#i don't know shit about jazz clubs so i'm waiting to see if they know any good places. and if not i will consult the all knowing google

[butchboromir]

losing my mind waiting for a text back and obvs they aren't obligated to respond asap but i want to plan this date :(

[bad-and-drawn-that-way]

First of all, very in love with the digital reader fic you put out <3

But since reader expressed not knowing why they were in hell I just couldn't help myself from thinking about this-

Reader: I don't even know why I'm here, the hell did I ever do?

Lucifer: Didn't you crash over half of all the systems on earth when you were alive?

Reader: That was an accident! I was only trying to crash like...ten!

Just a goofy thought that popped into my head- destructive characters that are chaotic on accident my beloved lmao-

Kisses darling <3

-📽

Sweet silly little Lucifer with his ducks. I feel like everyone thinks he's completely aware of everything happening in Hell at all times. Meanwhile, he's just making ducks and missing his daughter and can't remember the last time he ate.

Digital Pet [Vox x Reader, but this is a Lucifer interaction]

What Do You Mean You Don't Know

You'd been surfing through the digital plane like any other day. Vox had his schedule completely full, so you were on your own the pass the time. You hopped between windows that led into various devices all around Hell.

It was hard to tell where you were most of the time, but a part of you was convinced that you could slip into the devices of demons outside the Pride Ring. You'd once seen hellhounds and succubi at a party when you'd peeked into a large screen behind a DJ on stage. The large venue was covered in honeycombs and you saw some sort of lava lamp-looking furry doing shots in the middle of the energized crowd. While the aesthetic was similar enough to what you'd seen in the sinner's little slice of Hell, it felt... different.

It was precious information you decided to hold close to your chest. Maybe you'd tell Vox one day but from everything you'd seen about his power-hungry reputation, you decided it may be best not to play your card too soon. For all you know, it was just an exclusive club with different vibes. It wasn't unheard of for demons from the other rings to come to the clubs in Pride.

You were floating through an endless hall of screens and lights, looking between the different windows into the world you couldn't hope to touch when you saw a face that made you double-take.

"Is that..." You float back and gasp as you get a closer look that confirms your suspicions. "Oh, you motherfucker!"

Lucifer let out a startled yelp, dropping the duck he'd been painting as he fell out of his chair. He'd just been minding his own business, listening to some light jazz while he made duckie replicas of his daughter and all her little friends at the hotel when a loud voice suddenly blasted over the music on his laptop.

He frowned as he looked down and saw his white pants splatted with the fresh red paint of Alastor's duck. He was on his ninth attempt at replicating the cocky jerk and had finally been on the verge of getting his stupid grin right when you startled him.

"Oh great," Lucifer grumbled as he pulled himself off of the ground. "It's already bad enough I have a growing pile of ducks dedicated to this prick, now he's ruining my clothes too."

Lucifer leaned over his desk, trying to see what sort of pop-up advertisement or virus had gotten on his system when he suddenly saw you watching him with crossed arms. Your small form glared at him from where you sat atop of his video player.

"A sinner...?" Lucifer blinked slowly before looking at you in awe. He could see your soul and recognized you as a person immediately. "What on Earth are you doing in there?"

"You tell me!" you point at him angrily. "You're the guy in charge of this shit, aren't you? What did I ever do to you?! I didn't do anything to deserve a worse Hell than everyone else."

"How should I know?" Lucifer squawked as he threw up his arms in defense... "I haven't gone outside in... wait, what day is it?"

"How do you not know?" You ask, the two of you amping each other up in your confusion. "You're Lucifer! This is literally your entire thing!"

"Uh, excuse you," Lucifer tsked as he placed a hand on his chest. "I'll have you know I am a man of ducks and dadness. Not keeping track of every soul that drops into Hell. Do you have any idea just how many of you die a day? A lot. Too many. Just. Please get better at staying alive, I beg you."

You deadpan at him before shaking your head with a sigh. "Well, do you at least know how to get me out of the digital plane? I'd like to actually eat food or let my feet touch the ground o-or sleep in a bed!"

"Uhh," Lucifer laughed nervously. "Yeaaaah, no. Nope. Sorry uh, no. Technology isn't something I really know anything about. I'd love to help but uh, yeah... no."

You groan, obviously disappointed in his answer as you flop over to the side and let your frustration win in the moment. You run a hand down your face and look up at the great devil of Hell with a sigh.

"Do you at least have any idea why I'm in Hell and not Heaven?"

Lucifer hummed, squinting at you as he ran a history check on your soul. It took a lot longer to find a reason than he expected, but then he finally landed on it.

"Ah, there it is," he muttered. "Looks like you ate the last slice of birthday cake in the fridge back in your college days."

Your jaw drops, for a couple of reasons. The top reason should have been that such a little thing damned your soul for eternity. However, your priorities were a bit skewed. Which became transparently obvious as you exclaimed, "Excuse me?! It was MY birthday cake!"

"Yeah, but they called dibs," Lucifer shook his head with a sigh. "Heaven takes dibs very seriously. And as you should know by now, I don't make the rules."

The powerful demon grumbled like a child as you recovered from the absolute bullshit that was your afterlife. It wasn't until you'd sat back up that you looked past Lucifer and finally noticed his room.

"Why the fuck are there so many ducks?"

[disneyanddisneyships]

@gyubby99 okay listen-

"Ah I see your here to watch Aponi sing for the first time since leaving Valentino!" Alastor exclaimed as Angel Dust walked through the door of the small club.

"Yeah. I wouldn't miss it. She's been talkin bout it all week. I'm suprsed you let'er choose her own song ta sing," Angel stated as he sat at one of the tables and took his phone out.

"Why's that?" Alastor asked.

"She died in the early 2010's. I've met a shitload'a people from then and their music taste is usually shit. But maybe that's just me," Angel stated.

"Oh I'm sure it'll be fine!" Alasto replied.

Angel raised an eyebrow before playing a song from the 2000s.

"Its called 'who let the dogs out'. Really damn popular and really fuckin' stupid," he muttered before turning the song off and putting his phone away.

"Generations change, my feminine fellow! I'm sure Aponi wont sing that song specifically!" Alastor replied before starting the music for aponi as people walked in.

"Hey Angie!" Cherri stated as she sat next to angel dust. "She up there yet?"

"Nah. But the pimp just started the music so, should be any time now," Angel replied.

The restaurant wasn't very full, but the usual came in and had shown interest in the performance happening soon.

"It is my pleasure to introduce, Aponi wings! A new performer here!" Alastor introduced.

A backup singer started the song.

Five, six, seven, eight

More music began, and everyone kept speaking with one another, waiting for Aponi.

Alastor tilted his head at the music. It sounded like something he would've known.

Jazz.

Alastor would have to ask her about it later.

As the instrumental came to an end, Aponi walked on stage.

Come on babe, why don't we paint the town? And all that jazz

Aponi sang as the lights came on.

I'm gonna rouge my knees and roll my stockings down And all that jazz

Alastor tilted his head at the lyrics.

Start the car, I know a whoopee spot Where the gin is cold but the piano's hot It's just a noisy hall, where there's a nightly brawl And all that jazz

Alastor cleared his throat and took a sip of water.

Her voice seemed darker in this song.

He wouldn't be suprised if she was an actress as well among other things. She knew how to act with the music.

Skidoo And all that jazz Hotcha Whoopee And all that jazz

The backup singers spoke along with Aponi.

Slick your hair and wear your buckle shoes And all that jazz I hear that Father Dip is gonna blow the blues And all that jazz Hold on hon, we're gonna bunny-hug I bought some aspirin down at United Drug In case you shake apart and want a brand new start To do that jazz

The song got a bit more upbeat and alastor saw some people tapping their feet to the rhythm.

Find a flask, we're playin' fast and loose And all that jazz Right up here is where I store the juice And all that jazz Come on babe, we're gonna brush the sky I betcha Lucky Lindy never flew so high 'Cause in the stratosphere, how could he lend an ear To all that jazz?

As the song picked dup even more, and the music started up again people began dancing with one another.

Oh, you're gonna see your sheba shimmy-shake And all that jazz Oh, she's gonna shimmy 'til her garters break And all that jazz Show her where to park her girdle Oh, her mother's blood'll curdle If she'd hear her baby's queer For all that jazz

Aponi belted the notes. Impressive.

Alastor would have to ask her more about what her voice can do.

