#i do want to say. i did have dreams about mimics for 3 days straight last week when i caught up on the lore so even if it doesnt

[sualne]

I feel a bit stupid asking this but what is a harvester and a mimic and carnis???? I really liked your art with luffy and law and found it an interesting concept but I don't understand what's going on. Is there like some text I can read???

lmao i just received this after programming a post with links im so happy you're interested in it!! you're not stupid at all!! q(≧▽≦q)💕

Vita Carnis is a horror webseries(? i think i heard ppl call it an ARG but idk about all that) on youtube, it's about an alternative universe in which creepy beings known as carnis appeared and how ppl deal and lives with them. it's about conspiracies, monsters, cults and government propaganda, the presentation of the lore is so much fun!!!

here i'm just going to copy past the post: to the people saying they might watch Vita Carnis because of my au 1: ily a whole lot

2: it's about two hours long and ongoing, season 2 just started! here's the link to the viewing order playlist: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xNc-jv3d2o0&list=PLoQCowtS-bYLdCasDSl0rMqEfcswN2L3Q there's flashing lights in a bunch of them and a list of warnings at the beginning of the videos!

and if you're spooked here two videos that summary the series and what we know about this universe:

this is the first one that introduced me to vita carnis

this one's from last month and has more on recent lore

plsss its a lot of fun (and scary) to watch!! i do recommend if you start with the summary videos to start with the first one cause it goes more in depth* despite being shorter than the other one. watching them back to back might be annoying so don't hesitate to skip a lot on the second one to the more recent info.

*or at least it feels like it + i like it, nice atmosphere idk!! again it's horror so proceed accordingly!

EDIT: and here's the wiki with info, since it's only text with still images that should be easier yet on the mind! if you want to go in chronological order start with the crawl then the trimmings ect until you reach the singularity. fellow folks with paranoia issues pls take care and don't hesitate to block the au tag if you need! ily

[sylverstorms]

Cassandra x Maiden ----Anonymity Ch.7

Ch.1 Ch.2 Ch.3 Ch.4 Ch.5 Ch.6

Cassandra gradually starts taking up more of your time. Or, more accurately, demands it like it’s her birthright.

Every day, you wake her up with a kiss to her shoulder or neck and a whisper of her name. She comes to you when she’s bored at random times during your shifts, to either talk –complain— about her sisters or to outright distract you. There are times at night when you’ll feel the chill of her slip into your bed and press up against your back, but she’s always gone by morning light, like a dream.

She used to be just another component to your nightmares. Now… she’s what takes them away.

And you’re afraid.

That you’re growing to like the time with her while she’s just playing around, that it will cut that much deeper when you find yourself on the end on her sickle. Because how else can it end, you reason, between the two of you?

The thought momentarily makes your liplock with Cassandra taste bitter, despite the sweet strawberry taste of her lip balm -and no way she’s putting that on for you, right?

She has you pressed deep into a plush armchair with her palm on your chest, while her thighs are locked tight on either side of yours. You want to tell her that you should stop –both because you’re literally in the open and anyone can walk in on you and because it’s late—but her lips are doing wicked things to your neck and you can’t find your voice long enough.

When Cassandra starts grinding down on you though, rather impatiently too, you have to speak up before she starts something neither of you can finish.

“Cassandra.” you say breathily. A sharp nip comes over your pulse, then slippery lips close around the area. “Ah! Cassandra. You’ll be late for dinner.”

She tsks and pulls back, expression much like a kid that got her hand slapped away from the cookie jar. She dismounts you with the same sour look, smoothing down her robes.

“Walk me there.” she orders.

You rise and fall into step beside her, trying not to linger on how strange it feels. It should be nothing, really, considering all the activities the two of you nightly indulge in, but it’s… something.

Cassandra, uncharacteristically quiet, keeps gazing out the windows as though calculating or pinpointing something while you make your way to the dining room.

She comes to a sudden halt just before you reach it, turns to you, steals a quick kiss and then quickly leaves you behind, a colder aura about her as she strolls inside.

You hear Lady Dimitrescu’s voice, but not what she says. Once a few minutes have passed and you can safely blend into the background, you join the other maids on standby within.

You used to hate it here. Having them all in front of you like that, serving them wine, when they’re all to blame for taking any semblance of normalcy out of your life. You never glance at what they’re eating. You still dislike dinner time.

But.

When Alcina makes a snide comment about Heisenberg and you hear Cassandra’s laugh above Daniela’s giggle and Bela’s chuckle…

It no longer seems so bad.

-

-

“Bela, stay a moment.” Cassandra says after Lady Dimitrescu leaves with Daniela in tow.

“Oh, no.” The blonde huffs under her hood.

“I didn’t say anything. Yet.” The younger sibling raises her hands in exasperation.

“When you go ‘Bela~’” You bite your lip to keep your expression neutral as you’re cleaning the table because hearing the normally stoic sister mimic Cassandra’s voice like that is just plain gold. “It’s never good.” her tone turns flat once more.

Cassandra very pointedly rolls her pretty eyes. “I need you to cover for me.”

“See?” Bela sighs. “Absolutely not.”

“Well, it wasn’t really a question, I was just trying to give you the illusion of choice.” Cassandra shrugs. “I’m going out tonight.”

“What?” Bela damn near hisses. “Have you lost your mind?”

“It’s fine it’s, like, thirteen degrees.”

“How is that fine?”

The elder sister’s gaze then flits to you. There is no other maid in the vicinity that can overhear them, but she’s clearly uncomfortable with you picking up the implications of their conversation.

You still don’t get it. You guessed their aversion to sunlight has to do with their mutations… but why would the cold be an issue?

The survivor in you wants to know more. To know if this is something that can be used to your advantage when the time and circumstances are right for a potential escape.

Another part of you… just plain worries.

“I know what I’m doing.” Cassandra says, stern.

“Then you’re doing it alone.” Bela turns to leave…

Except.

“Oh, well. Guess mother should know about that little maid you’ve been orbiting around, lately.” Cassandra comments. “The one you even did a favor for? Just imagine her disappointment in you, the shining example of the family, stooping so low.”

Bela’s back goes rod-straight. The piercing look she sends Cassandra sends ice down your spine. You think she’s going to pounce… yet she exhales.

“One. Hour.” Bela states. “If you’re not back in one hour I’m coming to drag your sorry behind to mother. And she—” A gloved finger points directly to you, “Won’t be coming back with you in one piece.”

Wait.

What?

-

-

You didn’t know Cassandra planned to take you with her. But she didn’t deny it when Bela pointed to you. After her sister left, all she said was: ‘Dress well.’

Which brings you to your current position, pacing by the entrance hall of the castle, in a warm coat and two layers of clothes underneath. You turn to look behind when you finally hear her steps descending the staircase.

And— you freeze.

Because Cassandra is not wearing her usual robes. She’s dressed in all black, yes, but the outfit is tight on her form, fitting every curve, hugging her wonderful legs like a second skin. She’s wearing knee-high boots instead of heels and her hooded, gothic overcoat reaches down to mid-thigh.

There’s not a single patch of her skin visible other than her face… and you can’t, for the life of you, explain why it’s that hot.

“You’re staring, plaything.” she chastises, yet doesn’t sound like she minds. Rather, she’s smirking.

“Uh—” you can’t really form words.

“We need to hurry, clock’s ticking.” she says as she jiggles the very key you’ve looked everywhere during work hours for. The key to freedom. To leaving the castle.

Cassandra double-checks her clothes before she opens the door. You file it as useful information for later as you hurry to catch up to her.

The path to the village –or what’s left of it— through the forest is… difficult. Mainly because Cassandra is entirely unbothered by any and all obstacles and moves like she’s on a walkway, leaving you to fight with every rock hidden in the snow.

You manage. Somehow.

Until a distant howl makes you jump and quite literally crash into her side.

Cassandra laughs. It’s a clear, beautiful sound in the dead of night. “My, my. Scared of a Lycan in my presence?”

“I thought it was just a regular wolf!” You whisper, mortified.

Yellow eyes blink at you. Then her gloved hand raises to yours, taking it in a secure grip. You didn’t realize you were shaking, yet the tremors quickly cease when she does that. It’s just your heart that still feels like it’s going to give out on you, but for an entirely different reason, now.

Cassandra safely leads you to the village. It looks more or less the same, except empty, void of life. You don’t linger on memories. You don’t.

“Show me your house.” she says.

You never thought you’d be tracing the steps of your front porch so soon. You only have to push the door for it to open. And the inside is just as you remembered. A quaint little house. It’s simply not… home, anymore.

Nothing is.

Maybe nothing ever was.

And the thought makes a thin, cracked wall inside you finally give. Cassandra is saying something a few paces behind you, but your vision has blurred, your eyes sting and hot, salty rivers roll past your lids.

“Are you listening to me?” she asks. “...Plaything?”

You can’t talk. If you do, you’ll sob and break to pieces on the floor like a pushed glass statue.

Cassandra’s grip is tight and demanding on your elbow when her fingers curl above it, but she turns you with gentleness you’d never think her capable of. You do not meet her eyes.

Her other hand comes up to your neck.

You can’t, you can’t—

“Alexia.”

Your eyes snap to hers when she says it, from the shock. You didn’t think she even knew your name. Cassandra shifts her weight from one leg to the other, then seems to decide on something and wipes the tears beading at your chin away with her thumb.

“Pack what you wish. We don’t have long.”

As you turn into your bedroom and open your wardrobe to pack a few clothes into a bag, just to feel a tad more yourself when you’re in your room in the castle, the sound of your name falling from her lips follows you.

Haunts you.

You have half a mind to get your mp3, phone and chargers before you return to her. Cassandra is holding whatever she wanted to get from the village in a box tucked between her arm and body.

“Come.” she orders. Her hand settles on your elbow again and practically drags you along.

You don’t talk on your way back to the castle.

From one of the many windows overlooking the front yard, you spot Bela’s eyes on the two of you until she retreats into the shadows. Rigidly, Cassandra enters and immediately goes by the large fireplace to warm up. You only then notice how much more fluid her movements get. Or rather, how sluggish she was during the trip.

You shut the door and turn the key and realize it’s much easier to handle your situation when you’re the one locking yourself inside.

You take off your coat and scarf, then make to head for your bedroom —according to your calculations you’ll only get 3 hours of sleep— until… you notice how cold Cassandra looks.

She’s one step away from hugging the flames. And you can still hear her call you by your name in your head.

Great. Another thing to keep me up at night. You think as you approach her.

Slowly, so as to not scare her, you slip your arms around her slim waist from behind. She’s like a block of ice in your embrace, at first. Her body thaws gradually, to the point she’s fully relaxed against you.

“Thank you for today.” the words don’t come easy –they’re like pulling teeth— but you manage to get them out clearly enough.

“You’ll thank me in very many ways, plaything.” she says. “Having your own belongings in the castle is not a privilege any maid gets. But.” her voice, although quiet, hardens the slightest amount. “If, despite my generosity, you harbor dreams of escape… I will turn them to nightmares.”

Your blood goes cold in your veins. You can only nod against her shoulder.

Cassandra turns in your arms to look at you.

“And if you ever try to leave me alone here… I will find you and kill you myself.”

[dapandapod]

24 or 34 for the hug prompt 💖🥰

24. wanting to hug but your ignored 34. hug to prevent a fight

Alright, you asked for mean so here goes. Let me tell you right now, I made myself SO mad writing this. Like, properly pissed off. I want you all to mind the tags, because this dude is an asshole and not shy about it. Thank you @kuripon for the beta, you are wonderful and I love you <3

Warnings: swearing, insults, sexual inuendos and name calling, (not the nice kind) Geralt is so, so stupid (but eskel saves the day don't worry) and sad, sad Jaskier. please mind the warnings

Send me a hug prompt? (I can be fluffy too I promise)

On Ao3                 Hug collection here

“So tell me bard.” The man on the other side of the bar leans over the counter with another three or five men leering behind him. “How did you earn your keep tonight? Fucking or singing?”

Jaskier blinks and frowns, sensing Geralt and Eskel tensing next to him.

“Excuse me?”

“You know?” The man makes a very lewd hand gesture. “Or maybe even…” And now he mimics a blow job.

“Sir, I will let you know, I am a world-famous poet and highly sought after bard. I earn my keep just by stepping into the building.”

Jaskier doesn’t want to brag, but this man either doesn’t know who he is talking to, or knows exactly who he is talking to, and neither option is good.

“Oh yes, the master Dandelion, known for his silver tongue. You use that in many ways, I hear.” The man wiggles his eyebrows and his friends behind him laugh. So he knows, then.

“Don’t speak to him that way.” Geralt stands up behind Jaskier, a looming, angry presence at his back. Some of the men take an involuntary step back, but the man talking just smiles wider.

“Ah, there he is! Butcher of Blaviken! Tell me, who pays who in your arrangement? The bard whore, for you to stick around, or the Butcher, wanting to get his dick wet?”

This time, Eskel stands up, putting himself between Geralt and the man. Turns out to be a good idea, because Geralt is growling, baring his teeth.

“No, Geralt,” Eskel murmurs. “It’s not worth it.”

“Bard fucking you both? Huh, you gotta be good then. How much for a go?" the man asks, licking his lips as Jaskier feels his eyes run up and down his body.

Jaskier feels nausea at the back of his throat. This is not the first time someone has come on to him like this, but usually the witchers don’t get to hear the worst of it.

Geralt lunges forward, but Eskel catches him in a bear hug, pinning his arms to his sides.

“No, Geralt. You go upstairs and bring Jaskier with you. I’ll take out the trash,” Eskel mutters, turning to look at the asshole who suddenly realizes exactly who he’s been messing with.

Geralt growls again. Really, that man needs to learn some words instead of sounds, but he tears away from Eskel and glares.

If the heckler is found dead tomorrow, nobody would doubt for a second who did it.

“Come on, Jaskier,” Geralt says angrily, but doesn’t touch him like he usually would. Doesn’t let his hand rest on his shoulder, or offer comfort at his back.

“Hope you got enough coin, witcher! I hear he is famous!” the man yells, and Jaskier feels himself flinch and shrink in on himself.

They walk up the stairs when the first yelp of pain is heard, and more chairs scraping against the floor. When Geralt closes the door to their room behind them, Jaskier is sure he hears the heckler being thrown outside.

It feels better, but not by much.

He sits on the bed, arms around himself, feeling pathetic and hurt. All he wants is someone to wrap him up in a hug and make him feel less dirty. Preferably Geralt, but that is a dream forever dreamt. Geralt paces back and forth in the room, restless and agitated.

“I’m sorry,” Geralt says finally, stopping and looking down at him. Jaskier looks up, sure that his every emotion is showing on his face. As predicted, Geralt’s expression scrunches up and he drags a hand through his hair.

“I won’t touch you anymore,” Geralt says, and it hurts more than anything the man downstairs could ever have said.

Jaskier looks down on his feet again, before nodding and standing up.

“I’ll go see if I can have a bath drawn,” he says, and then flees out the door.

There is only so much he can take.

~

Geralt is unsure of what to do now. He paces back and forth, trying and failing to find something to do. It didn’t feel quite right, the way Jaskier left. He had said it to make Jaskier feel better, because obviously being associated with him put Jaskier in trouble. Geralt will never understand what he did to deserve him, but he doesn’t want to make Jaskier's life harder for knowing him.

Maybe he should go downstairs. Maybe he will feel better if he gets a good punch in on the asshole. He is about to head downstairs, when Eskel comes in and looks around.

“Where is Jaskier?”

“Bath,” Geralt mutters, absolutely not pouting about the fight already being over.

“Fair. I would want a bath too if I got that shit thrown at me.”

Geralt says nothing, just sits back down on the bed and fiddles with some loose threads on his tunic.

“Maybe I shouldn’t travel with him anymore,” Geralt says, regretting it the moment he opens his mouth.

“What? Why? Did Jaskier say something?” Eskel says, frowning and sitting down on the chair by the work table. He has his own room further down the hall, but it feels good to have his brother here now, to not be alone.

“No, but if being around us, me, will make people say such things to him, maybe he is safer if--”

“--You didn’t actually say this to him?” Eskel interrupts, sitting up ramrod straight.

“What? No, I only said I wouldn’t touch him anymore.”

“You..?! Oh my actual-- GERALT! You are such a fucking imbecile sometimes! Do you have cabbages for brains?!” Eskel stands up again, and he is the one pacing the room this time. A family trait, it seems.

“What? I just wanted to comfort him,” Geralt asks, getting increasingly self conscious.

“You fucking, UGH. No wonder you are still pining your asses off for each other! Geralt, if someone called you a whore, and then your best friend says he won’t touch you any more and wanted to go on separate ways, how would that make you feel? Fuck, why do I have to do this?!”

“Oh.”

“Yes, Geralt, Oh. Now you go the fuck down to Jaskier, this moment, and give him a hug. Melitele knows he could use it.”

Eskel more or less pulls Geralt off the bed and throws him out of his own room. Geralt turns to look back at him, but Eskel slams the door in his face.

Well then.

Geralt walks down the stairs to the bathing room, not even knocking before stepping in.

Jaskier sits fully dressed still with his face in his hands, staring with eyes watering, completely ignoring the steaming bathtub right next to him.

When he notices Geralt he looks up, and his eyes are so full of hurt and hope that Geralt could kick himself.

He opens his arms, and Jaskier is up from the bench. Three steps later he has thrown himself into Geralt’s arms, drawing in a ragged breath.

Maybe Eskel is right. Maybe the way to protect Jaskier is not to pull back, but to pull closer.

And the way Jaskier clings to him right now, maybe he will be allowed.

[jeynearrynofthevale]

Sansa Stark is a lesbian and here’s why:

So, in honor of sapphicsansafest, I’m making a meta master post about why I believe Sansa is a lesbian. This will include a few quotes and I’m going to separate it into a few sections.

Sansa’s descriptions of other women:

“The queen was drinking heavily, but the wine only seemed to make her more beautiful; her cheeks were flushed, and her eyes had a bright, feverish heat to them as she looked down over the hall. Eyes of wildfire, Sansa thought.”

Even when Sansa hates Cersei, her descriptions of her are always focused around her beauty. The way she describes her eyes and cheeks is also similar to the way the men that are attracted to Cersei describe her.

“Twenty mules awaited them within the waycastle, along with two mule-walkers and the Lady Myranda Royce. Lord Nestor’s daughter proved to be a short, fleshy woman, of an age with Mya Stone, but where Mya was slim and sinewy, Myranda was soft-bodied and sweet-smelling, broad of hip, thick of waist, and extremely buxom. Her thick chestnut curls framed round red cheeks, a small mouth, and a pair of lively brown eyes.”

Similarly, her description of Myranda is very focused around her looks and specific details like her being “sweet smelling” and “extremely buxom” seem to point towards Sansa being attracted to Margaery. Once again Sansa’s descriptions of women mimic the way straight men describe them. Sansa’s interactions with Myranda are something I'll comment on later.

“Sansa had never been this close to the Dornishwoman before. She is not truly beautiful, she thought, but something about her draws the eye.”

Her description of Ellaria is also interesting as it helps show that the way Sansa thinks about women isn’t solely an aesthetic appreciation. She also enjoys the way unconventionally attractive women look.

