#i had to google it to even know what it was

[therootbeersprite]

My grandfather was a linguist who, by the end of his life, spoke 15 languages, to varying profeciencies. He helped to break the code that the Japanese were using. You've heard of the German Enigma Code? His team broke the Japanese version. He got pretty much no credit because he was Jewish.

He had Alzheimer's, and I was the youngest grandchild, so I knew him basically not at all. As far as my understanding goes, some of the languages were: English, French, Spanish, Catalan, Portuguese, Japanese, Mandarin, Cantonese, Latin, Greek, Hebrew, Yiddish... I'm definitely forgetting a few. I remember going to meals together in the dining hall at his senior center, and he would stop and greet everyone in their native languages. When he was in hospital near the end of his life, the nurses said that he spoke beautiful Tagalog. We didn't even know he spoke that one!

And then there's my grandmother. She wasn't a soldier, but her work was definitely part of WWII.

My grandmother was a chemist, when women in the US were definitely not encouraged to do anything but be homemakers. After graduating from the University of Chicago, she did her internship at FermiLab. Perhaps you've heard of it? No? Go ahead a Google "Enrico Fermi" aka "The Architect of the Atomic Bomb".

Yeah. Everyone remembers Oppenheimer, but the science started with Fermi. And my grandmother was an intern at his laboratory.

My grandmother was just a lowly intern working on other people's experiments, she didn't know what it was that she was working on, what it would become. After Hiroshima, when she found out what she had been a part of, she was absolutely horrified. But the damage was done, both to the world and to our bloodline: She had cancer, of course, and so did two of her four children.

She never talked about it.

Eventually, she became a high school chemistry teacher, and was always proud of the work she did educating the next generations. One of my earliest memories of her is playing in the pool together while she taught me the first six elements of the Periodic Table: Hydrogen, Helium, Lithium, Beryllium, Boron, Carbon. It was very important that I knew about carbon, she said, because every living thing on this planet is a carbon-based life form, and it is important to understand that we are all the same, all connected.

So, that's my grandparents.

May Their Memories Be A Blessing.

did any of your family fight in WW2?

[rcmclachlan]

tease tidbit tuesday

I was tagged by @leashybebes and @beanarie. Thanks, y'all!

"Is this a bad time?" Tommy asks, voice low. "You're not, uh, on shift, are you?"  There was a time when Tommy knew Buck's schedule better than his own, mostly because they'd synced their Google calendars about three months in. It made scheduling date nights around their shifts easier; it took the guesswork out. Plus they had way too much fun giving the events dumb names, like Cross-Functional Alignment Strategy Session for a lunch date or Roundtable Performance Review on the days they went to the gym together. They'd once blocked a shared 48 off for a sex marathon and then nearly laughed themselves into traction when Tommy's teammate Nico asked how the Interdepartmental Alignment & Team Building Conference was. Nowadays Buck's schedule looks extremely boring without Tommy's neon green blocks filling it up, and the only events he has are his work shifts and reminders to pick up unsalted butter. "N-No, I'm home," Buck says, then glares at his oven. "I'm just… baking." "Oh yeah?" A soft hiss comes down over the line, and it takes Buck a second to recognize the sound of Tommy sucking air through his teeth. "What are you…?" "Chocolate croissants. Or, uh, I'm trying to. The butter's either too soft and it melts all over the oven or it's too hard and it just sort of sits in clumps. Making baked Alaska was easier than this. I-I've gone through stages of grief I didn't even know existed before tonight, and I'm coming to the conclusion that I might need to, like, sacrifice my KitchenAid to the baking gods for an assist." When Tommy laughs, the speaker crackles, and Buck holds his phone as tightly to his ear as he can so he can feel it deep inside the canal. It's loud. It hurts a little. "That's crazy talk," Tommy says breathlessly. "There's gotta be a perfectly good goat lying around for you to sacrifice instead. What about the lady in 291? You know she's got an entire barnyard menagerie in there." A grin erupts over Buck's face, so wide that the pull of it aches. "One of the maintenance guys knocked on her door when I was heading to work the other day. When she opened it, the biggest chicken I've ever seen came flying out. I thought the guy was going to shit." "I heard something mooing in there once." "You did not," Buck laughs, and then has the sudden urge to crawl into the oven and rip out the baking element tube with his bare hands.  It shouldn't be this easy. It should be stilted and awkward, and his hands should be sweating because every sentence is like pulling teeth, and every word out of his mouth should be a little absent because he's too focused on counting down the seconds until he's free of this.  But it is easy. It's effortless. It's like they're picking up right where they left off, and it wouldn't take anything to just pretend the last four months didn't happen and this conversation is what followed Tommy's dumb joke about spumoni. Maybe they can rewrite over the save point. Maybe they can just start the game over.

Tagging @liminalmemories21, @alchemistc, @firehose118, @geddyqueer, and @setmeatopthepyre

[thelostconsultant]

Just a machine

pairing: Max Verstappen x android!reader

summary: Max received an android as a gift, but he didn't expect to fall in love with her within a matter of months.

note: So this is something I started to work on, it sat in my google docs for months, but idk, something feels off. But I didn't want to leave it there, so here is all I have written so far, bon appétit. \\ PS: Kamski and CyberLife are from Detroit: Become Human. It's a video game if you're not familiar.

Every once in a while Max looks at her, notes that she’s the most beautiful woman he has ever seen, and then he remembers that under this human disguise she’s just a machine. Keeping an emotional distance is the key, at least that’s what Kamski told him when he gave him this android. But even then something told him that the man wasn’t speaking honestly, that he thought differently and wasn’t one to keep a distance from his artificial children. 

It’s only been a few months since she became a part of his life. He picked her up in Detroit after the Las Vegas GP, going to the home of the CyberLife founder who wanted to give him one of the prototypes as a present in person. And in secret. Even though their androids have a small LED on their temple, they could cover them so no one would find out they’re not human. So she got on his jet and traveled back to Monaco with him, settling into her new life quite easily and without anyone finding out he now has an android companion. 

“What’s your plan for today?” she asks with a warm smile as she prepares his breakfast, even though he told her not to bother. 

But she doesn’t let him do anything around the house anymore, she took the lead when it comes to these things. At least he managed to convince her to leave cleaning to the woman who had been coming to his home for the past years. It’s a small win, but it means a lot to him. In return she insists on staying out of the way every time the cleaning lady comes over, so Max usually takes her somewhere nice for that time.

He leans over the kitchen island to take a closer look at the way she cuts the fruit for the blender, then his eyes move up to her face. Silence fills the room when the knife stills in her hand and she looks back at him. For a moment—just for a fleeting moment—he forgets how to breathe, but then he pulls himself together and goes, “I don’t know. We could get in the car and just drive somewhere far from here. Or we could go buy you some new clothes for next week,” he offers, his eyes carefully scanning her face to see if either of these options caught her interest.

Seconds pass in silence that’s only broken by a thoughtful hum. “We can do whatever you’d prefer, they both sound good,” she says in the end, her smile growing wider before she returns her attention to the fruit.

Max doesn’t let her get away with this, though, because he wants her to choose, to make a decision based on what she wants, not based on what he wants. “Pick one.” Her brows furrow as she glances up at him with a confused look on her gorgeous face. “I want this to be your choice.”

“But—”

“No but!” Max says with a laugh as he reaches out for a piece of strawberry. “Come on, make a choice. Driving or shopping?” he asks.

If the little LED was still visible, it would surely be red now, he knows that. It’s obvious that she doesn’t like the idea of being forced to choose instead of following her owner’s wish, but he wants to see how far she can go, how much she can bend her programming. After all, he doesn’t want a servant, he wants a partner, a companion, someone he can rely on and have fun with.

“Can we drive?” she asks hesitantly in the end.

Flashing an excited grin at the android, he walks around the counter and stops in front of her, his hand moving up to cradle her face while his thumb draws lazy circles into the artificial skin. “We can do whatever you want,” he tells her before leaning in to place a kiss on her forehead. 

The rumors don’t bother Max, even though he has seen several articles with photos of the two of them together, posts on social media where fans are trying to figure out who she is, and even hears his own friends teasing him on stream. Yes, he can be affectionate with her even in public, because deep down he yearns for more than just friendship.

But.

But, but, but.

She’s not human. Yes, she’s the perfect copy of a real woman, even though she can’t eat or drink, so it’s not like he can take her to a restaurant for a date. But it wouldn’t matter, there are many more things they can do. But what if he wants a child? What will happen to her after he dies? There are so many things he needs to consider. 

Right now, it’s for the best to push these thoughts aside. He wants to focus on today, the way she’s sitting next to him in the car, watching the city through the window as if she hasn’t lived here for months now. He wants to start a conversation, but no topic comes to his mind. All he can think about is how beautiful she is, how amazing it is that they programmed her to be this kind. 

Then, as they cross the border to France, he finally takes a deep breath and glances over at her. “You never asked where we’re heading,” he notes.

She finally turns to him with a slightly tilted head. “Where are we going?” 

“It’s a surprise.”

“Then why did you want me to ask?” she wonders, sounding confused.

Without thinking much about it, Max reaches out to take her hand. “I was just surprised that you weren’t curious, that’s all. So… I’ve been meaning to ask you… How are you? Do you like living with me?” His voice is hesitant, and when he looks over at her, he notices the surprise in her expression. 

“Of course I do,” she replies, but he can hear it in her voice that it’s the kind of answer she was probably programmed to give.

Letting out a sigh, he speaks up again. “Okay, now let’s hear your real opinion. If you really like to live with me, what do you like the most about it?” 

Her eyes move to her lap where their hands lie, fingers intertwined. After what seems like an eternity, she finally speaks up. “You don’t treat me like I was an object. And… you’re always nice to me.” The corners of his lips curl into a smile upon hearing this, because that’s what he’s been aiming to do since the beginning. “Also, I like how passionate you can be about things you like.”