All that jazz

The music continued happily.

Come on babe, why don't we paint the town? (Oh, you're gonna see your Sheba shimmy shake) And all that jazz (and all that jazz) I'm gonna rouge my knees and roll my stockings down

As the music picked up even more, Aponi began dancing with another demon while singing..

Alastor knew it would happen, qponi had showed him the dancing, just not the music, but he still felt a bit... strange seeing his performer dancing with someone else.

(Oh, she's gonna shimmy 'til her garters break) And all that jazz (and all that jazz) Start the car, I know a whoopee spot (Show her where to park her girdle) Where the gin is cold but the piano's hot (Oh, her mother's blood will curdle) It's just a noisy hall, where there's a nightly brawl (If she'd hear her baby's queer) And all that jazz

She belted again as she was spun around.

She walked back to the microphone.

No, I'm no one's wife But oh, I love my life And all that jazz That jazz

She belted the last note and everyone in the restaurant began clapping for her as the song ended.

Aponi walked off the stage and up to angel and cherri.

"You did a song from a musical. Again?" Cherri asked, feigning annoyance.

"Oh you love it. You're the one who dared me to do a musical. Next time we should put money on it," Aponi teased.

"Well my darling! That was amazing. Say, where is that song from?" Alastor asked.

"Hm? Oh. It's from a musical called "Chicago" amazing. Even though cherri doesn't think so," aponi teased.

"What other musicals are there, my dear?" Alastor asked as he ushered Aponi away from her friends.

"He's obsessed with'er ain't he?" Angel asked.

"Yep. Hope he's ready for her backstory and all the shit it comes with. He is a man after all," cherri replied.

"Hey! So am i!" Angel argued.

"You know what I mean, Angie. If he hurts her I say we go to Satan himself to ask him to banish him," Cherri suggested.

"Agreed," Angel replied before the two walked out of the restaurant.

[liebgotts-lovergirl]

Fire On Fire: Chapter 3

(Ch. 2), (Ch. 1)

Gallery II Taglist Application II Symbol Guide

Summary: After getting hyped up by her best friend, Skip, Alix gradually works up the courage to tell Lieb how she feels but it seems like Fate had other plans... A/N: I took some liberty here bc I don't know why the real Lieb started boxing but as a smaller-than-average Jewish kid whose parents enrolled him + his younger siblings in Catholic school to protect them from antisemitism, it made sense to me. As usual, all portrayals are based on the miniseries. WARNINGS: Mixed signals, Situationship, Antisemitism mention & LOTS of Angst

Contemporary: June 3rd, 1944. Aldbourne, England. 

Crossing the threshold of the Crown Pub from the stillness of the brisk night air was like entering another world.

The brassy, energetic sounds of swing jazz and the warm buzz of conversation filled the room, accented by the periodic staccato of clinking glasses on the bartop and the clacking of heels on the nearby dance floor. 

Although The Crown was certainly not as spacious or extravagant as the big-band nightclubs she frequented back home in Philadelphia, Alix felt more at home there than she ever had at Ciro's or the Click Club.

There was a perpetual fire burning in the hearth to ward off the English nighttime chill, bathing the revelers in its cozy, golden glow as they danced and mingled in a vain effort to forget the war raging on their doorstep. 

"Holy shit,” Skip exclaimed over his shoulder as he tried to forge a small path for the trio amid the sea of people heading for the bartop. "Looks like everybody and their brother came out tonight!" 

Alix was inclined to agree. The place was packed, a kaleidoscope of different military uniforms and colorful dresses, and she wondered if the three of them would even be able to get a drink before closing time.

She turned behind her, ready to jokingly ask Malarkey if he was positive he didn’t want to go see his buddy at the Blue Boar instead, but he had disappeared. 

“Uh, hey Skip,” Alix called ahead of her as she sidestepped a gaggle of village girls. "Don's gone AWOL!” 

Muck stopped in his tracks and turned back to face her with an incredulous look. 

“Wait, how?! We just got here!” 

The young agent didn’t answer, instead scanning the room for their friend’s distinctive red hair. After a minute, she caught sight of him about six feet behind them, engrossed in conversation with a pretty blonde girl who was giggling like mad. 

“Nevermind,” Alix laughed, gesturing in their direction. “Looks like we’re on our own tonight, Skipper.” 

Her best friend followed her gaze. 

“I don’t believe it! We just got here not five minutes ago and he’s already picked someone up!”

 

“Luck of the Irish,” Alix quipped and Skip inclined his head in agreement as they began trying to weave their way to the bar counter again. 

There were no stools left so they’d have to stand, not that Alix minded.

One of the only perks of attending finishing school was that over time, she’d become as comfortable in high heels as she was in her combat boots. 

“Guess it’s just us spoken-for saps tonight, huh Pyro?” Skip called over his shoulder but Alix shook her head.

"Speak for yourself, Skipper," she remarked, turning sideways to shuffle past a couple paratroopers from another company. “I'm not seeing anyone."  

Skip snorted derisively as they approached the bar countertop.

"Right...you ever thought about telling Liebgott that? Because he seems awfully stuck on you for a guy you’re ‘not seeing’." 

Alix felt her heart jump into her throat at the mention of Joe and she checked the door for the millionth time but still, no dice. 

Looks like she’d gotten all dressed up for nothing.

“I’m not that lucky,” she sighed as her friend waved the bartender over to them. “He’s not interested.”

"Are you kidding? He’s definitely inter- wait, hold that thought."

Skip quickly spun to address the bartender. 

"Just a pint of bitter for me, thanks, and for my friend…?" 

He gestured for Alix to fill in, and she did.

"A gin and tonic please." 

As the bartender nodded and walked away, Skip shook his head in disappointment.

"Always a G&T with you, Pyro," he chided jokingly. "That’s it: next round, you’re getting a beer. Time for you to broaden your horizons, Little Miss Finishing School!" 

Alix wrinkled her nose at the glass of practically-black ale set before her friend.

It looked like sewage.

“I think I prefer my horizons narrow, thanks."

The paratrooper took a gulp of his beloved beer with a shrug.

“More for me then. Anyway, where were we? It was something about you and Romeo…”

He snapped his fingers, trying to call the memory back.

“Oh, that’s right! You were denying that he’s into you and I was about to prove you wrong.” 

Alix pressed her red lips into a grimace and took a sip of her cocktail.

 “I doubt it, Skipper. It’s been half a year already and we’ve hooked up three times. If he wanted more than that, he’s had plenty of opportunities to say it but he never does. We flirt, we fuck, then it’s radio silence again. He’s made it clear he’d rather be just friends and we’re barely even that.” 

“I’m telling you, friends don’t look at each other the way he looks at you,” the blond insisted.

“Seriously Pyro, I’ve known the guy for two years now, since Toccoa, and I’ve never seen him look at anyone else like that, okay, not ever. And you should hear the way he goes on and on about you! Honest to God, you’d think you put the stars in the sky!” 

Alix’s brow furrowed in confusion. 

Did Joe really feel the same way she did? Why hadn’t he said anything then? She hadn’t even dared to hope-

“I mean, didn’t you ever wonder why he was always self-sabotaging his injuries? Because nobody else does that!”

Alix regarded him quizzically and Skip sighed in exasperation.

“Because he was hoping to get back to the Aid Station to have you patch him up instead of Doc! He’s willing to take more pain just to see you! Honestly Pyro, I’m surprised you haven’t noticed, what with you being a ‘combat nurse’-”

he gave her another pointed look so she understood he meant spy. “-and all.” 

Alix took another sip of her G&T, her mind racing as she pored over every little interaction she could remember. 

She had noticed lots of little moments, to be sure, but she hadn’t dared to put all the pieces together. She was trained to recognize attraction not love.

Joe was always showing up to the base’s medical tent when she happened to be on duty, assisting Doc Roe as she learned the ins and outs of her cover, but she hadn’t thought much of it. She was just grateful for the rare gift of his company during the daylight hours.

╔══ • 🖤🖤 • 🖤🖤 • 🖤🖤 • 🖤🖤 • 🖤🖤 • ══╗

7 weeks earlier: April 14th, 1944. Aldbourne, England.

“I can tell you’ve been picking at it, you know,” Alix chided softly as she examined the bloody bayonet laceration snaking across Joe’s right palm. 

“Yeah?” Liebgott asked, swallowing hard. “Uh, how can ya tell?”