“Slim and sinewy, Mya looked as tough as the old riding leathers she wore beneath her silvery ringmail shirt. Her hair was black as a raven's wing, so short and shaggy that Alayne suspected that she cut it with a dagger. Mya's eyes were her best feature, big and blue. She could be pretty, if she would dress up like a girl. Alayne found herself wondering whether Ser Lothor liked her best in her iron and leather, or dreamed of her gowned in lace and silk.”

This might be the best example of Sansa’s attraction to women. She once again thinks about the beauty of a woman who isn’t conventionally attractive and she even comments on her eyes. She then contextualizes her attraction by convincing herself that she’s thinking from a man’s perspective. In reality though she’s thinking about how Mya looks her best to her and is unable to really think of that because it's not considered proper.

“When Margaery Tyrell smiled, she looked very like her brother Loras.”

This one is pretty self explanatory. She thinks of how lovely Margaery looks repeatedly and when Margaery is admirable and happy, she once again contextualizes her attraction by bringing a man into the picture.

My thoughts on her “crushes” on men:

Now, her 3 real crushes in the books are Joffrey Baratheon, Loras Tyrell, and Waymar Royce. They all follow a very similar template. Men straight out of the songs and stories that Sansa loves.

“Sansa did not really know Joffrey yet, but she was already in love with him. He was all she ever dreamt her prince should be, tall and handsome and strong, with hair like gold.”

And

“Joffrey smiled and kissed her hand, handsome and gallant as any prince in the songs.”

Joffrey is someone Sansa likes because he’s the prince out of songs, the idealized prince in the stories. And Sansa loves songs and stories so she thinks she loves Joffrey. When she comments on Joffrey’s beauty, it’s almost always in the context of songs or stories. He’s also the easiest crush, her betrothed who she has to learn to love.

“Ser Gregor was the monster and Ser Loras the true hero who would slay him. He even looked a true hero, so slim and beautiful, with golden roses around his slender waist and his rich brown hair tumbling down into his eyes.”

And

“Wed to Ser Loras, oh . . . Sansa's breath caught in her throat. She remembered Ser Loras in his sparkling sapphire armor, tossing her a rose. Ser Loras in white silk, so pure, innocent, beautiful.”

Loras is also an ideal out of the songs. Sansa says it herself. He’s the hero she wants. She always thinks of him in that context. It makes sense that she crushes on him. He’s a safe easy crush. It’s like the asoiaf equivalent of crushing on some guy in a boyband.

Sansa’s interactions with Margaery

“You will love Highgarden as I do, I know it.” Margaery brushed back a loose strand of Sansa’s hair. “Once you see it, you’ll never want to leave. And perhaps you won’t have to.”

The way Margaery tries to appeal to Sansa and talk to her almost echoes a flirtation. Pushing a strand of hair behind someone’s ear is a textbook romantic move. And the persuasion relies on Sansa liking Margaery and is all about finding love.

“”Margaery’s kindness had been unfailing, and her presence changed everything.”

The way Sansa thinks of Margaery is quite striking and loving. It is as though Margaery was this big important force in Sansa’s life.

“Margaery was different, though. Sweet and gentle, yet there was a little of her grandmother in her, too. The day before last she’d taken Sansa hawking.”

Sansa also goes on what pretty much amounts to dates with Margaery. And the sentiment of Margaery being different is very similar to Arya’s thoughts on Gendry: “Only Gendry was different” and their relationship is often considered to have romantic undertones. It’s also interesting that gentle is used to describe Margaery when that is one of the words Ned used to describe Sansa’s future romance.

“She is so brave, Sansa thought, galloping after her.”

Sansa clearly admires Margaery immensely and her thoughts are always complimentary. She clearly crushes on her.

Sansa’s interactions with Myranda:

And you must be the Lord Protector’s daughter,” she added, as the bucket went rattling back up to the Eyrie. “I had heard that you were beautiful. I see that it is true.”

Alayne curtsied. “My lady is kind to say so.”

“Kind?” The older girl gave a laugh. “How boring that would be. I aspire to be wicked. You must tell me all your secrets on the ride down. May I call you Alayne?”

The complimenting of Sansa’s beauty is another common trope in flirtation. And the way she interacts is very sexual and ostentatious. It’s flirty. And asking to call someone by their first name is also a romantic trope.

“Randa. It seems a hundred years since I was four-and-ten. How innocent I was. Are you still innocent, Alayne?”

She blushed. “You should not ... yes, of course.”

Sansa is nervous around Myranda in a way she’s not around men. She even blushes. Myranda is also directly questioning Sansa about her sexual experience.

“Despite herself, Alayne found herself warming to the older girl.”

She starts developing a crush.

“She is trying to make me blush again.

Lady Myranda must have heard her thoughts. “You do turn such a pretty shade of pink. When I blush I look quite like an apple. I have not blushed for years, though.” She leaned closer.”

Once again, this is super flirty and seductive. She’s complimenting Sansa on her blush and implying her own experience. This whole conversation is ripe with that stuff.

“She ate with Mya and Myranda. “So you’re brave as well as beautiful,” Myranda said to her.

“No.” The compliment made her blush. “I’m not. I was so scared. I don’t think I could have crossed without Lord Robert.”

Once again Sansa blushes at Myranda’s comments.

“By the time they finally reached her father’s castle, Lady Myranda was drowsing too, and Alayne was dreaming of her bed.”

This is some interesting word play. It might not be intentional but ships like Braime have similar lines.

And a few miscellaneous/bonus things:

“Septa Mordane said all men are beautiful, find his beauty, try.”

This is how Sansa thinks about Tyrion. She’s a child forcibly married to him so she’d probably judge him harshly regardless but this phrasing struck me. It’s very similar to the way lgbtq people are often told to try to love another gender even if they cannot. And the way Septa Mordane taught Sansa about attraction and gender obviously has a huge influence on her perception of her own sexuality.

“When a serving girl brought her supper, she almost kissed her.”

And this is Sansa thinking about kissing a girl.

“I am coming for you, Lady Sansa, she thought as she rode into the darkness. Be not afraid. I shall not rest until I've found you.”

The fact that the true knight Sansa wishes for, the hero out of the stories, the romantic trope is Brienne, a woman, has some awesome queer implications. Even if her relationship with Brienne isn’t really a romantic one, it certainly fits the idea of courtly love.

[ladecena]

DREAM💃💫

Mich Delavega’s ambition is to be a dancer, but her father has refused to support her for no apparent reason. Is she willing to take a chance? Did she carry on with her aspirations despite her father’s disapproval? Was she brave enough to fight for what she truly desired?

I’m strolling slowly down the corridor, thinking about what happened the day before. Dad and I got into an argument over what I wanted, and when he found out that I was secretly competing in a dance competition, he was upset and demanded me to stop. It’s strange until he brings up the matter of my cousin’s accident. What a pitiful excuse, yet it’s true. 

Danica was the first person I met. It’s just me and my one and only best pal. She greeted me with a grin and handed me a piece of paper. It’s a Dance Battle Poster for our Students Days

Flashback

I’m looking forward to coming back home. Danica and I attended a competition altogether. This is our sixth win in this competition; we always enter but keep it a secret from Dad because if he finds out, he will be furious. Dancing is really something he despises. I’m not sure why, but it began when I begged with Dad to enroll me in a dance class. He encouraged me to stop, but I’m a stubborn person, and then there was an accident because my cousin was causing difficulty because of the dance, and my father became upset, as if she was cursing the dance for the rest of his life.

As I arrived home, I found my mother watching TV on the couch and my father reading the newspaper when I opened the door. I approach them from behind and give them a kiss on their cheeks.

When I saw the diploma, prize, and tape of my dance practice and competition, my eyes widened.

“Tell me, what is this Mich Delavega!”

My father was constantly yelling. I put my hands over my ears and close them. I’m terrified.

“How long? 3 years? Did you just spend all of my money on dancing?”

While I was crying, my mother sat next to me and embraced me so tightly. Why was Dad acting so strangely? In my head, I said.

End of flashback

That day has stayed with me to this day. I’m in the library at my school. I’m pursuing BSBA since it’s what my father wants me to do. They are businessmen/women, and I am the next in line to become our company’s CEO.

After a few hours, school was over. We were both eager to go home, so I got to work right away. Danica, on the other hand, interrupted me. She invites me to join her in a studio with her.

We don’t need to drive because Jigs Studio is close to our school. We arrived at the studio’s entrance. When I hear music blaring, my heart jumps. It really is as if it’s encouraging me to move, sway, and enjoy the beat. I smile quietly at myself.

I’m really looking forward to the battle. I can’t seem to stop grinning. This is my dream, which my father has thwarted.

The competition was about to start when we found a seat.

“Hello there, everyone! Thank you for attending this battle. I know you’re all excited to see this, so let’s get this fight started between Black mamba and Higher kids!!!!” The host said

 And we’re all clapping, and I can hear some audience members shouting from every nook and cranny of the studio. In a few moments, the two contestants will be here, facing each other. Each contender will showcase their moves on the platform in the first round. In round two, they choose one member to defy their group and battle against the other, and in round three, one of the audience members will perform the song that they have picked.

We’ve been through much too much. Danica and I had a good time during the match. When I returned home, I found my mother seated on our couch, watching television.

“Hello, mom,” I said, smiling.

“What’s the matter with you? Are you all right?” My mum replied casually

“Mom, I’m fine. By the way, I need to get some sleep.”

I went to my room, changed into my pajamas, and fell asleep in my bed.

I awakened the next morning with a playful smirk on my face. Today I’m in such a great mood. I get out of bed and begin my morning routine.

I excitedly entered our kitchen, and while I ate my breakfast, mom noticed me and kissed me on the cheeks.

I finished my meal and went to see my father. I need to tell him something when I’m in the backyard, I smell some burning plastic. I walked to where it came from and my jaw dropped when I saw my things get burnt.

"Daddddddddddd!”

I raced up to him and tried to stop him, but it was too late; my possessions had went up in flames. While observing the fire, I slam myself on the grass. When the fires are all out, I stare angrily at my father.

"You deserve it. This is your punishment." 

"What do you mean Dad?! I’m not sure why you feel that way and you need to burn my stuffs, which were extremely valuable to me!”

I cried as I ran inside our home.

Mom came in my room to console me. When she saw my sad face, she looked so sorrowful.

“You’re aware of how much I cherish you. You are my daughter. You grew up beside me. I fell madly in love with those beautiful eyes the first time I saw you. Even though it was difficult for me to accept those gorgeous eyes, I did so because I believe that if I put my hand on you, you’d be mine. You are going to be my daughter. She cried as she stated it.

"Why are you bringing this up now, Mom?” As I stated earlier

Moms, like dads, have an odd habit of saying gibberish.

“Sweetheart I’m not your biological mother.”

“You can’t play at me like that, mom, I’m not a fool.”

“Please accept my apologies.”

When she apologizes, I take a serious expression on my face. Is this true? Is this a dream? If that’s the case, kindly wake me up. I despise these feeling. I turned to face my mother, who was sobbing in front of me. A lot of people were staring at us as well. To grab her attention, I mimic a cough.

“What is her name? What is the name of my mother?”

“Your mother Mich is your father’s first wife.”

“Is that my father’s explanation? Why is he putting pressure on me to give up my ambition of becoming a dancer?” Mom gave me a nod as I spoke.

Dad walked on me and looked me in the eyes.

“She is, she’s your mother. That is why I do not want you to pursue a career as a dancer. That dream will destroy you, as well as our family. "My father’s eyes welled up with tears as he spoke.

It was the first time I had ever seen him cry. "Is it a lot of pain?” In my head, I asked.

“Your mother abandoned us. She had only just given birth and had already departed. She is unconcerned about us. She is more dedicated to her passion than the rest of us, and I don’t want you to follow in her footsteps. That’s why I’m putting a halt to you.

"Dad embraced me and grabbed my shoulder.”

"Can you put your faith in me, Dad? I will never abandon you, father, as she did.” I said this while gazing him in the eyes. He turned around to avoid looking at me.

I take my father’s hand in mine. While I’m face the ground, he glances at me.

“I apologize for not being a good parent to you. I’m sorry that I’ve gotten selfish since I’m a useless father. I let you show me what you were passionate about.”

“Do your best,” he added as he walked away. 

“I’ll make my dad proud!” I said

Tomorrow morning, I arrived at Danica’s house, we agreed to enter a dance competition. All I know is that I want to impress my family, so Danica and I put in a lot of preparation and effort before the competition, and it is quite difficult for us.

The competition will begin in three weeks. We’re both exhausted, but we’re having a great time.

Danica and I are both excited and worried on the day of the completion. Our names are called by the presenter after several hours, and we confidently walk up to the stage.

I began to sexily dance in a chair. It’s wonderful. Dance made me feel strong, seductive, and fearless! There’s something about dancing in a new and vulnerable way in my heart that makes me happy. To be honest, when I did chair dance, I felt like an acrobatic goddess.

Danica moves sexily in the chair as well, lowering her upper body to the seat and slowly lifting her feet off the floor until her legs are in the air. She pauses for a second to catch her breath before smiling.

We ended the song by posing beautifully in front of a lot of people clapping on us. We smiled and hugged each other.

“We made it!” I whisper

In the end, we succeeded. We’re ecstatic because this is the first time I’ve ever danced in front of many audience, and my father is seeing me perform live.

We’re still here to thank everyone in the crowd and the judges, even though the program is ended.

In back stage, I saw my family.

“Mom! Dad!” I shouted something and dashed over to hug them.

“You did a great job, sweetheart,” my mother replied, beaming.

I fixed my gaze on my father. Before we departed, he gave Danica and me a bunch of flowers and congratulated us.

When we came home, I went straight to my room to rest, and then my father called me. I take a few steps forward and open the door.

“Hello, Dad!” He smiled at me and instructed me to be in my room.

He handed me a medium-sized box and added, “I forgot to give this to you.” I’m happy for you. This should be kept.

“Thank you, Dad!” I said

I was shocked when I found a necklace and key, as well as a camera and two papers. I take the key first and turn to face my father.

“I bought one of the studios near our house,” he continued, “so you and Danica can practice there.”

“I know you wanted to go to a dancing school when you were younger, but I’m not permitting it; nonetheless, I believe it’s not too late to join you, right?!” I hugged him tightly and cried.

“Thank you dad, you made me happy. Thank you so much! I promise you I will work hard to make you proud. ”

“You don’t need to work hard to make me proud because right now I’m so proud of you.”

We smiled and hugged one other passionately.

I run into a lot of challenges in this world as a result of pursuing my dream. Nothing can readily obtain it. Before we can get what we really want, we need to go through the needle hole. We must be strong and confident, but we must also remember to smile. To all of us, Dream is really significant because it leads to success. So keep dreaming and, if you truly want something, take a chance, even if it seems impossible. I am Mich Delavega, A Business Woman and a Professional Dancer.

- peachy k. 🍑 

June 10, 2021

[parkertech]

Tattoos & Tears — CHAPTER 5

summary: on everybody's 18th birthday, they get a tattoo of their soulmate written on their wrist. for you, it's your best friend who you thought you got over. who even has a girlfriend of his own.

warnings: swearing, angst

———————————————————————

The next month had to be the hardest month Peter had to go through, ever since Tony’s death. Peter hated himself for how his feelings did a full 180. He didn’t feel anything with MJ anymore. No happiness, no excitement, not even any boredom. He just felt numb around her.

Of course he didn’t say anything. He knew if he did he would hurt her. He knew every ‘I love you’ from her was genuine. His truth was reminded like an annoying fly in his face that wouldn’t go away. He didn’t want to feel like this. But you can’t control your heart.

That exact heart ached for you all the time. It ached for your touch, for your kisses, for you laughs and smiles, for you in general. But he couldn’t get that. What made it worse was that he was with MJ and didn’t get the balls to tell her the truth. But what made it absolutely aggravating and unbearable was that Brad has asked you out. And you said yes.

You fucking said yes.

Of course you would say yes. Because he’s your soulmate.

Fucking soulmates.

He grew the hate to word. It was an annoying thing. Some stupid determination that isn’t even based off your opinion. It’s literally just because it said so.

Peter did what you did when you were in heartbreak. Isolate from you. He couldn’t stand the pain every time he saw you and Brad. He dug it down deep which added to his numbness.

It had now been 3 months. 3 long, nerve wracking months. Peter’s birthday was today. Well, when the clock hit 12. He wasn’t excited. Not even a little bit. Tonight was the night his supposed ‘love of his life’ would be determined. And he knew it wasn’t going to be MJ. His truth was going to come out today. He could already picture her tear stained face, red cheeks, pure hurt and pain across her face. He closed his and groaned at the thought, before hesitantly and unwillingly get ready for the day.

MJ wasn’t waiting for him at his locker today. He sighed in relief, feeling already some of the pressure in his chest die down. He put in his locker combo before grabbing his calculus textbook along with some random, dingy notebooks. He felt a random pair of arms wrap around him, and he sighed loudly. He turned around, expecting to find MJ. But it wasn’t. It was you.

“Hi Peter!” You said enthusiastically, with a bright smile. Peter blinked a few times, thinking he was dreaming. But his pounding heart reminded him to snap out of it.

“H-Hey, Y/N! What’s up?” He stuttered. He mentally beat himself up for how obvious he was being, keeping his focus on you. Your radiant smile all of a sudden made the room more happy, and it made him mimic it.

“What’s up? Well, I hear someone’s big night is tonight!” His face fell a little and he started at you sadly. You furrowed your eyebrows, looking him up and down. “You okay, buddy?” Peter shook his head a few times, before nodding.

“Yeah, I’m good...” he trailed off. You went back to your happy demeanor and touched his shoulder. He felt it ignite to life, leaving a slight tingle and warmth.

“You better be. You can’t be grumpy when you find out who your soulmate is going to be!” You said, trying to bring back the good mood. Peter looked down at his beat up sneakers and swallowed the huge lump in his throat.

But I want my soulmate to be you, he thought to himself.

“Yeah, I know.” Peter was acting weird. He wasn’t being his jittery self, making cheesy puns, nerding on about new tech and shit. He was being distant, and you could tell.

“Pete, is everything okay with you? Do you need to tell me something?” You ask silently. Peter was tempting when you said that, but decided to not. He’d just weird you out.

“No, I’m fine. Just tired...” He lied. You could see he didn’t want to be pushed, so you nodded hesitantly.

“Alright...well, we’re gonna go to your place tonight, right?” Peter’s head shot up from the floor, pure anxiety in his eyes.

“What, why? Why would be going to my place?” You give him an obvious look, but Peter doesn’t catch on.

“It’s your birthday. We’re gonna celebrate! Don’t worry, it’s not a party, because I know you hate them. It’s just me, Ned, Betty, and MJ of course.”

“Why ‘of course’? You don’t know MJ.” He said a little aggressively. It was because he didn’t want MJ, but that doesn’t mean he could take it out on you. He saw your face turn into a taken aback one, but in a defensive way. Shit.

“Okay, calm down. She’s your girlfriend, number one. Number two, I do know MJ because we’ve been friends since freshman year.” There was a pause since Peter didn’t know what to say. He let his guilt and embarrassment eat him away, which made you scoff and shake your head. “Fine, since you’re in a bad mood, I’m just gonna leave you alone.”

“No, wait, Y/N-“

“See you at your place, Peter.” You replied coldly. Peter’s entire mood went downhill all over again when he saw you walk away from him. Well, more like stomp away from him. He hit his head on his locker 3 times, muttering curses under his breath.

Why is everything going wrong? One second he was fine, happy. The next he was upset, and disappointed. He couldn’t do this anymore. He had to tell MJ. Tonight.