A part of him wants to ask more, but a voice in the back of his mind keeps telling him to give her some space. One step at the time, he has to focus on this. She will open up, she will learn how to interact with him in a more natural manner, without making it obvious that there is a power imbalance at the end of the day. 

“Are you ready for next week?” he asks eventually. She nods, but he can tell there’s something she’s hiding. “What is it? I can see something’s bothering you.”

Before answering, she untangles their fingers and pulls her hand away. “It’s just… Won’t it bother you if people start talking about you showing up with an android? I mean, we’re going out together already, sure, but there are more cameras and fans at race weekends,” she says quietly.

Max lets out a sigh. “Your LED isn’t visible and you’re a prototype, there’s no other android out there that looks like you. Kamski won’t tell the truth to anyone,” he assures her. She nods, then her eyes move to the window on her right, clearly avoiding his gaze. “What else?” 

“People think I’m your girlfriend,” she says quietly.

He hums at first as he thinks about what to say. “Is it a bad thing?”

“I’m not your girlfriend.”

“Would you like to be?”

“I wasn’t programmed for that.”

“Are you sure?” She hesitates, so Max takes a deep breath and looks for a good spot to pull over. Once he stops, he turns off the engine and twists his body to look at her. “Listen, I need to know something. Are you only tolerating the way I treat you because that’s what you were designed to do? When I hold your hand, when I kiss your forehead, when I hug you… I need to know if… You know, if they mean anything to you.”

She doesn’t respond. Not with words anyway. But he’s patient, he can wait for her to finally decide what to say, how to answer this seemingly easy question. And then, after several minutes of tense silence, she finally turns to look at him. “I would like to go back to Kamski.”

This sentence makes Max feel like he was hit by a bus. This statement comes out of nowhere, especially after she said she liked living with him. And now she wants to go back to Detroit? Gulping, he thinks about what to say to that. Sure, he could take her back there, but he doesn’t want to leave her behind, he doesn’t want to lose her. “Why? You just told me you like living with me, so I don’t understand what’s going on,” he says. 

As her eyes move down to her hand, she bites on her lower lip. “I just… This… I don’t know, I just need some answers, and–”

“He’s the only one who can give them to you,” he finishes for her, finally understanding where she’s going with this. When she nods, he takes a deep breath and turns to the screen of the car to open the list of his contacts. “Let’s call him now, shall we?” She looks hesitant, her eyes are fixed on the screen where her creator’s contact is open. “Come on, let’s get this over with.”

But then she gives him a pleading look. “Please, let me talk to him alone. I don’t want you to hear it, it’s… personal, I think.”

“All right, sure. Does this mean you’re not coming with me to the race?” There’s a guilty look on her face, and he lets out a long sigh of defeat. “You’ll have to fly a lot, if you don’t mind. We’ll go to Australia together, then you can take the jet to Detroit until I need it again, okay?” 

She nods, and he nods as well. These will be the longest few days in his life for sure. 

[sweetflanfiction]

Assymetrical Symphony - Part 8

Universe: Arcane (LOL)

Pairing: Viktor x reader

Summary: You had been on the rooftop with Jayce and the Herald and somehow you were sent to a place where things can be different with your help

Disclaimers and Warnings: If you want me to tag you on the chapters let me know! Also leave a comment with your thoughts :D Not finished, not proofread. English isn't my 1st language. All I know about LOL is from google and all I know about Arcane is taken from the show, so inacuracies will be plenty. I have a sort of idea on how to I'm gonna go with magic and runes, so bear with me. The reader will be written as GN (going by they/them) to get everyone involved, but if you see any discrepancies let me know.

AN.: Should I post this on AO3? Maybe? Thoughts? Or do you guys like this format??

Part 1 • Part 2 • Part 3 • Part 4 • Part 5 • Part 6 • Part 7

• ··········· • ············ •

“Drink this.” Viktor placed a steaming white mug filled with a pinkish, translucent liquid. You looked up at him, curious. “Don't worry. It’s just tea.”

Bringing the mug to your lips, the warm liquid filled you with comfort and calmness. It smelled and tasted sweet, but you couldn't place what flavor it was. Your brain was half turned to mush from the meltdown at the memorial.

Viktor had gently dragged you as best as he could to the Academy, not that you were fighting him. There was fuzziness that still lingered in your mind, and although his hand on your wrist felt like it had thorns, your willingness to fight had disappeared, your head tired and foggy.

Once inside the Academy and near the lab door, he silently opened it and led you inside, apologizing for the state of disarray. He had grabbed something from the back of a chair and mentioned a wheeled bench for you to sit in. You did, and he placed a blanket on your shoulders. Heavy, thick wool that smelled of mint and cinnamon.

You laid your head on the table, cheek touching the surface of it, your eyes looking out the window, letting the cold surface relieve you from the headache that was about to burst.

You started drawing runes on the table. You found, at some point during one of your worst nights, that the fluidic movement of the runes calmed you. Sort of like making lists in your head. Unless you intended for it to go free, it only shined for some seconds and dissolved into the air, creating blue embers that floated upwards and disappeared.

Viktor's eyes, you also noticed, behind the blue shimmer, never left the hand or the runes.

Looking around at your surroundings, you found that the lab was indeed a mess. Not that you thought that Viktor as Jayce could ever be tidy. No matter the universe, these two brainiacs have this whole lab in an 'organized chaos' situation.

“Your desk is a mess.” You noted, staring at a pile of blueprints, tools, and papers.

“I wasn’t expecting guests.” He told you quietly without malice.

You turned your head to lay your chin on your arm, looking at him as he sat in front of you, sipping his own cup of tea. A tired chuckle came out of your mouth at the picture of Jayce with a mustache drawing in ink.

“If you were, would you have cleaned up?” You blinked up at him.

“Maybe…” you blinked at him again, raising one eyebrow. He leaned into the table and smiled. “No. Actually, would you mind if I worked? I wasn’t expecting to come back to the lab tonight, but since I’m here... eh... might as well.”

“Pretend I’m not even here.” You told him, once more turning your head to lean your cheek into your arm and look out the window.

“If you want more tea, there’s more in the kettle.” He pointed to a small table next to where you sat that had a kettle and some half-eaten sandwich on top. 

You stared at the window again, waiting for the attack on the memorial to happen. However, by your mental calculations, it should have been done and over with.

Several minutes passed, the only sounds heard being Viktor’s writing and the handling of his current invention. When it was clear nothing was going to happen, you took a deep breath and looked at Viktor. 

(Evelyn Trouble - Made of Rain)

I haven't seen the moon in days... Been so busy changing my ways.

He had taken off his jacket and was hunched over his desk tinkering with something, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, and a small bandage wrapped around one of his forearms. The dark color of his shirt contrasted beautifully with his pale skin, and you noticed his vest hung open. His hair was a mess, sticking out in all places, especially the little hairs near his neck, the ones he liked to curl when he was thinking. You couldn’t help but give his back a sad smile.

I haven’t cried in forty days. Though inside I am made of rain.

Had this been another time, another place, you’d be leaning into his shoulder blades, annoying him, careful not to hurt him, only heavy enough for him to huff and puff at you being a nuisance. You realize now how much you missed this man.

Oh baby, baby, that’s ok. It has always been this way.

“I can feel you staring.” Viktor remarked, not looking up.

“You have no proof of such accusation.” You moved so you could lean your cheek into your hand.

He touched a magnifying glass the size of your hand with the tip of a screwdriver. It was pointing straight at you. You narrowed your eyes and scoffed, but the corners of your mouth tilted upwards. 

Slowly you rolled the bench towards his desk. The squeaking of the heels announced your movement, making him stop his work to look at you over his shoulder. It took you a comically long amount of time to reach him, making a curious Viktor swivel in his stool to look at what you were doing. Once you arrived, he shook his head and rolled his eyes, moving himself to the side so you could sit next to him.

“I am only allowing you to sit here because this is for your mother.” He announced going back to his calculations.

“Had no idea.” You placed an elbow on the table and leaned into your hand.

“Well, now you know.”

You looked at his desk, noticing the differences between your Viktor and this carbon copy of him. Less coffee mug stains, a lot more little notes, some with actual notes, others with his telltale hatching. His pencil cup was filled with colored pencils and colored chalk. The Viktor you knew was an avid fan of white chalk and charcoal pencils. Under piles of paper, you spotted a newspaper crossword puzzle half made, and on the corner of the desk, a dusty old framed photo of him and Jayce. You knew that photo from Jayce’s desk, not his. 

A purple pencil had rolled over as Viktor tried to reach for it and was about to fall from the table. Instinctively, you used magic to make it roll back to the inventor’s hand with a soft breeze. His neck snapped to look at you.

“What?” You blinked at the quickness of his movement.

“Nothing.” He cleared his throat and went back to his work.

A couple of minutes passed, and he seemed to have forgotten about your illegal use of magic inside the lab he shared with a councilor. You kept watching him work, his deft hands working with small wires and cogs. He was ambidextrous in this dimension. Your Viktor would be jealous.

“Thank you, Viktor.” You began, and he looked at you again, his pencil stopping midway through a note. “And I’m sorry.”

“Why are you sorry?” He turned fully to you, his knees bumping into yours. Neither of you moved away.

“You’re going to have to put up with a... healthcare provider...”

“I don’t even think Jayce saw us leave. Besides, you weren’t exactly... able... to leave for yourself. I would not be comfortable if I had just let you walk out in your state.”

“I’m sorry about that too. I haven’t had one of those in a while. I thought they were over..." You explained, soothing yourself by gently swaying the stool from side to side.

“Is it because of the…” He pointed to the hand. You shook your head. “Mmm, maybe you just need rest.”

“Pot meets kettle.” You blurted out and heard him chuckle.

“Actually, yes.” 

