers on the shoulders and a mask to cover their lower face with sharp teeth painted on it. Red glasses cover their eyes and their crimson curls are pulled back into a braid. And his whole world seems to stop.

Even just seeing so little of them as he could. From their sharp, black painted nails peeking from fingerless leather gloves, to how decorated their ears were in gold piercings. To how he could feel their piercing gaze on him from across the hall as they made their way out.

It made sense for them not to wear their gear in public- people would recognize them by their signature helmet and mask. But, like that? They were an anonymous person.

A beautiful, anonymous person.

From then on? Alexander can’t stop his dying curiosity. A small taste of flesh, a hint of a person underneath, and he had to know more. Had to know the why’s, had to know the how’s. It’s not an obsession, a curiosity, he’d put it. He had already been curious in them before, but now?  

Oh, now it was hunger.

Perhaps he watches a bit too closely in later games when they are on the same squad. A few times Bloodhound asks if he is alright, a gloved hand clasped on Alexander’s shoulder and he can practically picture their concerned face as they ask, “Are you alright, felagi fighter? Your strength does not leave you from the heat?”

Caustic about vibrates when he’s been caught, shrugging them off and offering a shaky exhale from his own mask, followed by, “I am quite alright. Don’t fret, I shall...catch up in a moment.”

From then, Caustic starts to take notice about how they notice he’s watching them. It’s little things, such as a small tilt of their head, the gleam of their goggles giving nothing away. However, he can feel the intensity of their stare on him. Curious and cautious.

Yet, they don’t tell him off for it. So, like any good scientist, he keeps watching. Making his own observations, doodling them when he can in his journal that he kept on hand for field discoveries. From how their body curves at certain angles to how they become a feral beast when they suddenly snarl, shout to the sky, and take off in a frenzy of slaughter.

The upcoming match, it’s Bloodhound, Caustic, and a newcomer on a squad. Bloodhound seems agitated already on the dropship, rolling their neck and balancing weight from foot to foot. Yet, in the arena they seem calm and calculated as usual. Keeping communication with the squad and marking the tracks of other people in the arena.

The newcomer doesn’t like being bossed around, is some snot nosed man who huffs and takes off. Saying he won’t be treated like lesser just because they’re a legend. Polite as ever, Bloodhound bows their head and offers for him to offer his assistance to the squad. Which results in him exploding and storming off- promptly ending up on the scoreboard as ‘out of the game’.

Which leaves them alone. Something Caustic had been with them before, except this time felt...different.

They take a more authoritative tone to keep them both alive and standing. Caustic doesn’t argue against them, following their every move. Trained like a dog at the beckon of their hand to approach to the fist they make when Bloodhound wordlessly tells him to stop.

Truly, it isn’t in Caustic’s best nature to be getting hard over this, but he can’t help it. The full effect of it is when they shove him into a corner, hands on either side of his body to keep him from being seen by a squad running by and chasing another. Their smaller body doesn’t move an inch from his, shoved into a tight corner, their head turned to listen to the noise outside. The sounds of gunfire, then soon quieting down to a full squad down and the sounds of looting, then they leave.

But all Caustic can hear is his own heart pounding and how Bloodhound’s breaths are quiet and timed, while his are almost panted out. Trying to squeeze his chubby thighs together to keep from acting like this. So... depraved, almost creepy, he thought.

He thinks he’s gotten away with it.

He thinks he also gets away with how much he’s been watching them, how his eyes trail for far too long.

He thinks he’s gotten away with all of it, up until later.

Bloodhound confronts him after the small celebration of the champions, with him and Bloodhound coming in second place. Bloodhound had slinked off to not be apart of the limelight, while Alexander had stayed behind a bit longer to catch a glimpse at the champions.

When he’s walking through the halls, he can feel the hair on the back of his neck stand up on end. But before he can act upon his instincts, he’s shoved back into a wall. A smaller frame presses against him, fingers twisted in his shirt now that his gear for the ring was removed. His eyes widen, looking down at Bloodhound who was still fully geared up, the little trinkets on their helmet clinking with the soft sway of the strings.

“You have been watching me.” They state clearly, almost agitated it sounds like. Alexander would smile at the situation, but he knows better than to provoke them. So, he’s smart, he stays silent, watching as they take a step closer to really press him into the wall. He can’t really help himself, his breath hitching and his hands going to grab them, but when they snarl he quickly lets his hands retreat.

With Alexander’s hands now resting fingertips on the wall, their shoulders relax a bit. They scoff at him once no response comes, letting their hands untwist from his shirt so they can boldly rest them at his sides. Almost hesitating as they trail down to his hips, goggles set intently on his face. Yet, Alexander can only give the briefest of nods. As if telling them it’s alright.

“You have been studying me.” They state bluntly once more, hooking fingers in the belt around his waist to yank him closer. Their smaller body able to fit between his thighs that he parts willingly. How curious, they wonder, but not before huffing once again.

“You have been hard while watching me.” Bloodhound growls out, letting one of their hands trail down his hip to cup his crotch upon that word. They feel a thrill shoot up their spine when Alexander grunts, tipping his head to the side like rightful prey the way he exposes himself.

Oh. Oh, he liked them treating him like this. How curious indeed.

“What have your studies shown you?” They continue, letting their gloved hand roughly feel the outline of his cock with small squeezes. They almost drop their tone, surprised at his size, but when he lets out a small groan in the back of his throat they snap back. “That you like having your throat ripped out by my blade? That you would prefer that I use my teeth?”

Alexander’s breath catches and he nods his head without thinking. Helpless as they feel him up. Bloodhound is in awe at him, how they’d taken the stance that perhaps he’d be more dominant in the bedroom. And yet, seeing how he tilts his head, flushed all over his freckled face, oh how could they not indulge him?

“Come.” They murmur, just loud enough for him to hear. Bloodhound could laugh at how obediently he perks up, following after them as they push him into a nearby room. A supply room with a mirror on one side of the room and the other side covered in different gear for newer people. It’s easy enough to slip in, shutting the door and sliding a nearby jacket under the door so it would act as a doorstop long enough. Just in case.

Alexander is as obedient as ever when they point to the floor wordlessly. Bloodhound would be lying if they said they didn’t get satisfaction out of watching him drop to his knees so eagerly. Gingerly, their gloved hand fits into his hair, giving him a tug until his face is pressed to their crotch.

“What an eager boy.” They coo, hearing him inhale their scent and nuzzle his face there. As if he’d dreamed of this moment, or perhaps thought this in fact was all a dream. Alexander doesn’t even need to be told what to do, just eagerly working on their pants and hooking his fingers into their boy shorts. Tugging their pants down to mid-thigh with their underwear and about whines when he sees them.

Soft, dark red curls rest on the mound of their cunt. Darker at the slit where they’re wet already with a juicy clit peeking out from their plump lower lips. Alexander shakily exhales, using two fingers to part them open to watch their inner lips blossom open like a flower. Pink and shiny already with slick as their clit juts out like an invitation.

A small tug on his hair and he’s immediately sealing his lips over their clit. Suckling eagerly as one hand keeps them parted, framing their clit with his fingers as his other hand holds onto their toned thigh. Squeezing in turn when Bloodhound sighs with pleasure, letting their head thunk back against the mirror.

“Mnh-” They moan out softly when Alexander laps at them. From hole to clit in a few strokes, moaning at their taste in turn. He can’t help it, having ached so badly for this moment. His cock is aching in his pants, throbbing and imagining them cruelly crushing it with their boot. But, instead, they laugh softly at him. “Ah- so eager?”

Their answer is a wet, open mouthed kiss on their clit. Getting so lost in their taste and scent that he starts to nose his way up from just about their hole to their clit. Smearing their slick on his face as his tongue stays out to lick up their taste with absolutely no shame.

A messy eater, Bloodhound notes, using their hand in his hair to fist the strands at the root and shove his face back into them. Hissing when he gets more eager, bringing the hand from their thigh to stroke two fingers at their entrance. Waiting for them to spread their legs wider before he presses them inside. Licking and sucking at their clit, curling his fingers inside of their tight walls.

Bloodhound cums with a snarl, one that he’ll keep in mind as they hold him still to their cunt. Letting Alexander lick desperately at them until he’s pulled away. He’s left to pant, fingers gently pulling out of them so he can lick the mess off eagerly before trying to make a show of his straining cock.

“Please-” He finally says, eyes almost teary as his hands paw at their thighs. He looked absolutely pathetic, cock trapped in his pants onto his thigh with a darker spot at the head where he was leaking pre-cum.

Instead, they huff at him, nudging at his cock with their combat boot. “Surely you can beg better than that.”

--

That was months ago where Alexander’s...’obsession’ turned out to be a long term thing. Friends with benefits, as he had put it. Watching as Bloodhound had tilted their head curiously at the term before accepting. It blew off steam for both of them, as well as providing Bloodhound with more reason to take the lead in most occasions.

Alexander thought it was rather nice. They were very attractive, smart, a tremendous tracker, and both a great rival in the arena as well as a squad mate. To be on their good side was a win in his book, it meant he had the upper hand in most occasions.

Well, against everyone except for Bloodhound, that is.

Alexander found his role in the bedroom to be that of underneath the hunter. Bloodhound liked playing with him very much. From tying his cock with a ribbon to trying shibari, to making him cum multiple times from simply jacking him off or even putting their talented, pierced tongue to work. Alexander had also found, through these romps, that Bloodhound had quite the oral fixation. They enjoyed anything in their mouth from fingers, to his cock, to even his tongue on the rare occasion he was allowed to kiss them.

No penetrative sex. If at most, Bloodhound would let him cum on their cunt or in their underwear or use their thighs so he could sob and beg them. But, they would not allow him inside. Alexander didn’t mind, ever obedient and happy with their arrangement. Except, feelings started...happening.

He didn’t mean for them to. Yet, over the months of being in this arrangement with them, they’d started showing more. From their face where he could see the jagged claw mark scars going down their face and framing their blinded eye, appearing like a miniature sun. To how their full lips quirked into a grin, showing off sharp canines and dimples as they’d turn their head too quickly for him to get a full image.

To how their voice was smooth, yet strong. How they purred out what a good boy he was, to taking care of him afterwards.

To...how Alexander’s heart twisted and tugged every time they brushed careful fingers through his hair, tucking strands behind his ear and asked if he was alright.

As much as he...liked their arrangement, he was afraid that feelings were becoming too strong. Bloodhound liked the openness in their talks, perhaps he could talk to them about it. Yet, after a week he comes to the conclusion that perhaps it wasn’t romantic attraction, perhaps it was just desire.

So, Alexander brings it up casually to them. One night while they are coming down from a high, pulling off his face as they bask in their glow.

“Would you ever consider penetrative sex?” Alexander asks bluntly, rolling to his side to look at them. In turn, Bloodhound knits their thick brows back at him, cocking their head to the side in a wordless question. “I mean- would you perhaps be comfortable with...fucking me?”

Upon Alexander rephrasing it, with his cheeks glowing rosy, Bloodhound hums in return. Propping themselves up on their elbow and pushing their curls out of their face. They ponder for a moment, biting their bottom lip in a way that has Alexander’s heart fluttering- a thing he blames on desire.

“Yes...Let us discuss boundaries and how you would like it, first, before we act upon it.” They finally say, rolling onto their tummy with a yawn and taking his pillow, nuzzling their cheek into it and smiling lazily at him. “Perhaps after some rest.”

It was just his desire that makes him breathless.

It was just his desire that makes him yearn to brush the hair from their face and caress their cheek.

Just desire.

That’s what he tells himself again when they’re in his room next week. Dressed in that black outfit that sends his heart racing, their mask thrown somewhere else in the room and their glasses set aside. They have him against the door, one hand twisted in his shirt to yank him down a bit to their level, the other grabbing his cock through his loose sweatpants.

Alexander is a mess as they kiss him, a rare treat for him. Their tongue licks into his mouth, licking over his tongue and letting him taste the cinnamon-like tea they had earlier. Feeling over their barbell in their tongue with every swipe they give him. Eventually, Bloodhound pulls back once satisfied, letting their sharp teeth dig into his bottom lip with another squeeze to his dick.

“Get on the bed.” They snarl, pulling away from him and watch him quickly obey orders. Hurriedly climbing onto the bed but not before they stop him with a simple hand in the air, open palmed. Wait. Wordless commands. “Strip. Let me see if you could obey a simple order.”

Alexander’s cheeks flush red. He doesn’t back sass, doesn’t huff, but he does briefly avert his gaze. Fingers messing with the bottom of his t-shirt before he slowly pulls it up. Revealing his fluffy, rounded tummy and then slowly further up until baby pink lace is revealed. A simple lacy bralette that’s rather flattering to his shape.

“All the way.” They urge him, shrugging out of their own jacket and tossing it to the side. Walking towards him like a predator stalking its prey with small, precise steps. Alexander, ever one to obey, strips out of his sweatpants as well. Revealing his large, thick cock trapped in lacy pink panties with a little black bow on the front. His cock is resting more on his hip than anything under the strap of the panties, clearly having been straining. Poor thing.

Bloodhound’s eyes scream approval as they look him up and down. How his chubby thighs tremble and his fingers curl into the bed under him, his face burning red to his ears. His tongue flicks out anxiously over his lips, immediately catching how Bloodhound’s eyes lock onto it.

They come over, knocking his legs open on the edge of the bed where he sits. Easily standing between them and grabbing his chin in their manicured fingers, tilting his head up. “Such a good boy, are you not? Look at how eager you are to be fucked by me.” Their voice is low, a powerful vibration as Alexander can only nod feverishly in reply, as best as he can with the firm grip on his chin.

It doesn’t take long before Alexander is lying back on the pillows. His hole is stretched out by four slick fingers and his cock is peeking out from the top of his panties now. Leaking onto his abdomen with Bloodhound above him, their own clothing removed down to a sports bra and the boy short harness they wore. A large cock resting inside of it.

With Bloodhound having vitiligo, there wasn’t anyone who made a cock with their skin tone, and besides they preferred ones like this. A monstrous looking dildo, almost plant-like in appearance. Soft pink and as thick as three fingers at the beginnings already, ribbed down to the rounded shaft and the dark green, leafy-like. A small tube went underneath, the syringe resting on the hip of their harness for easy pushing. The syringe containing quite the handful of cum lube.