———

The rest of the school day had went by. May heard about his little gathering, and left him alone. That was after she gave him her gift—a Polaroid camera. Of course, May would’ve gotten him something better, but she wasn’t the richest. That didn’t mean Peter didn’t appreciate it though. He appreciated everything May got him. How could he not? It was May for crying out loud.

After an hour when May left, he heard a knock at his door, and got up from the couch with a sigh. Before he opened the door, he looked through the peephole in the middle. You weren’t lying—MJ, Ned, Betty, and you were standing there, waiting for Peter to open the door. Peter took a deep breath, mentally preparing himself, before grabbing the door handle and opening the door.

“HAPPY BIRTHDAY!” You all shouted in unison Peter groaned and dramatically held his ears.

“You guys know it’s not my birthday yet, right?” Ned shrugs and steps inside, the rest of you following. Peter just now noticed some of you had small bags and different boxes wrapped in wrapping paper, which he assumed were his gifts.

“Doesn’t mean we can’t celebrate.” Ned replied dully. MJ gave him a quick kiss, going for his lips. But involuntarily, he turned his head so she kissed his cheek. Thank god she didn’t say anything about it. Everyone put their gifts on the counter top of the kitchen, before jumping on the couch.

“Well, he’s been in a very snappy mood, soooo...” you point out playfully. Peter catches you smiling at him, and rolled his eyes before mimicking him.

“Yeah, I was just tired.” He mumbled while popping some popcorn. Peter grabbed a variety of sodas and placed them in front of the couch while waiting for the popcorn. “May’s not home, so we can swear and shit.”

“Yeah, but don’t fuck MJ.” Ned says sarcastically. Everyone chuckles a bit except for Peter.

“You’re just salty you can’t get birthday sex.” MJ snarks back. You let out an ‘oooooh’ while Betty whispered something in Ned’s ear. Whatever it was, it got his eyes to widen and his eyebrows to raise. She giggled and smirked a bit, and you fake gagged.

“Ew, stop eye fucking each other.” You scold playfully. They both roll their eyes while MJ gets off the couch and whispers something to Peter. You eyed her all the way, not even noticing you were glaring, until she left the living room and somewhere in the back. When Peter followed her, your heart clenched a bit and a small lump formed in your throat. It didn’t take a detective to figure out what was going to happen. Can you blame him, though? It was MJ of course he’d rather be alone with her.

If only Peter could tell you how wrong he was.

MJ was straddling his lap, kissing and sucking on his neck like her life depended on it, her shirt tossed aside next to her. Even though Peter was gripping her hips, his face screamed “get me out of here.” Her sucking just annoyed and discomforted him, and he would do anything to get out of this situation. Anything. MJ noticed his behavior, and slowly removed her lips from his neck.

“Is everything okay?” She asks shyly. It’s a little embarrassing when your boyfriend doesn’t give you his usual reaction in this kind of moment. Peter looked at her concerned eyes, and then down at the ground.

“Yeah, I’m just not really feeling this right now...”

“Oh...” MJ said kind of sadly. She hurried her shirt back over her head, and sat next to Peter. There was an awkward silence in the room, as she stared down at her hands in her lap and Peter stared at the carpeted floor under his feet. “Is everything okay with you?” It took Peter a second to process her words, before he looked up at her and furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yeah, yeah, of course I’m fine.” He lied.

‘No, I’m not fine. I realized I’m not in love with you a month ago and I can’t bring myself to tell you because I know I’ll hurt you.’ His thoughts were screaming at him now. MJ being the most observant person on planet earth, could see straight through him.

“You’re lying,” Peter groaned slightly and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. MJ is silent again for a few moments before continuing, “is it Spider-Man shit?”

“No, that’s not it.” Peter said quickly, shaking his head. “It’s just....I-“ He wanted to say it, say it so fucking badly. “I just-“ He stopped, realizing this could actually happen. He could pour out the truth and everything would be over. He wouldn’t have this weight on his shoulders anymore.

Then he remembered it’s his birthday. He doesn’t wanna ruin this day. If he’s going to tell her, it was not going to be tonight. He needed to have one good day. “I’m just tired, and stressed. School and shit...” He mumbled.

Please believe me, please believe me, please believe me!

“Do you wanna talk about it?” She bought it. Peter let out a breath in relief, before shaking his head.

“No, I just-I wanna enjoy today. It’s my birthday in like, an hour, so...” MJ nods understandingly before kissing his cheek, hoping it would relax his nerves.

“You can tell me anything, okay?” She reassured. ‘If only that were true.’ Peter thought to himself. He nodded again, before MJ squeezed his shoulder and went back out to the living room, Peter following.

Since it was his special day, Peter made a rule that he could put on whatever movie and no one could complain. To no ones surprise, it was Star Wars for the one hundredth million time. Everyone passed out in pure boredom except for Peter. He checked the time on his phone. 11:59. Great. His fate was about to be determined by a tattoo. He gently pushed MJ’s head off of his lap, before running over to his room, and sitting down on the bed. He didn’t realize how long a minute actually was until he sat there in his own silence.

What if it says MJ? It could happen. Maybe he’s just in a weird faze and doesn’t realize it. I mean, why else wouldn’t he have broken up with her by now? If he truly ‘loved’ you as he said he did, he would’ve tried to win you over already. But he hasn’t. So what the fuck where his feelings doing? Fucking feelings...they’re so annoying.

Peter checked the time again on his phone. 12:00.

He didn’t realize it was going to actually happen until he looked at the time.

God, shit, fuck, I’m not ready for this. Don’t be a pussy, Peter. You fight criminals for fucks sake. A tattoo won’t hurt you.

He kept mentally reassuring himself, before he finally took a good amount of air in, and held up his wrist in front of his face. His right eye slowly peeled open, and he saw the first letter. It wasn’t M. His other eye opened, and he felt his face drop the second he read the full thing.

Y/N.

It’s there. That’s her name. This is real. I can’t take this back. Holy fuck. Oh my god. Peter had no idea what to think. He actually convinced himself for a second he didn’t love you. But the ink on his wrist just said ‘fuck that’ and smashed his beliefs into a million pieces.

‘Who’s your soulmate?’

‘It’s...Brad Davis!’

He was your soulmate.

And you knew.

And you lied about it. You said it was Brad. That’s why you got mad when he said to stay away from him. That’s why he was mad when you said Brad was your soulmate. Because he was yours.

You lied. And you did it on purpose.

Peter felt hot and angry tears glossing his eyes as the gears turned in his head. All the puzzle pieces were clicking, and just created anger in him. He didn’t know if it was directed towards him for not noticing sooner, or at you for lying to him about this kind of thing. It was a mix, most likely.

Peter‘s spidey-sense tingled and his ears started ringing, which made him direct his head towards the doorway. His face paled when you saw you standing there, your arms wrapped around your body, and your eyes being slightly glossy like his. Peter stood up and flared at you, a scowl across his face. His reaction—something that you dreaded, made you swallow hard, and look down at the ground. He was definitely angry, something you knew was going to happen. Now that I was actually happening now, it was a hundred times more nerve wracking. Your anxiety was at an all time high, and you slowly turned around, facing the door. You placed your shaky hands on it, slowly pushing it shut before turning the lock on the knob.

“I-I think we need to talk...” you stuttered nervously. Peter could feel his fists clench shut, trying to contain his anger, before replying.

“Yeah. I think we do.”

———————————————————————

a/n: after a million centuries chapter 5 is FINALLY here. sorry for the long wait, i had a pretty bad two weeks...but I’m fine now, sooo

Taglist 🏷 (requests are open!)

@marvel4geeks @ladykxxx08 @chloecreatesfictions @joyleenl @witchything @pluckypete @yourneighbourhoodclown @whatareyouhidingpeter @elamvlfoy @trumpettay @pparkeramorr @naioimie

[seriouslysam8]

For the ask game, would you please answer questions numbered 2, 8, 14 (all of your titles have such cool names), 18 (I hope Abditory isn't one of them as that story rocks), 21, 24, 29, 30, 33, 34, 44, 51, 62, 76, 82, 85, 88, 90, and 98.

Sorry for asking so many, but I love your work! Entombed gave me so many feels! I found your stories because author Breanie said to read them in her author's notes. Best rec ever! Thank you for answering.

Wow, that is a lot of asks! Thank you so much for wanting to know so much about little ole me. I think I hit them all in this and my apologies if I missed one. Let me know if I missed one. @breaniebree is awesome and my writing BFF. She is amazing, and I love her.

2) What fandoms do you write for and do you have a particular favourite if you write for more than one?

So, I’ve written for The X-Files, Supernatural, and Harry Potter. I currently only write for Harry Potter. I would say Harry Potter has always been the most fun.

8) Where do you take your inspiration from?

Random shit. Brontide came to me because I was browsing the HPFanfiction subreddit looking for a story suggestion and someone asked for a story where Harry was addicted to Felix. Only one unfinished dimensional time travel story was listed. It idea sparked me to write my own version. Entombed came to me because I was rewatching Buffy the Vampire Slayer where Buffy was buried alive. I knew I wanted to bury Ginny alive. As I stated in the author’s notes of last Kalopsia chapter, I drew inspiration from the Djinn storyline in Supernatural. I write about things I know, too. I have young kids at home so I like writing the Potter children as young because I can mimic their mannerisms in my writing. I’ve even asked my kids to say certain words to emulate their speech pattern in my writing if I’m writing that age group.

14) How did you come up with the title for the XXX? You can ask about multiple stories.

I HATE coming up with titles. My newest trend has been to literally Google “unique words”. There are a ton of Pinterest accounts who make fancy word and definition pictures. I scroll through all these little unique words and pick out ones I think fit a story. Sometimes I Google a unique word for BLANK and see if I can get a cool version of that name. @breaniebree actually helped me with Entombed.

18) Do you have any abandoned WIP’s? What made you abandon them?

Sadly, I would put Abditory in this category. Never say never though. I think about it from time to time. Honestly, I abandoned it due to such a negative response I was receiving and the lack of positive response. I became discouraged. It wasn’t even negative response due to my writing, it was literally a bunch of “why would you waste your time writing a story about the biggest plot hole in the books? JKR butchered the whole SK storyline and it’s unbearable to read.” So, basically, my reviews and PMs were filled with JKR hate over that plot point in the books. They heavily outweighed the positive reviews I received. Honestly, I think that’s why a bulk of stories get abandoned - lack of positive reviews or enthusiasm for a story. If I didn’t get so many great reviews for my stories, I don’t know if I’d be able to finish them or continuing writing new ones. Fanfiction is free, (as it should be) but it’s a lot of time and hard work. A little appreciation goes a LONG way. So, my advice, review everything you love reading and encourage writers to keep writing. I always say in my authors notes that reviews make me want to write and inspire me. That’s the truth. The moment I stop getting reviews will probably be the time I take a writing break again.

21) Tell me about another writer(s) who you admire? What is it about them that you admire?

@breaniebree. I mean she’s dedicated years to a single story with so many plot lines and characters that I’m amazed she did it. She’s a fantastic writer, and I definitely consider her my writing BFF. I feel like I’ve learned a lot from her and enjoy talking about writing with her so much. I’m so glad we’ve become friends.

24) How do you feel about writing smutty scenes?

Horrified. Anytime I get a little steamy in my stories, it goes immediately to @breaniebree who usually adds way too much smut and then I cut it down to still be somewhat PG-13 in order to appeal to a wider audience.

29) Do you have a story that you feel doesn’t get as much love as you’d like?

I feel like Kalopsia isn’t getting as much love as my other stories. I’m way behind in my normal review count per chapter. I wonder if it’s just the confusing storyline or if it’s just not as fun to read? But I was definitely worried it wouldn’t get the love I thought it deserved when I started writing it and it’s lived up to that expectation.

30) In contrast to 29, is there a story which gets lots of love which you kinda eye roll at?

Cronus Rising. People still recommend it occasionally and I still get random reviews. I’m like, “why????” Its horribly written and a stupid plot line. I literally was getting back into writing after not writing for a good five years, so it’s abysmal. I’ve often wanted to rage delete it.

33) What’s the biggest compliment you’ve gotten?

When someone tells me I should write an original novel and they’d buy the hell out of it. I do have some original novel ideas floating around (one I’ve been writing since I was like 15), but crippling fear of rejection from publishers have stopped me from ever actually finish an original novel.

34) What’s the harshest criticism you’ve gotten?

I got some criticism in Brontide for having drama for drama’s sake with no real purpose or goal for said drama. I felt my drama served a purpose, drove the story along, and I add a lot of fluffy and cute family moments. I feel like in real life, when you to your loved one is going through sometime, it feels like nonstop drama and bad news and like a dark cloud just follows you. I wanted to emulate that in real life. So Harry’s POV was often drab because HE was the one going through something horrific and it was all doom and gloom for him.

44) What is the last line you wrote?

“You never think I listen to your ramblings, but it’s kind of hard to block out, mate.”

51) From one to five stars, how would you rate your writing? (No downplaying yourself!)

Um... I’d say a 3. I think I have some good and unique plots for stories but sometimes I struggle on how to execute those on paper effectively. I struggle with descriptions, action, and showing rather than telling. But I do think I’m good at dialogue and capturing a character’s personality. So, 3.

62) Tell us about a WIP you’re excited about.

A lot! I have a Teddy/Victoire stalker story in the works that I’m excited about. I have (this is going to sound weird) but an outsider rom-com planned where Ron/Hermione breakup right before Hinny’s wedding and Hinny struggles to get them back together before the big day. I have a Potter family vacation fluff/comedy story planned. I have a game night one-shot planned. I have a short story about Luna’s wedding. So many that I want to write and don’t know which one to write first!!

76) Is there anything you’ve wanted to write, but you’ve been too scared to try?

I’d say no. I’ve always tried to write my ideas down. Some I’ve never finished because inspiration peters off and some I plan on finishing once my newest big project is done.

82) Summarize a random fic of yours in 10 words or less.

Harry goes through some shit, and Ginny is his soulmate.

85) Ramble about any fic-related thing you want!

I don’t understand why people don’t ship Harry/Ginny more. I don’t understand the Harry/Daphne obsessions (like just why???) or the Harry/Hermione ship at all. I always see people asking for story recommendation and they specific say “no Harry/Ginny”. They are literally perfect for one another and they are soulmates.

88) If you could ask one other fanfic author three questions about their writing, writing process, or works, what would they be and who would you ask?

@breaniebree .

1.) How do you organize all your charts? Send me the ALL the charts. Because I don’t understand how you keep everything straight!

2.) How do you write so much? You’re like a little writing machine in a cute little package.

3.) Where do all the ideas come from? In a dream? Just thinking? Driving? Do you write everything out in your head like meeee? Can I have some of your writing mojo?

90) How do you process and deal with negative reviews?

I obsess over them. I analyze them. I may get bummed out and not write for a few days. If you don’t like what I write, then don’t read or review. It’s a hobby. I do this for free. I’m not asking you to critique me. Give me a nice review or ask me a question, but don’t be cruel or mean because you can hide behind a keyboard and be a bully to make yourself feel superior.

98) If you had to give up either snacks and drinks during writing sessions, or music, which would you find more difficult to say goodbye to and why?

Music. I grew up with three older brothers. My house was always rowdy and loud and obnoxious. I need it to be loud. I can’t stand the silence or focus when it’s silent. I need music to help me think and write. When I’m home alone, I always turn on the TV or music, because I can’t stand when it’s silent. I think I’d go insane.

[lilydalexf]

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Vickie Moseley

Vickie Moseley has 252 stories at Gossamer, some of which have also made their way to AO3. She has obviously contributed a ton to the fandom over the years! I’ve recced some of my favorites of her stories here before, including Giving Thanks, Stunned, and a bunch of post-eps for particular episodes, including “Firewalker” and “Pine Bluff Variant.” Big thanks to Vickie for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

Not really. Well, actually, it has always surprised me that anyone would read my stories even during the heyday of the series, but that’s my self-consciousness talking. That people are discovering The X-Files is not at all surprising and that they are stumbling on fan fic is a natural extension and I find that wonderful. My husband and I never watched Grimm when it was on network TV and we’re currently going through that series, so it’s the streaming-on-demand-there-isn’t-anything-new-on-TV times we find ourselves.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

Friendships. I have a group of women that I’ve been friends with for over 20 years. Until this year we gathered in person every year. We are in contact on Facebook messenger all the time and a conversation will start up just out of thin air when we haven’t conversed for months! It’s been wonderful knowing these women from all parts of the country (and the world for that matter).

And strangely enough, medical research. My writing tended to focus on ‘injured Mulder’ (or Mulder Torture as we termed it) and I also liked reading that in fan fic. Two years ago this managed to help me in real life. My husband experienced a bilateral pneumothorax (both lungs collapsed spontaneously). One of my favorite stories that I have read and reread is “Short of Breath” by the incomparable dee_ayy. She did some serious research while writing that story and it’s all in that fan fiction. I’m not saying it’s the same as a medical degree, but I knew what was happening, why the doctors where performing certain procedures and it really eased my mind as we went through the whole experience. I never would have known what was going on if I hadn’t read that story so many times.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

Email was the ‘social media’ for the day. That, and newsfeeds. There were two newsfeeds in the beginning: the official FOX website had a message board, and there was one on ‘alt.tv’ which was an internet newsfeed where fans posted spoilers and discussed episodes. The alt.tv newsfeed got tired of the fan fic writers posting stories so a separate newsfeed was formed just for fan fic. EMXC, which was an AOL mailing list, was invite only and somewhat exclusive at first, but opened up to everyone. When the old OSU (Ohio State University) mailing list turned into Gossamer and Ephemeral, the fandom, and fan fic just skyrocketed.

But what you lived for the most, as a writer, was actual feedback. Emails from people all over who read your story. It was nice to get a quick ‘Hey, read this and really like it!’ but the wonderful emails, the ones you kept in folders on your inbox, were the ones that went into detail, sometimes critical, sometimes grammar related, but always showing where you could improve, or where you touched someone. Every friend I have from the fandom started as feedback, either to me or from me. I’m on AO3 and I appreciate ‘kudos’ but I really love getting comments.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Confidence in my writing. I learned a lot from other writers. Constructive feedback was a gift! I may never write the great American novel but I don’t think I’m afraid to give it a shot after all my years in fan fic.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

They had me at ‘aliens’. I’m a sucker for UFO shows. Was front row center at Close Encounters of the Third Kind, read many of the UFO standards, still watch Ancient Aliens on History Channel. I was waiting for The X-Files based on the tiny blurb in the 1993 Fall Preview Guide from TV Guide.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

I kinda got fired from a job I loved and couldn’t go back into that arena for a long time. I was so depressed I was cleaning out my kitchen cabinets. My husband ‘gave’ me the internet for my birthday just to get me out of the dumps. I went straight to ‘yahoo’ and typed in X Files. After reading all the character bios I saw a ‘hyperlink’ (yes, that’s what we called them in 1995) to something called ‘fan fiction’. It was the OSU tree directory of about 100 fan fiction stories. I was instantly hooked.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

I still love the show and all the fans I run across. I was not happy with S8 or S9 but I did watch The Truth. I was on Haven for a while during the reboots (S10 and S11) but it wasn’t the same. I’ve got all the seasons on DVD or blu ray and both movies. When I hear from fans, I’m so happy to connect but I don’t go out and look for new stories anymore.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

None. My heart belongs to Mulder ;)

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Captain Kirk, Spock, Captain Picard, Will Riker, Luke, Han, Leia, Poe, Rae, Kylo at the end. I like strong characters but it’s OK if they have flaws. I’d like to see more strong female leads in science fiction (Gammora and Nebula are favs of mine, too). I love Brea Larson’s portrayal of Captain Marvel!  