He went back to the tinkering, and you laid your head on your arms again, watching him work. There had always been something relaxing in watching either Viktor or Jayce work, especially if they were deep into what they were doing. 

There was this laser focus on the work; their movements became sharp and precise, and it was like they had honed in their bodies to only move when extremely necessary. Their expression changed as they worked, eyebrows furrowing, eyes widening, and a little smirk would grow on their lips when they figured out something or turn into a frown when they did something wrong. If you looked at them for a long time, it was like magic; their hands moved, and something appeared.

Once again, your mind started drawing runes on the table; this time you let them go. A pencil was being whooshed away from you, and when it rolled back, you did it again. 

“Does it hurt?” Viktor asked, not looking up from his paper.

“What?”

He opened his palm, the pencil he had stuck on his middle finger and thumb, and shook it. He meant your glowing member.

“Oh. No, not really.” You placed your glowing hand on the table, palm down, fingers spread. “It tingles, but… It’s not uncomfortable. It's soothing even.”

“Mmm… do you know why it glows?” He asked, his eyes landing on your hand, his paper forgotten. You chuckled.

This is what he wants: to study something new. You would happily oblige him; he had been incredibly accommodating. He had brought you to his second home and even let you sit next to him as he worked. 

To you, this—all of this—the sights, the sounds, the mess in the lab, the somewhat tired man sitting next to you—this was your normal.

To him you were a stranger; your presence was uncommon in his space, someone who was naturally yielding something he had only managed to create artificially.

“I do.” You turned your hand over, and the white line of the rune there glowed a little lighter. “The rune makes me able to…write…without physical means.”

“Fascinating.” He was about to touch a finger to your palm but stopped abruptly. “Will it hurt me?”

“I don’t know. Haven't slapped anybody with it yet.” You smirked; he rolled his eyes. 

Viktor grabbed a pencil and poked your hand. It felt normal. It was underwhelming even to you.

“So?” He asked, observing the tip of the pencil. 

“You poked me with a pencil, and that's exactly how it felt.”

“Mmm…” He ripped a little note sheet and placed it gently on your palm.

After a few seconds of it just lying there, with him looking at it intensely, you brought your head down next to his.

“Are you expecting the paper to burst into flames?” You whispered, and he looked at you and back to the paper and then back at you.

“Oh…this is…” He groaned and replaced the paper with his hand.

Your eyes widened, half scared of what would happen to him and half scared of what would happen to you. His palm was cold as usual, heavy and bony. You swallowed, taking deep breaths, waiting for his hand to turn to white and gold. 

“Surprisingly warm but seemingly harmless.” He said, taking his hand away, and you sighed in relief. He realized what he had done and looked at you. 

“I…apologize. I should have asked if I could.”

“It’s alright.” You cleared your throat.

“Would you mind if I asked you more questions about this? It will stay between us, but I think I can use it for the hex-”

“No,” you interrupted him. “You won’t use this on that.” 

“Do you know what hextech is…it’s a—”

“I know what hextech is, and I know how easy the hex-core is to corrupt.”

“Corruptible? No, no…It’s stable; we have been trying new things with it… and they run—"

“No, Viktor.”

“But... it... can be helpful to it.” He was starting to get frustrated, his forehead starting to crinkle as he narrowed his eyes.

“It might help, but what would be the costs? You’d add an unknown variant to a stable environment…” you felt proud being able to use his verbiage against his own argument. “The result could vary, and it could destroy everything. I’ll let you study the magic, but not for hextech. Not for use in hextech.”

“But…”

“I will not go anywhere near the hex-cores.” 

Viktor opened his mouth to argue, but after a while, he shut it and nodded. You knew, if he was anything like your Viktor, which it appeared so, there were some doubts about the usage of hex-core in more unstable scenarios. 

From where you were, it seemed the hex-core hadn’t been corrupted yet, but his leg had still been enhanced, which meant that the possibility was there. And you knew he knew that. Nothing was ever just pure. There is always a way to corrupt the incorruptible if anyone tries hard enough.

“I accept your terms.” 

“Good. Give me the notebook.” You mentioned the new notebook, and he slid it to you. You turned it over to the last page, writing something on it.

“Read it and sign it.” You gave him back the notebook and the pen you were holding.

“What?” He looked at what was written on it, his golden eyes moving through the lines. “I, Viktor, co-creator of Hextech, agree to investigate the matter previously discussed without using it to further my investigation of the hex-core.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow and looked at you, his face blank, unimpressed. You, on the other hand, smiled triumphantly.

“This does not look very legally binding.” He tilted his head to the side, still looking at the book.

“It may not look official, but it could be used against you after you sign it as an informal commercial agreement.” You added.

“No. To be an informal commercial agreement, I will have to receive something in return.”

“Alright. Write down what you want then.”

Without second thoughts, he grabbed the pen and scribbled something on the page, passing it over to you.

“In exchange, the subject of the study will be available whenever and answer all the questions asked truthfully.” You mentioned the pen, and he handed it to you.

You added ‘possible’ after ‘whenever and showed it to him.

“I’m not about to be woken up after you figure something out in the wee hours of the morning.” You explained.

“Eh...fair...”

He did a little VK on the side of the page, and you did your own signature.

“I guess we have a deal.” Viktor smirked, excitement contained behind his amber eyes.

• ············ •

“So…nothing happened?” Your mother asked, still in her sleeping attire, a purple silk robe wrapped around herself.

“Nope.” You drank some tea from the delicate yellow cup.

It was still early in the morning, but you had places to be at. When you asked Viktor when they should start, he mentioned the earliest convenience, pointing to the ‘contract.’ So, you had woken up before the sun came up and were already ready to leave, only stopping by the kitchen for breakfast. Everything was quiet until your sleepy mother walked in asking all kinds of questions.

“So, what now?” She was leaning on the kitchen counter, arms crossed, chewing on some vanilla cookies Voltaire had dropped.

“I don’t know.” You sighed. “I was counting on the events being the same and going from there.”

“I guess it’s good you're a musician…” You looked at her. “You’ll be playing it by ear.”

“Oh…by the gods…Mother…” You snorted and got up from the table as she snickered at the bad joke. 

“What? That was funny.”

You kissed her forehead and walked away from her, laughing on your way to the Academy.

• ············ • ············ •

@marshy-moo @victormydarling @blueesmiski @th3stup1dcat @22carolina08 @httpstes @that-one-shitty-blog @disa-pointment @sseleniaa @moons-lighttrail @aysluxe @fae-doodle @kitewa @local-mr-frog @bakusquadobsessed @cherry-cola-100 @optimistic-but-very-realistic @seeksrsnn @thecordelialetters @notsaelty @lansy-4 @ayupfrogg @sammypotato @wnbrw

[kings-highway]

Personally, I think Tendou is the kind of boyfriend who wears Ushiwaka's jersey even if it's not a game day. You'll can catch him wearing it while grocery shopping on a Tuesday morning, he's not trying to show off or be supportive it just genuinely makes him very happy to wear, and brings a sort of personal comfort along with it. Plus, it comes with the added bonus that if anyone asks about the sports team/ if he's a fan he gets an excuse to say "actually this is my best friend's jersey, didntya know?" and then have to really quickly correct and explain that yes he is a fan and "its a real jersey sorry that was confusing he's a real athlete this isnt like a hobby thing look you can google it and everything he's playing at the olympics- no I'm not lying to you why would I- yes I know this is an Adler's jersey and it says here that he's playing for Poland- no I know he moved - Well I haven't had a chance to get the new jersey it's a relatively recent change and what do you mean you don't believe me? Just because you think I didnt know which team he plays for? No I'm not lying to you! Why would I be lying to you? He's my boyfriend and-okay, yes, yes, I did say best friend the first time and now I'm changing it to boyfriend but that's just like a thing between us its fine- oh my god I'm not lying I swear he's a real athlete and he's my best friend and also my boyfriend and he's technically in Poland right now but he used to be- you know what I don't need to justify myself to you! Goodbye!"

[sharksandsquirrelsandsnakes-ohmy]

Read on AO3: The human bit the werewolf?

Stiles chews on things almost compulsively, always has.

He has a binky as a toddler that had to be ripped away crying and screaming even though he'd chew through them. He chewed the lid to every sippy cup he had and the straw to every cup after.

It was funny at first, they'd call him a little chipmunk or a bunny. When it inevitably got annoying, people made thinnly veiled insults about being like a poorly trained doy or a goat.

As a kid, he chewed on the loose-hanging bit of his backpack straps. He was once gifted a cross necklace and he'd always put it in his mouth to fidget with until his dad took it away during church. He chewed on his erasers. When they were taken away, he'd chew on the metal bit of his pencils, and then he'd start chewing on the pencil itself when they took that. If they ever took his pencils, he'd start chewing on his nails or his shirt.

He still chews on his pencils. In fact, he tends to rip the clip off the mechanical ones to chew on them. He’d stick the jeep key in his mouth and rub it between his teeth. At least now, teachers don't freak out if he has gum.

It'd always been like that. Stiles didn’t really know why or what drove it, probably his ADHD since he's never had an original experience in his life(barring the supernatural). That was only half of it, though.

Then there was the biting. And, if Stiles had been a werewolf, things would have gone awry much sooner.

He often got the urge to bite things or people he cared for– after many hors of stressed googling, he figured out it was probably just a form of cuteness aggression his brain didn't properly filter. That said, he used to regularly bite his parents and Scott when he was little, before he was taught not to.

Then he started dating Malia and it got worse. He stuffed the urge down for a while, chewing his pen or nails instead.

The first time he did bite her– it was more of a nip really– it was done playfully when they were talking and joking after having sex. He really thought he’d fucked up when she pinned him against the bed on reflex. Then she told him to do it again.