There is only a moment where Bloodhound goes slow and it’s upon first entrance. Lining up and pressing inside slowly until the base is flush with Alexander’s ass. Petting over his chubby, shaking thighs that rest over their hips. Bloodhound squeezes fondly at him, murmuring soft praise. “Good boy- look at how pretty you are. You take me so well. Just relax.”

The throb in Alexander’s heart is not just from desire.

He swallows thickly, giving a small nod for them to move, but they don’t. Stroking over his thighs and over his lace-clad cock. Waiting for him to verbally say when he’s ready. Knowing better that he liked the ache, but they only wanted to wreck him this go around. To see him cry. To hear him say their name like a prayer.

The warmth in Bloodhound’s heart is not just from desire.

When Alexander finally breathes out his approval, they’re right on him. Stopping their soft petting to now claw at his thighs, using him as leverage to pound their hips into him. Pressing their hips flush to his soft, chubby ass again and again as the sound of flesh against flesh resounds through the room.

Bloodhound’s teeth find his shoulders and neck again and again. Sucking a hickey between his pecs before pushing his bralette to the side to seal their lips over a nipple, followed by a soft bite to the pillowy flesh.

Alexander’s hands try to grab at them as noises rip through him that he wasn’t ready for. Cries and loud whines escaping his throat as they angle their hips perfectly to nail him on his prostate again and again. His blunt nails dig into their back, holding them closer until they’re squashed against him pleasantly. Each thrust of their hips letting his cock rut up against their abdomen.

Each wet squelch of their cock pressing into him is a second closer to him cumming. Alexander’s eyes are glassy, tears welling up in pleasure and emotion as one hand comes up to grip at the hair at the nape of their neck. Not quite yanking, but holding them firmly to the crook of his neck that they attack with their sharp teeth and insistent sucking.

He loved them.

Oh, he loved them.

With the sudden wave of emotion followed by another slam into his prostate, Alexander is gone. Crying out as blinding pleasure washes over him. Holding Bloodhound to his body as one leg rests around theirs, tucking behind one of their legs to keep them still and steady above him. His thick cock jerks weakly as it spills a copious amount of cum, a weak sob leaving him when he notes how full he feels. Catching Bloodhound’s hand moving from their hip where they pressed the syringe down to fill him up with cum.

As they both begin to settle, Bloodhound is quick on the routine. Carefully pulling out but taking the time to spread his legs and watch the faux cum spill out onto an awaiting towel under Alexander’s hips. They hum in approval, stroking his thighs as they slip out of their harness. Paying no mind to how their slick leaves a patch on it or how flushed their own clit is.

Instead they focus on getting a wet, cold towel and cleaning Alexander up. Washing off the cum on his tummy and taking care to avoid his cock. They murmur praise and adoring words as they kiss at the bruises and bitemarks on his neck, kissing at the shell of his ear in a way that sends shivers racing down his spine.

“Hound?” He murmurs, voice tired and hoarse from all his moaning. Bloodhound hums in response, taking care to towel off any remaining bodily fluids on his abdomen. “How would you feel about...dating next?”

Perhaps Alexander expected another reaction rather than to them laughing, watching as they lie down next to him, resting an arm on his chest to hold him. Fingers gently toying at his bralette. “You are very courageous these past two weeks, hm?” Voice playful and soft as they playfully snap the bralette’s strap to make him jump.

With a warm kiss to his cheek, they smile there. “Consider yourself mine until you can no longer handle me, Alexander.”

Theirs...

He liked the sound of that.

[tayerroos]

Patchwork Tales: Book 1

A “9" roleplay compendium.  Read on AO3 Chapter: 9 [First] [Back] [You Are Here] [Next] Warnings for this chapter: Panic Attack, Violence

[doctorjennawinston]

Stats

Name: Jennavecia “Jenna” Marjorie Winston Age: 33 Birthdate: April 16 Occupation: ER Doctor at Tulsa General Hospital Sexuality: Heteroflexible Relationship Status: Single Bio under the cut! tw:pregnancy, tw:miscarriage, tw:parental death, tw:drunk driving

Jennavecia Marjorie Winston was born and raised in Tulsa, Oklahoma, on the West Side of town. Growing up, Jenna lived what many would describe as a charmed life, having a silver spoon in her mouth from the moment she was born. Her father, Paul Winston, was a renowned surgeon, who essentially built the surgery department at Tulsa General from the ground up. Her mother, Marjorie Taylor-Winston, was a partner in one of the biggest law firms in Tulsa. Despite growing up as a Soc on the wealthy side of town, Jenna’s parents were insistent that she grow up as humble and kind as possible. They instilled values in her that seemed uncommon for the time, not wanting her to view herself as better than anyone else simply because of her circumstance. Jenna worked hard for everything she has, and was forced to learn many tough life lessons along the way. 

Jenna had a wonderful relationship with her parents- they both loved her more than anything, and she was the apple of their eye, especially as an only child. Despite the fact that they both worked insane hours, they made certain to always make as much time for family and each other as possible, taking frequent family trips and vacations, and doing as much together as they could. Even though her parents were never necessarily absent, much of Jenna’s time as a child was spent with her nanny, the woman the Winstons hired to look after Jenna while they were at work. Jenna loved her nanny just as much as her parents, and viewed her as family- an extension of her parents in a sense. The two got along fabulously, and all was well with the world. 

Then, when Jenna was 12, tragedy struck. Paul and Marjorie were making their way back home from a Charity Event the hospital was holding, one Jenna hadn’t attended with them due to having come down with the flu, when they were involved in a head-on collision with a drunk driver. Both were killed instantly upon impact, leaving 12-year-old Jenna an orphan. The only blessing in the whole mess was that her parents had been smart- they owned their lavish home, they owned their vehicles, and had made a point of funneling as much money as possible into a trust for Jenna, should anything have ever occurred. Due to this, Jenna was placed in the custody of her nanny, who was allowed to remain permenantly in the home, to continue raising Jenna. 

Although her parents’ deaths rocked her to her core, Jennavecia did her best to remain positive, keeping the forward momentum and drive they’d instilled within her. She excelled in school, both in academics and in her extracurriculars. When Jenna was 14, she met Elijah Cane. The two wound up in a Biology class together, and became partners for the required labs. Within only a few days, Jenna was enamored with her partner, attracted to something about him she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Within only a few weeks, the two began dating. While Elijah and Jenna were very much in love, the relationship proved to be tumultuous at best. As the old saying goes, opposites attract, and this was absolutely the case with the pair of them. Jenna was type-a, organized, driven, focused, and as put-together as could be, while Elijah played the game of life fast and loose, living on the edge and rebelling against the Soc society as much as he possibly could. Riddled with arguments, disagreements, alcohol, drug use, and very little solid commitment, the relationship was on-again, off-again, on-again, off-again for many years. 

Despite her relationship troubles, Jenna managed to graduate top of her class, and moved quickly on to college, followed by med school. Throughout this time, she and Elijah continued to go back-and-forth in their relationship. Jenna wanted her love to settle down, to work with her to build the life she’d always dreamed of. But, commitment just wasn’t something Elijah could provide. He often left Jenna alone, not coming home, being late on bills if he paid them at all, and certainly not even being willing to discuss wedding rings or bells. More than anything, Jenna wanted the life her parents had- to be so in love with her partner, to build a family, and to really settle down and into a normalized, comfortable life. At the age of 27, Jenna began to accept that Elijah Cane might never be able to provide her with any of those things. He might never be ready for the type of life she so desperately craved. So, she made the hardest decision of her life. She left him, for good. 

Heartbroken, Jenna did her best to continue pushing herself through school, focusing on her studies and throwing every bit of energy she had into making sure she was the best doctor she could be. During this time, she met James, another med student who was in many of her classes. The two began studying together, then seeing each other more frequently for non-school related meetups. While Jenna’s heart was still with Elijah Cane, her mind forced her to move on. Within a few short months, James and Jenna began dating. With James, Jenna could see the future she’d always wanted, and while she couldn’t say she was as madly in love with him as she’d been with Elijah, she did love him. He was intelligent, respectable, and serious, and he seemed like everything Jenna had ever wanted. The pair dated for three years. 

When Jenna was 30, she became pregnant with James’ child. Beyond excited, she was certain the event would open the door to the life she’d always dreamed of. But, when she told James the good news, he didn’t react as she’d expected. He became sullen, withdrawn, almost angry, and Jenna knew something was wrong. Only two months into the pregnancy, Jennavecia learned that James had been seeing someone else- someone he’d apparently fallen in love with, someone he planned to propose to, just as soon as he’d ended things with Jenna (which he’d apparently been looking to do for some time). It was then that James walked out on her, on their relationship, on their future, and on their unborn child. Heartbroken once more, Jenna struggled to cope with the stress of everything happening in her life, as well as the despair she felt at having her dream snatched from her once more. Eventually, the stress became too great, and in her third month of pregnancy, Jenna suffered a miscarriage.

She’d told no one, aside from her nanny (who still lived in the family home with her) of her pregnancy. Following the miscarriage, Jenna became extremely depressed, though she did her best to push forward, not wanting to discuss what had happened with anyone. Though, in her time of grief, it occurred to her that more than anything, the only person she wanted was Elijah Cane. Still, she did not reach out to him at that time, and to this day Elijah is unaware of what occurred between Jenna and James, aside from the fact that they broke up. About a year ago, Jenna found herself back in semi-contact with Elijah, having civil conversations and occasionally reaching out to check up on his welfare. Although he’d moved to the West Side of town, having completely rid himself of his Soc life and persona, Tulsa is small, and gossip travels fast. She’s aware of Elijah’s antics, knowing that following their breakup, he’s spiraled quite a bit. 

Jenna graduated from med school, finishing her internships and residency, just after her miscarriage. She took an open position in Tulsa General’s ER, as working Emergency had always been something she’d been interested in and driven to do. She has held her position there for nearly three years, and her life revolves primarily around her job. Still fairly withdrawn following her experiences, Jenna is polite and friendly with everyone, but has struggled to form any new connections, having many trust issues and now believing that the dream of a wedding and family she’d always held so dear to be nothing more than a pipe dream. Oh, and there’s the fact that she’s realized she is still and always has been very much in love with Elijah Cane. 

[nataliedanovelist]

GF - Beauty Within the Fallen ch.I

Summary: Two misfit twins come across an enchanted castle, home of a mysterious beast, and slowly begin to form a strong bond that just might survive through anything. Even evil demons.

AU and artwork belong to the beautiful and very talented @artsycrapfromsai​. Go give her some love, guys!!!