“Because it was healing just fine earlier this week but–” Alix lightly traced a finger along his palm parallel to the wound to illustrate her point.

“–now the skin around it is ragged and bleeding again. Why do you do this to yourself, Joey?” 

Joe shrugged. 

“Guess I’m just a sucker for pain,” was the mumbled reply.

When Alix glanced up, still cradling his injured hand in hers, she found he was staring at her and their eyes met. There had never been a doubt that he was tough as nails, a warrior to the core, but the way he looked at her…his gaze instantly softened, his caramel-brown puppy eyes practically melting her heart in an instant as they lingered on her face, drinking in her every feature.

Her stomach filled with butterflies and Alix immediately shifted her gaze to anywhere else, quietly thanking God that Doc Roe had left minutes earlier to inquire about an incoming shipment of penicillin before he could see her turning redder than a tomato.

“Um, lemme just...lemme just go grab some solution real quick,” she stammered, jumping up and letting go of his hand, desperately trying to ignore the electricity of her fingers brushing his.

Joe scratched the back of his head with his good hand and leaned back with enviable ease, causing the empty wooden crate he was sitting on to creak slightly.

“Sounds good, Ziskeit,” he said to her retreating form. “I ain’t got nowhere to be.”

The young spy crouched nearby and rifled through three of the many boxes that were scattered haphazardly around the medical tent, swearing internally the whole time as she fumbled for supplies with shaky hands.

Goddamn it, Alix, he’s a cabbie from California not Clark fucking Gable. Why are you so nervous? Get it together.

The young agent could feel Joe’s eyes still on her but quietly steeling herself, she plucked the items she’d been searching for from the box and retook her seat next to him, arranging the supplies around her in the order she’d need them. 

“You’re not gonna like this,” Alix warned in advance as she dampened a cloth with a bottle of disinfectant rinse. “But it has to be done. We don’t need you getting an infection.”

 

“Do what you gotta do, Zees,” he assured her and she only nodded in response.

Holding his hand still, she focused on swabbing the bloody wound as gently as she could to clean the blood and dirt from it.

Joe hissed involuntarily as the solution made contact with an intensifying burning sensation and Alix tightened her grip on his hand, feeling it jerk slightly like he might pull away before she was done cleaning it.

“Shit, I’m sorry,” Alix winced and Joe gritted his teeth, eyes fixed solidly on the wall of the tent, clearly determined not to let another sound out. “The worst part is over now but it might take a bit for the burning feeling to go away...” 

Joe shook his head and gave her a strained smile that seemed more like a grimace. 

“Don’t worry bout it, dollface,” he managed. “Never been better.”

Alix reached for another cloth and dabbed the wound dry as gently as she possibly could.

“You’re lucky it’s not any deeper,” she remarked as she inspected the cut a final time. “Or I’dve had to go find Doc to do your stitches. They don’t let me do the big stuff around here.” 

Joe cocked his head curiously, watching as she worked. 

“Yeah? Why’s that?” 

Alix gave a short, mirthless laugh. 

“Because I’m on a short leash as it is. Nix wants me preparing for my assignments 24/7. If it wasn’t OSS policy for operatives to spend multiple weeks on our covers, he would've had me done in two days and then back to the training grounds.”

Gingerly removing a fresh bandage from its casing, she nimbly wound it around Joe’s injured hand, just tight enough to stem any future bleeding.

As she wrapped it, Alix couldn't help but notice the slightly indented, pinkish-red scar tissue on his knuckles that contrasted sharply with the pale skin of his hand. 

"What happened?" she asked softly, her brow furrowing with concern. 

The paratrooper followed her gaze. 

“Oh those?” He shrugged. “They’re nothin’. Just some old boxing scars.”

“Wow, I didn’t know you boxed!” 

Joe grinned proudly at the amazement in her voice. 

“Yeah, I started when I was real young. Got pretty good too.” 

His smile faded and a tinge of bitterness entered his voice.

“Didn’t really have a choice.” 

Alix tilted her head to look at him. 

“What do you mean?” she asked.

 Joe took a deep breath and spoke on the exhale, the slight lilt in his raspy tenor being replaced with a hard edge.  

"Growin’ up where I did…we were the only Jewish kids. My mom and dad, they came here from Europe an’ they did their best to protect us, even sent us to Catholic school hopin’ it would keep us safer. But me, I didn’t wanna hide our ancestry like it was somethin' to be ashamed of and neither did my sisters. So every day, we got picked on for it, every fuckin’ day.” 

His voice was dangerously low, his hands quivering with barely-suppressed rage.

“And nobody did a goddamn thing.”

Alix sat frozen beside him, feeling her heart splinter into a million pieces as the man she loved began to recount years of torment at the hands of his schoolmates and how the administration had turned a blind eye to it all.

“Started takin’ boxing lessons so I could put up a better fight. I was the scrawniest but I was good, I had to be…I’d run my mouth again and again at school, really work ‘em up, so they’d hafta go after me with the worst of it. Anythin’ to keep ‘em away from my little brother and sisters. They didn’t deserve to go through all that.” 

 He was staring intently at the ground, jaw tight, and Alix could tell he was just barely holding it together.

“Neither did you, Joey,” she murmured, wrapping a tentative arm around his shoulders. “Neither did you.” 

To her surprise, he completely melted into her touch, slumping into it as the weight of the memories overcame him. Wrapping both arms around her waist, he pulled her into a close embrace and buried his face in the crook of her neck, clinging to her like a drowning man clings to a lifesaving piece of driftwood in the middle of a stormy sea.

They stayed like that for what seemed like hours, just holding each other in the silence, when-

╚══  • 🖤🖤 • 🖤🖤 • 🖤🖤 • 🖤🖤 • 🖤🖤 •  ══╝

Contemporary: June 3rd, 1944. Aldbourne, England.

The clang of a glass being set on the bar top jolted Alix out of her thoughts.

"Shit I'm sorry, Skipper, did you say something?"

"Jeeez," Skip marveled, shaking his head with a chuckle. "Welcome back to Earth, Pyro! We missed ya."

Alix rolled her eyes playfully.

"Yeah, yeah, very funny. Now, what were you saying?"

Skip took a long swig of his beer before responding,

"Look, bottom line is we could be jumping into a war zone any day now! Quit mooning over Lieb already and tell him how you feel, before you lose your chance!"

 Alix smiled appreciatively and started to say something when the door opened and both of the pair’s heads turned.

Floyd Talbert entered first followed by Joe, whose roguish good looks immediately filled Alix with jitters. 

He always cleaned up exceptionally well: his brown hair was combed back, a few unruly strands kicking out onto his forehead, and Alix could tell he’d had his uniform pressed for that night.

He leaned against the wall beside the door frame, coolly finishing his cigarette with all the ease of a film star and glancing at his watch.

Skip was right, Alix mused as she watched him and Tab talk amongst themselves. The end of the world really could be tomorrow. She needed to tell him today.

Smoothing her form-fitting red dress, Alix mumbled a quick prayer to whoever was listening and took a last swig of her G&T.

“Do I look okay?” she asked shakily and Skip gave her a once-over before reaching over for a supportive pat on the shoulder.

 

“Like an Italian Hedy Lamarr,” he assured. “Now enough stalling, go get 'em, tiger!” 

Alix took a deep breath and started off in the direction of the entrance to greet Joe and see if she could get him alone when suddenly, another arrival stopped her dead in her tracks.

She was seized by a violently sick feeling, as though someone had suckerpunched the wind right out of her.

Joe had brought a date. 

∆∆━━━━∆∆━━━━━∆∆━━━━∆∆

[lunarifie]

The hollow soulmate au #7

first / prev / next

Right when Adam walked out of the restaurant he sighed in relief at seeing Reeves car. “So they didn't decide to ditch me..”

He opens the door unprompted, making everyone jump out of their seats. When they calm down they all bombard him with questions.

“Whats he like?” “How was it?” “Are you guys a thing?” “Is he a jerk?” “Is he nice?” “What does he look like up close?” “are you romantic soulmates like Vanessa and Mira?”

A soft smile plays on Adams face before he catches himself. He gives a brief summary of what he learned about his soulmate and what they talked about. He explained his soulmates name was Kai and that he was here visiting as his parents were away on a business trip. He didn't have his phone yet so he was gonna go to Jazz Club after Kais shifts to hang out with him.