She'd tell him to bite her while they had sex so he, of course, thought it was a kink thing. When Malia would catch him staring at her and chewing on his pens, she'd glare at him. Apparently, she got annoyed with him and, in a very Malia way of dealing with things, pinned him down against his bed and interrogated him about it.

"Why do you only bite me when we have sex?"

"Wha—"

"I know you want to do it more often, so why don't you," she asked, glaring down at Stiles.

"You want me to bite you more," Stiles asked, shear confusion in his voice.

"Obviously, dumbass," Malia scoffed.

Stiles might he an idiot at times, but he's not too stupid to do what he's told, especially when it benefits him too. And, sure, it was weird the first few times he did it, but it also didn't at all. He’d occasionally just take Malia's hand in his and bring it to his mouth and nip at her fingers.

It was weirdly normal, an easy habit to fall into. The only thing that made it weird was when people stared at them for it, and Malia was quick to remedy that.

When they broke up, Stiles found himself back at square one, chewing his pencils and trying to ignore his brain. It mostly resulted in a lot of teeth grinding.

Stiles started to notice the need to chewnon something got worse around the pack. He tried to chalk it up to his subconscious reacting to Malia, which he knew was bull shit. He knew what it was, who it was.

When Derek would cross his arms and flex just perfect to frame the muscles in his arms and chest or when he'd use the hem of his shirt to wipe sweat off his face, showing off his ab-muscles, or when he'd wipe blood off his face with the back of his hand, or raise his eyebrows at Stiles in annoyance, or– honestly– just exist in the mear vicinity of Stiles, it was like he teeth itched to bite him. Just a little nip, as a treat, ya know? Sometimes the irony of it would hit him, Stiles wanting to bite the werewolf when it should be the other way around. Then again, Stiles had rather regularly bitten Malia, the were-coyote while they dated.

Stiles had problems. Psychological problems.

One late night of blurry-eyed research, Derek snuck in through Stiles's open window and found him asleep at his desk with about a million b's typed into the search bar. He sighed to himself and tried to wake Stiles up. He at least wanted to get the idiot to sleep in bed rather than hunched over the desk.

"Stiles, wake up," Derek whispered, not wanted to alert sheriff of his presence.

Stiles hummed and looked at Derek tiredly.

"Come on, let's get you to bed,"Derek grumbled, lifting Stiles out of the chair so he was standing up even though Derek was supporting most of his weight.

"Thankks Der," Stiles mumbled, letting himself be guided to bed. "Ya know, you’re cute when your nice," he hummed, not fully grasping how much he'd regret it later.

Derek didn't say anything more, rather he tried to ignore the sleepy mumblings.

"So cute I could just..." Stiles clicked his teeth together in a mock bite.

In his tired state, he fully missed how Derek’s face turned red. He tossed the blankets aside and plopped Stiles down on the bed. He didn't stick around much longer, deciding he'd get the info he came for second-hand from Scott.

Stiles noticed how Derek was pointedly absent absent in the next few days. If he wanted information from Stiles, he'd ask Scott or one of the betas to ask. Stiles could text Derek about something and would be lucky to receive a one word text back.

He remembered Derek swinging by and talking some but not about what. He was sure his big mouth was ruining things again, just not how bad.

Slowly, very slowly, Derek started being willing– and able– to be around again. Still, the others ketp giving him weird looks. He also noticed that Derek would look away everytime Stiles looked at his, as if he’d been caught staring.

Of course, things couldn't possibly be normal for more than five minutes in Beacon Hills and especially not with their little group. Inevitable, things went to Hell.

Stiles couldn’t have even told you what it was they'd been fighting– some goat or bull creature with horns. He remembered the horns because he'd gotten the business end of them and a matching concussion. Really, all he remembered was sitting on the cold bathroom floor, watching Derek’s muscle move under his skin as he patched up Isaac or Scott, maybe Jackson.

That bitting itch– pun intended– grew in his head and Stiles just... leaned forward and bit Derek’s arm. His skin was salty with sweat and he could feel the hair against his skin.

He didn’t realize how quiet or still it had gotten when he leaned back. He didn't realize for a while.

"Stiles, did you just bite me," Derek asked as if he couldn't believe what had just happened. He was caught between concern and confusion and arousal but was really trying to stick with concern.

"I did," Stiles asked back, surprised he'd acted on the thought. "Shit, sorry dude. I tend to— I don't know why... Fuck, my head hurts," he sighed, trying to form a coherent explanation.

Before Stiles could figure out how to put things into words, Scott was driving him to the hospital.

And, once again, Derek was avoiding him, only worse! Stiles couldn’t get an answer through text. Derek was never there whe the pack met up. When Stiles tried to stop by the loft to talk, Derek was never there. On top of which, Stiles swore he'd see Derek out of the corner of his eye but there was nobody there when he looked. He was genuinely starting to feel crazy.

He was sure he'd fucked up really bad when goddamn Peter showed up at the school to talk to him.

"Stiles, let's go for a walk," Peter said in his fake nice, higher than thou, tone.

"I’m not supposed to talk to creepy mass murders," Stiles said back, walking towards the jeep instead.

"Now, don't you want to know why my dear nephew has been avoiding you," Peter goaded and Stiles begrudgingly stopped walking. "I must say, you are a rather forward one. I didn’t expect it, though it seems quite obvious in hindsight," he mused.

Stiles shook his head. "What are you talking about?"

"From what I understand, you bit my dear nephew without forewarning and in front of everyone. Might as well have stuck your hand in his pocket and kissed him as well," Peter teased.

"Whoa, whoa whoa, what the Hell are you talking about," Stiles asked, starting to get a little freaked out.

"What, do you not do that anymore," Peter asked rhetorically. "I always thought putting your hand in someone else's pocket was rather uncomfortable, but it was a blatant sign that you were together."

"God, I know what the pocket thing means," Stiles said, squeezing the bridge of his nose. "But why are you bringing it up?"

"I know you're not a complete idiot. That's why you're not dead... Yet," Peter added. "You dated Malia so I'm sure you understand why biting Derek was such an ordeal."

"Not, I actually don't. Explaining things isn't exactly Malia's strong suit," Stiles shot back, internally kicking himself seconds after remembering Peter was Malia's birth father. "That didn't sound right. I—"

"Stop digging the hole now," Peter told him, holding a hand up. "Malia didn't tell you, and it was never anything you came across in your research?"

"Obviously not."

"Oh, dear boy," Peter said with a slimey smirk, "biting for us is the equivalent of announcing someone is your partner. However, I'm even more curious why you did it now..."

Stiles decided quickly he was not elaborating on the why. "So, I basically told everyone - including him - that Derek and I are dating, and he immediately had me swept off the ER and is now avoiding me? Nope, still weird," he said and walked off.

Peter, having not expected this turn of events and having no more cards to play, let him walk away. "Well, this will be interesting..."

[scoupsakakitty]

Where Friendship Meets Fate | idol!Mingyu x reader | fluff

The smell of sizzling meat filled the air as the group gathered around the grill, the small Korean BBQ restaurant bustling with energy. Y/N sat next to her childhood friend Dino, who had been hyping up this get-together for weeks.

“You’re going to love my hyungs,” Dino had promised with a grin when he’d invited her. “They’re fun, easy to talk to, and kind of chaotic—but in a good way.”

Now, Y/N was finally meeting them: Vernon, who exuded coolness but had an unexpectedly goofy side, DK, who was radiating sunshine with every word, and Mingyu, the tall, handsome guy sitting to her right. From the moment they introduced themselves, Y/N could tell that Dino hadn’t been exaggerating.

“Y/N!” DK exclaimed as she reached for the tongs to flip the meat. “Wait, wait! Let Mingyu do it. He takes grilling way too seriously.”

Mingyu, who was in the middle of pouring himself a drink, raised his eyebrows. “Excuse me? I’m not that bad.”

“You literally Googled the perfect grilling technique last time,” Vernon deadpanned, taking a sip of his soda.

“And let’s not forget the meat thermometer incident,” Dino added, smirking.

“Hey, that was one time!” Mingyu protested, taking the tongs from Y/N with a mock sigh. “Fine. I’ll do it. But only because I want us all to eat perfectly grilled meat.” He looked over at Y/N and gave her a wink. “You’ll thank me later.”

Y/N laughed, leaning back in her seat. “You sound like you’re auditioning for a cooking show.”

“That’s because he thinks he’s a professional chef,” Vernon teased.

“Let him be,” DK chimed in with a grin. “We all know he’s trying to impress Y/N.”

At that, Mingyu almost dropped the tongs, his ears turning red. “What?! I—no—I mean, come on, DK!”

Y/N chuckled, shaking her head. “Don’t worry, Mingyu. I’m already impressed by your dedication to grilling.”

“See?” Mingyu said, pointing at her with the tongs. “At least someone here appreciates me.”

As the evening went on, the banter continued, with everyone sharing stories and cracking jokes. Dino told embarrassing childhood anecdotes about Y/N, much to her dismay.

“And then,” Dino said, barely able to contain his laughter, “she got her foot stuck in the playground fence because she thought she could fit through it.”

Y/N groaned, covering her face with her hands. “Why do you always bring that up? I was six!”

Mingyu leaned closer to her, his voice teasing. “So, you’ve always been a bit of a risk taker?”

“More like reckless,” Vernon added with a chuckle.

“Okay, okay, enough about me,” Y/N said, pointing at Dino. “Remember when you—”

“Don’t even start,” Dino cut her off, laughing as he held up his hands.

The conversation shifted again, and somehow, Y/N and Mingyu found themselves deep in a discussion about cooking.

“Do you cook often?” Mingyu asked, turning his attention to her while the others debated the best karaoke songs.

“Yeah, when I have time,” Y/N said. “It’s kind of my escape after a long day.”

“Same here,” Mingyu said, nodding. “It’s like therapy, but with food.”

Y/N smiled. “Exactly. Though I’ve had my fair share of disasters in the kitchen.”