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

Sure. When the Pandemic hit we started going through the series for maybe the 20th time. It’s nice to watch them on a larger TV screen. Kim Manners was a genius with lighting and showing just enough of the ‘monster’. I suspect he will be better appreciated in the future than he was at the time he was alive.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

I still go back and read my favorites from XF. I read Blood Ties by Dawn about once a year, the whole series. I go back and read the Virtual Season X seasons. We had some really good stories in those years.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

Too many to list! Dawn, of course. Susan Proto (I co-wrote with her), Sally Bahnsen, dee_ayy, Suzanne Bickerstaff’s Magician Series was the first (and only) fantasy I ever truly liked! I loved all my co-writers and there are plenty of writers that I wish we’d gotten around to collaborating.

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I’m proud of Out of the Cold because it’s Mulder before Scully. I’m partial to the Flight Into Egypt series because I like ‘righting’ what I thought Carter got wrong in the end.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I keep trying! I’m working (have been working for almost a decade now) on a Flight Into Egypt story set at Christmas. Each fall I drag it out of mothballs, write a paragraph or two and get busy doing Christmas stuff. Funny, but it was easier to find time to write when I was a working mom of 6 than as a retired grandma of 3.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I’m putting together a cookbook for my kids and grandkids of all our family recipes. It’s not just the recipes, but the stories behind them. It’s a WIP (work in progress).

Where do you get ideas for stories?

I had a book, just a cheap paperback of unexplained events—all true stories, supposedly—that I got a lot of ideas from. Or, like Carter, I would see something in the news and it would turn into a story. One time I had a dream about our Pur water filter and it turned into a fan fic.

What's the story behind your pen name?

My older sister named me because my Mom and Dad let her. I never used a pen name. That’s my real name, you can google me and find out all about me. I used to have a wiki page or so my kids told me.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

My kids used to tell their friends that ‘Mom is famous on the internet’ as a joke. Most of my friends know. My other life is in politics and the two lives usually don’t cross but once on a campaign I was asked by a reporter if I was the ‘same’ Vickie Moseley who writes fan fiction. If I had lied, that would have been the story—that I lied about this hobby of mine. Like it was something to be ashamed of or I was ashamed of my writing. So instead of ducking the question I said ‘yeah, have you read any of my stuff?’ Fan fiction was not mentioned in the finished article.

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

I’m on AO3 but only a partial list. My website is still up thanks to Mimic.

Is there anything else you'd like to share with fans of X-Files fic?

Back when I started writing (1995) it was a sort of commune. We all loved reading fan fiction, we didn’t want the story to end with the credits. So if you wanted to read, you were encouraged to write, too, so that others had stories to read and share. It was a cooperative arrangement very much like the old Literary Societies back in the 19th Century.  I really miss that, so I hope that on some level that is still going on.

(Posted by Lilydale on November 10, 2020)

[papermoonloveslucy]

LUCY SHUNS AUDITIONS

July 21, 1950

[In the below article, reprinted verbatim, Johnson writes using a lot of imagery and insider jargon.  This sort of article was common in trade papers like Variety, but seems odd in a daily newspaper.]

Hollywood—(NEA) Lucille Ball slipped me the lowdown on her failure to pin to the canvas the dumb chick role in “Born Yesterday” and make it holler uncle. (1)

She’s got a touch of Francis the mule in her when it comes to auditions. (2)

Instead of scrimmaging for the role with Evelyn Keyes, Judy Holliday, Marie Wilson, Shelly Winters and Jan Sterling, (3) Lucille went bolting the other way. 

The “let’s-see-if-you’re-it” boys pleaded and cajoled. 

But Miss Anti-Auditions wasn’t having any of the competition, thank you. 

“I figure if they want you, they want you,” Lucille plainspoke it. If you’ve got to read and test for it, to heck with it.’

She isn’t chronicled in Hollywood history, but once, badgered by her RKO bosses, Lucille went tripping over to David O. Selznick’s office for a whack at the Scarlett O’Hara role in “Gone With the Wind.” 

That’s what curdled her in the first place. 

“It was awful,’’ Lucille shudders. I was shaking all over when I hit Selznick’s office. My knees gave way. I did the whole audition in scrubwoman position. Selznick laughs and says thanks a lot. (4)

Judy Holliday landed the junkman’s doll role and Lucille grabbed a railroad ticket for a personal appearance tour with hubby Desi Arnaz. She strutted to Latin rhythms, swung a glittering purse in a manner dear to runaway girls and wisecracked for the customers. (5)

MIMICS OSCAR WINNER 

At the last moment she nixed a dancing and singing routine. The star with the forest-fire hair shrugged: 

“I decided it would be silly to compete with Grable.” (6)

A lot of movie queens laid in fresh supplies of smelling salts, ice beanies and copies of “Release From Nervous Tension” when word got around that Lucille was about to whoop it up on the six-a-day circuit. (7)

She’s a blister-raiser from way back and the air was shrill with ouches about a year ago when she whipped up an impression of an Academy Award winner. 

But the girls can go back to worrying about other things—like shrinking from larger-than-life to television screen size. 

Lucille didn’t let any “furriners” see the routine. 

“It's for Hollywood only," she said. “I should take radio-active material on the road?” 

Her Oscar-grabber routine is strictly for unreal anyhow, she says. and no blood relation to Bette Davis, Olivia de Havilland, Ingrid Bergman or any other Screen Duse. (8) She insisted:

“She's any movie star, even me. This character has to go up on that stage and act surprised. She’s only been rehearsing what she's going say flor eight weeks. So she says, ‘Ye gads, me?  But I’m so unprepared. Really, I didn’t dream...” Lucille is generally is as unflinching about the movie queen business as Pearl White was about onrushing trains. (9)

But her knees executed some wobbles that aren’t in Arthur Murray’s rhumba dance book when she checked into her first vaudeville dressing room. (10)

“Those stages—they’re so big.” she gasped. “Hey, I’d hate to get caught in the middle of one of those stages without bread and water.” 

Lucille didn’t take any chances with out-of-town press interviews, either. “I once did a personal appearance tour with Maureen O'Hara and had to show up at a press party,” she grinned. (11)

My sinus - I just die from it - was acting up. The reporter next to me didn’t understand my puffed eyes and cold sores. He called Maureen a lady in his story. But he referred to me as a whisky tenor with red-runny eyes.” 

Lucille’s brain cells work on direct current and she’s not one to make with the figure eights when a straight glide to home base would get her there quicker. 

They still laugh about her exit line to Louis B. Mayer. (12) Mayer always referred to her as a thoroughbred and sometimes compared her to his famous horses. "Yes, and like your other nags, I'm leaving your stable," Lucille said when she decided to bow out of her contract. 

She has high hopes for her new picture “The Fuller Brush Man.” Not that she enjoyed it: (13)

“Honey, this ones that I don t enjoy turn out be the best ones.  This one put me in the hospital. My feet are still bandaged up. I’m a mess. No more physical-type pictures for me.”

#   #   #    FOOTNOTES FROM THE FUTURE

(1) The 1946 Broadway hit comedy Born Yesterday by Garsin Kanin was bought by Columbia Pictures. Things got complicated when its stage star, Judy Holliday, swore she would not do the film version. Columbia used this as fuel for publicity about who would win the role.  Naturally, Lucille Ball was considered a top contender.  As the article states, she was not eager, however, to prove her worth to the ‘let’s-see-if-you’re-it’ boys (aka producers).  There was talk of Lucille performing the play in London, or summer stock, but her film contracts would not allow her time off for a stage run. 

(2) Mules are supposedly notoriously stubborn animals - just like Lucy. Francis the Talking Mule was the star of seven popular Universal-International film comedies. The character originated in the 1946 novel Francis by David Stern III, adapting his own script for the first entry, simply titled Francis.  On “I Love Lucy” Fred Mertz sometimes called Ethel “Francis” to indicate she was being stubborn about something. 

(3) These were some of the Hollywood stars looking to play the part of Billie Dawn in the film Born Yesterday. Evelyn Keyes (1916 – 2008) was best known for playing Sue Ellen, Scarlett O’Hara’s kid sister, in Gone With The Wind (1939).  Judy Holliday (1921-65), changed her mind about playing the role she originated on Broadway, but by then the casting net was cast, and she was just another performer on the short list. She eventually got the role, which defined her career. Marie Wilson (1916-72) was a zany comedic actress in the style of Gracie Burns. She was widely known as the star of radio and TV’s “My Friend Irma”. Shelley Winters (1920-2006) would be nominated for an Oscar the year after this article. She was adept at playing drama and comedy, and had a long-lasting career in Hollywood.  She appeared on “Here’s Lucy” in 1968; Critics raved about her Jan Sterling’s portrayal of Billie Dawn in the Chicago touring company of Born Yesterday and Columbia brought her out to the West Coast to test for the film. At one point, she was actually announced to play the part but the role ultimately went to Holliday.

(4) Lucille Ball did indeed read (not screen test) for the role of Scarlet O’Hara, just like nearly all of the women in Hollywood in 1938. Ball told the story several times on television, each time with varying details, but probably most completely on “Bob Hope’s Unrehearsed Antics of The Stars” (1984).

(5) This is a vivid description of the “Cuban Pete / Sally Sweet” portion of Lucy and Desi’s nightclub act to convince sponsors to buy them as a couple. 

(6) Betty Grable (1916-73) was considered one of the most famous pin-up girls in history. In addition to her million dollar gams (legs), she could sing, dance, and act, too. She guest starred with her then-husband Harry James on “Lucy Wins A Racehorse”, an installment of “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” aired on February 3, 1958.

(7) “Release from Nervous Tension” was an actual best-selling book by Dr. David Harold Fink, published in 1950. Vaudeville and Burlesque shows were often known as the ‘six-a-day circuit’ because sometimes there would be as many as six performances of the same act in a day.  Naturally, this did not apply to Lucy and Desi, who were big film and radio stars at the time. 

(8)  These were some of Hollywood’s top-line dramatic actors. Bette Davis (1908-89) had won two Oscars, and was nominated for several others during her long career. She was supposed to guest-star on “The Lucy-Desi Comedy Hour” in “The Celebrity Next Door” in 1957 but dropped out after a horse-riding accident, leaving the role to Tallulah Bankhead; Olivia de Havilland (1916-2020) had also won two Oscars, the second the year this article was published. She was best remembered for playing Melanie Wilkes in Gone With The Wind (1939); Ingrid Bergman (1915-82) was a Swedish-born actress, who, by career’s end, had scored three Academy Awards.  When Johnson talks about “any other screen Duse” he is referring to Eleonor Duse (1858-1924), an Italian-born stage actress known for her grand, dramatic style.  

(9) Pearl White (1889-1938) was best known as the silent film actress who was tied to the railroad tracks in “The Perils of Pauline” (1914).  

(10) Arthur Murray (1895-1991) was a ballroom dancer and businessman best known for the chain of dancing schools that bear his name. Murray was often a punchline on “I Love Lucy,” especially when the subject of dancing came up. The Rhumba was a Latin dance that took America by storm in the late 1940s and 1950. Desi Arnaz often called his orchestra a ‘rhumba band.’ 

(11) Maureen O’Hara (1920-2015) and Lucille Ball had starred in Dance, Girl, Dance in 1940. As a result, the two went on a promotional tour that took them to several US cities, including the nation’s capitol. 

(12) Louis B. Meyer (1884-1957), along with Samuel Goldwyn and Marcus Loew of Metro Pictures, had formed a new motion picture company called Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer (MGM) in 1918. Over the next 25 years, MGM was "the Tiffany of the studios," producing more films and movie stars than any other studio in the world. Mayer became the highest-paid man in America, and one of the country's most successful horse breeders. Both he and MGM reached their peaks at the end of World War II, and Mayer was forced out in 1951, just a year after this article was written. 

(13) Erskine Johnson gets the title wrong. Lucille had madeThe Fuller Brush Girl, a sequel to The Fuller Brush Man (1948).  The film was released in mid-September 1950. 

[nei-ning]

I blame full (blue) moon on my weird dreams recently. Here’s 3 latest dreams.

1. I was back in my old home and inside the house. Tho it looked different in all ways. There was 2 strange dogs free and they weren’t ours or anyone’s who I know. One was black pitbull and one was white, similar to pitbull’s look, but wasn’t pure breed. I started to shoo them out of the house since they were rampaging there, scaring my cats, shitting inside etc. After I managed to get them out, I went to check our small pool. There was robin (bird) in it on its back. It was drowning so I jumped in the pool because I couldn’t reach the bird otherwise. I managed to grab on it’s feet, but then it started to flap its wings, trying to get away from me. Robin had been in the water for so long already that its right leg started to come off when it pulled free. It was horrible sight! I managed to pick the bird up, placing it against my right shoulder when it tried to struggle free. I did my best to calm and hold it while so many thoughts flied in my mind, trying to figure out could I just take needle and thin yarn and sew the leg back on. It wasn’t completely off so I was sure I could save it. But how? It was another thing wholly. Then I woke up.

2. I don’t remember all from this dream, but I was in some bigger room with pillars and different shelves. They all were empty. The walls were dark gray, pillars were dark toffee brown, shelves were more or less like mustard in color. Floor were dark too. I saw some past event about Rise boys or then it was happening at the same moment as I saw them, but they were elsewhere. It was hard to tell. But they weren’t in the room with me. All what I remember was that they wanted to fly. Or they / Don needed to build something so they could fly. I thought; “I will do it.” I only had duct tape and some cardboard pieces. Somehow I managed to build some flying thing with those things as well as pull the lines with the tape of where to fly etc. All this time I kept hearing boys’ voices in my head. I had small camera so I taped it on the flying device to record the flight. To show it to Don that I was able to do it. I wanted to “voice act” boys because I kept hearing them loud and clear all the time, but I didn’t dare to because I knew my English is bad and I wouldn’t be able to change my voice enough to mimic theirs. So I just put the camera on to record as I started to fly, following the lines what I had made. It was weird and fun! I heard Rise Leo saying something at one point. He was very happy and excited! When I had gone through the whole room via flying, I stopped and took a look at the video. It looked good, but what really surprised me was the fact that the came had recorded boys voices too! I never spoke out loud during the flight so it had recorded boys voices straight from my head / mind! It was amazing! At some point, however, the boys also were in this “plane” to fly, but the dream was so weird during the end I don’t know what was real, happening etc. However one thing I know for sure; I have seen this dream decades ago! Back in the days when Rise turtles didn’t even exist! I tend to see dreams over and over again when the fictional characters have been created in the “physical” world. Then they appear in my dreams again, showing themselves. Before that, I only see them either as black masses or hear their voices while really not hearing them. It’s hard to explain.

3. I was going to visit my mom’s friend by foot. I was carrying 3 balls of birds food with me. I thought I would bring them to them. When I got to their house I noticed that the front yard felt different instantly. The garage door was open and their car was gone. I went forward and noticed their front door was open and I could see a pool inside their house (which is impossible in real life). There also was at least 3 German Shepherds, 1 Belgium Shepherd and 1 Rottweiler or then it was Bernese Mountain Dog. Couldn’t really tell since it was swimming in the pool with the Belgium Shepherd. I decided not to go in since I didn’t know were those dogs friendly. So I turned and walked a bit, stopping at the edge of their front yard. I grumbled those bird seeds balls there and 2 of the German Shepherds came to sniff me and it. Turned out they were friendly dogs. When I was walking on the road, away from the house beyond the fence, I noticed the owner. She was around middle-aged woman who owner a barber shop and had renovated one of the rooms to be barber room for her clients. I asked “Do you know where Pekka and Leena have moved?” and she said; “Oh, they moved to live in Murtolahti. There is my other house and right next to it is pharmacy so they get their medicine easily.” and she kept saying something else which I don’t remember. My next mission was to go there to see if they were okay. This area was now old and only way to travel was old trains. However, I didn’t know how to get a ticket etc. so I sneaked in the train with some small kid’s help. I knew he was orphan. At some point this boy and I were near the track as a train was coming towards us. They were looking for us because they knew we had been in the train before illegally. The boy told me to lay down right next to the track, near a big pile of tree trunks, under while fabric. I did so, so I was not noticed, but the train - which went past me, managed to catch the boy. I don’t know what happened to him since I woke up.

[chocafe]

— yohan as your boyfriend

pairing: boyfriend!yohan x reader a/n: requested + i apologize for how messy this was, but i still hope you all could enjoy this regardless! ♡

dating yohan is just like dating your best friend

which is absolutely wonderful ! ! !

because you get the best of both worlds ♡

to start it off

yohan is such a goofy individual

he’d literally laugh at any joke and everything you say

with yohan by your side, you feel as if you’re the top rated comedian in the whole entire nation

adding onto that, he enjoys to play little jokes on you

such as hiding your phone, scaring you at random moments, ect.

“yohan,” you continue to scavenge every inch of the living room “did you touch my phone?”

“i don’t know? did i touch your phone?” he laughs out loud while following your every step

instead of questioning him

all you need to do is tickle yohan and that would be enough to get him to start crying and laughing at the same time

“okaY YOU GOT ME SJFISGJOIS ITS BEHIND THE COUCH AHAHAAHAHA PLEASE STOP”

you’re super close with his little sisters!

you think of them as your little sisters (and potential sister in laws 😏) 

so you treat them super well by buying them snacks and treating them out to mini-dates

these “dates” would include activities such as going out shopping or seeing a new movie you’ve all have been dying to watch

every time you all go out, yohan constantly complains because you all won’t let him join in

“can i come too?”

“nope”

“hello??? this literally isn’t fair? stOP TAKING MY SISTERS OUT ON A DATE AND TAKE ME OUT ON ONE INSTEAD”

a protective ass boyfriend

if anyone messes with you

then they just need to know they’re also messing with yohan

you: *trips on a piece of wood*

yohan, speaking to the wood: bitch are you trying to fight or what?

however, at the same time

he’s the type of person to laugh at you anytime you fall / hurt yourself

and when he’s done laughing

he would then proceed to help you out & act like nothing had just happened

you: *falls down the stairs*

yohan: *laughs his ass off for one straight minute*

yohan: oh wait BABE ARE YOU OKAY DID YOU BREAK ANY BONES???

dang why do you keep on falling down

you both are so supportive of one another ✧( ु•⌄• )◞◟( •⌄• ू )✧

you were always there to attend every one of his taekwondo competitions

and yohan is always there to support you when it comes to your sport / dance / literallyanythingyoureinterestedin competitions!!!

or he supports you when it comes to your dreams and accomplishments. feel free to replace it with whatever fits you the best!

on the days where you physically can’t be there

yohan’s sisters would facetime you during the competition

and you would watch through the screen as if you were personally there

he sends you a variety of supportive text messages to help you get through the day

[txt] yohan: you can do it!

[txt] yohan: if you’re tired of studying then just think about how you’re seeing me tomorrow :-) u gotta get through this tough day of studying before u enter a new day!!!