ch. II

~~~~~~~~~~

Once upon a time, deep within the woods of France, a wealthy man lived in a shining castle. While this man had all one could dream of - money, fame, a beautiful and intelligent wife, and three sons who were handsome in all aspects - the cup this man had chosen to fill had no bottom; it was never enough for him. Behind a mask of silver and gold, the family suffered. The eldest son, a humble man, broke away from the rich family and found love in a small, poor town. The mother, while heartbroken, was happy for her son and wished him nothing but joy, but the father disowned him and forbade any further contact.

With the heir and eldest gone, more pressure fell on the man’s twin sons than ever before. Already far too used to shouldering impossible demands and harboring guilt and responsibility, the eldest twin looked elsewhere for comfort, since it had been proven that family was not the place to go to. His brother, younger by fifteen minutes, was worried for him and acted as he felt was best. One day he confronted the problem and tried to aid the older twin. Together, as a family, they had won the battle, but they would lose the war. A furious demon soon haunted their home, cackling and proclaiming that if one loved his precious journal so much why does he not become one. The younger twin tried to fight back, to once again remain victorious and to right the wrong he had started, but the demon, who sees all and knows all, could not be fought or conned; he knew what this man was and how he saw himself, so he decided to pair the human with his twin and he turned into what he saw himself as. The younger twin was transformed into a hideous monster, and all the servants of the castle were cursed, as well. All who had loved these people, all outside the castle’s walls, were freed of their memories of them, leaving the servants and the brothers forgotten. Confident that the younger brother would never accomplish such a task, the demon had it be known that only if he could find someone to love him the curse would be lifted. They did not have all the time in the world, however; since the older twin was the first to deal with the demon, the journal would slowly lose pages as time went on. When the last page of the journal leaves the cover, the curse would remain forever and the elder twin would be nothing more than an empty shell and the younger twin would remain a beast for all time. Years passed. The brothers lost all hope, coming to face the reality that all they had left in the entire world was each other. For who could ever care for such monsters? ~~~~~~~~~~ Sandwiched in the quiet village, made of stone and bricks and hard work, sat an odd house. Odd for it’s tiny porch full of flowers and herbs. Odd for it’s pig snoozing on the top of the small set of stairs leading to the garden. Odd for it’s residence and their interests, but it was home. Boots clicked against the wood as the little girl skipped out the door and picked up her pig and hugged him, leaving a laundry basket on the floor. Her brother slapped on his blue cap and made sure his matching vest was on well. His sister followed him down the steps with the big basket and the pig followed them down the street of the little town. “Bonjour!” “Bonjour!” “Bonjour, Monsieur!” “Oui, oui, Madame! Mon plaisir!” Mabel, in her peasant girl’s dress with a pink jacket and cloth for a headband, grinned and waved at an old lady across the slow street. “Bonjour, Susan!” Lazy Susan paused her job, walking into the shop with fresh cookies, and held the tray out to the twins. “Good morning, little pinetrees! Where are you off to?” “The library.” Dipper shared while his sister munched on a cookie. He gave Lazy Susan some money and took some bread from a tray on the window. “We just finished one about a knight and a swamp and a princess.” “It was wonderful!” Mabel cheered, her cheeks full of delicious cookie. “I preferred Shakespeare.” “Well, would you like a cookie, too, Dipper?” Lazy Susan asked, knowing the boy all too well to know he would only take one when directly offered. Dipper smiled, took a cookie, and he and Mabel said “merci” before heading on their way. “Bonjour. How is your family?” Tad Strange asked the red-haired lumberjack. “Bonjour! How is your wife?” A creepy old lady asked Mr. Gleeful. “Attrape les! Attrape les!” Tyler cheered Manly Dan on as he lifted some heavy logs. “There, Dipper!” Mabel said, tugging on his vest, and the kids ran for the little library in the midst of the chaos. The library was only one room with only one wall filled with books. With Dipper being an advanced reader and Mabel as an advent storyteller, the two made their evenings entertaining with stories taking them far away. “Good morning!” The curly-haired man said behind the counter with his wife by his side. “Happy day!” “Bonjour, Madame et Monsieur Valentino.” Dipper greeted politely. Mabel rushed to one book and held it out to her twin brother. “Let’s borrow this one!” “We’ve read it three times already.” Dipper said with a roll of his eyes and a small smile. He pulled out the book they were returning from his vest and put it back on the shelf. “But it’s my favorite!” Mabel climbed up the ladder and pretended to sword fight an enemy. “New places! Daring fight! Spells and magic! Great character development!” Dipper chuckled and hushed Mabel, taking the book. “Okay, okay. We’ll read it again, but then I want to pick up Hamlet again.” “Deal!” Mabel cheered and hopped down. While Mabel was at the counter with Mr. and Mrs. Valentino, Dipper was elbowed harsly by a black-haired teenager with bad acne. “What are you doing back here, chief?” Dipper glared at him. “What does it look like I’m doing, actually using my brain.” “Oh yeah,” Robbie snarled and leaned down, his big nose almost touching the boy. “How’s that going for you, twerp?” “Dipper, c’mon!” Mabel called, the laundry basket in her arms by the door. “Let’s go!” “Coming!” Dipper ran after her, but he tripped over Robbie’s foot and fell on his face, but he quickly got up and followed his sister. The kids raced around with their pet pig, Waddles, at their heels, and laughed at each other’s company. They made their way to the Washing Well and began to do the laundry. Beforehand, they had invented a new way of doing laundry; once again, Dipper and Mabel made the perfect team, with the girl’s imagination and the boy’s intelligence harmoniously coexisting to create new inventions and ideas. Borrowing some rope and having Waddles help them, they used gears from Dipper’s vest to hook up the pig to the barrel with rope and they used gears so the barrel would turn with the special sticks inside, mixing the soap with the clothes and saving energy and work. Mabel used oats to make a circle around the well for waddles to follow, and then the twins watched proudly as their washing machine seemed to be working. “We did it!” Mabel cheered and high-fived her twin brother. Dipper then punched her shoulder lightly and said, “I told you it would work! Maybe next time we should borrow Gompers, though. Waddles is kind of slow.” “What?” Mabel dragged and laughed. “No way, Waddles is perfect! You’ll see, those clothes will be cleaner than the Northwests!” Dipper smiled as he opened the book and laid it on the stone wall, using it as a desk as he and his sister watched the washing. “Okay, okay, we should keep working on your reading. You’re getting better. Why not try to read the introduction?” Mabel smiled, a little shy when it comes to being a better reader, but she loved stories and she wanted to prove that she was smart, too, so she nodded and began to read outloud. She hoped her fond memory of the book would make it easier, guessing the words, but that proved to be false. Still, Dipper and patient and a good teacher and slowly Mabel finished the first chapter all on her own. “That was great!” Dipper congratulated and Mabel’s cheeks turned rosy. “What are you two doing?” The twins looked ahead to find Blubs and Durland staring at them, looking both shocked and unapproving. Mabel’s cheeks turned a darker red, but she tried to smile and be friendly. “Bonjour, mes capitaines!” Mabel greeted warmly. “Having a good day?” “We were, until we saw the commotion you two are up to.” Blubs said. “What’s a girl doing reading? And what on Earth is all this? Another invention?” Mabel grinned, choosing to ignore his first comment. “Yeah! Isn’t it great? Think of all the work this’ll get done!” “Mabel,” Dipper whispered warningly. “You’re usin’ up the whole well!” Durland scolded. “And no pigs inside the well!” “That’s not a rule.” “You questioning our authority, boy?” Blubs growled. “I’m questioning your objectivity.” “I dunno what that means, but I don’t like it.” Durland sneered and the two policemen pulled the barrel out of the well and bumped the soapy laundry on the dirt. “You two take your freaky readin’ somewhere else!” Dipper and Mabel hurried to pick up their clothes. Waddles waddled to them and rubbed his head on Dipper, who hugged him for comfort before continuing to clean up the mess. The twins turned for home and simultaneously groaned; hurrying to them with white hair and pale skin was the ten-year-old, Gideon Gleeful. He grinned at the sight of them and hopped on over in his baby-blue junior army uniform. He bowed a little and said, “Why, Mabel! You look absolutely radiant today!” “Thanks.” She mumbled. “Here, lemme help y’all.” Gideon said and picked up some stray laundry. “I think your invention was really neat.” Dipper raised an eyebrow at him. “You do?” “Oh, sure!” Gideon said. “Laundry’s sucha pain, but y’all made it bearable! Great job!” “Gee thanks, Gideon.” Mabel said sincerely with a smile and took the laundry from his arms. “You know,” Gideon said slyly and wiggled his eyebrows at her. “If you wanna read to me or show me some more inventions, I’m not busy tonight.” Mabel’s smile went away, suddenly very uncomfortable. “I’m sorry, not tonight.” “Oh. Already got plans?” “No.” Dipper grabbed her hand. “Come on, let’s go back home. Fiddleford will need our help soon.” Gideon and the policemen watched them go away. A big muscular man with no pupils emerged from a shop and said, “I’m sorry that girl isn’t into you, Lil’ Gideon.” “She loves me!” Gideon insisted. “She just doesn’t know it yet.” “What makes you wanna date the Pines girl, anyway?” Blubs asked. “She’s the prettiest!” Gideon explained. “And the nicest! That makes her the best! If I’m gonna be the best I need the best as my queen!” “Yeah,” Durland said. “But she and her brother are nothing like the rest of us.” Gideon didn’t care, and hurried to catch up to his friends. Or at least former-friends. He shoved his way past busy peasants and called out to the twins. Dipper kept on muttering “Ignorer, ignorer, ignorer!” to himself and his sister. Ever since Gideon’s little crush got out of hand and he joined the military, he had been pestering Mabel to be with him and Dipper to join the army. What used to be annoying was now toxic and they were taught not to meddle with that. Mabel, Dipper, and Waddles made it into their house just before Gideon could catch up, leaving him to switch his eye and say to himself, “Sure… kiss those other frogs, Mabel Pines… this prince can wait…” The twins sighed with relief inside their childhood home. Dipper locked the door and Mabel hugged Waddles. They were both still as they heard music and they smiled and followed it. In the main room, what was supposed to be a living room but was mostly a study and work room, an old man with a long beard and nose sat at a desk, working on a music box. The machine was small and plain on the outside, but on the inside it was many beautiful colors and had pretty iron gears. Fiddleford glanced up from his work and smiled at the children. “Y’all back. How was it in town today?” “It was okay.” Mabel said and sat next to him. “Mabel sweetie, will ya hand me… thank ya.” Fiddleford chuckled as Mabel had the piece in her hand already, smart enough to know just what he needed. “What made it only okay?” “Gideon.” Dipper said and sat on Fiddleford’s other side. “Oh. My boy, will ya hand me… no, no, not… actually…” Fiddleford smiled with pride for the boy to have known of the correct piece before he did. Both of the children were bright in their own right, as he always said. “Well, m’sorry that boy won’t quit botherin’ y’all. Shall I talk with his parents?” Mabel sighed and rested her cheek on her fist. “Nah, I just wish things could go back to the way they were before. You know, friends.” Dipper was off in his own little world. Mabel might have been oblivious to it all, but Dipper was not. Between all the polite greetings, the people had hissed rumors and comments about the Pines twins. Poor orphaned children who were stuck with their grandfather’s best friend ever since the plague. Maybe if they only had proper parents to raise them they would be so odd, like a boy with no interest in fighting and a girl who loves to read. Mabel was always told she wasn’t smart enough to read and Dipper was always told he wasn’t strong enough and should fix it. It became suffocating at times. “Fiddleford,” He said out of the blue. “Are we odd?” Fiddleford blinked rapidly and readjusted his glasses. “Odd? My kids? Odd? Never. What got that into your head?” Dipper shrugged. “People talk.” Mabel sighed, sorry for her brother. “It’s all my fault.” “What?” The boys gasped. “If only I wasn’t so… different.” Mabel picked up a bigger music box Fiddleford had built but had not yet decorated. She saw her reflection, the reflection of a girl with fat cheeks and not-perfect teeth, someone every other boy but creeps had rejected. “Ya ain’t different.” Fiddleford said firmly. “You’re special. Wanna know why?” “Cuz we’re made of stars?” Mabel guessed, eyeing her twin. Dipper smiled and took off his hat and pushed his hair back, showing off his birthmark. Fiddleford told them ever since they were little that they were made out of the same stuff as stars, both full of light and goodness. The old man smiled and gently combed Dipper’s brown hair. “That’s right, Sweet Tea. Ya remember me tellin’ ya that I was there when y’all were born?” The children nodded. “You said Grandpa Shermie woke you up in the middle of the night, but you didn’t care.” Dipper said. “You wanted to see us.” “I was born first and punched the doctor in the jaw!” Mabel declared victoriously. “That’s right, sweetie, ya were.” Fiddleford laughed and went on with his story. “Ya were so new but your eyes already shined so bright. Dipper came next, but his skin was blue n’ he was sick. Thank the Lord we knew he’d be okay soon, n’ your grandpa saw your birthmark n’ grinned n’ said, ‘Hah! That’s my weirdos! Nothing can take ‘em down!’” Dipper and Mabel smiled over fond memories of their grandfather. Their parents had died when they were babies and that was when Fiddleford moved in permanently to help take care of the kids. Grandpa Shermie died four years ago, and it still hurt a little, but now they could all remember him with smiles on their faces. “It’s a good thang y’all are weird. Ain’t nothin’ better than bein’ different.” Fiddleford assured them. “I know it’s been hard - small town leads to small minds, ya know - but hurtin’ makes ya kind n’ strong, n’ there’s no doubt in my mind that y’all are gonna do big thangs one day n’ make ‘em all feel like fools.” Dipper and Mabel smiled, but their eyes seemed unsure. Fiddleford closed the little music box and pushed his chair back. “I think that’s enough work for now.” He leaned back and grabbed the banjo that was leaning against the wall. “What should we sing first?” Mabel grinned; growing up, their lives had been full of music. Fiddleford sang to them since they were babies and taught them how to dance and sing. Dipper smiled and let Mabel and Fiddleford create good background music while he read the book from the library. “Take a little journey, Let’s go to the unknown. Let’s come back changed, We’ll feel it in our bones. It may be scary, It may be hard, But I’ll go as long as I have you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Author’s Note: I tried to put in a lot of different Disney references in this story, outside of GF and BatB; if I could draw I would have totally put some Mickey Mouse ears in the background or something.

One thing that was interesting to write about was Dipper and Mabel’s backstory and Fiddleford’s friendship with their grandfather. Honestly, Shermie doesn’t get enough attention, in canon or in the fandom, so it’s always fun to include him when I can. Sorry I had to be a jerk and kill him off.

In case anyone is wondering, the song the family sings at the end of the chapter is based off of “Find Me in the Woods”, basically the perfect song for Gravity Falls (and Over the Garden Wall).

One last thing; primarily this crossover is based off of the animated BatB movie, but I did pull some ideas from the 2017 live-action movie. My opinion of the live-action movie is a tad bias, I’ll admit it (the casting of Emma Watson sold me instantly), but while it’s certainly not better than the animated movie, there are some elements I love, like the piano and the wardrobe’s love story, Lefou’s character development and Josh’s performance, the mob scene I felt was better executed, and I like this version of Maurese better. Expect SOME elements of the live-action in here, like Dipper and Mabel being inventors and their washing machine, but note that it’s mainly based off of the original animated movie.

Thank you so much for reading, and I hope y’all enjoy it!