“Disasters are part of the process,” Mingyu said. “It just means you’re experimenting.”

“Sounds like something a food scientist would say,” Y/N teased.

Mingyu laughed, a deep, warm sound that made her stomach flutter. “Maybe. Or maybe I’m just looking for someone to try my experiments with.”

DK, overhearing, leaned over with a sly grin. “Are you asking her to be your cooking partner, Mingyu?”

“Mind your business, hyung,” Mingyu shot back, but he was smiling.

————————————————————————————-

By the time they finished eating, everyone was full and in high spirits. Dino suggested they hit a karaoke bar, and the group eagerly agreed.

The karaoke bar was vibrant and loud, the perfect setting for their group’s chaotic energy. DK and Dino immediately grabbed the microphones, belting out dramatic ballads and over-the-top dance moves that had everyone in stitches. Vernon followed up with a rap song, his surprisingly good flow earning him cheers.

Y/N and Mingyu stayed near the back of the room, occasionally joining in but mostly talking and laughing. Mingyu was easy to talk to, and his teasing, while relentless, only made the conversation more fun.

“So,” Mingyu said during a lull in the music, “are you not singing because you’re shy, or because you can’t reach the mic stand?”

Y/N gasped, pretending to glare at him. “That’s it. Give me the mic. I’m about to prove you wrong.”

Laughing, Mingyu handed her the microphone. She chose a playful, upbeat song and sang with so much enthusiasm that DK and Dino joined in as backup dancers. When the song ended, the room erupted into applause.

“Okay, I take it back,” Mingyu said, grinning. “You can definitely hold your own.”

“Thank you,” Y/N said, pretending to bow. “I expect an apology for the height joke, though.”

Mingyu smirked. “Don’t push your luck.”

————————————————————————————-

Hours later, the group finally decided to call it a night. Outside the karaoke bar, everyone began saying their goodbyes.

“I’ll drive Y/N home,” Mingyu offered casually, twirling his car keys in his hand.

“You don’t have to—” Y/N started, but Dino cut her off.

“Take the offer. You know you hate walking home late at night.”

With a reluctant smile, Y/N nodded. “Alright, thanks, Mingyu.”

————————————————————————————-

As they drove through the quiet streets, the atmosphere in the car was warm and easy. Mingyu turned on some soft music, and they chatted about everything from their favorite foods to their most embarrassing cooking failures.

When they pulled up to her building, Mingyu turned off the engine and glanced over at her.

“I had fun tonight,” he said, his voice soft but sincere.

“Me too,” Y/N replied, smiling.

Mingyu hesitated for a moment before pulling out his phone. “Can I get your number? You know, in case I need someone to taste-test my next cooking experiment.”

Y/N laughed. “Only if you promise not to call me short again.”

“No promises,” Mingyu teased, handing her his phone.

After she saved her number, Mingyu leaned back with a satisfied smile. “How about this: we cook together sometime? You can teach me how to not burn pancakes.”

“Deal,” Y/N said, opening the car door.

As she stepped out, Mingyu called after her, “Oh, and don’t worry—I’ll bring a stool so you can reach the top shelves.”

Y/N groaned, but her laughter echoed in the quiet night.

As Mingyu drove away, he couldn’t stop smiling. For him, the evening had been more than fun—it felt like the start of something special.

————————————————————————————-

[basedhighsenberg]

Asserting dominance? Lol. I'm merely pointing out that you're factually wrong. You feeling inferior because of it isn't my problem. I don't have that power over you.

#it's strange how you know so much about pornstars

So is this you admitting you were wrong, or you pretending like you didn't just presume to "know so much about" a pornstar such that you're arguing with multiple people about what you think you know?

#even stranger how nothing you said is true lol

There is no proof the STD test as listed in the OP post is true.

Her mother is not her manager.

Her parents did not encourage her to start OF.

There is no evidence she was ever sexually trafficked or groomed by her parents or anyone else.

These are facts. You are mad cause you are angry and it could have all been prevented if you had just done a basic Google search. You can do it right now in fact, there's nothing stopping you.

[gravelgraveyard]

Samantha Rupnows ‘mainfesto’ snippets are shit from a butt.

There’s no genuine anger. It reads as though shes trying to convince herself of what it says, AND SHE WROTE IT. It feels like she googled “school shooter stereotypes” “Edgy” and then formed her opinions through the AI google results.

I’m not sure if it’s linked to her actual manifesto, but the snippet I’ve seen floating of her talking about KAM. The men will use that snippet as fuel to the fire of their women-hating. Because you a fifteen year old girl cannot exterminate all men. It becomes another reason for men to justify hating ‘crazy feminists’. Also she says all this but then goes against her own message by having a boyfriend. Good job.

Truly I do hate to say this because I feel like no one (even me) holds this energy with any other SS and it really does boil down to the issue of misogyny. Had a teenage boy with the same motivations and TCC fanblog shot up that school there would be a kawaii edit and at-least five different stim boards on my feed by this morning. But instead I have seen nothing but negative comments. Which I feel like we don’t see with other male shooters even tho they are...ya know, school fucking shooters. Idk this case is still super super fresh so my opinion and others opinions may change with more information but for now that’s my half-baked dissertation.

I feel bad for whoever runs KMFDMs PR team right now.

[morteisshipping]

So, about Blue Willow Leaves...

I was rereading S-class webtoon/manhwa again, since I finished the translated novel and is currently waiting for updates again. Of course, as expected, I cried when 25 yo Yoohyun died.

After knowing things that you do in the novel, his perspective and what he went through as he was reshaped and molded by Yoojin, I grew a lot of sympathies with him, even knowing that he is not entirely human - maybe because he is NOT entirely human. He has been enduring and holding himself back since after his birth because he loves being loved by his hyung.

"No living creatures shuns being loved."

And so, Yoohyun molded himself as per Yoojin's love. A fire molding himself into a polite, sweet child, because that's what his brother wants him to become - to grow up to be. Even though he knows he can find relief and ecstasy by fulfilling his fiery nature, Yoohyun holds himself back, because he values the love his brother gives more than that brief sense of relief.

Understandably, people in the comment are upset with Yoohyun's choices, as I was, but Yoohyun was a child, barely an adult, when he decided to go no contact with his hyung, who is his entire world that he tries to protect.

For Yoohyun, he is okay if his hyung hates him, rather than seeing him dead. I've seen much of this tropes with parent characters as well; many of them will risk their children hating them, even going as far as cutting their connection, as long as they're safe. This is what Yoohyun did because he deemed the threat of the dungeon and the Transcendants are too great for his F-class brother.

Now knowing that Yoohyun is actually a creature more akin to fire than human, it got me thinking; all of his attributes and his skills are connected to fire somehow, except this one skill:

Blue Willow Leaves

This skill allows him to acquire flight-like skill by stepping on them on air. This is a skill that he acquired not long after his awakening, I think. The longest, I think before the three years he's gone no contact with Yoojin, because he did use this power after regression against the Golden-Beaked Maiya - just not proficient enough to know how it's used. Noting that, I think Yoohyun got the skill maybe recently because he had no idea how to use it and only used it to blind his enemies. Or maybe he got that for a while but never actually uses it in combat so he never actually explore over what to use them for.

Either way... If Yoohyun is a creature of fire, then why does he have the Blue Willow Leaves skill?

It is said that skills a person awakened to is actually just an essence of who that person is, just enhancing it and making it their identity and power. Now, we know that Yoohyun is literally the personification of Fire. But then, why Blue Willow Leaves? Why not Blue Fire like the one Azula wields? Or Blue Spark? Or Blue Jet Fire that he can use to fly around like a jetpack? Or something of that note - as long as it's fire.

Why leaves of all things? The thing that the fire eats for breakfast?

In fact, Willows are the opposite of fire attribute. Willows are of the Salix genus. The name Salix, that is used for different kinds of Willow species, may originates from Celtic language where Sal means "near" and lis means "water". It's also referring to the tree's natural habitat. (https://simplybeyondherbs.com/willow-tree-symbolism/)

So because of that contradiction, I asked Google about the meaning of symbolism for Willow Leaves, and my jaw dropped:

It's a symbol of mourning and sorrow.

Yoohyun has been grieving. We do not know what he is grieving about but I'm pretty sure it's about his hyung. Because during that time apart, he was no longer part of his hyung's family. He thought that his hyung hates him and will no longer loved him.

But he still thinks, "it's fine, as long as my brother is alive and safe."

Yoohyun has been grieving. His grief is so profound that it is now embedded into his being, shaped by the guilt and sorrow towards his hyung and is now represented by a skill, which is the Blue Willow Leaves.

It's also important to note that we first see Yoohyun wields this skill the first time (in manhwa/webtoon) as he was saving his brother from Lauchitas dungeon. Of course by then he was already proficient but I have no doubt that meaning is clearly implied by the webtoon authors Seri and Biwan.

Do you know what else I found about Willow symbolisms?

It is often engraved on tombstones.

Is it possible that Willow Leaves actually foreshadowing his death all this time?

But that's just my theory. A MANHWA THEORY!

Just for the record, I do not condone what Yoohyun did to Yoojin as something right. He just did what he thought he was best. It was not, of course, but he tried his best. True, everything could've been solved if the two of them just TALK. But he did his best, as best as he could, as a non-human person who misses social cues of human society and messed up sometimes. So I cannot in my conscience ignore Yoohyun's effort before the dungeon break and sufferings in pre-regression timeline.

Of course I cannot say nor compare his sufferings to Yoojin. I just want all of the readers to remember that Yoohyun also suffered. Maybe not the same way, or the same intensity, but he'd been holding himself back for 25 years for the sake of his brother without gotten any kind of relief or reprieve.

Besides, everyone suffers in this novel. Even Sung Hyunjae suffers on his own for some degree. It's not our place to compare whose suffering is greater.