They all listened intently as Reeve drives, excited for the next time they come to the music venue so they could meet Kai formally. From what Adam said, it seemed like he was nice.

When Adam gets home he relays what he told his friends to his family. Though not without getting teased by them.

Kai packs up, he instinctively goes to get his tips but remembers he didn't work as a waiter today and instead was gonna get his money from performing as a paycheck.

“Bye Kai!” The Horsmen, Benjamin, and Benjamini yell as they head towards the door. War shouts a “war” as he is the last one to leave.

He sighed, washing the dishes. He doesn't enjoy it that much but it gives him something to do other than go to the 3 Witches Motel, lay in his bed (which he had to check for bed bugs) and stay awake with the paranoia that his parents will eventually find him. (though that's highly unrealistic, they don't give two shits where he is, least of all look for him.)

“Soooo,” Kai rolled his eyes, though not in Weirdys view. “Uncle, huh.” Gustav tsked when Kai almost dropped a plate.

“Oh, uh, shit, you heard that?” Kai asked hesitantly. Scrubbing intently at the dishes in front of him instead of looking Weirdy in the eyes.

“Yes!” He said in mocking cheerfulness. “What id like to know is why’d you say that little white lie? And if it isnt a lie how are we related?”

Like Kai said, weird. But he guesses he cant judge. He did just tell his soulmate that his boss was his uncle.

“I, um.” Kai is stuck. Living in a strict household teaches you how to lie. Being on the run also honed his skills and taught him how to tell a lie like it was the truth. It was easy. (Other than the dreadful feeling of guilt he feels every time). But lying wasn't the problem, it was finding the lie and he couldn't think anything up.

His face must have shown his panic because Weirdys face softened into a light frown. “Kid, you aren't in trouble. Just, are you in trouble?- I mean.” Gustav groaned in frustration. “I mean are you in trouble with other people?”

Those words made the redhead freeze. ‘God- he's so on the nose.’

“Because if you need a cover then I'm fine with that.”

That made Kai whip his head away from the dishes and finally look at Gustav.

“What?”

“I mean I'm gonna need a few details but if your not comfortable telling me then that's fine- wait I'm jumping the gun aren't I? You might not even be in trouble and just enjoy lying!” Gustav laughs as if what he just said was the funniest thing in the world

Now Kais really stuck:

He could tell Gustav the barest minimum of the situation he's in and finally get some help which could be useful in the long run.

Or make up another lie on the spot to cover up his last lie. Something like ‘oh! I just wanted to keep my soulmate on his toes! I'll eventually tell him the truth later!’ or maybe an excuse more believable than that.

Kais never been one to trust adults. The multiple private tutors and maids who have witnessed first hand what his parents would do to him, and never done anything to stop it just proves his points that adults arent saints and heroes. To be fair his parents are powerful people. But if a sixteen year old could run away and succeed they could have done something.

The only adult who has ever been there for him was Davis, but he was fired a long time ago for being ‘too soft on Kai.’ During his journey he felt a small bit of hope that he might find his former butler but that hope was diminished a while back when he saw how big the world was.

Weirdy was waiting for an answer.

He didnt have to tell Gustav too much right? Just enough for him not to call the cops, not fire him, and lie for him. It isnt harmful to stretch the truth, right?

“My, my parents dropped me off here to live on my own… They’re pretty wealthy, and I think they believe I'm a spoiled brat? I don't know, they really are on a business trip. They expect to come back from it with me making my own money and on my feet without their help.”

Kai took an deep breath, scrubbing the dishes to distract himself. A bit of truth slipped into there. “I just didn't want my soulmate to know because, well, how pathetic is that? Your parents leave you because they can't stand you.” His voice cracked a bit before he continued. That's good, its more believable he told himself. “People also treat you different when they know about the things you have.”

Silence overtook them both.

“Thats-” Weirdy choked up, “thats basically child abandonment what the fuck...”

Kai shook his hands back in forth in panic. “No! I mean! It's understandable!” He really didn't want Gustav to contact the police on ‘child abandonment.’ “Its kind of like moving out! I agreed to it!”

Weirdy peered at him as if he was trying to dissect him. “Do you even have a place to stay? Any family here at all?”

“I, um.” He hesitated a bit reluctant to state where he stays. “I stay at a motel. This job is kinda paying for my stay there...” He mentally slapped himself. That would definitely gain him some pity points but it wasn't necessary to mention the job.

Weirdys face crumbled. He straightened and tapped his foot in thought.

Kai went back to the dishes, wanting to finish and leave as quickly as possible. He didn't care if Weirdy went along with his lie anymore. He could just tell Adam that his Uncle was a bit deranged or had dementia. Yeah, he could make that work.

“Okay... I'll help you. But I need to be reminded of the details! I heard the part where you said I was your uncle but I don't remember much else.” He smiled cockingly as if waiting for a thank you. “Ill also give you a small raise to help with the motel! And if the motel doesn't work out your always welcome to stay at my place for a bit. We're all family here! Even the Horsemen sometimes come and visit me!”

Kai stared dumbfounded with his mouth open. This was probably better than he could have ever estimated it to be. He became a bit teary eyed before quickly wiping them away. “Im- thank you.”

Weirdy waited expectantly. “So, the fake story?”

“Oh right!” Kai relayed what he told Adam. By the time he finished he was also done with the dishes. He dried off his hands going towards his stuff to pack and leave. He guesses Weirdy followed him to walk him out but doesn't predict that Weirdy wanted to start some small talk.

“Ya know… if im gonna be your figurative uncle now… I gotta ask you really embarrassing stuff about how youve been! Like how was that soulmate of yours?” Weirdy wiggles his eyebrows making Kai flush and scowl in response.

“Soulmates aren't always romantic. Stop looking at me like that!”

Weirdy raised an eyebrow “I never said they were. I mean me and Death aren't romantic soulmates.”

“What?”

“I assume you know what platonic soulmates are, which are slightly less common than romantic soulmates. But have you ever heard of Queerplatonic soulmates?”

Kai shakes his head no.

“Its kinda like an inbetween of platonic and romantic. We're not romantically interested in each other but we care about each other more than most friends do. If that makes sense? Think of it like the romantic and platonic lines are blurred. Not all queerplatonic relationships are like this but me and deaths is.”

Kai slowly nods his head yes. Not trusting himself to speak.

“Not many people know what queerplatonic is so it isn't considered as an option for most soulmates but it's the label me and Death felt most comfortable with. I don't know if you and your soulmate feel that way but it's just something up to consideration.”

Kai ponders on that for a while. “I didn't know there was more to it”

“Yeaaah,” Weirdy drawled. “Well now you know!” Gustav flipped a switch going back to his weird self.

Did, Kai feel that way for Adam? He just met him so he's not sure. “I think, i’d just like to label us as friends for now, ” he mutters.

“Fine by me!” Weirdy practically skips to the door opening it wide for Kai to walk out, seeing that he was done gathering his things. “Bye!”

Kai blinks in surprise, giving a silent wave goodbye back and walking out the door. He pondered about soulmates for a bit. He never knew they were that complicated. He just assumed it would be easy, just an understanding because soulmates were made to understand each other. But its just like any other relationship isn't it? You have to build up to it.

[tokyoghoose]

is it hot in here, or is it just me?

pairing: daisuke kambe x reader

playlist: dirty dirty - charlotte cardin, so hot you're hurting my feelings - caroline polachek*, i touch myself - borns ( cover )

warnings: mentions of sex and dirty thoughts, fighting/violence, mentions of murder, the word slut ( towards reader ), daisuke being hot af ig

summary: while on an undercover mission you reunite with an old partner before things get 'frisky' and not in a good way.

announcements!

first full length balance unlimited fic! im actually quite proud of it even if the anime is postponed. I will continue to write for them 😌

feedback is welcome and appreciated! requests are open!

—————

The bar is more like a club, except for the fact there's no one so extremely intoxicated that they're acting a fool. No, it's actually quite prestigious for being underground. White and gold outline outline the area and it smells like expensive cigars and leather. Live jazz music plays in the background, setting the mood for the couples huddled together in love booths. It's nice, beyond nice— whose daddy paid for this?

In a red dress, you stir your gibson cocktail, awaiting the signal from your boss over the earpiece. It's already been an hour and there's been no sign of the suspect. Maybe you've been played. As time passes that seems more and more likely. At this point you were ready to turn in and call it a night. Places like this were no fun unless you had someone with you. And honestly, being alone in a place like this wasn't the most comfortable. There were eyes looking your way from singles and couples a like. Who knew there would be so many swingers.