[txt] yohan: i’m always going to be here for you 💗💓💕

every time you guys wait in line (as in waiting in line for food or waiting for the subway)

yohan would always stand behind you

and rest his chin on your shoulder

while wrapping his arms around your waist

he’s like a giant baby because he’d be standing there like :3 with his cheeks drooping down

when it comes to kisses

you can’t really kiss his neck because he always ends up hysterically laughing like a child

“GOD how am i supposed to come off as sexy to you if you always make me laugh whenever you touch my neck?” he loudly expresses his complaint as he pouts his lips

so . . . touching his neck is sort of off limits since that’s one of his weak spots

or is it really off limits? shssskshjdk

sends you selfies of himself without you even asking for them

[txt] yohan: *sends a selfie*

[txt] you: what is this for

[txt] yohan: nothing i just want u to look at me

and also when you ask him to send you a selfie

he immediately does so without even hesitating

[txt] you: i miss you so much 😭 i wish i can see you rn can u pls send me a selfie

[txt] yohan: i’m kind of shy >___<

[txt] yohan, literally a second later: *sends you five selfies of himself*

ᵃᵃᵃᵃᵃ drinking at local bars are one of your guys favorite things to do

yohan: wanna see me chug down this bottle of soju

you: no

yohan: okay here i go

after a few bottles of soju, yohan’s cheeks would instantly turn a rosy red shade

and he becomes an utterly soft mess!

you don’t mind this tbh i wouldnt either

“y/n, you know that i like you, right?” yohan slurs his words as he takes both of his hands to cup your jawline

you chuckle lightly to yourself. “of course i know. that’s kind of why we’re dating.”

“oh? is that why?” he mimics the way you speak before pulling your face closer to his

yohan doesn’t care that the two of you are out in public

and he also could care less that strangers were surrounding you all in this little bar

with that being said, he presses his lips against yours

igniting the fire inside the two of you

in reality, this turned out to be one terrible messy kiss due to:

yohan’s drunk self who couldn’t keep his lips to himself

and your cheerful self who couldn’t stop smiling in between

once the short kiss was over

you blurt out, “god, you really taste like soju.”

that comment sure doesn’t stop yohan

he drags your hand over to face

forcing you to caress his cheek

just like a little kitten

his lips then stretches into a bright smile as he says “don’t pretend you didn’t like it!”

[pertinax--loculos]

Character Study: Jay (1)

[Quite note for CW -- vague reference to drug use.]

1. Intro My name is Jay Johns, though my parents would probably deny it. Oh no, they’d say, that’s not our boy. Must be another Johns, y’know I hear there’s another family with that name out north.

Don’t get me wrong, they love me to death. That’s their mistake.

People would probably look at my life and go, oh my gosh, where did they go wrong? Or, what happened to him to make him like this? The trouble is, nothing happened. This isn’t a product of trauma or a horrible home life or whatever else. No funny uncles. No ridiculously strict parents making me rebel. No reason.

Just… boredom, I guess.

Technically speaking I suppose it can be traced to an injury I sustained when I was fourteen, but don’t read anything into that. Truth be told I was being a moron, thinking I could balance on a ledge I shouldn’t have been trying to balance on and, surprise surprise, I fell. Nothing insidious about it.

Same can’t be said for the panadeine forte I was prescribed for the broken collarbone, though.

Stuff’s fairly well regulated if you don’t need it, and doctors weren’t particularly keen to prescribe it to a teenager more than once. So I outsourced. Knew a guy who knew a guy, you know how it is. Except turns out the guy on the end was kinda tangled up in some heavier stuff. And at fifteen I didn’t exactly have disposable income.

So I had to do a few odd jobs to get the next fix. But, like, who the fuck cares. No big deal. Flow like mine, didn’t really matter what they asked me to do; it was always get in, do the job, get out.

Y’know talk about, like, a self-fulfilling prophecy? Where you do a thing in order to get the result but the result makes you do the thing again, and so ad infinitum?

Yeah. Given my… aptitude for certain jobs, I suddenly started getting only those. And those morphed into Jobs, capital J, which I didn’t regret so much as want to erase from my memory which was facilitated by, you guessed it, more opioids. And so on and so forth.

Dunno why I decided to get clean – well, that’s a lie, the decision was taken out of my hands, essentially – but I was way too entrenched by then to get out. Knew too much about the operations, the players, the secrets.

Plus, y’know, it was easier. And the pay was almost worth the nightmares.

Almost.

So, yeah. Take the Jay Johns of today and describe him to my parents, and they’d marvel at the coincidence of some amoral gangster having the same name as their beloved golden child. The one who’s off working as an engineer a few hundred clicks south – no, haven’t heard from him lately, but you know how it is, they get to be adults and forget about their dear old parents. And, I mean, I could disabuse them of that notion, sure.

But I don’t wanna break their hearts. They deserve better than that.

They deserve better than me.

2. Family Jay had a very specific memory he wanted to preserve of the last time he’d seen his parents. They’d been so very proud, and through the guilt that threatened to strangle him they’d had an exceptionally pleasant day, culminating with a barbeque in the backyard, warm summer evening heavy with the buzz of dragonflies reminiscent of his very favourite recollections from childhood. If he closed his eyes he could still see his mother’s beaming face as he told her about the job offer; could still see his father’s gruff pride, hidden behind layers of learned reserve but shining through his eyes regardless. He could still taste the tang of lemon in his mother’s specialty cheesecake on his tongue.

Right now all he could taste was blood, and he wondered if that was why it had taken him so long to place the figures wandering past the end of the alley.

Markus had frozen as soon as they’d come into view, his fingers still wrapped around Jay’s wrist, and it took Jay a half-second too long to clap his free hand over his mouth. The sound that escaped was truncated but hellishly loud.

The figures hesitated; the shorter, wider one swivelled towards the alley.

“Did you hear that?”

Her voice was more curious than apprehensive, and Jay was nearly certain being stabbed in the chest would be less painful than hearing that warm, comforting tone juxtaposed with the tiny, pleading whimpers rising in Markus’s throat. The hold around Jay’s wrist tightened and Markus squirmed a little.

Without looking away from the mouth of the alley Jay uncovered Markus’s mouth and instead buried his fingers in his hair, twisting savagely. It elicited another whimper, but at least he stopped moving.

“I didn’t hear anything,” Jay heard his father say, even as the two of them took a couple of steps forward, into the darkness and squalor. “What was it?”

Jay’s jaw was aching – he hadn’t even realised he’d clenched his teeth – and his grip on Markus was white-knuckled, less due to concern the dumb fuck was going to move and more to keep his hands from shaking. His breath was roaring in his ears and there was an uncomfortable scrabbling inside his chest, some sharp-clawed animal desperate to get out.

“It sounded like someone in trouble,” his mother said, alert and worried and good god for once in your life don’t be a fucking good Samaritan.

The only advantage Jay had was the light; he’d chosen to ambush Markus in this alley for a reason, it being one of the few he knew that completely lacked any illumination. It was stupid enough for Markus, a young man experienced with the unsavoury elements of the city, to try to cut through. Surely an older couple wouldn’t risk it. Plus, motionless as he was, Jay was nearly certain that his parents couldn’t make out whether or not there was actually someone down there.

Anxiety was an iron band around his chest. He couldn’t breathe.

His mother stopped.

“It was probably just a cat,” his father said. “I read somewhere that they’ve actually evolved to mimic the cries of human babies. Which, as far as I’m concerned, is just another strike against them.”

His mother chuckled, though she continued to peer into the gloom. “I guess it could’ve been. It just sounded so…”

There was a pause that stretched interminable. Jay twitched the hand knotted in Markus’s hair, a silent warning not to try anything stupid.

“… tormented,” his mother finished finally. Then she shrugged and turned, making her way back to the street. “I must have been imagining things.”

Their voices faded as they walked away, and Jay sucked in a deep breath. It felt like he was choking on it.

“Johns,” Markus gasped, twitching in his grip. “Please. I’m not—I get it, okay? I understand. You don’t have to—”

Jay hauled him up and around, slamming him against the wall of the alley. Markus’s cry of pain was so breathless it was nearly inaudible.

“Unfortunately, Markus,” Jay said, his voice light and even and betraying none of the shame surging so strong inside of him he felt like he was drowning, “My colleagues see it differently.”

“Johns—”

“I like that word. Tormented.” Jay twisted his left hand. He felt the familiar tingle of the Orn between his fingers, and then the just-as-familiar weight of his knife in his palm; Markus’s eyes widened when it shimmered into being in the physical world, a low keen breaking out of his throat. Some tiny part of Jay cringed at the noise, at the fear in his eyes, but he refused to acknowledge it. Instead he just cocked his head a little, letting the detached smirk settle on his lips. “Let’s see just how tormented you can sound.”

3. Friends “It’s not like you have to screw him,” Cassidy said matter-of-factly, crunching another couple of almonds between her teeth. “I’m just asking if you like the guy.”

Jay raised an eyebrow, very purposefully continuing to stare down at the book spread out over his lap. “Keyword being guy, Cass. Who says I even swing that way?”

They were spread out on his bed, ostensibly doing homework, although Cassidy had abandoned that pretence nearly half an hour ago in favour of interrogating Jay on his nonexistent love life. The fact Jay still had his books open was more to provide him with an excuse not to look at her than any real attempt at finishing his math assignment.

Cassidy waved a hand expansively, blowing her fringe out of her eyes. “Jay. There is no need to pretend in here. I know you.”

“Wait,” Jay said, glancing up briefly enough that he hoped she wouldn’t notice the blood he could feel warming his cheeks, “Are you assuming I’m gay because I’m not into you?”

“Well, I mean, that would be a fair assumption, because I’m hot as hell,” Cassidy said, her grin wide enough that Jay could hear it in her voice. “But one, you have never actually said you’re not into me, and two, I never said you were gay. I was simply asking if you liked a guy. Singular.”

“For the record,” Jay said, turning a page in his textbook. He hadn’t actually absorbed anything on the preceding page, but hell if he was gonna give up the ruse now. “I am not into you.”

Cassidy sighed theatrically. “Oh gee, well there go all my hopes and dreams. Whatever will I do now, how will I overcome this devastation.”

It was getting difficult to keep his face straight, but Jay was fairly sure he managed it. “I’m sure you’ll find the strength to carry on.”

“Mayhaps!” Cassidy clapped a hand to her chest and fell backwards on the bed with a wail. “Or perhaps this broken heart will be the end of me!”

“Could you at least die quietly?”

Jay jumped when her hand landed in the centre of the page he was looking at.

“Never,” Cassidy said. “Or at least not until you answer the question.”

“You mean how on earth you will carry on knowing that I’ll never be your boyfriend?” Jay glanced up to throw her a smirk, and Cassidy jabbed a finger at him.

“No, whether or not you like Johnny Davis. Come on, Jay. I’ve seen the way you look at him.”

Jay couldn’t stop himself; this time he jerked his head up to stare at her, feeling horror unfurl across his face. Any hope of hiding his blush was gone, his cheeks flaming as he processed what she was saying. “I’m not—”

Cassidy’s teasing veneer vanished and she scooted close enough to rest a hand on his arm. Jay dropped his eyes. “Relax, darl,” she said softly. “It’s not obvious at all. Like I said, it’s because I know you.” She ducked her head, and Jay let her catch his gaze again. Her face was warm, made even more comforting by the tiny crinkles extending outwards from the corners of her eyes as she smiled; not that Jay would ever tell her that. She’d probably end up in a back alley getting illegal botox if he so much as suggested she had anything remotely resembling wrinkles.

“I’m not trying to be a bitch,” she added.

“No, that just comes to you naturally,” Jay said without thinking.

For a beat Cassidy just stared at him, before she roared with laughter, swatting at his arm. Jay grinned as well, raking his fingers through his hair as he waited for her to calm down.

“Nice one,” Cassidy said eventually, still snickering. “I’ve gotta remember that. Man,” – she swiped her hand across her face – “What was I saying?”

The smile wouldn’t shift from Jay’s face, and he met her eyes as he said, “The answer’s yes. As in yeah, I like Johnny Davis.”

The admission was more than worth the grin that practically split her face in two.

4. Education/Mentors Friday was the Big Day.

Mrs. Phillips had told them all about it, had explained how important it was and how they weren’t allowed to muck about in the waiting area or they would be sent to the principal’s office. Jay thought it was all a bit of a hullabaloo. After all, the Orn was just a fact of life. Why did it need to be measured?

Mum and Dad had told him that he should be very careful when he was taking the Test. But that didn’t make sense either. They’d talked about all sorts of stuff and Jay had stopped listening pretty quickly. After all, Mrs. Phillips had told them that there was no way they could fail the Test. It was just to get an idea of where they were at.

Like with their reading. That was a Test, too. Normally it was done when the rest of the class was working on their handwriting, so they were real quiet. You waited until your name was called, and then you went up to the teacher’s desk – all by yourself, so that the other students couldn’t hear you in case you made a mistake – and you read through the list. It was a very long list, and it started with super basic words like ‘at’ and ‘the’ and then by the time Jay started stumbling he was up to words like ‘pneumonia’ and ‘rendezvous’.

Mrs. Phillips had been very impressed with how good he was at his reading. So why shouldn’t he try to impress these teachers too? Just because he didn’t know them didn’t mean he should pretend.

And it wasn’t like Dwayne’s parents had told him the same thing. Jay knew, because they’d been discussing it for the last forever while they waited for their names to be called.

That was kinda why they were friends, because Cass was in Mr. Allen’s class this year and Dwayne’s last name was Jacobson so he and Jay always got to sit together. And if they were real careful and talked real quiet Mrs. Phillips didn’t seem to notice.

“But, see, like, there’s different, like, levels,” Dwayne said, leaning sideways as he kept one eye on the door their classmates kept disappearing through. “Y’know how I can do different things to most everyone else?”

Jay nodded, as wisely as he could. “Yeah, that makes sense.”

“So that’s what this is for. Mum calls it a attitude test, so that they can get an idea of what sorta connection to the Orn you have and then they can teach you the right way to handle it.”

They paused as Gary came back out of the door, and Mrs. Phillips whispered to the man who came with him. Then she nodded and ushered Gary back over to the other side of the room as the man glanced down at a paper and called, “Carrie Harvey?”

Jay watched Carrie disappear through the door and then said, “So your parents didn’t say, like, some people get taken away after the attitude test?”

Dwayne frowned, deep furrows appearing in his forehead. “No. Why would they? They just wanna know what we can do.” He straightened a little, smiling instead of frowning now. “And they reckon that the testers’ll be real impressed with me.”

“Well, yeah,” Jay said, like he was saying well, duh. “You’ve gotta be the best at it out of all of us.”

Which was annoying, really, but Mum and Dad had been very very clear about Jay not showing off. It would get him into trouble, they said, and Mum and Dad were normally right. But this wasn’t showing off, was it? This was just showing the special teachers what he could do.

Carrie came back, Mrs. Phillips whispered to the man, and Carrie took her seat on the other side of the room.

“Dwayne Jacobson,” the man called.

Dwayne sent Jay a nervous sort of smile, and Jay gave him two thumbs up.

Without Dwayne there to talk to the time seemed to drag even more. Or maybe they were actually taking longer to test Dwayne. Jay didn’t want to look at the clock, because every time he did the second hand seemed to freeze into place.

When the door opened this time, the man and a woman stepped out with Dwayne.

Mrs. Phillips hurried up to them, quicker than she had been walking. Jay watched carefully as they talked, trying to look around Mrs. Phillips to see Dwayne’s face, to get an idea of whether he thought he’d done well or not. But try as he might, he couldn’t get a good look.

After a few more seconds of whispering, Mrs. Phillips nodded and stepped back. But instead of ushering Dwayne to the other side of the room, she just nodded at the strange woman, and the strange woman took Dwayne’s hand and led him through the side door.

Jay stared, waiting, waiting for them to come back. Maybe Dwayne had just really needed to go pee. But Mrs. Phillips had walked back to her chair and sat down. She didn’t seem to be waiting for Dwayne to come back.

Jay felt like his chest was about to burst. Heat raced up into his eyes and he tried not to sniffle as he swiped at it. He was not gonna cry. Not in front of everybody.

But he could suddenly hear Mum’s words, real clear.

You’ve gotta be careful, Jay. Promise me, alright? Promise me you’ll be careful.

“Jay Johns,” the man called.

Jay swiped at his eyes one more time, and then pushed himself to his feet. He held his chin up as he walked across the room.

He was gonna be careful. Even if it meant he didn’t show them everything.

He wasn’t gonna give them a reason to take him away.

[fallenfurther]

Conflict

Here a Post Episode fic for Episode 3: Space Race (I know I’m pushing into the wrong week but I only got this finished today. Also it was written on a night shift/post night shift so I have no idea how it compares to my normal writing.) 

This also contains my interpretation of the cause of the Global Conflict. This is purely from my head, because they never say anything about it. 

*****

The war had started fast, and the brutality went beyond anything anyone could have imagined. There were multiple fractions, multiple countries clubbing together to fight for their best interests. Those in charge never thought the people though, never spared a thought for the most vulnerable. Her husband and brother had matched for them, had taken up the call to arms, not for president or country, not because they believed in the cause. No, they enlisted for the money, for the guarantee of a meal. They had been promised good pay, pay that would keep their family going in these uncertain times. The families would have been able to stay in their homes. Except her husband and brother had been killed within a week. The transport they were on had been shot down. Sasha had also lost her job when a bomb blew up the offices she worked in, not that it could have supported the family, now made up of her two daughters and now her parents. The rent on her small two bed apartment had been the cheapest so her parents moved in. It had been cramped, and the fear of more bombs kept everyone on edge.

Maybe that was why they had approached her, because they knew she would jump at the money. It matched the wages her husband would have made and more, it also came with a completion bonus, a massive completion bonus. Or maybe it was the shielding project she had been working on for the government. Or maybe it was just a bit of both. Not that it mattered why they chose her, what mattered was that they had, and she had accepted at the opportunity. She packed a suitcase, said goodbye to her family and moved to the warehouse. That's where she met Abdul, the designer of the mines. The mines she was to hide. He had shown her the plans, given her a tour of the production line, and then settled her in a small office. It took a while to get used to using a real pen and pencil, all the plans and documents being on paper. Better for security, was their response.  It made everything that much more challenging, but she needed to rise to it. Her family was depending on her. She couldn't let her children starve. Sasha had met the deadline, twisting her design to fit their needs. She impressed herself at how she managed to meet it, staying up late each night. Sasha hated the pleasure she got when it was approved, and the thrill of watching the first circuit boards being prepared and emitters being put together. Her work wasn't completed. She now had to focus on getting the control network coded and running in time for launch.

*****

The mine was both basic and complicated at the same time. Brains had managed to remove the explosives, which were now being stored safely and were ready to be handed over to the GDF. The rest of the mine was simple apart from the small box that housed the shielding. This box was what he scanned and dismantled. It was incredible in its intricacy and once he understood how it work, was amazed by the simplicity within its design. The mechanism was complicated, but that did not faze him, Brains enjoyed getting his mind stuck into a good puzzle. He scanned and inspected the components, MAX passing him tools as he went, even getting him a glass of water when Brains hadn’t realized he was even thirsty. He was so lost in thought over the problem. He tweaked his scanner again, trying to find any detectable frequency coming off the device. There had to be at least something! There was small blip in the readings and excitedly he fiddled with the settings, making the blip clearer. Even with the shielding activated, he could still detect the small frequency coming off the device. Brains smiled, setting to work on a scanner that he could install into Thunderbird Three, and could be used to locate any more of these mines that might still be hiding out there. It was their duty now, to make Earth’s orbit safe, as they would never know when another mine might be triggered. They couldn’t take the risk, especially with their own ship frequenting the area. It pained Brains to think such a fantastic piece of technology had been used in such a horrible way, but now he had the design, he could improve it and maybe put it to better use. He was going to compared it to Thunderbird Shadow’s stealth systems and maybe see of there was some crossover and improvements that could be made. He might even be able to give FAB1 an upgrade. With new possibilities and ideas forming, Brain’s set to work.