I already know that there is no way Yoojin can go back to bury his dead 25-year-old brother, but maybe we can have a moment of silence for the 25-year-old Han Yoohyun who willingly sacrificed himself so that his world - his only world that comprised only one person - Han Yoojin, stays safe.

As an ending note, please enjoy this picture of these two doomed brothers.

[diaferia-dhades]

Gardian de Lumiere I

Xavier x MC

Warning: Fluff, mentions of abuse

Word Count: 1952, no proofreading

Preview: MC snuck out of her home from her father who pays no attention to her. She ran into a gentleman who he called himself Lumiere. She felt she had fallen for him...

Gardian de Lumiere is Bodyguard Xavier x MC where MC is the daughter of the duke from the East. MC took Lumiere as her bodyguard, completely unaware of his identity.

Disclaimer: Gardian de Lumiere means Light Guardian in french. I just use google translation. If I got this wrong, please do let me know.

It had been my nightly routine. I snuck out to have my alone time, away from the stuffy mansion. I go to random places at night and today I chose the pub.

"Have you heard?"

"Oh, yea, the crowned prince will have his coronation soon. I wonder what he looks like."

I quietly sip my drink as I listen to the gossip. Recently, it had been the crowned prince. Several hundreds of years ago, a horrible incident happened to the royal family where someone assassinated the crowned prince as soon as he was born. The royal family struggled for years, trying to put another crowned prince for the future throne. Ever since then, the royal family never publicized the birth of the crown prince, the name and face of the crown prince until the prince could fend for himself.

"Are you here by yourself?" A gentle voice asked.

I looked up to see a young man with soft blonde hair and blue eyes. He looked so handsome I nearly was captivated by his beauty. "Yes... I mean no. I'm here with my uh, brother." I lied. I inwardly winced on how bad my first impression is. Considering how handsome the young man is, I wore very plain clothing, just so I could blend in. The young man, however, dress a bit nicer than me.

He chuckled, "Alright. Would you and your brother mind if I sit next to you?"

I shook my head, "Go ahead."

He nodded a thanks and sat at the bar stool. "Something light for me please." He said to the bartender. Then he faced me, "What's your name?"

"I uh..." I racked my brain for a fake name. "Tara." I quickly used my maid's name. Forgive me, Tara!

He softly chuckled, "It's nice to meet you, uh Tara. I'm Lumiere."

I nodded, "It's also nice to meet you, Lumiere."

Then we sat there in silence as I didn't want to talk too much, afraid I might give my identity away.

"Where do you live?" Lumiere asked. "I live near the capital."

I nodded. Of course he does. He have that accent where people from the capital are from. "I'm toward the west." I lied again.

"The west? That's very far from here!"

"Yes, I travel for a living."

"That sounds fun. I would love to travel with you."

"Sorry, I travel alone." I quickly said.

Lumiere cocks his head slightly, "You don't travel with your brother?"

I paused, realizing the mistake I made. I cleared my throat, "I mean I travel alone with my brother."

Lumiere smiled, "I see."

I nodded and we both sat there in silence again. I checked my pocket watch and realized I should get going. The gate will close soon and climbing the gate is a pain.

I got up, put the money on the counter, and looked at Lumiere, "Sorry, I had to go."

"Would I be able to meet you again?"

I shook my head, "Sorry, I have to travel toward the north." I lied. Again.

Lumiere nodded, "It was nice meeting you while it lasts."

I nodded, "Good night." I didn't even wait for his response when I fast walked toward the door.

I lay on my bed and sighed in relief. I managed to get back into the mansion before the gate closed.

I wasn't suppose to be out this late. But I always snuck out. No one really cared anyway. My father hated me. He wished his first born to be a son, but obviously, he didn't get what he wanted. And when he did get a son, he spoiled that boy rotten and that boy is barely able to walk.

I wouldn't even be surprised if he had forgotten about me. Sometimes I wonder if I'm really his daughter. The way he treated me is no better than the maids. Knocked things off my hand, slapping me across the face, shoving me around.

Then my mind floated to the young man I saw at the pub. He was so enchanting. His face looked so soft and gentle. I wished I'm able to see him again. However, knowing the power that my father holds, I fear my father would do something to Lumiere.

Should I run away? Should I try to find Lumiere and ask him to take me to the capital? Away from here?

As I ponder those thought, I slowly drift into sleep.

I flipped through the page of the book. It's late afternoon. I have quite a boring routine. As soon I wake up, I do my side of the work as the temporary head of my family until my half brother reached the age to be able to take over. Then I would go to my studies. Then after that, I have all the time to myself. Which is a couple of hours before dinner. Then right dinner, I prep everything for tomorrow. Sneak out the house, come back, go to bed, wake up, then start the same routine.

I typically spent my free time before dinner to read. I had already read all the books in the mansion, so this library is the go to for reading.

"Good afternoon to you," My head whipped toward the familiar voice. My eyes widen to see Lumiere standing over me.

He looked at me up and down, "You dressed very well to be traveling."

I inwardly cursed myself for not changing something far less extravagant. Last night, I dress too shabby. Today I dress too extravagant. I opened my mouth, trying to say an excuse or another lie, but came up empty so I closed my mouth and turned my head away.

He softly chuckled, "Would you mind if I sat next to you to read?"

I wanted to say no, but I ended up nodding.

"Thanks," He smiled and sat down. Then he looked at my dress. I cursed myself more for wearing a dress that clearly showed which region I was from. "Are you from here?"

I sighed, "You already seen through all my lies. Why ask?"

Lumiere shrugged, "Probably I wanted some truth from you."

I stare into his sky blue eyes, it twinkled slightly. It is so...

"Tara?" He waved his hand in front of my face, interrupting my though.

I cleared my throat, "My name isn't Tara. It's MC."

Lumiere looked at me like as if he knew, but he still chuckled and pretend he didn't know. "Should we reintroduce ourselves, MC?" He extend his hand toward me. "I'm Lumiere, it's nice to meet you, MC."

I smiled and shook his hand. His hand is so soft but firm. "It's nice to meet you, Lumiere."

When I let go of his hand, I crave for his touch again. Trying to distract myself from him, I went back to reading. However, I couldn't read a single word in as my minds are completely distracted by Lumiere's presence. At the corner of my eyes, I catch him staring at me time to time.

One moment it was late afternoon, the next moment, the sky turned dark. I quickly jumped up, "Sorry! I have to go!" I panicked. If my father found out that I arrive late for dinner, he'll start throwing a tantrum.

I quickly shoved the book back to the bookshelf and bolt toward the entrance. Lumiere followed close behind, "Wait, wait! Let me escort you!"

I turned around to tell him it wasn't necessary, but I end up tripping on my dress and I started to topple over.

"MC!" I heard him yell. I closed my eyes, embracing myself from impact when I felt a strong arm around my waist. I opened my eyes to find Lumiere holding my waist, just enough for me not to fall on my face.

"I uh, thanks?" Feeling the heat on my face. I wanted to dig a hole and climb in and die. I was too embarrassed to face him.

"You're welcome." Lumiere gently put me onto my feet. "I was going to ask if I can escort you. It had gotten very late."

I nodded, "Thanks."

"My pleasure." Lumiere smiled gently.

We were in my house's back garden, which is practically a small wood. I then realized that I shouldn't have him escort me. He'll find my identity really quick if he does. I turned and faced him, "Um, I can by myself from here."

Lumiere blinked, "Here? In the middle of a wood?"

I quickly nodded, "Yes. No problem!"

Lumiere looked at me, concerned. "I don't think this is a good idea. We are in the middle of nowhere. What if you get lost?"

I quickly shook my head, "don't worry! I know my way back."

Lumiere shook his head, "I'm sorry, but I don't think its right for me to leave you here."

I felt slightly frustrated. Then I heard shouts from the distance. I can clearly recognize it belonged to the guard's captain.

Bastard father! You sent out guards to find me?

I started to panick. How would father react that I'm in the middle of the wood with a stranger? A man no less! I looked around, panicked stricken.

"MC?" Lumiere looked at me with both confusion and concern. "Is everything alright?"

I shook my head then nodded my head. "Um... um..."

"She's here!" Both Lumiere and I whipped our head toward the sound. "We found her!"

Oh no...

A group of guards appear. As soon as they saw Lumiere, they all unsheathed their weapons.

Oh, no!

I quickly grabbed Lumiere and shoved him behind me. "He's with me! He's with me!" I quickly yelled.

The captain walked toward me, "Who is he?"

"My bodyguard." I quickly answered.

"I didn't know your father assigned you a bodyguard."

"I assigned myself one."

The captain narrowed his eyes. I gulped, fearing that he won't buy my lies. Then the captain nodded, "I understand. You're late for dinner. The duke is not happy."

I nodded, "I know. I'll go there right now." I tugged Lumiere along the way back home with the guards behind us.

Lumiere leaned in and whispered, "I didn't know you're the duke's daughter."

"Now you do. I'm sorry I dragged you into this." I whispered back.

Lumiere quietly chuckled, "I wouldn't mind to be your bodyguard."

I rolled my eyes, and whispered, "Trust me, you'll regret it as soon as you know what my father is capable of."

Lumiere eyes twinkled, "Oh? Sounds like a nice challenge."

I tugged Lumiere to the common room for a guard. "Stay here until I come back. Don't do anything funny."

Lumiere nodded, "Yes, my lady."

I closed the door and walked toward the dining hall. I took a deep breath as the servants opened the door. I walked toward the dining table.

"Where have you been." My father said. It wasn't a question, but a statement. As if saying the answer better be a good one.

I curtseyed, "My apologies, father. I was reading and lost track of time."

"I don't care. Get over here and eat. I have something to talk to you about." He said coldly.

I nodded and walked toward the dining table. The air is so suffocating, I felt indigestion.

"I need you to go to the north. I need you to talk to the duke at the north." He glared at me. "I want him to work with me. Do you understand?"