[chillmichelle]

Harry’s a Politician, and Y/N’s a Baker who just happens to support him

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: Smut, really filthy

-

Everyone knew who Harry Styles was.

It wasn’t just the fact that he had dashingly good looks, green eyes being able to pierce through metal with a tall stature and a jawline that could cut diamonds, or the fact that he’d graduated from Oxford at the top of his class.

It wasn’t even the fact that, at the age of 18, he’d founded one of the most successful tech companies in London, alongside his partner who he eventually beat out to become sole CEO of the company.

It was the fact that, at the mere age of 25, he had made the decision to run for a position in the House of Commons. And what was even more astounding was the fact that he was projected to win.

But with all of the glitz and the glamour that surrounded him, he’d never had a girlfriend. He’d never had time to find women, and the ones he knew, he was disinterested by.

Only fools were unaware of who he was, and only fools would assume that he wasn’t ready to fill the position rightfully. Although he was significantly younger than most people in politics, he was also significantly intelligent. But with the majority of the public, and the representatives in the House of Commons, saying that he was ‘too young’ or ‘too unqualified’, Harry knew he had to work twice as hard to stand a chance at beating out his opponent.

Campaigning was an important part of any political election. And Y/N knew this.

She’d never considered herself someone that was too into politics, She had her own beliefs, yes, but she was never one to actively like a certain candidate, let alone put aside some of her personal time just to campaign for them.

But then, she found out about him.

He was merely a few years older than her, yet he was accomplishing so much. She remembered the first time he’d stopped by her bakery in London to pick up a cupcake, and remembered the charming glint in his green eyes. She’d been too shy to speak to him, quickly handing him his change and scuffling out of the way, but he was incredibly humble for someone in shoes worth more than her month’s rent.

So when her friend approached her with a flyer she’d plucked off of a bulletin board of a bar, showcasing a campaign event for the man she was so impressed by, she easily agreed to support him in his endeavors. Just because she was practically invisible to him, didn’t mean she couldn’t admire him from afar.

-

“Polls are down by 3% this week”

Y/N’s been at the event for about an hour, and she doesn’t think she's ever been this bored in her life. What she thought was going to be, perhaps remotely interesting, proves to be the complete opposite as she’s surrounded by sorority girls gushing over how attractive he is and arts students from the local university arguing with each other about tax regulations.

She stood in the back of the room, scrolling through her phone absent mindedly as she tried to avoid any attention from anyone. Her friend was chatting, arguing amongst some boys in pastel shirts and boat shoes, and Y/N wants to scoff at how stuck up some of the people look.

Rubbing at her eyes, she sneakily reaches into her purse, pulling out a cake pop to ease the growling in her stomach. She nibbles at the white chocolate, tinging at the strawberry flavoring while she scrolls through her phone.

But just as she goes in to take the final bite of her cake pop, she hears a voice from behind her that makes her jump up in her boots and drop the rest of the savory dessert onto the floor.

“Mind if I take one for myself?”

And when she turns around, she’s met with striking Green eyes. He’s dressed in a plain white dress shirt, along with some black skinny jeans and some brown boots. He looks completely normal, but Y/N doesn't have time to be surprised over his normality because she’s registering the fact that he’s really in front of her.

Thinking quickly, she reaches into her purse to pull out the pink paper bag of cake pops, and holds them out to Harry. The Harry Styles. She watches as the powerful man pulls out a pink cake pop and nibbles at the white chocolate frosting.

“Strawberry?” He questions, his plump pink lips moving as he chews on the flavor. Y/N nods slightly, still processing his presence.

“I love strawberry.” He tells her, licking the melted chocolate off of his fingers. She’s surprised no one has noticed him yet, but then she remembers she’s in the literal corner of the room.

“You look familiar.” He tells her, narrowing his eyes as he scans her up and down. Y/N awkwardly stands there, body stiff as she debates what to say to him.

“You do too.” She blurts out, and she feels like punching herself in the face at how stupid her remark was. Of course he looks familiar, it’s not like he’s the most successful man in London or anything, she thinks to herself.

His face is plastered across the room on several posters, his name on the radio and in the news every two seconds.

Harry lets out a laugh, a little giggle that Y/N thinks is adorable for a man of his prestige.

“Say, do you own a bakery just off of downtown?” He asks her. She isn’t aware of how he’s recognized her, especially after all of the people he’s probably met, many of them being much more important than her, without a doubt.

“Ah, I thought I recognized the strawberry cake.” He tells her. He sticks out his hand for her to shake, “Harry Styles.”

“Y/N.” She tells him, her eyes drifting to the tattoos on his hand and the rings decorating his long  fingers. She tries to look away from the light green pools in his eyes, afraid she’ll drown in them if she stares for too long.

“I remember you make quite the cupcake.” He tells her, “Best i’ve ever had, actually. You don’t think you could teach me how to make them?” He suggests, and Y/N is baffled at his words.

Is he asking me on a date?

Surely he’s just being friendly, there’s no way.

“It’s quite simple, really.” She tells him honestly. He smiles, shaking his head as if he can’t believe something’s happening as he crosses his arms across his chest and rocks back and forth on the heels of his feet.

“Then i’m sure you wouldn’t mind teaching me.”

He pulls out one of the pens tucked into the pocket of his black jeans, clicking it loudly before scribbling something onto the pink pastry bag with her cake pops that she still holds. After he’s finished, he clicks the pen shut and hands her the bag.

“If you ever want to give me some baking lessons.” She raises her eyebrow at him, “I think someone as smart as you could figure out how to make some cupcakes.” She tells him playfully, trying not to stumble on her words.

“M’quite shit at things that don’t have to do with numbers.” he smiles at her, reaching into the bag she’s holding to snag another cake pop. He takes a bite out of the small ball of sweetness, “And I don’t think any cupcakes I could make could compete with these.”

Just as he finishes speaking, they both hear his name being screeched out of a high pitched voice. Everyone turns their heads to where he stands, right in front of her at the back of the room, and Y/N quickly scurries away, feeling two eyes burning holes into her back as she rushes out.

-

Y/N’s fingers are shaking as she holds her phone in her hands. Her eyes scan over the pink bag and the screen once more to make sure the number is correct before she presses the little green phone button.

She hears the line ringing and she panics as she realizes she hadn’t planned out what she was going to say at all.

She’s spinning all the different possibilities of what to say in her head, her mind exploding from all of the thinking, but before she can even think about what to say, a gruff voice interrupts her thoughts.

“Hello?”

Shit.

Y/N thinks as she holds the phone to her ear, she’s panicking and she's gripping onto her apron, eyes scanning the oven full of cupcakes as she speaks into the phone.

“H-Hi.” She squeaks into the phone.

“Who is this?” The voice immediately presses on and Y/N doesn’t know how to approach the situation. Does she greet him as if they’ve known each other for a long time? Does she ask him if he knows a Y/N? She’s overanalyzing everything he says.

“Y/N?” She hears suffering on the other side of the line, “Is that you?”

Her heart almost pounds out of her chest, and she’s shocked he even recognized her. He probably talks to hundreds of people a day.

“Uh, yeah.” She doesn’t know how to go about asking him to come to the kitchen and test run recipes with her, she isn’t sure how to ask anyone out on a date and quite frankly, she’s afraid of rejection.

“Oh.” He says, “How are you?”

“Good.” She quickly says, “Was just…testing new cupcake recipes, and I was thinking maybe you would want to come?” She rushes out, her words may have been incoherent from how quickly she spit out her proposal.

“You don't have to if you don’t want to, of course. Or if you’re b-busy. Or if you’re at work. Or-“

Harry cuts her off with a boastful laugh, his laugh echoing into the phone. She feels somewhat better at his good mood, facing a smile as she fiddles with the hem of her apron.

“I’d love to. Is it the bakery right off of 22nd?” His voice sound raspy over the phone, and Y/N’s heart thuds t just how amazing everything about him is. She nods, but then realizes she’s on the phone, rushing to respond,

“Yeah.”

“Alright, i’ll see you in a bit then.” He tells her, and Y/N quickly presses the red button to hang up the call before gripping her chest in surprise. She smiles to herself, tucking her bottom lip between her teeth and smiling like an idiot.

-

Harry shows up 30 minutes later, two paper bags in his hands filled with organic eggs, milk, flour, sugar, and butter. His cheeks are flushed pink, and his green eyes almost look lime green at the glow they have to them. He greets her with a short peck on the cheek, and she almost melts into the floor at his gesture.

“Alright then, lets get to baking.” Y/N hands him an apron to put on over his clothes and he struggles to tie the material around him. She giggles, watching him attempt to tie a knot without seeing it, and reaches behind his back to tie it for him instead.

Harry’s a rather good baker.

He tells her about how his mum would force him to whisk the eggs whenever they would make cookies as a child. Or how she’d practically force him to make muffins for his sister whenever she was sick.

He stands next to her, intently watching her ice the cooler cupcakes, watching her swirl patterns effortlessly onto the frosting of the cupcake. Harry sneakily dips his finger into the bowl when she’s not looking and scoops some of the sugary goodness into his mouth.

He’s very childlike and fluffy when he ices his cupcakes, mouth slightly parted as his eyebrows furrow in concentration. When he messes up, he stomps his foot like a toddler and mumbles curses under his breath, Y/N observing his cute nature as he does so.

They end up making 3 batches of cupcakes, all of them different flavors, and they conclude the flavor they’ll add to the bakery’s menu. After they’re finished, she packs Harry some of the cupcakes they made, along with some of the signature cupcakes from the bakery, and she hands them to him in a bakery box with the store’s logo on it.

“After they’re done baking, Y/N goes to scrub at some of the dirt bowls in the sink. She grabs the sponge, swirling it around the batter to scrub it off, but just as she’s getting ready to wash off her last pan, she feels two hands circle around her waist, and she drops the pan into the sink.

The sound echoes into the kitchen, and she’s properly shocked at the sound, but instead of lingering on the thought, she leans back into Harry’s chest, his heard thudding quickly against her back as she feels his breath on the top of her head.

“Thank you for today.” He tells her, mumbling the words into her head. She nods, flicking the rest of the water off of her hands before turning around. It’s then that she notices how close they are to each other, faces practically touching each other’s.

“Sometimes I forget what it’s like to just-“ His face inches closer to hers, “Have a good time.”

Y/N breaks eye contact, she barely knew Harry, and she certainly wasn’t absolutely certain on how he felt about her. She didn’t want to be someone he just slept with, so she clears her throat and turns to grab another cupcake, quickly stuffing her face into it. Harry lets out a small laugh at her flustered action before grabbing one for himself.

-

The clock is hitting 9:49, only 11 minutes left until Y/N can go home. She sighs, tucking a stray piece of hair behind her ear. She’s dismissed al of the other workers, and all she has left to do is wait 11 minutes before locking up the doors and leaving.

Harry’s been the only thing on her mind all day. Every time she looks at the cupcakes in the clear display case, she can’t help but think of his horrible frosting skills. And every time she beats another egg into her butter-sugar mixture to make chocolate chip cookies, she thinks of Harry’s playful stories he told to fill the silence.

She smiles, silently laughing at her own thoughts before she hears the door jingle and snaps her eyes to the front of the bakery. She see’s the silhouette of a figure in a black coat, and assumes it’s another customer coming in before closing, but she’s shocked to see that it’s Harry, snow melting in his pretty brown hair with a smile on his soft face.

“Hello love, thought i’d drop by for a cupcake.”

Y/N smiles, stepping forward to wrap her arms around his neck and give him a hug. Even though she hadn’t known him for long, she missed him more than she was supposed to, and she didn’t know whether or not that was a good thing.

-

The next night, Harry drops by again, this time 30 minutes before closing. They roam around the kitchen, attempting to make a quick batch of cookies, but end up staying till later. Y/N doesn’t mind, though, and she goes home with flour on her face and some warm chocolate chip cookies in her bag.

The night after that, Harry surprises Y/N with dinner (That she usually either skips, or substitutes with dessert food) and they dine on local pasta as they watch one of the channels that only plays cartoon shows all day.

It’s the night after that’s Y/N’s favorite.

Harry walks into the bakery, no smile on his face or crinkle in his eyes. His face looks rather sad, and Y/N notices his eyes are a rather darker shade of green. She comfortingly wraps her arms around him and Harry tucks his face into her neck, breathing in the sweet scent of her perfume as he sighs contently.

“I messed up.” He says, his voice croaking out at his sad state. Y/N’s pretty sure he’s been crying, but she doesn’t want to assume anything so she just holds him as he continues.

“They asked me, and I, I should’ve known that they would ask me it because they don’t like me.” He says, sniffling, “They say i’m too out of touch to run, that i’m too young to know what i’m talking about.”

Y/N entangles one of her hands in his hair, and his hand in return slides under the fabric of her apron, gripping at the soft cotton of her shirt as he tries to hole himself together.

“You’re one of the most brilliant people I know, Harry.” She tells him. He lets out a shaky breath and she pets at his hair, “They’re just afraid because you’re so successful so young. They’re jealous, but instead of proving them right, you should prove to them you’re just as qualified as anyone else. Even more.”

Y/N untangles herself from him, her hand reaching down to knit itself through his. His cool metal rings touch her fingers as she slots their hands together, and pulls him towards the kitchen.

Y/N quickly brews two cups of tea, making small talk with Harry. He’s initially unresponsive (due to his mood, Y/N thinks), but he eventually eases up, telling Y/N more stories of his childhood. Y/N’s glad to have someone like him, someone to make her nights just a bit less lonely and her days go by faster, someone to keep her hoping.

When she’s finished with her cup, she grabs his empty mug to go place into the sink. While she’s on her way there, she feels a tug on her hand, and is abruptly turned around, her torso pressing against a warm body.

She’s short of breath, eyes immediately meeting his swollen, tired ones. His eyes are like little pools of Emeralds, the scent of peppermint tea lingering on his lips. He begins to lean forward, and instead of backing away or moving like last time, she flutters her eyes shut and embraces the feeling of his soft lips molding against hers.

It feels like an eternity, and she’s the first to pull away. Her eyes are wide as she feels tingles shoot up to her lips, and she notices the faint smile lingering on his lips.

“I like you, Y/N.” He rests his forehead against hers, hands resting on her waist, “A lot.”

She nods against him, closing her eyes and letting his warmth envelope her. “I have a press run for the next two weeks.” Her eyes snap open, “I don’t want to leave. I want to stay here with you more than anything,-“

“You should go.” She cuts him off, voice soft, “This is important for you, you worked so hard for this, Harry.” She tells him.

“Go.” She repeats, and he smiles at her words before leaning forward to press another peck onto her lips.

“I’ve liked you since I first came in here.” He tells her truthfully. Y/N feels her heart start to race, her mind turning to goop as he tells her more, “You looked so beautiful, and you were so…pretty.” His lips move slowly, eyes scanning up and down her face. “You don’t see that much when you work in the fields I do.”