*****

Sasha worked flat out getting the first batch of fifty units out. She called them units, not wanting to admit to herself what she was really doing. At least these units won't be hurting her children. They were safe, or at least as safe as they could be. Not that she'd had any contact with them. Contact was prohibited. It was to keep what they were doing from the enemy, to stop them from finding out. This unnerved Sasha, but it was too late now. No going back. The control network was coming along well, and in a few days, it would be ready for action. There would be no trial, it would go straight to live. Desperate times call for desperate measures. They had to protect the supply line, it was what was best for the people, the government had said. She was doing this for the Motherland, Sasha tried to convince herself.

Between control network, she sorted out the program for the mines. They had tested the shield so at least that worked. The boxes that designated which ships were not targets were being produced elsewhere, to her design. The first fifty units were given the ID XQ, which she hated, so in the programming when she had to put in the ID at the start, she coded the name of her brother, Markoff. They may have taken her brother away from her, but at least, in this small way, he could take a few more of them back. The dead would fight again. Sasha took what little comfort she could from it. The Motherland had started the war, not wanting to give up their mining monopoly of the nearest asteroids. Some countries had been happy to negotiate, and trade agreements were made, others weren't so pleased with the deal and when negotiations failed, and words got heated, those words quickly became actions. Sanctions quickly came into place and tensions rose. Her community suffered. Her community had started to starve. So, the Motherland said they had to fight. This was how she was fighting. Thorough these mines she would protect her 'brothers and sisters'. These mines would make the enemy think twice.

Sasha lived in the dormitory with the other workers. Including her and Abdul, there were twenty-six of them in total. The machines ran at all hours and the others took shifts. Twelve on, twelve off. She got to know the day shift well, heard their stories, which were a mirror of hers. She remembered the names of those they had lost and wrote them down in her office. Each batch would have a different relative fighting back. Every mine containing the name of someone the war had taken. Someone who never wanted to fight. At the end of the week they were given a piece of paper and a pen, and they were allowed to write a letter home. Sasha jumped on the idea and told her girls how much she missed them and that she'd see them as soon as her job was complete. She had no idea if the letters made it home, but it was the only hope she had.

A week later she was informed of the success of the mines. Multiple enemy ships had been taken out and they had no idea where the mines came from; they hadn't seen it coming. They promised her a bonus. She would never know if she got it as her wages went straight into her father's account. She received data from the network and used it to update the software. The hardware was left to her colleagues as the next batch, this time it would be known as XS, and there would be a hundred made. The Motherland was taking space seriously. Sasha named it Mika after her colleague’s brothers who died in the first air raid on his town.

*****

Thunderbird Three responded like a dream, as always. Alan loved piloting her and was glad to be back in space again. A few twists and turns as he passed through yet another cloud of space debris, scanner on, searching for more bombs. Brain’s had worked out a way to not only scan them, but to mimic the original control network, so they didn’t activate. John suddenly floated beside him.

“You know you could pick up some of the other debris as you pass."

"John, I'm on a deadly mine hunt. I don’t have time for collecting trash."

John rolled his eyes. "Just be careful."

"I am careful!" Alan complained, as he twisted out the way of some more debris. The mine that had just been detected was now in full view. John disappeared and Alan targeted the old technology. He got it first time, and it joined the eight others he was dragging along. Alan continued to methodically fly the grid John had given him of the areas he needed to scout. This was going to take a few days to clear, but at least this beat doing schoolwork. Another mine located, Alan captured it and headed to the island with another ten mines for Brains to make safe.

Over the next three days Alan clear Earth’s orbit of mines, before finally setting his eye on the junk pile that the GDF monitored and maintained with a space laser. The GDF knew of their plan, and happily agreed to turn off the laser to help them complete it. They didn’t want any unknown mines in there that could activate and blow up at any time. Alan scanned the whole area before starting to pull a few mines out that had become buried in the heap. Some had taken a little more effort than others to get out, but he felt a great sense of achievement when he got the last one free. With six mines trailing him, he moved away from the area and called John.

“Mission complete, John. All bombs removed from orbit.” Alan finished the sentence with a yawn.”

“FAB Alan.” John chuckled slightly. “I’ll inform the GDF they can reactivate the laser.”

*****

She had been here for almost five months now, completely cut off from the outside world. The war was close to entering its seventh month and she had no idea how it was going. Her family didn’t know where she was, only that she was alive and safe, if her letters were getting through. She missed them terribly. Sasha’s arms ached for her girls. The desire to hold them close and hear their innocent chatter was strong. She just had to keep going. She’d see them when the work was complete.

The current batch was almost finished and was just waiting for her to upload the program to their drives and network. This was the largest volume yet; two hundred units. Two hundred units to be scattered around the Earth, on top of the hundreds already orbiting the planet. A shield for their ships. Protection of the deadliest kind. These were the XZ batch. All Sasha had to do was give them the name, pick a relative or friend to replace the unit ID. She had a list to choose from but none of them jumped out. She needed to name the batch, and soon.

Sasha was brought from her thoughts by an odd noise from the factory. She stood from her seat and headed out to see what was happening. There was another sound, coming from the other side of the factory. She passed between the machines that currently stood still. They had yet to be asked to make another batch. There had been talk amongst them of heading home. The sound came again. She continued, heading past the assembly area where the last of the units had been readied for transport. The sound came again, louder now and unnerving. Sasha paused. She stood beside the crate. There was no indication of what was in it except for the unit ID that was printed on the side ‘XZ-198’. A door, a short way away, opened and Sasha watched, holding her breath. Two Chinese soldiers stepped out: their guns ready. An older, obviously more senior, officer exited after them. The noises started to make sense and fear filled her heart.

“The last one is the other designer. She’ll be in her office” The senior one spoke with authority, “I will then grab the papers I require from. After that we load the last three crates and burn this place to the ground.”

There was no response from the other two, and Sasha didn’t wait around. As quickly and quietly as she could, she ran back towards the office and sped to the fire exit not far from it. She pushed the bar. The door didn’t open. Panic filled her as it dawned on her that they had locked her in. There was no escape. Her heart fell as she though of the promised bonus. It was never something she was ever going to see. It was compensation, for her family, so they could go on without her. She was never going to see her children again. A tear escaped her eye. She had orphaned her daughters. Sasha knew they would be raised well by her parents, but that would never heal the pain they were going to endure. Their last goodbye had been months ago, she hadn’t seen them since. It hadn’t been a proper goodbye. Another tear fell. Without another thought, she ran back to her desk and took her seat. She typed in the name she wanted to give this batch and hit upload. She watched as it connected to the network, becoming part of it before being downloaded to each and every mine. The bar slowly moved along. She turned at the sound of the door, her body shaking. The men walked in. The guns were pointed at the ground. The gunmen flanked the senior officer, who stared directly at her. A chill ran down her back.

“Has the program been upload into the mines successful?” The man demanded.

Sasha glanced at her screen. The bar was full and the word ‘complete was beside it.

“Yes.”

The man nodded. The guns were raised and pointed at her chest. Sasha took a trembling breath as the shots echoed around the room.

*****

Alan had to wait for Brains to inspect the mines and make then safe before a full debrief could be performed. This took a little over a week, as they had to do multiple runs to the local GDF base with the various components. The explosives in particular were hazardous as they were so old, but there had been no mishaps, and all had gone smoothly. Brains now stood before him in the lounge. Alan was sitting on the sofa with Scott and John hovered beside the images Brains was taking about.

“Alan, you recovered eighty-three s-stealth mines in t-total. All from various batches. The GDF was k-kind enough to give us all the detail they had on these, which helped with the search. It turns out that many had been detonated during the conflict, or j-just after when the newly formed GDF had to try clear them to make space travel s-safe again. These mines have taken thousands of lives, and the GDF are t-thankful in our help ensuring there are no more out there. Where they were manufactured and by whom was never discovered.”

“These people make me sick.” Alan said, his words filled with disgust. “What kind of sick people make hidden bombs and scatter them through space? How could they live with the amount of people they killed?”

“The Global Conflict happened during a difficult time, both sides did awful things, Alan.” Scott butted in, fully aware that Brains had memories of the war. Scott had been too young to remember what happened, but it had been frightening times. “Just be glad the peace was achieved relatively quickly, and the World Council was created.”

Alan sighed and crossed his arms. “I still think they are sick people.”

Alan saw Scott share a glance with John and shake his head out the corner of his eye. Just because they were older. They weren’t always right!

“What d-does baffle me is the naming system they used.”

“What so special about the naming system?” Alan asked. XZ-157 wasn’t that interesting to him.

“In the c-coding of each mine, right at the start where you’d expect the ID to be is a name. It appears that each ID has a different name attached to it. For example, the XS ones had Mika and the XV ones had Sonia. They are all single first names apart from the XZ ones, like the first on you found.

“What make the XZ one so special?”

“That I c-cannot say. The XZ had a full name of a real person. Sasha Lidia Rudin.”

“Who was she?”

“Sasha Rudin was a Russian software engineer who went missing during the Global conflict. She is presumed dead.”

“So, no one important then.” Alan fidgeted, hoping the debrief was almost over so he could go play some Cavern Quest with his friends.

“Everyone is important, Alan.” Scott spoke sternly. Alan just crossed his arms and slumped down in the seat. Alan could almost hear Scott roll his eyes.  

[satans-helper]

Trading Lessons

Pairing: Danny Wagner x (F) Reader

Word Count: 1126

Warnings: none, really, apart from some terrible sexual innuendos and suggestiveness.

Thank you to this lovely anon for the request! <3 Thank you for spoiling me with Danny, I really hope you enjoy this. Also, I love my boy in purple, can you tell?

---

“Okay, that’s pretty good,” Danny said, gesturing at you with a gloved hand as you tried your best at a proper golf stance--whatever that was. “How does it feel?”

You tilted your head to the side, looking down at the club next to the golf ball. “It feels like I’m gearing up to hit this ball three feet to my right,” you replied, laughing to yourself.

Danny rolled his eyes, though he laughed too. “Okay, so it’s just mini golf--but if you want to play with the pros someday, this is a great place to start learning.”

“You’ll be a pro one day,” you told him, pointing. “Look, you’re wearing gloves and a polo and everything!”

He smiled--he did look cute, with his hair in a bun, only slightly disheveled, a white and purple golf shirt, khakis and Nike sneakers. You weren’t sure if seeing Sporty Danny would ever be an alter ego you’d get entirely used to, but you liked it. It was such a different look from his usual jeans and t-shirts, thick knit sweaters and beat up Keds. 

“I can’t consider myself a pro until I teach you properly,” he said and moved over to you, letting his golf club fall to the grass. “So show me again.”

You sighed a little and got back into the stance he’d tried to teach you--feet apart, legs straight, back only slightly sloping with your shoulders doing most of the work as you held the club straight down like an arrow. 

“You just look so tense,” Danny noted, standing next to you and crossing his arms.

“I mean, I feel tense,” you replied, then shook out your left arm, trying to loosen your muscles. “This is so much pressure for put-put.”

“I don’t have to teach you if you don’t want.”

You smiled to yourself. “No, no, I wanna learn,” you insisted. “But if I win, you’re paying for ice cream.”

He smiled back, chuckling. “Okay, that’s fair.” He moved behind you then, pressing himself gently against your backside and reaching in front of you, clasping his right hand onto your forearm. “So go back to holding the club.”

You did, although you were hyper-aware of his body behind yours, how you could already feel how firm his muscles were even without him really touching you. His hand, you’d touched before--accidentally (sometimes purposefully) brushing fingers, grabbing onto it during a scary movie, or how warm his hands always felt when he wrapped his arms around you during a hug--but it wrapped around your forearm felt different somehow.

Sweat broke through your hairline when Danny got in even closer and moved his hand down to your wrist, guiding your own grasp on the club. 

“Is this better?” you asked, voice cracking a bit. You’d never been nervous around Danny before--what was there to be nervous about?--but him in a mildly authoritarian state, all professional and completely focused--and focused on you alone--was really sexy. 

“Better,” he affirmed, his left hand holding your left bicep. “But you’re still really tense.”

“I’m just not used to being in this position,” you said, squinting and shaking your head a little at yourself after you realized the innuendo.

Danny laughed, though. “I promise if you stay in this position, you’ll get it in the hole.”

You couldn’t help it--you cackled, throwing your head back so your own hair got in Danny’s face. “I’m sorry, Danny,” you managed to say, turning around, still laughing and covering your mouth with your hand. “That was too perfect.”

It took him a second but then he laughed too, a loud, hearty laugh. “Jeez, Y/N, I’m sorry. I did not realize how that sounded.”

Danny stayed away from your backside after that but him checking you out as you bent down to retrieve your club at one point didn’t go unnoticed, or how he watched you so intently while you tapped the golf ball as you went along the little course. Still, you were doing the same, watching how he positioned himself and how his body moved, the facial expressions he made as the ball rolled and the look of victory when he got it in.

“I think I need help with this one,” you said at the last hole, looking at the inclined ramp in front of you. After the tiny bit of verbal foreplay and ogling each other, you wanted Danny’s body pressed against yours again. “It’s gonna be tricky.”

He raised his eyebrows but got behind you nonetheless, flattening his body against yours, your hips flush. “It’s like I showed you,” he said gently, guiding your hands over the club, resting his chin on your shoulder. “Same deal. Ready yourself, look to where you’re going, and don’t use too much pressure when you swing.”

“Don’t use too much pressure?” you pondered, grinning. “Huh.”

Danny stayed against you as you hit the golf ball and excitement bubbled in you as you watched it glide up the ramp, then into the hole. You pressed your club down into the grass, straightening yourself up and smiling victoriously.

“Nice game, Y/N,” Danny said, creating some space between the two of you and extending his gloved hand. 

You shook it. “Nice game, Danny. Thanks for the lessons,” you said. “Although I really feel like I’ll need more help if I’m ever gonna beat you on a real course.”

“My lessons aren’t cheap,” he joked.

“Oh?” you replied, raising your eyebrows. “What do you charge?”

He looked as though he were trying to come up with something to say, something to keep your repartee going, but then Danny looked up at you and caressed the side of your face with his hand, and before you could blink his lips were on yours.

With the club still in your hand, you reached your other up to mimic his actions, cupping his jaw as you leaned into him, his lips gentle, soft and a little hesitant. You parted your lips slightly and he did the same, the two of you agreeing upon a long, full kiss that you weren’t too keen on ever ending.

“I’ll take that as my payment today,” Danny said when he pulled back, his hand lingering on your cheek. “If that’s okay.”

Your cheeks were warm and your heart had beaten far more during the kiss than it had during the excitement of your competition. “I think that’s fair,” you said, dropping the club and placing your hands on his shoulders. “You still have to buy ice cream, though.”

He laughed. “What about a trade?”

You nodded. “A trade is good,” you agreed. You leaned into him, wrapping your arms around the back of his neck, and kissed him, you taking the lead this time. 

---

Tagging ~ @jeordinevankiszka @mountainofthesunn @bigthighsandstupidguys @camomillacatalina @saywecanart @dreams-madeof-strawberrylemonade @kiszkawagnergvf

[poisxnyouth]

hs!dave. chapter 1. (d.d)

A/N: hi babies. it's been two weeks since i've posted anything. me and aly, @fukgoldbars, (🐝, go follow her) have been working on this nonstop for the past week. 17 pages later on a google doc.....and this is what we made. let's goooo. please enjoy. we're both really proud of this. much love. -hailey (and aly)

WC: 7.1k (on the dot)

“Natalie, Y/N, fucking hurry up! The game starts in 30 minutes and I don’t wanna miss the coin toss. I don’t understand why you both had to redo your face paint. You literally had it on at school and it looked fine. They’re dots, for fuck’s sake. I’ll leave your asses, I swear. Did you both forget I’m your fucking ride?” David is standing at the bottom of Natalie’s stairs, propped against the banister on his phone, waiting impatiently for you and Natalie.

“Fuck off, David.”

Dave had been haphazard with his face paint 12 hours earlier, leaning over his sink with paint on his fingers (blue on one, white on the other) as he smeared one of each color across his cheeks. You and Natalie, on the other hand, had applied it with care in the backseat of Dave’s Corolla on the way to school. He had protested the entire time, “If you get paint on my seats, I’ll kill both of you. I mean it, you guys.” Two pencils for each color, erasers dipped into paint caps for the perfect circle and wiping off any asymmetry of the dots. They’d slightly worn off through classes and the pep rally, so you both had decided to redo them, much to David’s dismay.

“Seriously, I don’t get why you didn’t just do it in the car like you did this morning. It doesn’t have to look good.” You and Natalie come down the stairs, all 3 of you in Vernon Hills High School gear.

“Stop being an asshole,” you say, hitting the back of his head, “That’s exactly why you don’t have a fucking girlfriend. Let’s go.”

“Hey! Courtney likes me,” he defends, pulling his keys out of his pocket and moving to the front door. Natalie locks it, grabbing her purse and keys before you both file out after her.

“In your dreams. When’s the last time you got laid? Like, freshman year? Shotgun, by the way.” David unlocks the car, all 3 of you climbing in as he starts it.

“Fuck you, Y/N, you know I didn’t get shit freshman year. Got laid in June, just so you know. Tennis camp.” David’s pulling out of Nat’s driveway, craning his head to look through his rear window.

“Get the fuck out,” you say, “No way. You fucked at tennis camp? Was it any good?”

David laughs as he switches gears, driving straight through Nat’s neighborhood. “Hell no. It was terrible. Barely even came. But sex is sex, I guess. When’s the last time for you?” You shake your head, flipping his visor down and opening the mirror. You dig through your bag, finding your mascara and beginning to apply it; Dave had shortened the time you had to get ready.

“That’s not true. Terrible sex is terrible sex. But great sex is great sex, you know? You go back to that shit over and over again. It’s okay, Davey, you’ll find someone who fucks you good.” You reach over to poke his cheek as he drives, David swatting your hand away in defense. “And last weekend. It wasn’t terrible, but it wasn’t great, either.”

“Oh my gosh! Y/N! You finally had sex with Jordan?” Natalie pipes up from the backseat, leaning in between you and David’s seat to be included in the conversation.

“Yeah! But since it wasn’t good, I broke up with him on Tuesday.” You shrug, twisting the mascara closed and dropping it in your bag.

“Damn. Is this how girls work? I’m hopeless. And good, I hated that fucker. You can do better, Y/N. He’s lame as hell. I don’t know why you keep dating those football players, they’re assholes.”

“I don’t know why either. I don’t think I should date anybody for a while, but I want the sex...I don’t know. I’ll figure it out.” David is half listening as you sit at a red light, leaning over into your seat to dig through his dash.

“Nat, are you smoking with us tonight?” David asks, finding the weed and stashing it back in its place, closing the dash.

“Nah, I’m good. Maybe tomorrow night after homecoming. You guys can smoke and come in the house, though, you won’t have to worry about the smell ‘cause my parents are out of town. Isa and Lauren will be asleep too. They want pictures of us from you guys’ parents, by the way!”