There's a patterned knock at the door that makes you perk up and glance through your peripheral. The body guard looks through the slit in the door, moving to mention something about the password. The club was always tight on security, afterall. To get in you needed to prove you were coming with a member or waiting for someone who was one. The whole process is quite time consuming when you're faking your identity.

Finally, the door opens and you can see a tall man in a dark grey suit walk in. Curiously you turn your face to place your chin in the palm of your hand. Eyes travel up the figure before finally reaching the face of the mystery man. Not the suspect, but he's even better. A fond smile comes to your face at the realization of Daisuke Kambe. The name has a familiar taste on your tongue and it's honestly quite uplifting seeing such a 'friendly' face. He looks the same after three years and you wonder briefly if he's undercover too or if he has paid his way in. Daisuke was never frugal when it came to getting what he wants. Where he was lacking in words, he made up for it with expensive charm.

Oh how you had missed him.

Meeting his eyes, you raise both brows in question before turning away to down your drink. You push the glass to the bartender, holding a finger up before glancing over at daisuke, who sits in one of the booths across the room. He narrows his eyes at you in question, jutting his chin over to the bar before nodding to the door.

So he's on a mission afterall.

Your eyes shift to the door as well with a nod. He seems to understand well, but it's not a surprise after the time you worked together. It was a brief two years, but during it you learned to communicate in silence. His eyes told you much more than his mouth ever could. Now thinking of it, all the Kambes were better with actions than words.

—————

A few conversations have picked up after twenty more minutes of waiting. Perhaps if there wasn't another man in the area, the other's advances would have moved you. You weren't picky with your men, but you weren't one to settle for second place when first is still an option. Still, it kept you distracted for the time being. Besides, Daisuke looked was busy with a man himself.

You lean in, placing a hand on the chest of some patron with a giggle before the door opens once again. This time you're quick to look, seeing another man trail in. The static in your earpiece comes alive, the voice on the other side stating that it is in fact your target. The patron you were with turns his head as well and smiles before pardoning himself to shake the hand of the man. You briefly recall the suspects name: Vince Aiko.

Now the party was getting started. You wave them over, batting your eyes with a small smile. You don't miss the woman that walks in behind them, but she doesnt stop at the bar anyway. Instead, she heads over to the raven haired across the way. You resist the urge to follow her figure, instead keeping eyes on the two men and starting conversation.

—————

The goal was simple. Get the target alone and eliminate him. Usually you weren't one for death, but the police weren't helping in this case. The company you worked for took it into their own hands, given the okay. Even if it wasn't your task to kill him, someone else would. No jail time would follow as apart of the deal, so there were no repercussions against you for killing the scum. It's a win win.

The other man had gone to the restroom by now, leaving you alone with Vince. He smells lavish as well. It was clear he belonged here by the way his hair was combed back and how whitened his teeth were. He has money and it's not ruining out anytime soon.

It took you until he ordered a drink and didn't have to pay to realize he was the owner. The assumption that it was daddy's money grew stronger. He was outwardly trying to flex wealth he didn't even own. He wasn't trying to be subtle when he asked for the most expensive bottle or paid the band to play his favorite song. It was entertaining, yet disappointing. At least Daisuke spent the money without mentioning anything about it. At this point you just kinda wished the guy would shut up.

Placing a lingering touch on his shoulder, you lean in again. He smells like a new car. He places a hand on your upper thigh, quickly catching on to your advances.

"Why dont we go to the back."

It's not a question, it's a demand and it's exactly what you wanted. Right in the palm of your hands. With a giggle, you take his hand and stand while plucking the toothpick out of your glass and pulling the olive between your teeth smoothly. Walking past Daisuke and the woman at his booth, you wink.

The backroom looks like how it sounds. Behind another door and a pink curtains, you enter a red room. It has a single loveseat in the shape of a heart and there's champagne and wine on a side table. There's a dark blue light overhead that contrasts the rest of the room like a spotlight. There's no music except for the quiet hum behind the doors, but the further you go away from them the quieter they get. He takes your hand and pulls you to the loveseat.

"I'm can't say I'm surprised. My friend out there thought you were in to him, yet here we are... Is it the money that gets you going?"

His eyes trail over your figure and you understand what this room is for exclusively. You resist the urge to roll your eyes or push him off as his fingertips skim your arms and you play along.

"What can I say? Rich men are the sexiest."

You play with the collar of his suit, looking up at him through your lashes and parting your red lips. He stands up taller to glance down at you, trying to assert his dominance. It's sad knowing that's how he got off. He wants control and he wants you on your knees, the only other thing he could ask for at that point is for you to lick his dress shoes. It makes you sick.

His fingers stop at the thin strap on your dress, fiddling with it before starting to slide it down. You push him away and into the seat behind him. Taking a hold of his tie, you lean down to his ear to kiss underneath it.

"Why rush when I can give you a show."

He chuckles when you turn around and you roll your eyes. What an idiot. I almost want to laugh. You move your arms up, brushing your hair off your shoulders before reaching for the top of the zipper. Glancing at him with a smirk, you shake a finger and turn to face him. His fingers rake up his thighs, reaching out to touch you but you smack his hand away with a tsk.

"Lookie, no touchy."

You start to make a round behind the chair, fingers grazing his shoulders and pulling at the fabric. Once behind him and forcing his head forward you take out the earpiece and reach for your thigh. There's a gun there in the holster and a knife beside it, hidden by the red drapes. Thank god the for the slit. When rounding his other side you pull the firearm out and aim it at his temple, stabbing the knife into his thigh before he can jump up.

"Sit down, sicko. Don't try anything or I'll put a bullet through your skull."

You stick the earpiece into his ear, waiting for the receiving in to chime in.

"Who let you think a soundproof room was smart? It's like one of those double sided mirrors in here. Honestly, you're such an easy target."

His eyes glower at you like his expression alone will make you back down.

"You slut! I'm gonna kill yo-" He's cut off by the earpiece. They ask for information, stating that if he complys his life will be spared.

"I'm not stupid-"

"Beg to differ."

"-I know you'll just kill me anyway. I'm not telling you shit!"

The earpiece goes back off and you take it from his ear to listen to the other side. Two words is all you need to finish the assignment. Kill him.

"This could've been so much easier for you if you just listened. " You feign a pout, clicking the safety off. He struggles against the metal, rambling on about killing you and the company, finding you and blah blah blah. Having enough of his whines, you silence him with a quick pull of the trigger. You look down at the body on the floor and then at yourself, cleaning up quickly before leaving the room, making sure to step on his back in the process.

—————

There was maybe ten minutes before his bodyguards would notice he hasn't left the room. You go to make your leave, but not before stopping by Daisuke's booth. You stand a bit aways, watching him try to get information out of the girl before his eyes glance over to meet yours. A one-sided smirk creeps onto your face. He was never very shameless when it came to things he did and the way his eyes did a slow once over of your body was deliberate.

How you missed that look. It's the same bedroom eyes from the nights you spent together in the sheets. You start to wonder if the body under his shit looks the same and if his fingers still produced magic without even trying. Were his lips still as soft?

Now isn't the time for that. You narrows your eyes and go to slide into the booth beside the girl after you notice the disgusted look she gave you. Shame is her freshly manicured nails were to get messed up in a fight. Not that she was trying to pick one, but-

"Long time no see, Kambe."

Daisuke quirks a brow and gives you a warning look when the girl glances at him. You shrug, placing your head in your hand.

"You know her?"

"Of course he does! I miss the sex we shared every night."

He chokes on his drink, shaking his head. What has gotten into you? You're lucky he had finally gotten the break they needed in the case before you came over. Still, you were way out of line with that one.

"Y/N, this is Lily. Y/N was just kidding, we used to work together. "

When he scowls at you, it actually scares you because he means it. He could take you down with him if need be. He adjusts his suit jacket and clears his throat before continuing, "Thank you for your time, but I suppose i should get go-"

"Aiko's dead! Code red!"

Daisuke looks over with his tongue to his cheek as if to say you fucked up and you're not ever hearing the end of this if we get out alive. Honestly, he might just leave you behind if in sacrifice fkr the case. You shrug in innocence, already calling in help for an escape. Until then you'd have to fight them off. Apparently these dummies were smart enough to notice who Vince went in with and they are quick to lock eyes with you. And so did the rest of the club goers.