I nodded.

He suddenly grabbed my chin and I gasped. "Do you understand how important this is?"

I nodded. "Y-yes."

"You do in every power to make sure he agrees to work with me. I don't care what you do."

I nodded again. "Y-y-yes, father."

He finally let go of my face. "Good. I need his army."

My hands froze. Army. Is father declaring war?

With amusement in his eyes, he looked at me, "Do you know why?"

I shook my head.

He scoffed, "The royal family had been on the throne long enough. It's time for them to step down." He stood up from the chair. "This country needs a new change. A new leader."

"Who?"

He looked at me, "Me."

I felt sick. I wanted to throw up right there and now.

"The royal family had been like flies. Buzzing around my territory. Like as if it's their own." Then he paused. "I said too much. You leave tomorrow."

I nodded. "Can I choose who I bring?"

My father walks toward the entrance, clearly uninterested in my question, "Do whatever you want. I don't care. I expect good news."

The dining hall had become too suffocating to eat. I felt sick.

I wanted to kill him.

I wanted him dead.

[thelightsandtheroses]

two: so pack up your car, put a hand to your heart

Call It What You Want | Frankie Morales x OFC

Summary: Daisy never expected to move to Florida but recovering from burnout in the sunshine state seems a good enough plan. Years after the death of her estranged half-brother, Tom, she finds herself agreeing to move in with Frankie Morales, Tom’s former army colleague and friend. Falling for her roommate, who is definitely keeping secrets about your brother’s death, may not be the best way to ensure a fresh start, or is it actually what they both needed all along? Chapter Warnings: 18+ blog MDNI, mentions of previous canon death and grief, references to corporate burnout, I feel like firefighter pilot Frankie needs his own warning anyway, implied but not stated former addiction (Frankie) Word Count: 3.6k

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The apartment is light and a faint scent of citrus cleaner lingers as I step inside, placing my keyring in my jeans pocket for the moment. I’m not sure if Frankie has a table or a key hook or some specific ritual I need to follow so my jeans feel safer.

The furniture is neutral, IKEA and bland. It’s the sort of furniture you buy when you’ve had to move out of a place, when you just need function over style and quickly. I’m met by an abundance of white lacquered wood, pairing well with the magnolia walls that don’t scream, but screech ‘I’m a rental’.

There’s one elderly looking bromeliad in pride of place on the dining table. It’s the only greenery or plant in the whole apartment so far. It’s struggling too - all wilting leaves, with a general aura of suffering and gloom.

“I don’t have a green thumb,” Frankie says as he walks past the table. “Do you?” he asks with hope in his eyes and running a hand over one particularly sad looking leaf. “Felix is judging me so hard for this plant dying and I’m trying to keep it alive, I swear I am, but it - I think it hates me.”

“It hates you?”

“It’s deliberate now, it has to be. I even googled what to do and it got worse, Daisy. The thing has a vendetta against me. ”

“I can try, but I’m not sure. I’ve never really done much with plants. I had a friend who had a dozen plants in her apartment, but I just … I told myself I didn’t have the time.”

“I like the idea of them,” Frankie says gently, “Just can’t keep them alive.”

“Sometimes it goes that way.”

“Yeah.” There’s a microscopic shift in Frankie’s expression, he looks down and then back up again and I wonder what secrets lie beneath his inscrutable expression.

“It sounds like it’s a formidable nemesis anyway.”

“Huh? Oh, the plant? Yeah, for sure. It’s vicious.”

“Looks it.“

Frankie smirks and shakes his head before he claps his hands together. “So, tour? Is your stuff in the car - I’ll help you bring it up after.”

“Sure. That would be great. I don’t think I bought too much with me. Well, okay the car is pretty packed, but it’s not a big car.”

He raises an eyebrow and I steel my gaze, refusing to break. I don’t own that much stuff but I’m not ex-military, I don’t know how to pack my life into a single rucksack.

“This is the living area, as you can see, and the kitchen. I keep my schedule on the fridge and uh, when I have Felix too. You can add your schedule if you want to.”

“Right - do you want me not to be here when your son is here or -”

Frankie pauses. “Daisy, where would you go?”

“I could stay with Molly again, or maybe get a motel, or -”

“It’s fine. D’you have any allergies?”

“Allergies?”

“Food and stuff?” Frankie asks. “I should have asked. Sorry, it’s a firefighter thing, I go to a lot of allergic reactions.”

“No allergies that I know of. Except hay fever but you’re not storing grass pollen in your fridge, right?“

“Not this week,” he says with a mischievous smile.

Frankie opens the fridge. “I’ve kept some space for you just here in and in the freezer. There’s a couple of cupboards too. I’m pretty easy about if we want to get the same milk and stuff. Ollie, my old roommate, used to but I don’t know if you like a particular type.”

“No that sounds good.” In all honesty, this feels unfamiliar. In college I used a different milk to everyone else so I had to buy my own, and I’ve not been a roommate since then so I can’t tell if Frankie’s just being polite, or it’s genuine and a standard roommate occurrence.

I look around at the grey laminate work surfaces which are fairly uncluttered, with the exception of a kettle, and a tragic, elderly coffee pot on one of them.

“So, can we plug in my coffee machine there too? You can use it as well, of course.”

“How fancy is your machine? Are there a lot of buttons?” I realise Frankie’s a person built by necessity. He needs the ability to have coffee quickly, his apartment is styled for function and I start to see the Delta force history in his actions.

“It’s an espresso machine but I have a V60 for pour over too - that can live in a cupboard though. You could use that one though.”

“I remember you mentioning that it’s better than an Americano.”

“You should try it,” I say with a teasing smile. I found some really good locally roasted coffee beans with nutty and juicy blackberry notes last week that I know would be perfect for a pour over.

“Not even unpacked and the coffee judgment starts, huh? You did warn me.”

I raise your hands and shrug, aiming for insouciance but I’m not sure of the execution.

“Of course you can put your coffee machine here,” Frankie says. “So, I think the kitchen is self explanatory - fire blanket and mini extinguisher is in this cupboard.” Of course it is.

I look back at the fridge and take in the schedule he mentioned with scratchy writing and a purple circle around every time Felix is mentioned. Next to it is are several child’s drawings, include one of what I assume is Frankie and Felix at the beach. It’s the first truly personal touch I’ve seen in the apartment so far.

Frankie starts to move to one of the four closed doors in the apartment. “Bathroom is just over here - we only have one and I’m gonna warn you that the shower pressure is temperamental.”

“Temperamental?”

“I’ve managed to find a sweet spot - sweetish - for it but if you change the temperature it will go.“

“Oh. How’s it set then?”

Frankie pauses thoughtfully, one hand on his hip as he clearly grapples with how to classify it. “Hot enough I guess. If it’s a problem, we’ll look at it but I’m trying to avoid calling the landlord because every single time he does something he wants to raise the rent and - this is a good deal and it’s in the same neighbourhood as Felix’s school so -“

“Let’s not rock the boat?”

“If it’s scalding, you gotta tell me though. We’ll sort it. We can figure out a system and rota if we need it, but I don’t think it should be a big problem.”

“So my room’s this one and Felix is next door.” Frankie doesn’t open either door. “I’m not honestly sure his room is big enough to be a bedroom but - I offered him my room, but -“ He trails off and shakes his head briefly as if remembering where he is before pointing to the other side of the apartment. “There’s your room but I wanna show you the balcony first.”

There’s a child’s lock on the balcony door which isn’t surprising but it speaks to the way I can see Frankie’s job bleeding through into his life. The balcony is fairly small with two lawn chairs and a plastic table that holds an ashtray and a battered paperback. It lacks character but there’s potential. This could be the best spot of the whole apartment.

Ahead of me, I take in the gentle pink tones of the arriving sunset, palm tree fronds and the painted concrete jungle of buildings in the neighbourhood.

“I see what you mean.”

“Oh yeah?”

“About the coastal view. It’s a bit hidden away.”

“You need to be very flexible and daring to actually see it. Probably a contortionist.”

“A little out of my skillset then. Well, at least I can drive down to the beach when I want to. That’s something.”

“It is nice out here though, mornings and evenings - you can’t hear the traffic and it’s … calm.”

“Perfect reading spot?” I ask, indicating the book on the table.

“When the mood hits.”

“Do you smoke?” I point at the ashtray and he looks down, almost abashed.

“I’m on the gum now, my captain took a grim view of me being a smoker so I ended up quitting. Good thing, I guess but … I don’t know, can’t bring myself to get rid of it.”

“You need the illusion of choice?”

“Precisely.” Frankie shrugs. “Doesn’t make any sense.”

“I don’t think it has to.”

“How about you?”

“Ah, I am one of those annoying people who gets labelled a never smoker when their doctor writes about them.”

“Ah, you probably get described as a delightful lady whom it was a pleasure to meet with too,” he says with a smile.

“Ah, so you did run a background check on me after all!”

Frankie’s laugh is magnetic, the way it makes his eyes crinkle and his face just light up. He runs a hand through his hair and smiles and I feel like there’s trouble in those gestures, in that smile. He does it in a way that implies he doesn’t realise they have any power, not like Benny whose flirtatious nature seeps through every interaction on purpose. Between that and the firefighter position, I bet Frankie is popular.

It’s something we haven’t talked about. Date protocols or whether there are boyfriends or girlfriends lurking in either of our lives. I assume he knows I’m single, I was living with my dead brother’s ex wife after all and I feel like I exuded desperation to move out that made my single status loud and clear. All I know about Frankie is he has an ex and they share a child. It feels awkward to ask though.

”No regrets so far then?” he asks, breaking me out of my reverie.

“Hmm, not with this balcony. I mean, I haven’t seen my room in person yet so-”

“Then let’s move on.”