“Alright,” Dave responds simply as the light turns green, hitting the gas.

“Stop speeding, Dave!”

“I’m sorry, you guys held me up for 15 minutes because you were doing your damn face paint. I can go 5 miles over if I want to.”

++

The game goes smoothly, no injuries or setbacks; the quarterback and cheer captain win homecoming king and queen, and you win the game. It’s a successful night, and pissing David off by removing your face paint in his car is the cherry on top (even though he begs you to wipe the stripes off of his cheeks as he drives).

It becomes even more successful when you and Dave light up in his car in Natalie’s driveway. You have the joint in your lips, David’s eyes watching as he flicks the lighter and holds it for you. You take a deep hit as he watches, breathing in and passing the joint back to him. You hold it for a few seconds before exhaling, immediately coughing.

“We do this every Friday and you cough every time,” he chuckles, lighting the joint again, looking down at it. “And I always finish the joint. It’s like every time is your first time. Is that how you have sex, too?” David passes it back to you, fingertips brushing.

“Go to hell,” you reply, “I’m good at sex. I worry for the girls you’ve fucked.” You meet his eyes as you take a hit.

He watches and says, smile hinting at his lips as you look at him, “The girls I fuck are perfectly satisfied. Most of the time, I’m not. Seems to be the same for you. Sucks for us, I guess.” David hits the joint fairly hard, inhaling for a generous ten seconds, staring out of his windshield at the front of Nat’s garage. He rests his hand on the steering wheel, joint between his fingers as he holds the smoke in, then exhaling slowly.

“Yeah. I don’t know how to fix that.” Dave doesn’t reply, dropping the subject.

You repeat the back and forth process a few times, David finding a bottle of water in his backpack to ease your throat. You smoke quietly until you’re too far gone, insisting he finish it off for you. He does, putting it out in his cup holder and tossing the roach in a plastic bag. David leans his seat back, head resting on his hands as he stares up at the ceiling.

“You really broke up with Jordan ‘cause he didn’t fuck you good enough?” He asks, “Why? Isn’t it a learning process?”

“Ummmm,” you clear your throat, “It’s not cause he was bad. He just didn’t wanna do the shit that I wanted to, so...I broke up with him. You know, kinda like what we were talking about.”

Dave continues staring at the ceiling of his car, eyebrows scrunched together. “Huh? What does that even mean?”

“He didn’t fuck me hard enough. He was too vanilla. But I know I’m gonna miss sex, so I don’t know what I’m gonna do. I don’t wanna just go around fucking people, you know?” You mimic him, putting your seat down and resting your head on your hands.

“Oh. I didn’t know you were like that. I mean, we could…..Nevermind. That’s weird. Sorry.”

You look at him, concerned, turning on your side in the seat. “Say it, pussy.”

He shrugs, still not looking at you, “I just thought...I just thought that - that like, I’m in kinda the same spot you know? I like sex. Maybe - maybe we could help each other out? I don’t know. It was weird. I don’t know why I thought of it. I’m so fucking gone.”

Your eyes widen, mouth dropping open. “You’d fuck me?”

David’s eyes nervously fly to yours and back to the ceiling, “I mean. Yeah. Look at you. You’re sexy as fuck. There are days where you wear shit……..I have to tell myself to cool it ‘cause we’ve known each other for so long. Literally, oh my God - I don’t even wanna go into detail.”

“Would you fuck Natalie?” You ask, ignoring his statement and sitting up, propped on one arm.

He sits up at your question, weight on his elbows, face scrunched. “What the fuck? No. Gross. She’s like a sister to me. You know that.”

“So how am I any different? We’ve all been friends since you moved here.” You’re looking at him like he’s dumb, confusion and judgment spread across your face.

“You just…..are,” he shrugs, “Always have been. I dunno, I kinda thought we have sexual tension? Like, earlier? I can’t talk about sex with Nat like I do with you. But obviously, now I know you don’t think that.” David moves his seat back up, sitting straight in his seat. "I just think that people like you need to fuck people like me, not people like Jordan whateverthefuckhisnameis. I don't know. It was a stupid suggestion. Sorry for bringing it up. I like your company and I don't wanna change shit between us. Let's just drop it, okay?"

You meet his eyes, biting at your lips before looking away. “No,” you say timidly, “I wanna fuck you, too. But not when we’re high. I wanna be sober.”

“Huh? What? Really? You’d fuck me?” Dave asks, still staring at you.

“Um, yeah,” you admit, “I know I make fun of you but...you’re not too bad, either. Don’t let it go to your head.”

“Y/N, you’re like, the hottest girl in school, I’m not gonna take it lightly-.”

“Ugh, shut up. You’re just stoned.” You wave him off, turning to look at him.

“You’re hot and you know it, Y/N. I mean, haven’t you dated like, 10 guys? There’s no way you don’t know how fuckable you are,” David defends, shrugging his shoulders.

You gasp and smack him over the head. “David!”

“I’m kidding, Y/N, I’m kidding!” You sigh and reach into the backseat to grab your bag, pulling on the handle to escape his car. He grabs your forearm and you turn back to him, David’s eyes going between you as he slowly removes his touch.

“Wait, but seriously...like, you’d fuck me? For real?” You retreat back into his seat, shutting the door and tossing your purse into his floorboard.

“If we’re talking seriously...yes. I would. You’re pretty hot. But again, once we’re sober, ‘cause I don’t wanna do something now and regret it later. Am I making any sense?”

“Unfortunately, yes. I hope you remember this when you’re sober, though.”

You ignore his comment, “So...people like me need to fuck people like you? What is that supposed to mean?” David fiddles with the stitching on his steering wheel, eyes flitting between his hands and you.

“Is that what I said?” He feigns, smacking his lips as you nod, “Well...how many football players have you fucked?”

“Five,” you admit, “But I don’t see why that matters. I don’t have a type.”

“I think you do, Y/N,” David shoots back, “Why else would you-.”

“Don’t be stupid and act like you’re the only one who’s been thinking about it, Dave. Sure, you’re out of my league, but I’ve thought about it, too. I just didn’t want to admit it, ’cause we’re best friends, but you’re cute. You can be an asshole, but you’re cute.”

“Yeah?” He asks, nodding at your approval. “Cool. Wait, what the fuck? I’m out of your league?” He scoffs, hand covering his mouth, “Holy shit. You think that? Fuck...So, um, we’re not doing anything tonight? When can I expect something? Or do you wanna plan it?”

“Surprise me, Davey.”

“That’s bullshit. I don’t wanna do something wrong,” David complains, “Like, if the timing is wrong, then-”

“Be quiet. Stop overthinking it; it’s simple. Make a move when I’m sober, Dave. That’s all I’m asking. Don’t be a pussy,” you move to get out of his car again, purse in hand, before changing your mind, pausing in your seat and staring into his windshield.

It’s silent for a few seconds, eyes cutting between each other, both of you chewing at your lips.

“We should probably go insi-,” David tries to say, hand reaching for the keys and turning them, removing them from the ignition.

“Wait,” you interrupt, “I just - Let me see.” You drop your purse in his floor again, glancing between his lips and eyes. His face turns from confused to understanding as he notices your stares, dropping his keys in his cup holder. Dave doesn’t do anything, though, waiting for you to make the first move. You comply, slowly and timidly, not looking at him as your hand reaches forward, landing on his chest. Your body soon follows, leaning in closer, fingers tangling in his shirt. Dave’s cheeks brush against yours, his hands coming to each side of your waist in an attempt to comfort your uneasiness.

“You don’t have to do this, Y/N,” David tries to explain in an apprehensive whisper, halted by the shaking of your head.

“No. I wanna,” you promise, “‘S just kinda weird.” He nods slightly in agreement as you both gaze downwards and lean closer, eyes fluttering closed and lips attaching.

It’s nervous at first, David's hands gripping your waist slightly tighter than he had been before, sitting up straight and leaning further into your closed mouth kiss.

Dave leans out slowly, lips still close as his eyes drop between you, “Is this okay?” You don’t answer, hands sliding onto his shoulders as you lean in once more. It’s more comfortable this time, his palms shifting to your lower back as you pull him in, forcing him to lean over his center console. You continue for a few minutes, falling into a subtle give and take after an easy transition of lips to tongues. It’s slow, tongues sliding together easily accompanied by hands sliding lower than they should have. His hands slide into your back pockets, lightly squeezing, before you break away from him softly.

“Um, we should…” You say, David immediately catching on and nodding quickly, removing his hands from you and turning back in his seat, wiping at his mouth. He doesn’t say anything as he retrieves his keys from his cup holder, crawling out of his car before you follow him. He locks his car after you’re out, letting you walk in front of him.

“Nat, we’re here!” you yell once you’re through the front door, both of you kicking your shoes off. You can hear her walking around upstairs, quickly coming into sight, coming down a few steps and leaning over the railing to peer down between you.

“Can you shut up? Isa and Lauren are asleep!”

“Sorry,” you whisper, “Are you going to bed?”

In your peripheral vision, you see David step around you to get to the kitchen, then hearing him fill a glass of water at the fridge. Natalie nods, “Yeah. Your bags with all of your clothes and shit are in the living room. If you wanna come up and sleep in my bed it’s cool, but I know you guys are gonna be up for a while so just be quiet, please. I have to take them to cheer and basketball in the morning, so if you and Dave wake up and I’m not here…”

“Got ya. We might just stay down here,” you reply, shrugging lightly.

“Okay. Goodnight. Tell Dave for me.” You nod in response, turning to go through the hallway into the kitchen. David is pushing himself onto the top of Natalie’s kitchen island, phone in hand, before you mirror him, dangling your legs slightly.

“I wanna kiss you again,” he admits, “It felt wrong at first, but I liked it. You’re good at it.” He’s taking his lips between his teeth, chewing lightly as he stares at you, awaiting a response. “Only if you’d let me, though.”

You’re not looking at him, crossing your ankles and focusing on the pattern of the bland tile rather than the blush rising in your cheeks. “I’d be cool with it.”

David takes the opportunity, placing his phone down, to gently turn your head and lean in.

“So...hypothetically,” he whispers in between kisses, “In the morning...I could fuck you, ‘cause we’ll be sober.”

“Mmm,” you reply into his mouth, “Good theory. You’d really wanna fuck in Nat’s house? I’d feel bad for that.”

He grunts softly, “Shit. I don’t wanna fuck in her house either, but I’d do anything to fuck you as soon as possible. I’d fuck you in the backseat of my car in the driveway if that’s what it takes.” David pulls away gently, sliding off of the counter and tugging you along. He presses you against the edge of the surface, hands on your hips as his neck bends down slightly.

“I’m just saying. I don’t wanna have to wait, like, a week to fuck you. ‘Cause you want it soon, right?” You feel his cheek brush against yours, his fingers pushing the edges of your t-shirt up.

“...Right?” Dave asks again, torso coming closer in contact with yours, pulling you closer. You nod in his hold, eyes staring down at the lack of space between your bodies.

“Okay, then it’s settled. I’m fucking you in the morning.” You admire his sudden confidence, a complete opposite compared to his actions in the car. David’s lips start trailing down your neck, teeth lightly grazing against the skin. Your arms drape lazily around his neck, fingers finding the hairs at the nape as he sloppily kisses up the column of your throat and down your jaw.

“Dave, maybe we should...Maybe - fuck.” You sigh as he kisses a certain spot on your neck, tongue running across it lightly. “Maybe we should get ready for bed.” He kisses down to your carotid before stepping away, removing his hands and sighing lightly.

“You’re right. Sorry. Your bag’s over there, mine’s over here,” David points halfheartedly, turning to move towards the opposite side of the living room, pulling at the neck of his shirt and tugging it over his head. You watch his shoulder blades shift slightly as he walks, quickly tearing your eyes away and going the opposite way, crossing your arms and lifting your shirt off by the hem. You adjust the cups of your bra and the straps before your hands reach for your belt buckle, undoing it and swiftly sliding out of your jeans. You toss both articles of clothing into your bag, subconsciously tugging your underwear up your hips. You’re about to grab your shorts and t-shirt before you hear Dave speak:

“Get the fuck out. Oh my God,” he says, forcing you to look at him, confused, his eyes glued on your ass. “Jesus Christ.” David tears his eyes away, glancing back quickly before pulling on one of his tennis shirts. He side eyes you as you pull on your shorts, your hips squirming to squeeze your ass in them. You don’t watch him at all, keeping your eyes to yourself as you get dressed and place yourself on the couch next to him. Dave doesn’t miss a beat, sliding you into his lap, hands on your waist.

“What are you doing?”

“We can’t make out?” He questions, brows furrowed, looking up at you. You shrug in response, moving to lean in and tangling your fingers in his hair. Your lips attach, seemingly more comfortable each time, and David’s hands slide from your waist to your hips, down to your ass, squeezing lightly. In no time, he tugs on the waistband of your shorts. You grunt into his mouth softly in response, pulling away to allow him to do so. You feel his knuckles rub against your skin as you move to rest your weight on your knees, sitting up straight. He gets them past your hips, cheek against your waist as he looks around you, watching your ass as he squeezes you out of the shorts, and you allow him to push them off of your legs.

“You’re so hot,” he says as you settle back down in his lap, arms draped around his shoulders. “Like...fuck.” Dave removes one hand, sliding it in your hair and pulling you in to another kiss, slightly quicker as your tongues slide together. He’s toying with the hem of your shirt, causing you to pull away and tug it off, knowing it’d be coming soon.

He attaches your mouths for a few seconds, leaning back out and resting his hands on your thighs, thumbs rubbing slightly as he stares upwards at you, making eye contact.

“How was your day?” David asks randomly, hands running up your hips, toying with the lace.

“Um, fine? I had a good time. You were with me for most of it,” you reply, bewildered as you run your hands over his shoulders. He adjusts his posture, sitting up straighter and shrugging slightly.

“What are your grades like?” Dave’s switching up on his touches, fingertips barely touching your spine as he runs them down every vertebrae. He takes his bottom lip between his teeth as you shiver beneath his touch, gripping his shoulders slightly tighter.

“Good. I’m pissed off at Mrs. Barnes, though.” His fingers and knuckles are dancing up the insides of your thighs as he keeps eye contact, watching you tense up at the close proximity of his hands and your pussy.

“Yeah? Why?” You’re aware of his game, now; he’s slowly touching you, pushing your hair out of your face and running it over your body. He’s continually switching up on how he touches you: soft, barely felt touches with his fingertips, hard knuckles, and whole hearted grabs with his palms and fingers. He’s trying to distract you, to tease you, and it’s working. Too quickly for your liking. It doesn’t take long for you to begin only focusing on his touches, and not the conversation at hand.

“Hmm?” He gently reminds, hands going over your shoulders, softly running over the lengths of your arms.

“Umm. W-well, my grade was a 95, right? And now it’s an….umm….um. An eighty - an eighty one and it makes me really mad ‘cause - oh my God.”

“Hm? What was that?” David chuckles softly, giddy at how undone you are for him already as he grips at your tits, cupping them over your bra. Your nails dig into his shirt as his fingers find your nipples through the soft cups, rolling and pinching them. He allows you to grind your hips down against him, back arched and head thrown back, the only barriers between you being the lace and his boxers.

“I said - I said it makes me really mad.” You’re pissed off and embarrassed that he’s working you up so quickly, even though you were doing exactly as he wanted. Your high mental state does not help your situation whatsoever, feeling practically every goosebump he brings to your skin.

“Really? Why?” You open your mouth to speak as he pulls your underwear to the side; he doesn’t touch you, free hand on your waist, as you whine at the feeling of being bare as you grind against his boxers.

“Keep going,” he insists, “What were you going to say?” You rut into him once more, whine escaping your lips.

“David, please.”

“Finish what you were saying, Y/N.” Your brain feels fried as he stares up at you, lips parted. Your fingers are digging into his shoulders as you try to remember what you were talking about.

“Ummmmmm…,” you say, Dave laughing lightly at you, “What was I saying?”

He pushes your hair off of your shoulders, free hand running down your back. “Your grade went from a 95 to an 81 in Barnes.”

“O-oh, right. Um, it just p-pisses me off ‘cause she gave me a zero in the gradebook for the - for the - fortheprojectwedidtogether.” You slur the words out in one breath just to get your response out, attempting to not stutter.

“I got a 100 on it. I don’t know why yours doesn’t say the same,” he offers half-heartedly, knuckles running up the insides of your thighs as he pulls your underwear back into place.

“Sorry, what? What did you just say?” You push your hips down once more, rubbing up against his semi hard dick through his boxers, whining at the contact. David can tell how far gone you are as he kisses down your neck and you breathe heavily, pulling him in closer and gasping lightly.

“Does it feel good, baby? Can you feel everything I’m doing?” It’s all you can do to nod in his hold, feeling as though the room is spinning as he reaches behind you, unclasping your bra. The pet name should feel weird and foreign, new territory for you both, but all you can focus on is his touch.

You push your hips down again, squeaking out a “David, please.” He barely complies, pushing the lace to the side once more, feeling a drop of your wetness drop against his boxers. He gasps at the sight.

“How’d you get this wet, baby?” David still doesn’t touch you, guiding your hips over his, feeling his boxers get damper and damper.

“Y-you.”

“You like it that much?” You don’t need to reply; he knows the answer. You’re more turned on than you think you’ve ever been with a guy, and Dave is soaking it up. He had hoped touching you would sober you up some, but it seems to have done the opposite: you’re now further gone than you were in the car. He loves watching you be so malleable in his touch, fingers tangling in your hair in tugging lightly. Your mouth drops open slightly, neck exposed for him. He watches you as he releases his grip, feeling as though he’s dreaming. Dave no longer feels high, sobering up more and more as his dick gets harder and harder.

“Daaavvviiiiiiddddd,” you whine, “Pleasepleaseplease touch me.”

“I don’t think so, baby. Why should I?” He’s still teasing, even though you’re unraveling beneath him.

“‘Cause I want it?” You offer.

“That’s not good enough,” he disagrees, picking up on your lack of ability to form sentences as you push your hips down onto his, taking his hand in yours and leading it to your throat, eyes rolling back as you take your lips between your teeth.

“This is what you wanted? That Jordan wouldn’t give you? He’s a dumbass. Did he see this ass, baby? And these tits? Fuck.” You don’t reply, David taking it upon himself to slide his mouth around your tit, removing his hand from your throat. Your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling as a whine escapes your throat. It feels as though you can feel every single one of his taste buds as he slides his tongue around you, pulling you closer and forcing you to rock forward, feeling the length of his dick.

You gasp in his hold, “You’re fucking kidding me,” you say, halting your movement. “What the hell, David? Your dick is not that fucking big.”

He’s momentarily confused, pulling away from your breast, but you slide yourself along him, against his boxers and let out a moan at the feeling. He’s instantly cocky, chuckling at your reaction.

“Please, David, please. I just want you inside of me,” you beg, hands haphazardly pushing up his t-shirt, palms resting on his pecs. He hadn’t planned to touch you, but he can’t go any longer without doing anything. He brings a hand down, fingers slowly coming into contact with your pussy as he swipes through the folds. You nearly cum at the contact, hips stuttering and collapsing against him.

“You’re so fucking wet.”