You make a move to get up, sliding out of the leather seat with hands in the air in surrender.

"Would you believe me if I said he did that himself?"

It starts with someone attempting to grab you before people go ducking under tables. All those grueling hours of training for really coming in handy now. You just barely miss the grabbing hands, taking the bottle of wine on the table and breaking it. Lily gasps at the shards, going to hide under the table as well and tugging on Daisuke to follow. You gesture the broken bottle about, thrusting it forward.

The men simply laugh and go for the kill. The bottle doesn't last long and you move away from the table for the fight.

Hell is broken loose and it isn't long before Daisuke resorts to joining the fight. It shouldn't surprise you, but it does. He punches one of the guys with a right hook, grabbing the collad of his shirt and throwinf him into another. For someone so weak looking, he sure was strong. It makws you swoon.

"I really do miss us, Daisuke. Just like old times."

He scoffs, continuing to fight beside you. He hates fighting and always has. He finds it undignified and perfers to just dodge and have them attack each other if he can't pay it off. But right now there was no room for negotiations.

"Now isn't the time to relive the past, y/n."

It stings, but you know it's true. Daisuke was the kind to get straight to the point. It's part of the reason he was so easy to work with. Suddenly, it makes you upset to realize that this was in the past.

You hear a car screech outside, trying to land one more punch on some bald guy before looking at the door. You tug at Daisuke's suit, practically dragging him towards the door before pulling out your gun and pointing it at the rest of the men standing. The hesitate. As much as they want to go after you, none of them want to die for it.

You push him to there door and nudge him to open it. There's a revved engine outside waiting for you, and apparently now another guest. He takes the hint, pushing the door open and taking the gun from your hands as you flee. There's one shot fired, but you know the victim won't die. He may seem heartless, but he wouldn't kill someone unlwss he had to. He knows when someone will save someone else and he knows what's in people's conscious. He had always been good at reading people when he cared enough to.

The night has turned from blue to black and you aren't sure when. It's suddenly too cold to wear the dress and it's starting to rain. This has really been one hellish night. The passenger waves you over from down the block in a hurry. There are sirens in the distance—they must've called the police to arrest everyone else involved. That's always how it went. They gave the company the ok to take the case and then come in to finish the job and take the credit because of the unsavory ways you deal with the suspects. If you weren't always in such a hurry and you didn't want to be arrested, you'd be pissed. With a huff you kick off your heels and run down the pavement with Daisuke hot on your trail. He didn't usually flee scenes like this, not anymore at least. He'd be lying if he didn't miss the rush of it. He'd be lying if he said he didn't miss the past life he lived.

When you get to the care, it starts to pour and Daisuke puts his suit jacket over your head and shoulders before pushing you into the backseat. Caring, yet impatient. His attitude makes you roll your eyes and shove him when he gets in.

The car pulls away just before the police arrive and it's quiet except for the low hum of some tape playing. The radio didn't work and the volume knob was stuck, so you'd have to strain your ears to actually listen. But it seems no one minds.

You take off the jacket, handing it back of to him and he puts a hand up to say you can keep it. He says something along the lines of, "It'll still be raining when you get out. Give it back later." Is he insinuating you'll meet again?

"Or I can give it back tomorrow morning, if you feel like staying over. "

The sudden bravery shocks you and apparently it takes him aback as well by the look on his face. His face drops back to deadpan almost as fast as it lifted and he scoffs, looking away and out the window.

"I really do miss you, Daisuke. In more ways than one," you say quietly, looking down at the jacket and running the fabric between your thumb and forefinger. He glances back over at you before dropping his gaze to your hand and with a sigh he places his over your own and squeezes. It's a conformation, a returned feeling, but of what exactly —you aren't sure.

It'd be enough for tonight.

[hangonimevolving]

The Iron String.

“Trust thyself: every heart vibrates to that iron string.”

--Ralph Waldo Emerson, Self Reliance

Here we are. It's August. Five months plus since the start of the U.S. pandemic, lockdowns, and general disruption to society. Over 5.26 million confirmed cases in the United States alone to date, and 167,000 deaths. Our world around us has changed.

Much of the last two months of summer for me were spent in an agonizing holding pattern concerning the almighty School Question. What would happen in the fall? Would schools be reopening? If so, how would that look - would we just act like life is normal, or would there be modifications to help prevent transmission of the virus? If so, what on earth modifications are even possible for young children that are reasonable, and to which little kids can even feasibly adhere given their ages and needs? If it proves too difficult to reopen schools, what would be the plan? Would there be some sort of virtual learning program, and how would it differ from the shifts that happened this past spring, with teachers scrambling to educate themselves on distance-learning technologies and teleconferencing utilities in order to teach a room full of kindergartners on Zoom? Surely, with several months to ponder the possibilities and plan for vairous contingencies, schools would be more prepared with better, more structured and thought-out plans for fall, than what they had in the spring... right?

Er, wrong. WRONG. The short version of how this situation ended, at least in our geographic area, is that the public school system (and my own kids' small, family-owned private school) made the decision to reopen to face-to-face teaching by the middle of July. Late in the game, both also hastily threw together a virtual option for students - but the virtual option was tantamount to a continuation of the fly-by-night Zoom teaching that had been put into effect at the very start of the lockdown.

I for one was entirely disappointed and disgusted with this. With SO much time to plan, this is really the best that could be done?! Bruh, NAW. I wasn't having it.

So blah blah blah, hem, haw, blah. Research, research, research. Reading, millions of review websites, forums, blogs, legal defense funds, Department of Education website, nonprofits, clubs and associations and collectives.... a phone call with an old friend from high school with over 10+ years experience, and a series of long and informative text message exchanges with two other friends, one a veteran with over 15+ years with three now-adult children, another a mom about my age of children about my kids' ages, facing this situation just like me and working through options just like me...... and, after all this, I knew exactly what I would be doing. What WE would be doing, in our family.

By June 13, it was official, and it was all systems go.

Ladies and gentlemen.... I am officially a homeschooling mom. Like, a LEGIT homeschooling mom. As in, I am doing a 100% parent-led homeschooling curriculum plan, FULL-time, with my two children.

I won't lie. In a million, bajillion, baskillion years, I don't think I ever intended to find myself in this place. I'll also say with honesty, that I have admired from afar the rare few homeschooling families that I somewhat know, and the flexibility and creativity with which they approach academics and learning in general.

I have also been increasingly dissatisfied and frustrated with the academic progress of my own children... Dr. Spouse and I have had long discussions where we've tried to speculate on the things that we haven't been satisfied about in our kids' schooling. The list has been long. But even as we were able to identify specific shortcomings in our children's particular educational environment, I've felt a rising sensation of control-freakism and bootstrapism in my chest, that has whispered to my conscience: "if you feel something is wrong here, don't sit around waiting for someone else to fix it. And, when you articulate your concerns in a constructive, non-threatening, but clear way, and people have smiled and nodded and claimed they'd follow up on those items, but in the end, they havent taken those concerns seriously - then it is time to man the f&* up and TAKE CARE OF THAT SHIT yourself. Because YOU are the only one you can trust. YOU are the only one who can do it right, in your own view. So either do it, or stop feeling dissatisfied about it."

So here it is. Our original plan, prior to the pandemic, was to switch the kids to the local (A-rated) public elementary school for this coming year. We had hoped that a change in environment, teachers, and the accountability of being a reputed school in the public school system, would mean more organization and oversight, and that hopefully this would translate into better academic progress in our kids.... but the pandemic changed all our plans, and besides, I don't know if more "in theory..." type things ever really translate to palpable, effective change at the individual level (at least not for me anyway, I never have such luck).

Rather than seeing this weird, surreal circumstance has having forced me into the homeschooling decision (which, maybe it sort of did) - - for reasons I can't explain, I dove headlong into it, with great excitement and hope. I can't really figure out how I have been as enthusiastic or jazzed about it as I have been - - but lookie, I'm jazzed! Seriously. From the moment we made the decision to do it, I felt like a 1,000-lb. weight was lifted from my chest. No more feeling anxious or on the edge of my seat about decisions that are being made outside of my control. In this matter - I stopped waiting for other poeple, and I TOOK CONTROL. For my own kids, anyway.