His fingers go to tuck a strand of loose hair behind her ear, thumb caressing at her soft cheeks as he admires the beauty mar on her jaw.

“I think there’s a reason I met you, no?”

And Y/N doesn’t know much, but she knows she’ll miss Harry much more than she thinks.

-

“Anyways, thank you for the cupcakes, Y/N, i’m sure Allen will love the new flavors.”

Closing the cash register just five minutes before the clock finally strikes ten, Y/N waves goodbye to the kind woman walking out of her local bakery. 

“Anytime Darla, I hope I see you at the second opening next week.”

Y/N had finally raised enough money from her bakery to open her second a few miles away. The newly opening bakery would be closer to the more prestigious neighborhoods in town, and would hopefully draw in more business to her store. Grabbing the dessert tongs, she grabs the few extra cupcakes and scones to place them into a cute little box, perhaps offering them to her neighbors or her best friend.

Just as she places the tongs back onto their little glass plate on top of the display case of desserts, she hears the little bell jingle signaling the door is opening. She glances at the clock, seeing the clock has hit ten and just as she turns around to tell the person they’re closed, she immediately shuts her mouth, lips curving upwards into a wide grin.

“I’m sorry, is it too late for a cupcake? I heard the girl who owns this place has the most amazing cupcakes.”

His cheeks are flushed pink from the cool air outside, and the jacket he wears somehow hides his bulky frame, making him seem more cuddly than ever. Holding a smile on his face, Y/N races forward and wraps her arms around his neck.

She breathes in the scent of pine and aftershave, feeling warmth envelope her quickly. They sway side to side a bit before disconnecting.

“I thought you weren’t back for another week?”

“Press run ended early, I missed your baking. Thought i’d stop by for a cupcake but I forgot that you closed shop at ten, so I sprinted from Hathaway Street in under ten minutes.”

She giggles, pressing her face deeper into Harry’s jacket. Just moments after, she unravels herself from him and turns to the empty display case in front of her. Reaching behind the counter, she grabs the small box with the cute little bow on it ( it’s usually used for sending cakes to formal events), and opens it, pulling out a strawberry cupcake with cream cheese frosting.

She hands it to him and he eagerly takes it from her grasp, dipping his head forwards to take a mouthful of the creamy frosting. A small splotch of whipped cream cheese on the tip of his nose. He attempts to lick it off with his tongue, but ultimately Y/N just reaches out and swipes it off with her finger, giggling at his childlike nature.

“I forgot how good these were.” Harry moans, only a bite of the cupcake left merely a minute after she gave it to him. She begins to close up shop, locking the doors to the kitchen and turning off all of the kitchen lights.

When she walks back out to the counter, she realizes that two more cupcakes from the box are gone, and her heart warms when she sees him finishing a brown cupcake, his other hand scrolling through his phone.

“Ready to go?” She asks, and he nods as he throws the last bite of his cupcake into his mouth.

“I really like the peanut butter ones. Are they new?” Y/N nods and Harry licks at the tip of his fingers, tasting the faint flavor of the dessert he so quickly devoured.

“Hey.” He grabs her small wrist, pulling her towards him as she shuffles forward a but, “It’s cold outside. You’re gonna need this.”

He unwraps the scarf he had resting around his neck, and begins to bandage it around her small neck, her head seemingly drowning in the pool of fabric. Y/N’’s senses are flushed with the scent of his cologne and she takes a deeper whiff of the scarf before smiling, grabbing Harry’s hand, and guiding him out into the cold London air.

-

“It’s kind of messy, sorry.” Y/N guides Harry into her flat. It’s a bit cramped, her various band posters stuck to the walls with a rack of vinyls and a record player resting on the wall. It smells of the pine candle she’s had, but never lit.

“No, it’s.” He takes his coat off, shrugging off the thick layers before hanging it loosely on the coat rack behind them, “It reminds me of you. I like it.”

Harry admires the traces of her around her living room. The stand of cupcakes on the table, the little picture frames with family photos in them. He particularly loves the David Bowie posters on her wall, adorning the white walls behind the TV.

He turns to face her, leaning forward, he loves the abrupt speeding up of her breath, the little nervous gestures she gives when he leans in. She properly beautiful, he thinks, as his hands grip the sides of her jaw and he molds his lips against hers.

Their lips press against each others softly, molding against each other in a rhythm one they know. Harry tastes the faint cherry chapstick she’s put on and he deepens the kiss, pulling her even closer towards him so that his body is stark against hers.

He pulls her bottom lip into his mouth, sucking it into his lips as he nibbles at the soft skin. Y/N lets out a moan, a small one, but enough to make Harry’s pants a bit tight. He groans, one hand lifting off of her face and onto her lower back.

Harry doesn’t know how far she wants to go. He doesn’t want to make her uncomfortable, doesn’t want to drive her away when he likes her so much. She’s the first girl who’s enamored him this much, the only one who doesn’t seem to want him for his money or his name.

He’s shocked when her fingers slither their way under the thick material of his sweater, warm fingertips skimming across the skin of his back. She takes the hem of the sweater in his fingers, pulling it upwards as he pulls apart from her lips to completely take it off.

Y/N takes her time, eyes scanning across all of the detailed art on his chest. Se starts at the center of his chest, admiring the detailing on the wings of the butterfly and working his way down to the leaves on his hipbones. She snaps out of her trance, leaning forward to suck at the skin right below his collarbone (the parts of him that on’t be exposed in the cold winter weather), and elicits a moan from his swollen lips.

Before she takes it any further, she grabs at his hand and tugs him towards the couch. When he’s seated, hair messy and breath uneven as his legs are split apart to make the tint in his pants just a bit more comfortable, she makes her way to him, signaling what she wants to do. She sits patiently in front of him on the couch, knees bent under her as she politely looks up at him with big eyes.

He leans back onto the sofa, eyes close and hands gripping at the fabric of the couch. He finally opens his eyes a crack, cock throbbing against his boxers and the tough material of his dress pants.

“Can I-“ She licks at her lips, not knowing how to ask. Harry seems to understand, though, ass he nods feverishly and goes to unbutton his pants, hoping to relieve some of the tightness.

She stops him however, placing her hand over his and lifting it off of his pants. She grazes her fingertips over the clear bulge in his pants, feeling the warm skin pulse underneath her touch.

She quickly unbuttons his dress pants, sliding the zipper down quickly before tugging at the waistband of his pants, she feels Harry lift his hips up, and she pulls down his pants, along with his boxers, all at once.

He springs up, a wet dribble of precum dribbling down the tip of his cock. She sees the soft, pink head of his member, and immediately leans forward to take a lick at the skin.

Harry’s head is in a daze, his fingers pinching at his leg to make sure he’s not dreaming. He couldn’t believe his eyes, seeing the shy girl at the bakery that he’d been admiring from afar eagerly licking at the tip of his cock. When she gives another lick, tongue softly skimming over the tip of his cock, he throws his head back and curses loudly.

“Fuck, please.” He begs her. She rubs little circles into the skin of his thigh, leaning forward again to finally press the head of his cock inside of her mouth, and giving him a little suck in the process.

Harry’s eyes jerk open, meeting hers as she presses forward and spits a bit on the tip of his cock, hand moving to lubricate his shaft. She strokes tightly a few times, tugging as more precum pools on the head of him.

“Baby…” He moans out, and she acts on the pet name, licking at his head, before finally pushing her head down and taking him as far as she can.

His he'd hits the back of her throat, and instead of retracting, she presses it further down her jaw, eyes tearing up at the feeling. She does this a few times before pulling off of him and his hands are gripping her hair tightly, holding her in place. “Holy shit.” He breaths, and Y/N moans with him in her mouth. She loves how she can have him, one of the most powerful men in all of London, right in front of her, begging for her. He pushes her head down softly, cock throbbing in her hand.

She pushes her head down, running it up and down his cock repeatedly until she notices his breathing stopping, and then starting in an uneven pattern. His hands untangle from her hair, and his hand wraps around the part of his cock her mouth cant reach.

He strokes at the shaft, tip a purple-pink color as he strokes from the base of the shaft, right up to where her mouth sucks at the tip of him. She notices him moaning more than he has been, and takes it as her cue to pop off of him, opening her mouth and resting her tongue right under his tip.

He continues stroking, admiring the way she sits determines to finish him as he continues to pull himself closer to the edge.

“Fuck.” He moans. And he lays the head on her tongue, pressing it against the soft surface.

“Fuck! Y/N, fuck!” Thick spurts shoot out of his cock, and Y/N quickly replaces his hand with her own, stroking him complete as his cum pools at her lips. She finishes stroking him through, and then uses his remaining heavy breathing to encourage her to take him into her mouth and clean him up completely once more.

When she finishes, she stands up, legs a bit sore from the position she was sitting in, and goes to grab his sweater. Before she can, though, Harry leans forward on the couch and pocks his lips to hers, muttering a small “Thank you.” before reaching down for his pants.

After he’s dressed again, he has Y/N tucked into his chest and a comedy film turned on on the TV. He occasionally leans down his lips, pecking at the sot skin on her forehead and inhaling the scent of her shampoo.

And he thinks he’s found a woman, and one he’s completely, undeniably, enamored with.

[tisthenightofthewitch]

GHOST'S TOBIAS FORGE ON FILM PLANS, COPIA'S FUTURE, "DARKER, HEAVIER" NEXT ALBUM

Bandleader also talks Metallica, Mercyful Fate, why a Ghost biopic would be "like premature ejaculation"

The Gospel of Cardinal Copia began barely a year ago, his birth as the new frontman of Ghost neither virginal nor particularly miraculous. But there he stands, a religious man of style and mystery: left eye icy blue and blazing, dressed in fine liturgical threads, leading a band of Nameless Ghouls in silver masks through songs of plague and vermin, love and death.

In the eleven months since the beatific release of Ghost's epic fourth album, Prequelle, much has happened in the world of this wildly theatrical metal act from Sweden. The first of these events was the reveal of Tobias Forge as the living, breathing mastermind behind the masks and papal vestments. Though he's never explicitly stated as such, it's widely understood that it's been Forge all along behind the mic, disguised in corpse paint and/or latex masks, first as a series of consecutive demonic popes called Papa Emeritus (Nos. I-III), before reemerging in 2018 as the grimly debonair Cardi Copia.

Prequelle was a medieval concept album that became a hit, spreading the word of Ghost to a growing congregation, in the U.S. reaching No. 3 on the Billboard album chart, and the Top 10 across most of Europe. An American tour filled theaters and last year delivered Ghost to select arenas in Los Angeles, New York and Montreal. It was all a preamble to Ghost's upcoming Ultimate Tour Named Death, a true arena tour of North America, where the band will deliver a fully realized, theatrical rock show of stained glass and fireballs this fall, beginning Sept. 13th in Bakersfield. (Ghost is also openingfor Metallica this summer on a "WorldWired" European stadium tour.)

"For some reason and luckily for me, I have never really crumbled in front of challenges — maybe going to the dentist," Forge tells Revolver. "I've always got a kick out of doing challenging things. More than anything, it just forces me to go further."

As a lifelong devotee of Queen and Kiss, Forge is a true believer in the power of rock's epic sweep. Taking Ghost to its fullest potential as operatic spectacle is the ultimate fantasy-come-true for Forge, who birthed the band with few expectations a decade ago with a trio of satanic metal tracks.

"There were definitely moments where I had to walk into the arena in the morning and pinch myself a little bit: All these trucks are ours? All this is just for us?" Forge says of his experiences at the handful of headline arena shows Ghost performed last year in America. "I've always wanted to do this since I was a child. I've envisioned it so many times that I don't know really where the dream ended and it sort of went into reality."

Out of costume and out of character, Forge is a friendly and contemplative figure, a seemingly humble rocker and family man behind Ghost's larger than life image. And there is much still to be done as he heads into this final leg of Ghost's Prequelle cycle. To accompany the tour, he's just completed a new series of online video "webisodes" that dive deeper into the mystery of Copia through Gothic intrigue and comedy.

"There are a few episodes coming in the future that might bring some clarity as to who this fucker is," Forge says of Copia, without offering details. "My hope is that he gets to become Papa Emeritus IV. That is the goal. It just takes time and it takes effort. And that is what he's proving now."

The videos are an essential part of the band's mythology, and now Forge is close to realizing his ambition to create the first feature-length Ghost movie. If all goes well, the film will be shot before the end of the year.

"If it wasn't for the fact that I ended up finally being a musician, the one thing I really, really want to do in my life is cinema," Forge says. "Any chance I can have to do that, I'm definitely grabbing it."

There had been discussions about this over the years. As an especially visual band, with its own cavalcade of insane characters, the potential was obvious, but things often got stuck on the form a movie might take. "Most films about bands are biographical, and I see no reason to tell our story yet," says Forge, who still considers Ghost to be in its early years. "It's a little bit like premature ejaculation. You have to have a career first and then you can tell the real story, so that was never an option. And when you yank away that, what do you have? Well, that would be a fictional story."

He's confident that the story of the film has now been figured out, and would partly take place around a live concert. Figuring out the location, budget, etc. will make all the difference.

"The cog wheels are turning on that one," he says. "We're just trying to figure out a lot of the practicalities. Making a film is a big endeavor. Another problem that I have had over the course of my career is that I don't have a shit-ton of time. I am also a father of two kids and I'm married. I try to not to break my back. I've been so close so many times to overworking and I said yes to everything just because I was so keen on not losing momentum. I've learned over the years that it's really important not to do everything at once."

Beyond the film and the final leg of this tour, Forge is contemplating what comes next when he returns to the studio in 2020 to begin work on a new Ghost album. He's leaning toward a harder, riffier sound this time. He'll start in January and finish that summer.

"I want to make a different record from Prequelle. I want it to feel different," says Forge, being careful with his words to avoid misleading fans. "If I dare to say heavier, people think that it's going to be Mercyful Fate all the way ... but I definitely have a darker, heavier record in mind."

Prequelle, he says now, was "a little ballad heavy." The next one will lean more in the imposing direction of 2015's Meliora without repeating the same ideas. He's worked to make each album different, starting with 2010's gloomy, metallic debut, Opus Eponymous.

While the sound and message of Ghost remains rooted in the initial ideas he first had when he wrote the riff to "Stand by Him" as a mostly unknown metal player in Sweden, years before first trying on the pope attire. He's also made a point of evolving as a lyricist.

"I have always pushed myself to write the songs that we don't have instead of going back — it maybe would've been a smart move to just try to replicate Opus," he explains. "I can regurgitate. I grew up with metal. It's in my DNA, so I can formulate death-metal lyrics easily. But I try not to repeat myself on that.