You give him a whine, “Uh huhhhhh,” stuttering out an, “A - all for you.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he reassures, one hand rubbing at your ass and the other tearing away from your pussy. David still feels like he’s trapped in his REM stage, pushed by how much you’re trying to please him, even in your current state. He loves it. He had never seen you so vulnerable, and even through your whining and childish behavior, it still turns him on endlessly due to the fact he has never seen you struggle to form sentences. You’re one of the smartest people he knows, someone he respects and loves dearly, and to see you completely fucked out without him actually laying a finger on you is everything to him.

After he removes his hand from you, he holds it up, fingers spreading to show your visible wetness.

“Do you see this?” Again, you don’t answer him, hand going over his to steady its movement. You stare absentmindedly, brain not fully functioning, before leading his fingers into your mouth, looking into his eyes as you suck. His jaw drops.

“Oh, baby…” he lets out, eyes flickering between your lips and eyes, feeling as though he died and went to heaven.

“I bet you taste sweet. Do you?” You nod against him, still sucking.

"Yeah? Let me see.” David takes his fingers from your mouth, pulling you in and attaching your mouths, eyes fluttering closed and tongues immediately coming in contact. He groans into the kiss, leaning out.

“I was right.” His fingers move to your pussy again, causing you to whine once more as he feels you up. You groan, throwing your head back and digging your nails into his chest as he slips two fingers inside, going to the second knuckle. You’re so wet David can hear his fingers sink in, groaning at the noise.

He exhales, “Yeah, baby, I don’t know if I’m going to fit. You’re so fucking tight -.”

“Nononono, please, I need it.”

“We can try, but you’re so fucking tight. Can you feel how hard you’re clenching around my fingers? I can try to help you but shit, you’re so tight for me. How are you so tight when half the football team has been here before me? Are you gonna be this tight every time I fuck you? It’s gonna be like fucking a virgin. Isn’t that what I said in the car, baby? Hmm?”

You whimper slightly, “Fuck you. Who said we’d do this more than once?”

His free hand pulls haphazardly at your hair. “You can’t talk to me like that, baby. Understood? I can stop this at any time. And you’ll be back, babe, I promise you.” You nod, submitting to him easily.

“You think I’m gonna fit?” he asks, eyes meeting yours.

“I-I hope so. I need it.” Dave doesn’t reply, nodding and bringing his free hand to your face, fingers pushing into your mouth.

“Your mouth is so pretty,” he compliments, fingers pulling out and pressing against your tongue. “Wish those lips were wrapped around my dick.” You immediately register what he’s asking for, automatically moving to get off of him and drop to your knees.

He stops you before you’re successful, hands on your hips, “Not right now, baby. Thank you, though. Such a good girl for me.”

You whine, “But I wanna…”

“I know, baby, but I don’t wanna cum yet. I have self-control, unlike somebody.”

Your face scrunches up in a bratty complaint, “I have self-control.” As you say this, David leans up and kisses at your jaw lightly, promising you as you push your hips down, “It’s okay that you don’t.”

“Just let me see it,” you beg, changing the subject, fingers in his hair.

“See what?”

You squirm in his hold, a blush rising on your face as you’re suddenly embarrassed. You reach down and try to touch him, David grabbing your wrist to stop you.

“Please, let me see it. I wanna see it.” You try to grind down against him, David putting his free hand on your waist and holding you in place in defiance.

“Come on, baby, say it. I know you can. What do you wanna see?”

“Just - just let me - let me see, David. I wanna see.”

“Say it. I won't know what to let you see if you don't tell me what it is.”

When you refuse again, he pulls back, leaning back against the couch with his hands behind his head. You groan, grabbing his shoulders.

“Daavidddddd!” He laughs and shakes his head.

“I’m not gonna touch you until you tell me what you want,” he insists.

“I just wanna see you,” you groan in frustration, moving to pull at the waistband of his boxers. David doesn’t comply, pushing your hands away and adjusting them before his fingers find the collar of his t-shirt, leaning forward and pulling it over his head.

It momentarily distracts you, David’s hands returning behind his head as you run your fingers over his chest. You lean down, Dave moving to hold your hair back as you begin leaving sloppy kisses across his shoulders and up his neck.

“Hey,” you say, chock full of courage, lips on his collarbone, “Let me see your dick, Davey. Please.”

He lets out a soft chuckle, hands moving from your hair to the front of his boxers, quietly pushing the clothing past his hips. He lifts them in the process, and you move off to the side as he takes himself into his hand.You immediately push his hand away, replacing his touch and dropping to your knees, placing yourself between his thighs.

“You don't have to, baby.”

“I want to,” you promise, eyes on his dick as you stroke him. You want to deepthroat him, beginning to lick and suck at the head, kissing up the underside of his dick and continuing the movements. David’s hands go to your hair, pushing it out of your face.

“Fuck,” he says, watching as you pull back a few inches and spit down his cock, hand working over him. You take him back in your mouth, David pulling your hair into a makeshift ponytail, and you can easily recognize how badly he wants to push your head down but is too scared to. He leads your head gently, careful not to force your mouth down onto him.

You pull off once more, looking up at him, “David, you can face fuck me.”

“Can you take it?” His voice is taunting, yet genuinely concerned. You nod, opening your mouth and waiting for him to do something.

He grabs a hold of your hair again, pushing your head down slightly. You try to take more, opening your mouth wider, but he doesn’t allow it, pulling your head back up by your hair.

“No, that’s too much for you, baby,” Dave insists, pulling your head up slightly, mouth off of his dick. He gazes at the spit dripping from your lips before your fingers come and wipe it away, using it as lube as your hand replaces your mouth.

“I know how to suck dick, asshole. Do you even want me to?”

“Fine, Y/N,” he gives in exasperatedly, “I’ll face fuck you, but don’t talk a big game and then throw up on my dick.” You roll your eyes as he pushes your head down, still gentle as you open your throat for him.

“Oh, shit,” he exclaims as you take him deeper, gagging as he hits the back of your throat. David is being too timid for your liking; his grasp is too malleable - you could pull away at any time and he’d let you. Still, though, you persevere, forefingers wrapped around the base of his cock as your lips reach your fingertips. You hold yourself there, repeatedly swallowing around him and breathing through your nose, eyes closed.

“Oh my God, babybabybaby baby. Stop.” You look up at him, doe-eyed, and obey as he forcefully tugs you off of him. David loves the sound your throat makes as he leaves you, your body instantly coughing as you continue to spit down his dick, hand working slowly.

“Fucking give me a minute, Y/N,” David bitches, hands leaving your hair and pushing your touches away before running them through his hair, chest heaving slightly. “Jesus fucking Christ. I almost nutted right then. I need a second.”

“Where the hell did you learn that shit? When?” Dave pulls you back up to the couch, half-heartedly kissing down your neck as he tries to calm himself down.

You shrug in his hold, cocky, “I’ve never done it before.” David gapes slightly, muttering a soft what the fuck? and pulling you in, attaching your mouths. You shift in your seat, hands in each other’s hair as you wait for his breathing to slow. You move away from him, going to settle between his knees once more.

David’s hand forges a half-assed ponytail as you take his dick into your mouth once more, Dave finally taking the liberty of moving your mouth up and down on him.

You continue that way for a few minutes; the consistent exchange being a combination of him bucking his hips up and pushing your head down - until you gag one final time and he pulls your head up completely.

“Okay, enough of that, baby,” he sighs, blinking and rubbing at his eyes as he tries to calm himself down.

“Why?” you frown, reaching to grab him again but he pushes your hand back, shaking his head.

“You’re being too loud, I don’t wanna wake anyone up. And I’m seriously about to fucking bust.”

“Fine - are you gonna fuck me now?” you ask, running your hand up his leg. “Please.”

“You really want me to?”

You roll your eyes and begin to tell him yes, obviously, shithead but he cuts you off by pulling you back onto the couch by your hands and pushing you on your back. You’re taken aback by his sudden movements, looking at him as he shakes his head at you.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me,” he warns in a low voice. You whine in response, grabbing his arms and pulling him on top of you, torsos rubbing together.

“Okay, I’ll fuck you, but you have to be quiet. Okay, baby?”

You nod quickly, but begin to whine again when he gets up from the couch, grabbing his wallet and pulling a condom out.

“Dave, I’m on the pill, you don’t even need that,” you try, but he ignores you, slipping it on anyways and moving back in between your legs, one hand resting on your knee.

He positions himself at your entrance, looking you in the eyes and whispering a be quiet before pushing in timidly. You gasp harshly and he quickly covers your mouth with his hand, shushing you and gently kissing you on the forehead.

“It’s okay,” he promises in a whisper, stilling for a moment to let you adjust. You whimper into his hand as he slowly attempts to push in more, only going about halfway before stopping again.

“I’m gonna stop there,” he mumbles under his breath, hips halting their movement.

“Nononono, David, all the way,” you beg, shaking your head and tightening your legs around his waist, trying to get him to go deeper. Dave pushes you back down by your waist in a defiant response.

“No, that’s enough, baby. You’re already overwhelmed.” As much as you hate it, you don’t fight him on it, because taking his dick proves to be a challenge for you.

“How are you so fucking tight? I don’t get it,” Dave questions, expecting no response, “Can you be quiet for me now, baby?” You nod in his hold.

David sets a slow, steady pace, removing his hand from your mouth at the agreement you would be as quiet as possible. He interlocks his hands with yours, holding them to the couch on either side of your head, thumbs rubbing comfortingly.

He starts moving a bit faster once he’s able to tell you’re comfortable, trailing wet kisses down your neck. Dave remains careful, not moving his hips too quickly for fear of the volume. It gets the job done.

“Fuck, Dave, holy shit.” You feel your eyes begin to water, tears slipping down the side of your face and into your hair. He presses his lips to yours again, removing a hand from yours and wiping your tears away. He had been frightened at first, but ultimately encouraged by your cursing and whimpers in his ear.

“Does it feel good? You like it, baby?” He asks huskily as you throw your head back, trying your best not to moan. Your free hand begins to dig your nails into his shoulder, moving to bite at the skin by his collarbone to keep yourself quiet.

“So - ohmygod - so fucking good, Dave. Keep going, please.”

He takes his free hand from your cheek and reaches between you, rubbing your clit. David doesn’t move his fingers too quickly, lightening his touch and working you in conjunction with his hips. It takes everything in you to not cry out, nipping repeatedly at the skin by his collarbone. You don’t understand how he isn’t bleeding yet, the flesh already turning from a pale white to a darkened purple. It hurts him, but it’s only encouragement for him and he needs to stay quiet; he groans softly between you as you continuously squeeze around him, pussy gripping his dick tightly.

“Are you gonna cum?”

You can’t get an answer out before you start to clench around him, mind going blank as you whimper.

“Fuck,” he hisses, “Baby, be quiet.” David slides his fingers into your mouth, muffling your noises.

You realize he still hadn’t finished, grabbing the back of his neck and pulling his face closer, whispering encouragements into his ear as your fingers tangle into his hair.

“Cum, David, please, cum for me. I wanna be good for you, please cum - cum for me, Davey.”

His hips stutter and he groans, head dropping to your neck, slowing down before halting his movements entirely.

You lay like that for a few minutes, catching your breaths and looking into each other’s eyes. David lets out a breath.

“Nat can never find out about this.”

[lady-divine-writes]

After 6000 Years, This Is Where We Begin (Rated PG)

(Some after wedding bliss, featuring my personal head canon that they get married at the Globe Theater and featuring the Queen song ‘You Take My Breath Away’)

You can reduce me to tears With a single sigh Please don’t cry anymore Every breath that you take Any sound that you make Is a whisper in my ear I could give up all my life for just one kiss I would surely die If you dismiss me from your love You take my breath away

Aziraphale smiles when Crowley holds him tighter, singing to himself at the start of the next verse.

So please don't go Don't leave me here all by myself I get ever so lonely from time to time

Crowley seems so calm, so at peace, so far removed from the demon Aziraphale knows, the one that feels every emotion that passes through his body so completely it tends to overwhelm him.

Here, beneath an indigo sky filled with stars, he’s finally found his bliss.

Aziraphale regrets interrupting it, but in a few short hours, it’ll be sunrise.

“Crowley, my dear?”

“Hmm-mmm?” Crowley mutters to the tune of the music.

“Everyone’s gone home. Hours ago, as a matter of fact.”

“So they have,” he replies, not lifting an eyelid to check.

“And the managers are going to want their theater back.”

“Probably.” Crowley rests his head further into the crook of Aziraphale’s neck, his breath ghosting his skin.

“Maybe we should leave, too? Get along home and put ourselves to bed?”

“No,” Crowley says without pause.

“Crowley!” Aziraphale chuckles.

“Aziraphale!” Crowley mimics. “How often do we get to dance like this, hmm? Alone underneath the stars?”

“We’ll find the time. I promise. It’ll be easier now. Besides, we’re not exactly alone.” Aziraphale catches sight of what’s left of the staff (the losers of a ‘straw draw’ Aziraphale saw them at earlier) seated at a table off to the corner playing cards while they wait for the happy couple to leave. The more understanding of the lot either ignore them or smile as they waltz by. One or two throw them glares of pure venom. “We’ll be living in your flat. There’s plenty of room to dance there. And we can miracle up some stars. If I recall correctly, you used to be pretty good at that sort of thing.”

Aziraphale feels Crowley’s steps slow, feels him frown against his neck, exhaling so deeply he flattens against Aziraphale’s body. Holy God above, does he wish he’d kept his mouth shut! Of all the things to bring up, and on this day in particular! It’d been perfect up till now!

Crowley was right. For a clever angel, he really could be quite stupid.

Aziraphale holds his breath, waiting for his demon to react – for him to pull away with a monotone, “Okay, then. Let’s run along home,” and lead him off to his Bentley, hands shoved in the pockets of his tuxedo trousers.

But he doesn’t.

He threads the fingers of his right hand with his angel’s left, his pinkie searching for, and finding, the band on Aziraphale’s ring finger. With a contented sounding exhale his smile returns, and in that moment, everything seems right with the world again.

“You’re the only miracle I need, angel. The only star in my sky.”

Aziraphale’s heart stutters – at the sentiment, its meaning, and the softness of his demon’s voice. “That’s rather romantic of you.”

“You sound surprised.”

“Maybe I am a little.”

“You don’t see me as a romantic?”

“I didn’t say that. It’s more that … you’re a romantic in actions, not so much words.”

“Well, then – in the spirit of active romance, I’ll make you a deal.”

“A deal?”

“Yup. I’m still a demon. Deals are what demons do.”

“All right. What’s the deal then?”

“Call me by my full name, angel, and I might consider going with you.”

“Your full name?” Aziraphale asks, confused.

“A-ha.”

“Who are you taking your cues from, then? Rumpelstiltskin?”

“Strike one.”

Aziraphale’s nose scrunches as he tries to determine what in the world Crowley is talking about. “Do you mean Anthony? Oh …” he groans “… you’re not still going on about that now, are you?”

“You’re just gonna have to try it and find out.”

“Oh, Lord.” Aziraphale shakes his head. “O-kay. Anthony Crowley, would you do me the honor of accompanying me home?”

Crowley snickers. “No. Because that’s not it, angel.”

Another soft groan from his angel has Crowley smirking.

“Anthony J Crowley?”

“Try again.”

Aziraphale racks his brain, trying to solve this riddle before sun up so that the tired group gathered in the corner can finally go home and get some rest. But when the answer occurs to him, thoughts of anyone but his husband siphon swiftly away. “Anthony J Crowley … Fell?”

Crowley smiles, and kisses his husband on the forehead. “That’s it.”

“I---I thought I would be going by Aziraphale Crowley now, if we decided to change our names at all.”

Crowley shrugs. “I think Crowley Fell makes more sense.”

“It sounds like a sentence,” Aziraphale says sadly. “One that’s a little too on the nose, as they say. I was afraid that it might bring back bad memories.”

“It does,” Crowley admits, “but I can’t keep running from my past. I mean, it’s been over 6000 years. I should start thinking about getting over it. Don’t you agree?”

“I would understand if you didn’t.”

“You know, Aziraphale, things didn’t end too badly for me after I fell.”

Aziraphale tilts his head questioningly. “How do you mean?”

“I got tossed out of Paradise in Heaven, but I found it again here on Earth. With you.”

Crowley looks down at his angel as Aziraphale looks up, their eyes meeting in between. Crowley stares at him long, lovingly even with those serpent eyes that seemed so inhuman to Aziraphale at first – a bright and blaring indicator his demonic magic couldn’t hide that he was who he was.

Evil.

They’re a warning for anyone who happens to see not to be fooled by his handsome exterior, as something truly wicked lies beneath.

But now, Aziraphale can’t imagine Crowley without them. It would be odd to see him with brown eyes. Or green. Aziraphale has tried to picture it before, unsuccessfully. The Crowley that Aziraphale knows – the one who has followed him through history, teased him, cajoled him, saved him, and then, finally, proclaimed his love for him, couldn’t look more lovely, more human, if he tried than he does in this moment. Aziraphale’s cheeks go pink beneath Crowley’s stare, but he can’t look away.

He doesn’t want to miss a thing about this moment.

“H-how long is all this romantic talk going to last, do you think?”

“Don’t know. But you should soak it up while you have the chance. Just in case.”

“I guess I should do. I do admit, I like how Crowley Fell sounds, but I like the idea of taking your name, too. Call me old fashioned, I guess.”

“We can always switch. We’ve switched bodies before, why not names?”

“True.”

The song ends and a new song begins. The tempo shifts, becomes upbeat, and Crowley spins Aziraphale quickly. He yelps at the change in speed, giggling with the giddy feeling of sailing the night air in the safety of his husband’s arms. When they return to the dance, however, he notices one young lady at the table has fallen asleep, head resting on her crossed arms. He knows she has children – 8, 6, and 3 – being watched by their dad while she works. He remembered overhearing something about the three-year-old being sick, and that the other two had to wake up early for school in the morning. If that’s her life, what about everyone else’s?

It tugs at his heart.

Plus, selfishly, he doesn’t want their wedding reception to be the thing these nine strangers curse come sunrise.

“Crowley?”

“Hmm?”

“The least we can do is help tidy up the place. That way, when we do leave these poor overworked and underpaid people to their tasks, they won’t have that to contend with.”

“Why? We paid for them to clean up. Not us.”

“Yes, and your silliness has caused them to miss their buses and trains.”

Crowley stops dancing. He looks at the staff layered at the table, two more in the process of putting their heads down for some shuteye, one nodding off sitting straight up, and rolls his eyes.

“Oh, all right then.”

Crowley snaps his fingers. The nine people at the table disappear without a sound. Aziraphale looks around in alarm.

“Wha---where did you send them?”

“I sent them home.”

“Whose home?” Aziraphale pictures them stuffed into some random one room flat, the first Crowley could think of, solely for the purpose of getting them out of the way.

“Their homes. They’re all fast asleep in their beds, dreaming about whatever they like best. As far as they’re concerned, they’ve been there since eleven. A reasonable time. Plus, they’ve each got themselves a hefty tip for the time we’ve wasted. I thought you’d like that.”

“I do.”

“Good. Now can we keep dancing?”

“And how long do you intend to keep dancing?” Aziraphale asks, though the answer no longer concerns him much seeing as the exhausted staff have been properly seen to.

“I don’t know. Till the stars fall out of the sky?”

“That sounds about right.” Aziraphale smiles, resting his head against his husband’s shoulder, melting back into the sway of slow dancing together, without a care in the world. “Of course, tours of the theater start at 9:30, so …”

“Shut it, angel.”