I'll write a detailed post at a later time about some of the particulars of the homeschooling plan that I am using, the research I did, the materials I ended up purchasing, the knowledge and insight I required while in the preparations phase, and other stuff. But, for now - I've droned on long enough. I'm gonna share some pictures now.

To bring it back to the start of this post - - with this homeschooling plan, I have found my iron string. I literally felt this resounding, reverberating sense of CONFIDENCE the moment that I decided to do this, and effectively brought Dr. Spouse on board. NEVER, in my life, have I felt so right about a decision. I feel a tremendous inner harmony about it - like I've come home to myself, if that's not too weird to say.

Sooo.... here are pictures of Week 1 of our great homeschooling adventure.

Obligatory "First Day of School" picture....

Our newly-tweaked home office - - now serving as our homeschooling classroom!

Particularly proud of our new training clock, our large-format calendar, and the "today's date/weather" board that I made with vinyl die-cuts from my Cricut, some chalkboard-surface Contact paper, and some rainbow sparkly duct tape :)

Spanish class: kids use a fun new app for two class sessions a week

Dey working on simple addition/subtraction with Teddy Bear Counters

Dey slaying his worksheets in Handwriting class - we're doing both print letters and cursive

Vev learning to tell time, and to recognize and convey the time in both analog and digital notation

After reading several history textbook chapters on the origins, diets, nomadic lifestyles, housing practices, and modes of dress among prehistoric humankind - we did a "History in action" lesson where the kids were given 10 minutes to construct a shelter out of a "mammoth skin" (blanket), "two tree branches" (pool noodles), and several large "rocks" (throw pillows). They didn't need the full 10 minutes :)

Vev enjoying one of his first chapter books - an "I Can Read" reader during a Language Arts learning block

After a week reading science textbook chapters about the earth's atmosphere, we conducted science experiments to better understand the properties of air! The boys had a "paper race" using construction paper and pieces of cardboard as fans, to race two paper structures across a finish line. They discussed their expectations and each articulated a hypothesis about which paper would travel faster, prior to conducting the experiment; afterwards, we determined whether our "guesses" (hypothesis) were accepted or rejected :)

This is just a smattering. There's been so much, and in only four days. I can't believe how much we are able to learn and cover in our homeschooling time. And the crazy thing is, we are able to do Phonics and Grammar, Reading, History, Read-aloud time, Math, Spanish, Handwriting, and Science in only about 3 hours per day. We integrate things like art, movement, current events, and practical life skills into pretty much everything we do, but on occasion we are even able to do a discrete, planned-out period of time for these topics too.

The iron string is taut, and secured in its proper place. We are ready for it to guide us through this school year.

[eversall]

Hi! Are you still taking Saphael prompts?? If you are, here's mine: "your friend wrote your phone number in a public restroom as a prank and my drunk bff has called you with my phone, i'm so sorry, also your friend is a dick" Ft Simon as the poor guy whose phone number Jace has written in the public restroom and Magnus as Raphael's drunk bff, whose phone he used to call Simon. Hope you like it, but it's ok if you don't ^^ Love your fanfics!

fml this is a really cute prompt and it started out all light and funny and then devolved into serious stuff at the end I AM SORRY I HOPE YOU LIKE IT (also if you were to come off anon and be my friend i would love you forever and also be able to link you on ao3 as the prompter for this fic

if i ever had your number i think i would use it // read on ao3

“Er.” Simon says, but that seems to be enough. “Simon?” Raphael asks. “The one and only.” He says weakly, making jazz hands even though he knows Raphael can’t see them. “Heyyy, Raphael.”“You – why is your number in the Pandemonium bathroom?”.It starts because Jace and Simon get drunk together one night without Clary, and since Clary serves as about eighty-five percent of their impulse control they’re hammered within two hours and ready to implement all of their Very Bad Ideas, the ones that are horrifying enough to make Alec grind his teeth and potentially slap them upside the head.

It starts because Jace is a dick.

Well. To be fair, it starts because Jace and Simon get drunk togetherone night without Clary, and since Clary serves as about eighty-five percent oftheir impulse control they’re hammered within two hours and ready to implementall of their Very Bad Ideas, the ones that are horrifying enough to make Alecgrind his teeth and potentially slap them upside the head.

“Which is rude.” Jace informshim as he gets a tattoo across the side of his stomach. Simon makes anagreeable noise, too engrossed in the delicate line of triangles he’s justgotten tattooed across his shoulders. “How are your triangles doing?”

“I think they’re ready to experience the world!” Simon shouts, gettingto his feet. The tattoo artist doesn’t even look at him as she puts a hand onhis shoulder and shoves him back into his seat. He goes willingly, trying tofigure out what he should name the triangles. Luke, Leia, and Anakin? Frodo,Bilbo, and Sam? So many options!

Anyway, Simon figures that if anyone’s to blame, it’s Clary, because ifClary had been there Jace wouldn’t have gotten the fantastic idea to carve Simon’s number into the tiny piece of wallnext to the mirror in a bathroom at a gay club. Actually, his idea is just tocarve something, and when he asksSimon for any number between one and one hundred, Simon rattles off the digitsto his cell because that’s the only thing he can remember. Jace doesn’t seem toquestion the fact that the number is definitely not between one and onehundred, but instead dutifully transcribes it into the wall. And that’s thestory of how Simon’s phone number ends up in a hidden corner of a clubrestroom.

Well. That’s not the entirestory.

.

Simon’s working late when he gets the call. He’s hunched over a list ofpotential mergers, chewing on the end of his pen as he types in risk analysisand bemoans the fact that his boss is a hardass, and also Simon is hard for his boss’ ass, and isn’t that embarrassing? But he wouldn’t be here if itweren’t for the fact that Raphael asked him to finish these, and Simon sort ofhates the guy but sort of loves him too. It’s – complicated.

Lily, who’s the other data analyst and who he shares an office with,likes to gleefully tell him that it’s not thatcomplicated, and they’ve all got bets going on when Raphael and Simon ‘crackfrom the tension and start banging’, and that she thinks he’s good for Raphael.That’s the hardest part to hear. Simon can take all the innuendoes and thegood-natured teasing, but when people genuinely tell him to go for it he sortof shuts down. Because – nope, there’s no way that Raphael Santiago, a powerhouse of a business mogul, would ever beinterested in Simon Lewis.

He’s lost in his self-deprecating thoughts when he gets a call, and hefrowns as he checks the screen. Speak of the devil – why is Raphael calling himthis late at night? He cautiously takes the call and brings it to his ear.

“Hello?”

“HELLOOOO, I’M LOOKING FOR A GOOD TIME!” A voice shouts down the line-a voice that is definitely not hisboss’. Simon yelps, pulling the phone away from his ear and staring down at it,bewildered, before he brings it back up.

“I’m…sorry?” he hedges. There’s sounds of a scuffle on the other end, amuffled thump, and then –

“A good time!” the voice continues, the words slurred. “That’s why yournumber’s here, right? For a good time?Well, have I got a deal – no, a steal– no, stop it Ra – let go of me, I’mgonna get you laid – anyway my friend Raphael is sorely in need of a good time because he has a stick up his ass so – “

Simon’s having conniptions atthis point. His mouth is hanging open and he’s staring blankly at the screen,trying to figure out how this is his life. The other man’s voice cuts off, andthen starts up again, sounding out of breath like he’s running.

“So listen carefully I need you to do whatever it is you do becauseRaphael keeps mooning over this new employee he has and wow he needs to ask that dude out already so if you could blow himor something and restore his confidence- “

“BANE!” a clearer voice shouts, and oh, that voice Simon recognizes. He winces as the phone makes a staticnoise, more alarming sounds coming from it, before Raphael speaks.

“Hi,” he says, his voice low and raspy and oh God, Simon wants to die rather than have this conversation. “I’m sosorry about my friend, he’s very, very drunk. He found your number in thebathroom at Pandemonium, I don’t know if – “

“My number?” Simon splutters,dropping his pen. “What?”

“Yes. I presume you didn’t know anything about this.” Raphaelcontinues. “I’m so sorry to disturb you – “

“Fucking Jace.” Simon mutters, half to himself, as memories of theirnight out rushes to the forefront of his mind. “Of course he’d do somethingidiotic like that.”