"I like to make the Metallica comparison — where Kill 'Em All is a little bit more crude, on Ride the Lightning they started writing about more real things. It had more depth," he adds. "I'm not going change everything and just talk about politics, but I believe that if you have people's attention, you have responsibility to weigh with your words a little. Sometimes that is hard. I find that harder than the musical challenges."

Even so, the unexpected opportunity to take his vision of Ghost to ever larger scope across multiple albums and now onstage at arena-scale is a challenge he welcomes.

"I try to remind myself every day that it's pretty mind-blowing that we got to this spot. You need to try to appreciate 100 percent and do the best every day and nurture," Forge says, then adds with a laugh, "At the risk of sounding a little religious, this is a gift that you've been given."

All rights owned by Revolver Magazine

[socksual-innuendos]

So I was tagged by @yesjejunus for this and I’m doing a joint interview with Emi and Cam because why not. Art is also by yesjejunus

What is your name?

E: Who’s askin? C: Camila, and that's my sister Emilia.

How old are you?

E: Old enough to be your mother. Who’s askin?? C: 48, but I don’t really feel it. 

What do you look like?

E: Oh, good, I have jokes for this. ‘Why not just check my mug shot’ or 'Who is this interview for, the blind?’ oh! How about ‘use your damn eyes’?

C: Oh, ugh...well I use to have black hair and my skin wasn’t so...the way that it is, haha. Can we please move to the next question?

Where are you from? Where do you live now?

C: Mexico! I don’t remember much of it, actually. I mean I do but not enough of one place. We moved around a lot and most of it just looked like the wastes here. I don’t remember being told when we had made it into America, I don’t think it really clicked until we were half way through Arizona. We still moved around once we made it into the States and up until a few months ago we didn’t have a home. But we sort of do now! Right Em?

E: Yeah, we’ll see.

What was your childhood like?

E: Just like everyone else’s in some ways. Good at times, shitty at times, getting into way too much trouble at times. Heh, you know, the usual kid stuff and more.

C: Even when papa was around we still stayed with host families. Emi and Abuelita always seemed to be out doing something, mostly work I think, not that I could ever join them. When I was real little I would get sick so much. Papa wouldn’t let me out unsupervised, but he did trust Emi to take me places. Once he was gone things got a lot more strict. I think the host families didn’t want to chance me getting hurt or more sick. Abuelita agreed with them, but Emi would sneak me out and we’d play. 

What groups are you friendly with? Are you allied with any factions?

E: I’m friendly with plenty, whether or not they’re friendly with me is their problem. I guess the Chairmen are fine with me, BAH! I know the Omertas have it out for me, and if those damn pretentious White Chode Society fucks didn’t make a steak as good as they do they’d be a hole in the ground. Who else is there? No one that matters I guess-- Wait, those Boomers might be batshit but they know how to have a party! 

C: Oh! I’d like to think I’m friends with the Chairmen, but they’re really just my employers. Swank is nice, a bit of a flirt but he’s like that with everyone. Tommy is sweet too! He can be tough during practice but I can’t fault him for that. Although Emi doesn’t really like them I love the White Glove Society! They really make you feel like royalty-- And their spa is amazing. There’s nowhere like it in the world I swear. I just really enjoy their casino....Um, other than that I don’t really know any other factions. The Kings are funny, but Emi doesn’t really want me in Freeside without her or Cass or Arcade. She also says I am absolutely not to go near Gomorrah. I’ll admit I’m curious but it doesn’t really seem like a place you’d want to wear open toed shoes, you know?

Tell me about your best friend.

E: Only got Camila and Raul, really. Arcade’s good, a bit too idealistic for his age but whatever keeps you goin. Cass is pretty independent, but it’s part of why I like her. 

C: I have so many now! There’s Veronica, she’s probably the closest I’m to, oh and Sarah. I love my sister dearly but she was never into girlish things. But I have those two now! And they love doing all that stuff. Swank gives me a hard time when he comes around The Aces, but it’s all in good fun. Arcade is teaching me how to do computers, and it’s really helping with the Vault hotel. He’s a bit prickly but he still wants to teach me. I really do love them! I know she’s pretty defensive about our living space but I’m glad Emilia includes them in the 38, this place gets too big and lonely without people. 

Do you have a family? Tell me about them!

E: Cam’s all I need. And Raul’s here now. The others are nice to have around but...Family’s special. 

C: There use to be more of us...I never knew mom but Emi’s told me of her. Xiomara was my abuelita’s name, and my papa was around only when I was little. Then there was-- well, it’s not my place to say. Oh, but I have Raul now too. And Veronica, and Arcade, n Cass, Boone....they count. To me they do. 

What about a partner or partners?

E: Nope. Don’t need one. Not in that sense anyway. I don’t mind having regular lovers, but I don’t get attached like that. Friends suit me just fine. 

C: Not for me no. I mean I haven’t really thought of anyone like that...I haven’t really had the chance to. I mean I’ve thought about it before but nothing serious and definitely not at anyone in particular. I think it would be nice...but I’m just not sure. 

Who are your enemies, and why?

E: Enemies? Now why would anyone want to be enemies with me, I am nothing short of a delight. Although, I will say the Garrets’ opinions of me vary with how hefty my tab is. 

C: I really hope I don’t have enemies. I just got friends! One thing at a time please.

Have you ever heard of The Brotherhood of Steel? What do you think about them?

E: Brotherhood of Kiss My Ass! Don’t get me wrong, they have cool shit and I love their archives but as long as New Vegas is what it is and as long as they do how they do, I hate them. 

C: Veronica’s told me a lot about them. Aside from the obvious, um, flaws, they sound interesting. I know Emi loves history stuff...This seems really complicated...

What about The Enclave?

E: Never heard of ‘em.

C: The who now?

How do you feel about Super Mutants?

C: I haven’t had the chance to properly meet any. Emi says some are like us and that others are just mindless and violent. We had heard about Jacobstown, that’s part of the reason we’re up here actually. Apparently its a home for the mutated. It sounded like a good idea at first-- it certainly was a smart one but...I like Vegas.

E: Tough sonsofbitches. They have no right being as fast as they are. Clumsy in close combat though. 

What’s the craziest fight you’ve ever been in?

E: Well, it wasn’t the craziest but I did get in a scuff with a mark’s security guard on top of a building. We ended up rolling off, and when I tried grappling my leg had tangled in my climbing cable-- That’s what fucked up my knee-- I ended up hitting the side of the building, having the wind knocked out of me, and then alerted the rest of the security team of an intruder when I broke a window to get back inside. Trying to get out of there with a dislocated knee was probably one of the best and worst adrenaline rushes I’ve had. 

C: Once Rosa and I had a really big miscommunication. I think that was the first time we ever got legitimately mad at each other. She ran off too cool down but I got worried and ah-- Um, things turned out fine, thankfully. Yeah.

Have you ever fought a Deathclaw?

E: Several, actually. Wait-- Ha! Actually, ask Arcade about this, I’m sure he’d love to tell you the story. 

C: Heavens no! I haven’t even seen one outside of pictures. They look terrifying, and Emilia says they’re very territorial and very aggressive. Hopefully I never have to. Although, Emi has said if I’ve ever wanted to see one we could go to the Thorn but animal fights? That seems needlessly cruel.

Do you like fighting?

E: Hell yeah! 

C: I don’t have the energy for conflict. I’d much rather talk it out, like adults. [Camila glares at Emilia]

What’s your weapon of choice?

E: Depends on the job. I love my sniper rifle, but sometimes a trick shot doesn’t have the right flair to it. It’s really about reading the situation and seeing whats available. Sure, you can blast someone’s brains out 2,000 meters away but where’s the fun in distance if no one knows how far it really is. Now, making a big deal out of a target, there’s the fun. You have to personalize each kill, let the mark and the world how premeditated it was. No, it didn’t have to be that complicated, but it was and someone put the effort in. That’s the sort of thing that let’s people know you’re better than them. 

C: I suppose a mic. I’m not really trained in anything, and I don’t really have a preference towards a weapon? Emi really should teach me but last time I brought it up...I’ll ask Raul.

How do you survive? Your wits, your charm, your skills, brute force, some combination? (a.k.a. what’s your S.P.E.C.I.A.L?)

E: It’s all skill baby. I give a prayer and Lord willing I succeed. That and a quick wit is all I need. (S5, P9, E6, C7, I6, A10, L0)

C: I mostly relied on Emilia to survive. Things have been complicated in the past, but she did what she needed to do. I try to be as polite and accommodating as I can though, at the very least people leave you alone if you’re not causing trouble. I got a job at the Vault 21 hotel! It doesn’t get as busy as the other places on the Strip, but it’s still something!  (S2, P6, E3, C10, I6, A3, L9)

Have you ever been in a vault? What do you think about them?

C: I work at a Vault! Sort of. It’s a hotel now and it’s been mostly destroyed....Sarah’s a bit afraid to be open about it, given how ‘gracious’ Mr. House was, but from what she said it was much more homey when she was little. She’s also told me about Vault life. I guess growing up underground really makes the concept easier huh? I hate being cooped up, but a roof always over her suits her just fine. ‘Though, I guess if the Vaults are as big as she says they were there would be plenty to do inside but...still...

E: I’ve been in a lot. It’s...humbling. All of them have their own unique story and connections to the old world. Reading about some of these people, their lives, their struggles? It’s like looking into other worlds. The dangers out in the wastes are one thing, its nature of man’s sin or the world’s design, but in the Vaults? It can be paradise or tailored evil. When man plays God, everyone suffers. But I suppose they were use to that kind of living. It is life, no? Just like out here. But even then, most of the time Vaults were safe. For those who first stepped out, they left that and saw nothing but, well, this. I can't imagine not having been able to grow up out here. It's shaped me, made me strong, and I can survive because of it. I don't lament my life being hard, like I said it's made me who I am, but I can't help but put myself in their shoes. Having to learn all this after a life in a Vault? That is a cruelty on its own.

How do you beat all the radiation around here? Has it affected you?

C: Well, you can see how it’s effected me. I’m just like any other ghoul I guess. Oh...I don’t think I’ll ever be ready for when my skin really starts to come off. Oh-- Ah! One good thing I suppose! I no longer get sick. I mean, I still get the fatigue and pain but I don’t get colds like I use to. That alone lets me do more than I could when I was a kid. Bright sides, right?

E: I don’t have an extra arm yet, so I don’t think its effected me much. I try to keep radaway on me though, it always has it’s uses. 

What’s your favorite wasteland critter?

C: Oh I love bloatflies! They’d kind of ugly, but also sort of cute? Just like me!

E: I’ll admit I have a certain fondness for our nightstalker Sawyer. There’s intelligence behind those eyes...well, some semblance of it anyway. Still, she’s here for a reason. Although...they’re not very common up here-- actually I don’t think I’ve seen any up here, but frogs. I really really love frogs. 

What’s your least favorite wasteland critter?

C: RADROACHES. I don’t see too many creatures thankfully but these manage to get everywhere and I hate it!

E: Centaurs are some unholy creation of man and should be purged from this life and the next. They and feral ghouls...I say a prayer for them before I pull the trigger. Whomever they were before they didn’t deserve that.

How do you feel about robots?

E: They’re fine for the most part. Just bits and bobs that can sometimes have a personality, although I’ve seen some being used to cheat death. Those ones are abominations. 

C: Yesman! Oh I love him. Ah, I’ve met other robots before too but I never got to know them well. Vegas doesn’t seem to have much aside from securitrons, though.  

How many caps do you have on you right now?

C: A lot more than what we--

E: That is absolutely none of their business!

Nuka Cola or Sunset Sarsaparilla?

E: Sarsaparilla, easily. 

C: Emi just says that because nuka give her hives!

Do you do chems?

C: Emi made me swear never to touch Med-X. She told me it’s stronger than the stuff we use but nowhere near worth the addiction. I’ve seen some of what she means, so I don’t plan on breaking that promise. Colitas are just fine for me. 

E: Some of ‘em yeah. Mostly for work though. Heh, I even make my own brand of kick in the ass. Yeah...Flake’ll get you through just about anything. The high’s crazy but the crash is insane. I mostly prefer the natural stuff. Peyote comes in handy when I need a good bit of life insight.

Do you ever think about the Pre-War world?

E: A lot actually. It’s quite interesting, they lived a lot differently than us but at the same time not. It’s funny to see how routine human nature is. 

C: Sometimes. Emi still brings back old world books that she finds and I read them when I feel like it. The one’s with photographs are nice. A snapshot in time, as Emi says. She certainly finds them more interesting than I do. 

What’s your deepest regret? What would you do differently?

C: I was very insistent one night, and I wish I hadn’t been. Things would have been different if I had just stayed in bed.  

E: Ha! You are asking an assassin what their biggest regret it. There is nothing, I assure you. 

What’s your biggest achievement? Or what do you hope to achieve?

C: I got a job! I have a home, I have friends. I’m...normal. Ha!

E: Ah hell, give me a minute to think of the nastiest bastard I’ve ever ‘in’directly put into power...

What do you want for the future? For yourself? Your friends? The world?

E: I’m getting old, I don’t need a future. And I’m just one person, the world will go on when I’m dead. Cam though, she’s got what? Centuries? That’s a long fuckin time to think about. Raul’s tried to tell me what it’s like but it just feels-- It just doesn’t click. No way in hell I’m making it that long. I just have to figure some way of making this place as secure as possible for Camila.

C: I just want to be independent! I love Emi dearly but she’s a bit much at times. Especially now...and I’m scared I won’t be able to do a lot on my own once she’s gone. Vegas is good for me. I have friends here and there’s jobs that I can manage. Even if Emi wants to move again, I’m staying. I have to. I have a future here, I can see it. 

[red-wardens]

Pros and cons of Cassian! (Or Alyss! Either are fine uwu)

Pros & Cons of Dating: Cassian Cousland

[Homosexual Male]

Cons:

Extremely dense and oblivious to flirting. He’s very humble so most pick up lines or flirtatious looks will go over his head. Most of the time he will think you are joking or just being friendly. He’s not an idiot most of the time, but when it comes to getting together, he is. 

Is a little clingy and will want to spend most if not all of his free-time with you. The pro side is that he almost always invites you along when he goes somewhere with friends, the con is that he’ll be hopeful you’ll do the same. Will write (or in Modern AU, text) you a lot (but doesn’t get upset if you don’t reply. He’ll get worried about you though). He tends to be over-protective.

Cassian is going to have dog hair all over his clothes almost all the time and because he and his dogs are huggers, so will you. (In Modern AU, carrying a lint roller is advisable). Also, he may give your dog more attention than you at first. And then occasionally later on too.

Is very tactile and expresses his love with touch, including platonic love. This is a con because he is very cuddly to both his male and female friends and, with close friends, will kiss their cheek in greeting. His big-heart is never just directed at one person so he will lend friends the jacket he’s wearing, carry their stuff for them, and be affectionate to them and this wont change. This may make you jealous. 

Depending on what age he is you get with him, Cassian may not be fully out of the closet yet so you’ll have to keep your relationship a secret. He’s not ashamed of you he’s just insecure and uncomfortable with expressing his sexuality in his teenage and young adult years due to social and family expectations. 

Can be a little over-dramatic sometimes, especially when he’s worried about you. 

Pros:

Just…the sweetest cinnamon roll. Absolute kind soul. Not a mean or rude bone in his body. Is always willing to help you out whatever you need. And also help that old lady cross the street. And literally anyone who asks him for it.