“Jace – Jace Wayland?” Raphael asks, and Simon freezes. Shit, how dumbis he that he forgot his boss doesn’t know he’s talking to Simon? “Do I…knowyou?” There’s a pause on the other end of the line, and Simon closes his eyesand prays dear God please open up a holein the ground straight to the nearest volcano and dump me in there.

“Er.” Simon says, but that seems to be enough.

“Simon?” Raphael asks.

“The one and only.” He says weakly, making jazz hands even though heknows Raphael can’t see them. “Heyyy, Raphael.”

“You – why is your number in the Pandemonium bathroom?”

“So, funny story,” Simon runs a hand through his hair, “You know Jace,one of the legal reps for the Clave – well, he and I went out one night and…hemight have put my number there? We were pretty…out of it, to be fair.”

“Right.” Raphael says, and there’s a strange note in his voice. “Youknow that’s a gay club.”

“Yeah?” Simon frowns. “I know. Who was your friend on the line?”

“Oh, Magnus.” There’s the unmistakable sound of a whoop in thebackground, presumably the Magnus Raphael is talking about. “He ownsPandemonium. He just, ah, is going through something.”

“Poor guy.” Simon commiserates, before something occurs to him withgrowing dread. “Wait, Raphael, Magnus said something about – you having a thing for someone at work.”

“That’s none of your concern.” Raphael says, his voice firm andno-nonsense. Fortunately, Simon’s pretty immune to that voice, because it’salways coupled with that hint of a smile tugging at Raphael’s lips as he looksat Simon, so.

“Oh but it is.” Simonwheedles, his heart caught somewhere between elation and dread. If he finds outtonight that Raphael actually has the hots for someone else, it’s going tosuck. There’s no way around it. But still – isn’t it better to know then to be left in limbo? “Come on,Raphael, I’m bored and I need something entertaining – “

“You’re bored? Go watch one of your ridiculous shows.” Raphaelresponds. “Also, I don’t think my…feelings…are entertaining.”

“There’s no TV in the office, I can’t watch anything. And I didn’t meanto imply anything less about your feelings.” Simon hastens to say. “But, youknow. It’s you! Who has the mighty Raphael Santiago fallen for?”

“The office?” Raphael asks, ignoring the rest of Simon’s sentence.“You’re still at work?”

“Oh. Yeah.” Simon says, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. “Justfinishing up the risk analysis.”

“It’s almost eleven. Go home, Simon.” Raphael says, his voice tired.“I’m sure someone is waiting up for you.”

“Nope.” Simon huffs out a laugh, idly tracing the keys on his keyboard.“I, uh – no one’s waiting up for me.”

“No?” Raphael asks. His voice is quiet now, and Simon almost misses thenext words. “That’s a shame.”

“Right.” Simons says, his voice thick. There’s a sudden lump in histhroat that he can’t swallow around, something nameless and infinitelyterrifying, full of possibilities, settling around him at Raphael’s words. “Um.You?”

“What?”

“Is anyone waiting up for you?”

“No.” Raphael laughs bitterly. “No, I – don’t have what it takes to bein a relationship.”

“Don’t have what it – are you drunk?”

“No.” Raphael is silent for a while before he speaks again. “Just verytired.”

“Then go home and sleep.” Simon rubs a hand over his face, theadrenaline draining out of him as he considers that it really was ridiculous tohope, just a little, that Raphael thought of Simon the same way Simon thoughtof him. “I’ll finish up here and leave soon too.”

“Alright.” Raphael says on the other end, and then he hangs up. Simonstares at his phone for a few minutes before he fires off a text to Jacetelling him exactly where he can shove himself and his drunk ideas. The tattooswere nice, but the late-night phone call from his boss breaking his heart was decidedly not nice.

He shuffles together his reports and stacks them up, regarding themwarily. It’s time for him to go home and sleep off his melancholy mood. Heshuts down his computer and is just grabbing his keys when he hears footsteps.

“Hello?” He calls, cautiously peering out of his office. In the dimlight, he sees someone familiar walking down the hallway. “Raphael? What thehell are you doing here?”

Raphael comes to a stop in front of him, his eyes intense as he looksat Simon. He’s wearing jeans and a leather jacket, and to be honest Simon didnot know Raphael owned anything other than suits. He looks really fucking good, as always, and his usuallyperfectly styled hair is mussed lightly, making him look like he just had sex.Simon swallows.

“You should know what happened tonight.” Raphael says seriously, andSimon frowns.

“I know what happened.” Hereasons. “It’s fine, honestly, Raphael, you couldn’t have known it was mynumber that your friend was calling.”

“He called the number because he was drunk, yeah, but also because hegenuinely wanted me to get my mind off of my feelings.”

“Right.” Simon attempts to smile, but judging by the look on Raphael’sface it came out more like a grimace. “Is everything okay?” Raphael is silentfor a long time, and then he swallows audibly.

“You.” He says to Simon. “They’re feelings for you.”

Simon is floored for a second, unable to do anything but gape atRaphael. The blanket of terror and elation from before is back, crashing intohim. He feels like a string pulled taut, hovering on the edge of a precipice.He never could have imagined that it would be Raphael instigating this.

“Really?” Simon manages to croak out. Raphael nods, and Simon breaksout into a grin. “Oh, thank Godbecause I feel the same way. About you.”

Raphael flinches at thatrevelation. Simon frowns then, taking in the tight lines across Raphael’s faceand the way he’s clenching his fists. “Raphael? What’s wrong?”

“You should know.” He gets out, his voice tight. “When Magnus calledand said those things about…having a good time, and all that – I don’t do that.Magnus wouldn’t even have called and said those things if he weren’t drunkhimself. It was a joke.”

“I figured as much.” Simon says slowly. “But you’re trying to saysomething else here?”

“Yeah, I’m.” Raphael exhales, and crosses his arms defensively. “I’masexual. I’m never going to want sex.”

Oh.

“I feel very strongly about you, Simon.” Raphael continues, his voiceveering into anguished territory, leaving Simon dazed with the amount ofemotion that’s behind his words. “I didn’t think I would ever feel anything aboutanyone, and I was okay with that. Butyou’re – different. And you deserve to be happy. This isn’t how I imaginedtelling you, but beggars can’t be choosers.” He says, shrugging his shouldersand giving Simon a self-deprecating smile. It’s heartbreaking.

“You make me happy.” Simonblurts out, desperate to alleviate the sadness that Raphael is carrying. “Ialways – your sense of humor is really aggressive and it took me a long time toparse out that when you were insulting me or not, but – my feelings for youaren’t based in sex.” He says.

Raphael makes a startled noise and steps back, searching Simon’s facefor something. Simon swallows and stands his ground.

“You – really?” Raphael asks.

“I’m not gonna lie and say that I immediately know what to do aboutit.” Simon says firmly. “We need to sit down and have a long talk about yourboundaries and my boundaries and how this is going to work out, but God – Ilike you. A lot. I want to work it out. I want to try, and I – I mean, do you want that?”

“More than you could know.” Raphael says slowly. Simon reaches out atentative hand.

“Can I…?” he asks, his voice unsteady. Raphael makes a noise and pullsSimon forward, wrapping him up in a tight embrace. Simon slides his arms aroundRaphael’s back, burying his face in Raphael’s hair and sighing contentedly.

“You use too much product in your hair.” Simon mutters, nosing over thestiff strands.

“This is a romantic moment.” Raphael fires back, tightening his grip onSimon’s waist. His voice is muffled as he presses his face into Simon’s neck.“You’re ruining it.”

“I’m making it better.” Simon counters, laughing. Raphael pulls backand looks at him, his eyes warm and trusting as he leans in to brush his nosealong Simon’s cheek.

“You make everything better.” He whispers hoarsely, his voice soft andawestruck.

“So do you.” Simon whispers back, his voice equally as awestruck.

It’s almost midnight, and they’re in a drab high-rise office buildingin the middle of New York. Raphael smells like alcohol and sharp perfume, likethe club he’s made his way from, and Simon’s phone number is still etched intothe corner of a wall somewhere in a public restroom, something he really shouldtake care of. He and Raphael still need to figure out how a boss-employeerelationship is going to work, and they’re standing next to rows and rows ofcubicles. It’s not exactly a fairy-tale romance. It’s the furthest thing fromthat – it’s just them swaying slightly, wrapped up in each other, under theweak fluorescent lights of the office.

But it’s more perfect than anything Simon could have ever imagined,because Raphael is here, in his arms,and that’s enough of a fairy-tale for him.