Cheery disposition with a smile that comes easy and often. Big expressive brown eyes that light up whenever you’re talking about yourself/your hobbies/your dog. Will brighten your day. Also will brag about you to his friends all the time. 

Extremely polite and considerate, Cassian will always says “please” and “thank you” and open doors for you all the time (might get stuck there for a while though as he holds it for everyone else). Will always try to carry your stuff for you (and if you don’t have stuff will offer to carry you because piggy-back rides are cute).

Very healthy habits. Eats well, exercises every dawn, good sleeping schedule, and doesn’t repress his emotions. Cries when he needs to. Absolute 0% of that toxic masculinity. Cassian will try to help you switch to healthier habits too if you want. 

Very willing to talk about issues and is skilled at communicating his thoughts and feelings about things. Will help and encourage you to talk about your own feelings. 

Cassian acts like a bottom but is 100% a Top™. 

Decide for Yourself:

Very Lawful Good (and that can be annoying at times to some). It’s not always smart to be the heroic boy scout all the time, but he absolutely will do so anyways. Very predictable behavior because ‘What’s Cassian going to do?’ -looks at the horizon- “The Right Thing™”.

He’s 6′1 but lanky. Strong enough to lift his sword and shield but his limbs are like defined noodles. His scruffy brown hair is always a mess and sometimes so is his scruffy stubble. 

Very sociable. Loves to go out dancing and places where there’s a lot of people. Loves to get to know people and because he’s so friendly and easy to talk to, guys and girls tend to develop crushes on him and he’ll stay friends with them despite this. Also, his friendliness can come off as flirting/interest without meaning to. Rather often. So, if you’re insecure, good luck with that. 

Gentle but very physical and thus will likely always want to be cuddling you, have his arm or arms around you, be giving you random kisses, holding your hand, etc. It comes naturally to him but some men are not very fond of physical affection in which case I would not recommend Cassian as a boyfriend. 

Kinda religious (Andrastian in Thedas, Roman Catholic in Modern AU) and very family oriented so he will hope you’ll go to service with him and the fam.

——————-

(face claim: Diego Luna)

Ask for Pros/Cons of dating my OC

OC’s: Blue Surana, Isseya Mahariel, Alyss Amell, Nora Brosca, Claira Hawke, Henley Hawke (this..this might just be a list of cons...), Akono Hawke. I...I have no developed Inquisitors..

*Previous OC’s Pros/Cons of Dating* : [Kieran Tabris] [Ronan Aeducan]

[sandstonesunspear]

Superwoman: An Interview With DEO Director Lucy Lane

Inspired by that article in Women’s Health Magazine with Jenna Dewan that came out this morning. 

Thanks to @nerdsbianhokie for letting me run with Dylan for this.

AO3

XX-XX-2020

A CatCo Exclusive by Kara Danvers

It’s been six months since the Daxamite Invasion and the public appearance of the DEO. In that time, no had been able to get an interview with the DEO Director. At least, that had been the case right up until last week.

First thing’s first: DEO Director Lucy Lane smells amazing. Hints of cinnamon with an underlying base made of jasmine and roses linger in the air as she walks into the room. I find out later that it’s a very exclusive scent. Only one bottle exists, and it was custom made by her 5-year-old son, Dylan, with the help of one of her partners. He also made a second bottle with a different scent and named both of them: Dinosaur Dreams and Fierce T. Rex, the latter of which she’s wearing right today.

Out of all the topics we discuss today, it’s talking about her son that makes Lucy beam. “He’s a great kid,” she says. “He’s one of my biggest motivators for the work that I do, both as the Director of the DEO and as a lawyer.” Dressed in a crisp black polo, black cargo pants tucked into polished black boots, everything about Lucy matches the perfume she’s wearing.

Her fierceness is only amplified by the extensive list of her accomplishments: top of her class at West Point, promoted below the zone twice before the age of 25, a Signal Officer turned JAG after  graduating top of her class from the prestigious Harvard School of Law, and now Director of a semi-clandestine federal agency. It’s only a fraction of Lucy Lane’s incredible pedigree. All of it is worthy of awe. Of course, express that to her and the woman who served two tours in Afghanistan blushes and waves compliments away. “I’m just a soldier,” she insists. A soldier who became well-renowned within the legal community, both civilian and military, for her prosecution of the Hector Alvarez, a former Army Captain who was, at one point, the top lieutenant of the Reynosa Cartel. Thanks to Lucy’s efforts, Alvarez is now serving multiple life sentences at Fort Leavenworth for a litany of charges that include felony drug possession with the intent to distribute and murder.

Extensive pedigree aside, Lucy herself was never a stranger to the life and burdens of being a soldier. The daughter of General Sam Lane, a man who has gained a great deal of infamy in recent years for his vocal and vehement anti-alien rhetoric, Lucy was ingrained with a sense of duty long before she ever assumed the position of DEO Director. That sense of duty has kept her humble and it shows, both in how quick she is to dismiss compliments and in her actions.

Halfway through our interview, an alarm goes off. An agent bursts in moments after to inform Lucy of an alien attack by the docks. She’s out of the office and in the command center seconds later, barking out orders and demanding visuals. When it becomes apparent that the squad at the docks needs backup, Lucy doesn’t hesitate to suit up and enter the fray herself. When she returns an hour later, it’s with all of her agents by her side. I stand against the wall as Lucy makes her way to medbay, checking on the wounded and waving away medical help for herself until all of her people have been taken care of.

“Sorry,” Lucy apologises as she settles back into her plush leather seat in her office. By now, her arm is in a sling and there’s a bandage on her forehead. On anyone else, it would be a sight for concern, but the warm grin sitting firmly on her lips ultimately puts me at ease. She’s happy to inform me that all of her people made it back in one piece. I assure her that it’s fine just as her phone chimes. It’s Dylan’s father, James Olsen, Editor-in-Chief of Catco Magazine and Lucy’s ex-boyfriend. They share custody of Dylan.  

When I ask if there’s any tension with that arrangement, Lucy just laughs. She fires off a quick text to James, letting him know that she’s fine and that she’ll be there tonight to pick Dylan up, before providing me with a more concrete response. “There’s no tension at all,” she assures me. “James and I live pretty close to each other, so even on the days where one of us doesn’t have custody of Dylan, chances are that we’ll still get to see him.”

“Do you think you and James would ever get married to take the custody arrangement out of the equation?” It’s a question that’s been floating around National City ever since news of Dylan’s parentage broke. To my surprise, Lucy shakes her head. “Nope. Jimmy’s a great guy, I wouldn’t have dated him if he hadn’t been, but he and I wanted different things,” she tells me. “We both love Dylan, but James and I being together isn’t what’s best for him. Besides, James’s been eyeing a lucky lady lately.” She gives me a wink, like she knows more than she’s going to let on. “And I have my partners.”

Partners. Plural, as in more than one. Rumours that Lucy was in a relationship with two women had been going around ever since she was seen attending various charity galas in the city with two different women.

I ask if she’s concerned with the backlash she might get by revealing that she’s in a polyamorous relationship. Being the daughter of a prominent military official and being a prominent lawyer herself, Lucy’s familiar with having public scrutiny aimed at her. But she’s not concerned. “I’m in a healthy, committed relationship,” she tells me. “I just happen to be in one with two women.”

Lucy tells me a little about the women she’s involved with. “They’re both incredibly smart and know their way around firearms. And they’re great with Dylan. He loves the both of them as well.” As to who exactly her partners are, she remains tight lipped. “A lawyer doesn’t kiss and tell,” she says, her grin turning cheeky.

It’s hard to believe that a woman of Lucy’s position and history could be so human, but that humanity is something she strives to exemplify for her son. “I don’t want my son to look at me and think that he has to be cruel or hard to get by in the world.” She wants Dylan to understand that kindness and warmth and being human aren’t weakness, they’re strengths. “I want him to see me and Jimmy and my partners and be like, ‘There’s nothing wrong with helping another person or with being kind.’” It’s a surprising admission, given her line of work, but it’s certainly not unwelcome. If anything, it makes her seem even more human. “Of course, you’ve got people who have very different opinions but,” She gives a casual shrug as best she can with one arm in a sling. “They’re not raising my son.”

I realise towards the end of our interview that neither of us has mentioned the elephant in the room: her last name. The nameplate on her desk is a stark reminder. DIRECTOR LUCY A. LANE. Lucy notices where my eyes are at. Her smile turns sardonic. She assures me that she received her job entirely based on merit and that she wholeheartedly does not support her father’s views. It sounds so rote, like she’s had to say it a thousand times, it makes my heart break for her.

It’s obvious that even with the power her last name carries, Lucy is very much a self-made woman. “I’ve fought tooth and nail to get where I am,” she says. The law degree on prominent display makes that much clear. “I’ve had to fight even harder to get seen as my own person and not as ‘General Lane’s daughter’ or ‘Lois’s little sister.’ I might’ve joined the army for my father, but I stayed for myself and I’ve done over the years has been to make a difference through my own effort.” I’m reminded of something that Lucy said earlier in the day, about why she decided to pursue law instead of staying in the Signal Corps. “Lois writes about the world’s problems and our father adds to the world’s problems, so I decided I wanted to fix the world’s problems,” she said, glancing out the window and towards the city her agency was tasked with protecting.

We end the day much like we started it: with Lucy gearing up for another confrontation, only this time it’s not a physical one, it’s a socio-political one. In two weeks time, Lucy will be on Capitol Hill testifying to the Senate on behalf of the aliens who fought alongside the DEO and NCPD during the Daximite Invasion six months ago. It’s stunning move for the head of an organisation that hadn’t been on friendly terms with the alien community. But in a way, given the kind of woman Lucy is, it makes sense. “I believe that everyone has the right to due process and justice regardless of species or homeplanet,” Lucy tells me as we wind down. Having gotten to know Lucy as well as I have over the course of a day, I can tell that it’s an earnest statement.

I ask if she’s worried about the upcoming Senate hearing. Lucy flashes me a smile. “Not at all. If anything, the Senate panel’s scared of me. I’m a powerful bisexual woman with a biracial son and two girlfriends, after all.” Her confidence and cheek is infectious and I find myself smiling right alongside her. Lucy Lane wears many hats: soldier, lawyer, leader, mother. But those hats only tell part of her story. The whole, overarching story behind Lucy can be summed up as thus: she’s an amazing woman. Simple as that.

[ramajmedia]

10 Hilarious Spider-Man Logic Memes Only True Marvel Fans Will Understand

Everyone knows the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man (aka Peter Parker of Queens). Most recently made popular again by English actor Tom Holland, Spider-Man has once more made his mark in superheroism and pop culture. Spider-Man has plenty of memes (with all kinds of wacky logic behind them) created in recent years with the appearance of the newest version of the character in 2016's Captain America: Civil War. We're here to sort out some of the most hilarious Spider-Man logic memes out there that only the truest and most dedicated of Marvel fans would understand...so without further interruption, here they are!

10 Watching The Fight

Everyone's privy to the heated debate between Sony and Marvel concerning the future of Spider-Man. Now, in the newest installment released in July, we were left on a cliffhanger concerning Peter's identity. We can't imagine that cliffhanger being an eternal one. Surely considering the financial success of the independent Spider-Man films, as well as the fan's dedicated and consistent support, some kind of agreement could surely be reached. Until it is, we're aligned with the logic behind this meme: just when it looks like Spider-Man has a future, he's once again shut down (kind of like losing Uncle Ben all over again). Though sad, what makes this meme hilarious is the contemplative pose and what appears to be a bottle of Perrier in his grasp. Everyone processes in their own way.

9 Admission To The Avengers

Peter's dedicated to proving himself throughout Civil War, Homecoming, Avengers: Infinity War, and Endgame. Especially in Homecoming, Peter takes desperate measures and unnecessary risks to prove himself to his mentor, Tony Stark. All to prove he is worthy enough to join more missions with the Avengers and be more than just a "friendly neighborhood Spider-Man." The irony of this meme is the fact that while Peter works his butt off to become a part of the Avengers, the twins, initially villains in Age of Ultron, somehow easily gain admission to the team against all odds.

RELATED: 10 MCU Tattoos That Make You Feel Like A Superhero

While Wanda is the only survivor, we'd understand why Peter would be jealous of her admission to the team given the circumstances. This doesn't appear to be the case, as Far From Home finds Peter wanting to take a break from crime-fighting, but you never know: deep down, Peter may harbor the teeniest bit of resentment, which gives the meme its humor.

8 Who's The Captain Now?

The logic behind this is hilarious: Peter's entrance to the MCU is the moment he steals Captain America's shield. It's really quite an entrance, and for being a young teenager, this is a pretty good first impression considering it portrays a sense of dominance to some degree. Really, how many would dare to snatch Cap's shield out from under him? Of course, Tony Stark had something to do with it, and Peter was humble about the whole thing, telling Cap how big a fan he is of him in the seconds following the shield's abduction. Still, this meme echoes the question we were thinking the moment we saw it: who's the Captain now?

7 This...No

In Far From Home, as Peter makes his way through Customs, he's held up. For a banana. Aunt May threw in his Spider-Man costume just in case he'd need it (which he obviously did, so thanks to Aunt May's foresight the world was saved), even when Peter insisted he leave it behind and take a real vacation. In Spider-Man logic, the high-tech powered suit that could be disastrous in the wrong hands is totally okay to go through customs.

RELATED: Every Confirmed Upcoming MCU Project, Ranked By Fans' Excitement

The harmless article of fruit, however, poses a serious threat. Who didn't laugh at this moment? Not to mention Peter's identity could have been seriously compromised...but miraculously isn't. We're still not quite following the logic in that.

6 Fight For Your Rights

This meme is a play on a scene from Homecoming in which Tony must enforce a rather harsh, but necessary, form of tough love to teach Peter a valuable lesson. Having wanted to so desperately prove himself, Peter has gone over his head and nearly gets a ferry sunk which would have killed many. Luckily Stark steps in to save the day and clean Peter's mess, but it results in a harsh lesson. Peter loses his suit and must learn to be something without it. Perhaps the studios could refer to this scene and learn their own lesson from it? The meme does have a point.

5 Yes...No...Homecoming In A Nutshell

The meme is right; this is basically the plot line of Homecoming. Tony tells Peter no, and Peter decides to do it anyway.

RELATED: Stan Lee Gets A New York Street Named After Him

We all know this is a rocky journey as Peter has to learn several things the hard way, and nearly loses his suit forever because of it. However, we also know how the movie ends: turns out, Peter learns his lesson and the day is saved in the end. In Spider-Man logic, going behind Iron Man's back is a good thing. Seems wrong, but also strangely right. So yes...or no?

4 Limiting The Heroes

This meme is a moment taken from Far From Home, just slightly altered to incorporate the unknown future of Spider-Man, whose story remains hanging in the balance. With Thor off-world, Captain Marvel unavailable, and now Spider-Man potentially out of the picture, the MCU is limiting who will be around to save the day when the time comes. Let's face it: that time always comes. Just when the world is safe, something throws it right back into peril; ergo, the need for superheroes. In Far From Home logic, Spider-Man was the world's only hope. Should that logic arise again, and Spider-Man isn't there to turn to, what would happen then? Spider-Man may be young and (compared to the other heroes) relatively inexperienced, but he still deserves a place. It's almost cruelly hilarious how the studios don't appear to see that.

3 Don't Mess With Batman

This is meme gold. While Michael Keaton does play a villain in Homecoming, he also played a hero back in 1989: Batman. Yes, before Christian Bale, there was another Batman. In Spider-Man logic, they've managed to sneak in one of the most beloved heroes of all-time and make him a villain for their own story line. We love it. Besides, Spider-Man against Batman?

RELATED: Idris Elba Wants To Play Heimdall Again In The MCU  

Who wasn't thinking that when we watched the battle unfold between these two? It's hilarious how things work out in casting, sometimes.

2 What Is That Noise?

The Spider-Man logic is hilarious in this particular meme because it's so similar to Iron Man's logic. Perhaps Peter's picking up more than just superhero tips from his mentor. Their explanations are so unbelievable they're actually believable (if that makes sense). Tony can play it cool (whereas Peter plays it more awkwardly), but the two both seem to think along the same lines by way of excuses. We find that awesome. Plus, who doesn't want to copy their excuses? Next time someone asks you what the heck that noise is, you're either driving with the top down or you're at band practice. Fun and simple.

1 How Do You Take Your Coffee?

This meme is hilarious because it references a characteristic of Peter's that's adorable, frankly. Peter likes to pretend he's tougher than he really is. This is evident in the parking garage scene in Homecoming where he uses his suit to deepen his voice to sound scarier and intimidating. The criminal sees right through it. Honestly, everyone does. Peter's just too nice of a guy. Sweet, smart and awkward, Peter's just not the scary or intimidating type. We actually love that about him. He can get the job done and still maintain kindness and politeness at the same time. How many heroes can do that? So yeah, it's obvious he doesn't drink his coffee "dark and bitter."

NEXT: 10 Reasons Why Tom Holland Is Our Favorite Peter Parker/Spider-Man

source https://screenrant.com/spider-man-logic-memes-true-fans/

[cnisms]

bye ... i’m truly done taking up muses ... these are short n poorly written but i did them ! i’ll eventually add more information on everyone when i finally get around to finishing muse pages but honestly ? this is all u need to know for now. again, if u wanna plot, just hmu :P a few mentions of drugs n alcoholism but nothing descriptive. here’s percy, zach, ajay, luke, bunny, paris & luma ! (i’ve added gwen, helena n gia too just so they’re all in one place bc i’m lazy)

FINN COLE, CIS MALE, HE/HIM — have you met perseus sage nichols yet ? the twenty-two year old is known for being both astute and jocular, but also very obstreperous and arrogant. born in melbourne, percy now lives in kensington, working as a junior management consultant.  comes from a nice family that he will always be pissed off at for very little reason. has beef w his dad for not providing even tho he really did, it was just never enough for percy. is exactly the type of dude that got mad when leo didn’t win the oscar for wolf. just wanted to be dumb rich n coked out. v smart and got an international scholarship at a good university, by the time he got kicked out for being a rowdy asshole, he’d helped his friends develop some legit apps (the most successful one being a dating app which two yrs later is really just a meme) and they suddenly had a lot of money, he just bought his way back in. bc he was in charge of the business side of things, it was easy enough for him to screw over his friends n walk away w most of what was left when their success went down the drain. got a job as a management consultant at a big, scary firm in london mostly thanks 2 his reputation. is a known ugly n ruthless n desperate to be at the top n live in disgusting luxury. can’t talk to his family or old pals without Wanting To Die bc he’s so committed to this new life he’s created for himself. is literally awful if he doesn’t like u, still awful just in a less hurtful n more annoying way if he does. doesn’t know when to stop. always forgetting n probably trying to hide the fact that he’s not a trust fund baby like all the people he hangs with now. literally just clyde oberholt ?

JAMIE BLACKLEY, CIS MALE, HE/HIM — have you met zachary vaughn baltazar yet ? the twenty-five year old is known for being both unostentatious and sincere, but also very self-deprecating and uncouth. born in berlin, zach now lives in southwark, working as a telemarketer. the nice guy who is always getting rekt (he wrecking himself lbr) is Um .. a v talented writer but is happy just shitting on his work n never exploring his potential bc why bother when he has the ideal amount of friends n weed atm right ? given up and is convinced he is satisfied, will accept any invitation. still won’t let you live tho. has opinions on ur choices and will probably share them behind ur back. somehow feels underappreciated by everyone even tho he truly believes there is nothing to appreciate. omg have a cry and grow up. king of impressive first dates n writes rlly romantic poetry but is either ghosting or getting ghosted the following week bc he is dry and confused. doesn’t know if this is really what he wants/doesn’t feel like he deserves what he wants. close with his family but tries to force more n more distance bc he can’t stand their #drama... or any drama that doesn’t give him an edge Actual Of Ly. the ders of the squad probably.

RAHUL KOHLI, CIS MALE, HE/HIM — have you met ajay charles johal yet ? the thirty year old is known for being both urbane and jovial, but also very restless and quixotic. born in chennai, ajay now lives in newham, as an airline pilot. moved to london w his parents when he was v young, spent all of his teenage yrs feeling guilty for no reason just like watching all his parents did for him to be happy n healthy ? never got over the guilt. is just a v feeling person ig ! anyways he was so committed to helping his parents out, which was rlly truly the only thing he’s ever committed to in his life. needed enough money to support all three of them but rlly had no idea how to go about it. pilot was just one of the ideas handed to him back in high school n he went with it bc he knew he’s never actually settle on anything. turned out ok bc he likes being able 2 actually get the entire hell away from his problems. a v flighty person (aha... classic) and doesn’t have many close relationships bc of it. v respected ... v respectful ... quality lad but can be a lil immature under it all. wish he’d stop feeling bad just bc he has GOOD parents.

TOBY REGBO, CIS MALE, HE/HIM — have you met luciano andrius falley yet ? the twenty-five year old is known for being both genial and cultivated, but also very irksome and delphic. born in naples, luke now lives in camden, as a struggling actor and annoying historian. tragic backstory ? never heard of that. comes from a supportive ($$$ n <333) family who probably only pay for the many flights for all his long ass self discovery backpacking trips bc deep down they can’t put up with him anymore. is a super friendly n outgoing person, the type that is literally always reading a book he only half understands but will bring up what he has learned from it at one of his MANY dinner parties where ur only option is CHICKEN and lots of wine while he refuses to SHUT THE FRICK UP. cute ! kinda very judgemental but will just sigh n let u fuck up. “not to get political but...” is always like Hm Yes ! I Love Hearing Other People’s Stories ! but when ? when does he hear anything other than his own voice ? he probably gives himself lectures on intersectional feminism when he’s home alone he just doesn’t stop. honestly he only ever means well n ig he’s interesting enough but Really... fake struggling yet still pretentious aesthetics.

MARGOT ROBBIE, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER — have you met elizabeth celine leblanc ? the twenty-seven year old is known for being both coruscating and ardent, but also very egocentric and bourgeois. born in seattle, bunny now lives in southwark, as an influential homemaker. boozy housewife. spent her childhood living below the poverty line before her father began helping ppl smuggle drugs into america. he built his own big operation off of that (with a hygiene product company as a cover) and was successful enough to squash the few people it pissed off. business spread to europe n then when he was ready to retire and the south gang was interested, he had elizabeth marry into it before he sold the operation just to make sure he would always be taken care of. it got handed down to her husband bc she wasn’t interested in any legit roles (her asshole fathers fault honestly ? he wouldn’t have given her control even if she wanted it) and she just went along with whatever would keep her from returning to her Humble Beginnings. is very “i do whatever i have to in order to survive” n by survive she means never actually work n just waltz around a mansion in designer gowns all day. materialistic n v selfish. fake charitable for her socialite image. doesn’t cook, but is always sharing recipes. has no real interest in the soap she pretends to make. is consistently fake. literally gets zero joy from anything that isn’t spending money. could probably be happy if she could escape her family’s ugly beliefs n misogynistic practices n she’s getting there but just . slowly. hates the nickname bunny, but i’m forcing the meme.

MIMI ELASHIRY, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER — have you met paris nefret bayoumi yet ? the twenty year old is known for being both beneficent and equable, but also very disengaging and inelegant. born in alexandria, paris now lives in greenwich, practicing herbalism. also works at the rosado but whom cares ? not her ! all she cares abt are the HERBS. was raised by her grandmother who was a Kitchen Witch (as in .. u know ... this isnt a supernatural rp But that woman was a witch !) so she’s always practiced similar hobbies but now she’s all about making her friends custom teas ! n yea paris likes to claim that she’s also a witch. is extra but in a calm n collected way. serene at all times but unintentionally sardonic. not super bright but has plenty of advice for every problem. seems to enjoy oversharing and yet no one knows exactly whats the deal w her parents (criminals that have always been n remain in hiding, some people think they’re straight up pirates now) or anything serious in her life rlly . but u wanna know what russells burp smelt like last week ? she’s about to tell u.

SOFIA BLACK-D'ELIA, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER — have you met luma camille pontecorvo yet ? the twenty-three year old is known for being both optimistic and dexterous, but also very prevaricating and overindulged. born in quebec city, luma now lives in waltham forest, working in retail.  ah , another brat . she was left w her much older half brother n his wife when he mom dipped when she was fourteen n honestly they felt so bad n also had no idea how to handle her so they just . gave her everything she wanted without question. she had her mothers bad attitude n reckless habits tho n when she started getting her nieces n nephews in trouble once they were all in college together, her brother Politely kicked her out of their lives by offering to set her up anywhere she wanted “for the Experience”. she picked london n quickly got a job at a kingsley store n has been working there for a few yrs now. now also deals party drugs at clubs for the north family n she rlly lets that be the focus of her life, so she’s always showing up to her day job late n overtired. doesn’t ever really lie but rarely tells the whole truth. ig she would be fun to hang out with but she’s probably a fair bit cunty. doesn’t care about ur feelings, has very few of her own, just here for a meme. truthfully she’s angry abt everyone ditching her but it gets ugly whenever the topic comes up n dark!luma is an actual thing that makes an appearance.

MADCHEN AMICK, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER — have you met gwendolyn griet hathaway yet ? the forty-three year old is known for being both reverent and winsome, but also very acquisitive and ambivalent. born in las vegas, gwen now lives in richmond upon thames, managing a record label. also known as gwen nash. mother to gertrude bc we meme too hard. born in nevada, her own momther bailed early n then her father disappeared when she was fourteen (she’s always been sure he was murdered by a biker gang but no one believed her n kept saying he just ran off on her but ! the story comes up whenever she drinks still) n she ended up just getting a cleaning job in a motel n taking care of herself. eventually she met a nice older couple who sort of took her in. they were responsible for a lot of jazz artists n she stanned them hard ? sang for them for a short while n eventually married their son mostly bc she wanted to actually be part of the family yikes… anyway they had a Beautiful Daughter together obviously n eventually got control of the label n thats all they rlly share now post separation. tragic n twenty years later than everyone expected . anyway she’s lurkin about london, lookin for talent n trying to fix her relationship with gertrude (i’d hate my mom if she named me that too … no a fence) n just drinkin wine ig ! she’s very … impulsive and only ever thinks about herself in the moment but otherwise ? she can be kind n caring but Ya . her habit of just jumping into things for her own pleasure generally hurts other people so she’s a lot of strained relationships. still seems v standoffish mostly bc she’s Um . Scared Of Everything. literally does not matter how much shit she sees ? permanently spooked. lowkey cruel sense of humor but she just seems so gentle 95% of the time that when she makes a sick joke ur like Oh she doesn’t realize how bad that sounds ! hates memes.

LILY JAMES, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER — have you met helena therese o’shea yet ? the twenty-six year old is known for being both cultivated and strong-willed, but also very callous and tenacious. born in chicago, helena now lives in wandsworth, working at erstead’s and planning birthday parties. a tragedy. always had it in her head that she was better than everyone else (especially her brother ) but never fully committed to the brat act, like she never threw tantrums or asked for too much, v well mannered n proper but it’s always been obvious that she’s permanently disgusted by everyone except for herself. sometimes also disgusted by herself tho. will say something cringeworthy n just about put a hit on herself for it. was a v successful wedding planner for a while, her business took off rlly quick thanks to a few helpful connections. got engaged herself 3 years ago and cut off most of her family n all her old friends to start this new amazing life she always thought she deserved ? sike. after three years of putting off the wedding, she got dumped n came home to work @ erstead’s bc she’s like well if i’m gonna crash this hard i might as well hit rock bottom ! plans birthday parties for children occasionally. hates children. hates everything. fun ? never experienced that emotion. barely tries to make up with the people she wronged bc despite setting herself back 6 yrs, she still thinks she’s above everyone else. loves to complain. doesn’t really have much going for her honestly other than ? total commitment to whatever it is that’s happening in her life. obviously that’s not workin out for her rn ?

CHARLI XCX, CIS FEMALE, SHE/HER — have you met georgiana lalaine visariya yet ? the twenty-three year old is known for being both jocund and unfeigned, but also very vexatious and lowbrow. born in kiev, gia now lives in soho, being extra on youtube.  gia is honestly .. a headache. she was always a v creative person, ‘expressing herself’ n doin’ the most when literally no one asked ever. she started vlogging two years ago n got bored quickly so instead she decided to start her own (fake) reality series on youtube ? she handled everything by herself at first n reached out to hot local people who were popular on instagram n youtube to star in it WITH HER and only got a few people in on it but ? it took off. now she has a whole crew n writers n what not working on it with her (even tho most of the time she will take over every part of the production n handle it herself again) n it gets her good money (especially bc she’s shameless n stays making sure she’s a main in every single episode so she gets those instagram sponsors too) calls herself “““punk lauren conrad””” n is clearly too extra. a very very confident n loud person, super friendly, loves everyone n honestly u can try to drag her but that’s not gonna stop her running up to u in the street next time she sees u n telling you to drop whatever it is ur doing to go get cocktails with her. she’s so … genuine irl that you literally would not belieb how much of the show is scripted n thought up by her w that … interesting … imagination. will annoy u for content.