My room looks out to the car park side of the building, but still remains light and airy. The walls are a traditional shade of magnolias the furniture a glossy white, and while the bed looks like it may have seen better days, this room is my space. I start to picture how I’ll make this my own space, the personal touches and decorations to turn this from a bland rental room into something that can feel like home. A rug here, a lamp here, my throw on the bed. Small changes that will inject some personality into this bland canvas.

“No regrets?” Frankie asks with a smile.

“Nope, I’m good. I’m glad we’re doing this, Frankie.”

“Me too. Okay, let’s get your stuff then.”

By the time I’ve unpacked the essentials, the night has fully set in. I’m browsing the internet looking at van listings that meet my budget requirements.

It’s not looking great right now.

It seemed like a great idea to move away from the city I was in, to leave that corporate world that ate me up away and instead do something different, with something I was passionate about. It was a romantic idea and the practicalities are starting to hit home. I’m still temping in offices and I need to get moving with this idea. I don’t want to get stuck again.

I’m scrutinising a horse carriage when I hear a knock at my door.

“Come in,” I call.

Frankie loiters in the doorway, eyes raising up in surprise as he takes in the progress and the chaos I’ve left in my room.

“There’s still a lot to do. Tomorrow though.”

“Yeah, I was honestly just impressed you’d got this far. Think I’ve made the bed and that’s about it.”

“Are you more of a minimalist?”

”I think the military drummed the idea of function over style into us pretty well over the years. So, I’d ask if you were settling in but this speaks for itself.”

“Thanks, I think.”

“Have you eaten? I was going to get pizza and I thought I’d ask if you want to join.”

“It is my first night here, we should mark it with something.”

“Exactly.”

“But you helped me lug everything upstairs, shouldn’t the pizza be on me?” I stand up and join Frankie in the main living area.

“Nah, next time. Unless you like a hideous pizza combo.”

“I think pineapple on pizza is a branch of the Geneva convention”

“Olives?”

“I actually love them.”

Frankie smiles. “Yeah, me too. Okay. I’ll get one veggie and one meat then.”

“Can I at least get the drinks? I can run out and get something if you want.” I volunteer because I don’t Frankie to think I’m not going to be fair, not going to contribute, especially when he’s extended this gesture.

Frankie pauses awkwardly and the atmosphere in the room shifts infinitesimally. I feel like I’ve instantly made a mistake.

“Sure, but I’m just going to have a soda. I’m uh, on shift tomorrow.” He sighs heavily. “Actually, that’s a lie. Well, I am on shift but I don’t drink right now. I should be upfront about that.”

“Okay, that’s fine. We can stick with soda. I mean I can also offer some disgusting green powder for water - lots of fibre and ashwagandha.”

“That sounds horrific.”

“Isn’t wellness?”

His face lightens slightly. “I’ll stick with soda.”

“Good choice.”

Tom’s voice drifts into my memory without warning. I’m loitering in a hallway avoiding people and he’s in the kitchen.

"Catfish is one of us, Will, but c’mon we all know he’s a bit of a fuck up right now.”

“C’mon, Tom.”

“I know, I know. If he says he can keep it together then fine.”

It must have been at Tom’s birthday years and years ago. I had spent most of the time away from everyone, awkward and uncomfortable around people I didn’t know, my work phone a barrier between anyone who tried to talk to me. I’d only been invited because our father was there and because I was in the area with work. I try and remember that moment further, to pick up on the missing context but nothing comes to mind.

The ashtray, the awkwardness over his admission of not drinking, Tom’s words. Jigsaw pieces start to fit together and create a picture of Frankie I didn’t expect. I don’t say anything immediately, not sure if I’m assuming something or if I’ll just make the situation more awkward.

“Would you prefer if we don’t keep alcohol in the house?“ I ask carefully.

Frankie looks down, smiling sadly and then meets my gaze. “Drink - it wasn’t really a problem for me, they say it’s just easier to avoid it all, ‘cept smoking apparently, didn’t even start that until - well, it doesn’t matter,” Frankie says softly, “Daisy, it’s your home now too, you can drink whatever you want to and I’ll be fine.”

“I didn’t ask what I wanted though.”

“I’m good with it.” He pauses. “But thanks for asking though. Right, I’ll uh, order the pizza.”

“No pineapple?”

“No pineapple.”

“So tell me about the coffee thing,” Frankie says, taking another slice of pizza from the box in front of us.

“I just want to try something different. I know how to be a corporate person, but i don’t … it’s not who I am and I figured that if I didn’t try and do something different now, I would never would.” I nearly sidestep the burnout, the way everything just fell apart for a while and how the idea of permanently going back into that world makes my insides churn and chest hurt with a hideously dull ache.

I can stomach temping, I can endure this a little longer as a way to get out of that world. It’s not so bad because I don’t feel that urge now to push myself and excel and be the shining one, I just view it as a means to an end.

It’s not something I can express though, not something I nearly put into words for Frankie, not without terrifying him that he’s let the wrong person into his apartment.

“And why not coffee?” he asks.

“I mean, you can tell I’m passionate about it.”

“I get it,” Frankie says thoughtfully.

“The coffee thing?” I raise my eyebrows, thinking of the battered coffee pot, the lack of pour over options. Maybe I am a snob.

“Absolutely, that and the need for a change.” He looks more serious for a moment. “I kind of went down a similar path a few years back.” He shifts in his chair and looks away for a moment.

The last time I saw Frankie, apart from the funeral, I remember vaguely learning he was a pilot. More commercial though, helicopter charters or something like that. Perhaps the firefighter role is newer than I realised.

“Well, I think firefighter pilot and coffee van owner are a little different. And at least you were a pilot before that, you know, it wasn’t as …stark?”

He shrugs. “I just, sometimes you need to do something different and I can tell you, that for me, it was the best thing I could do for myself at that time. It sounds corny, but I … I like my job now.”

“And flying rich people in a helicopter wasn’t fun?”

“Not like now.” He laughs. “I mean, some days are shit and they really fuckin’ hurt, but it’s - I feel like there’s value. Fuck, that sounds so arrogant.”

“Nope.” I smile and then add, “perhaps a little noble.”

“Ah, that’s me all over,” he replies with an eye roll and sardonic smirk. “So noble, I’m going to ask for the last slice.”

“You did ask first,” I tease, raising my hands and letting him pick up the pizza.

“So what’s on your list for the van then, before you can quit temping?“

“Buy a van, kit it out - I’ve got my eyes on some options that are already set up for coffee which would save a lot of time, and Will’s helped me run the numbers.”

“He’s good at that.”

“Yes, he is.”

“I know what licences and inspections I need and I’ve saved up for those when it’s time. I’ve been playing with the branding for a while so I’m almost happy with that. I also need to connect with a good local roaster and dairy. I’ve been trying a few to figure out what works for me. Social media, all that stuff. Cake,” I add, certain I must be boring Frankie as I run through a too long to do list.

“Cake?”

“It should probably have some sort of baked offering too, right? I think I do okay brownies and I can’t afford to work with a bakery yet, but that would be an option maybe one day.”

“You’ve got plans,” Frankie says simply, smiling at me in a way that makes my body hum with encouragement. He seems so matter of fact that I’ll make this happen and over recent weeks, I’d started to doubt that.

“Yeah,” I reply brightly, “I do.”

“If you need help with the truck, let me know. I’m happy to come check it out for you, if you want. If not, it’s fine.”

“That would be great, Frankie. Are you sure?”

“Absolutely.”

“Thanks.”

He shrugs, the corner of his mouth fighting a slight smile.

I lean back against the sofa. I’m full of pizza and soda and my arms ache from unpacking. I feel calm though, already more at home after just a few hours here than I did in weeks at Molly’s. The dream almost feels tangible and the fact that Frankie supported it, encouraged it too? It’s more than I expected.

I thought Frankie would be just a roommate who I saw occasionally and we would led separate lives, but he seems to want to be friends. Or perhaps he’s just being nice to the sister of his fallen brother in arms? It feels more genuine though and the way he talked about needing a change, understanding why I felt like I did? I’ve not had that conversation with anyone who’s really understood. They’ve indulged me perhaps, but not understood.

I think back to Frankie’s words about needing to do something different. The haunted look in his eyes that had briefly flashed over when he talked about it. The timing seems too close for coincidence to when Tom died.

I look over at my new roommate and not for the first time, I wonder, is there more to what happened to my brother than I’ve been told about?

Tag List

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[justwhisperingfantasies]

lupo mannaro

Pairing: Dean And Reader

Warnings: Angst. Language. Drinking. Talks of Drug Use. Talks Of Murder. Violence. I think that's it. lmk if i missed any.

Hope you enjoy

Your legs were throbbing, your heart pounding, every muscle in your body ached, but you had to keep running, you had to make it to him. You could see his silhouette, his face hidden by darkness, standing by a black car on the other side of the parking lot. The snarls behind you pumped adrenaline through your veins, get there, come on get there.

You woke as you crashed on the floor. The third night in a row you had the exact same dream, ending the same way. Almost to safety, but from what?

You poured yourself a cup of coffee hoping the caffeine would help. You had been asleep for 7 and a half hours, but it felt you hadn’t slept at all. Who was the man next to the car and why did you know if you got to him, you would be safe. You sipped your coffee as you pondered.

“You look like hell.” Annie said as you sat down at your desk.

“Well thanks.” You retorted. You knew there were bags under your eyes, and you tried your best to get your hair under control this morning, but you were just too tired to care. She didn’t have to point it out though.

“So did you hear?” your eyebrows raised as your ears perked up. Usually when Annie said anything along those lines there was some juicy gossip she just had to share. “In the alley behind the office,” she paused for dramatic effect. You rolled your eyes. “They found 2 teenage girls dead.”

“Annie that’s not even remotely funny.”

“I’m not making this up. Google it.”

You spun your chair around to your computer and clicked on the search engine. Your old keyboard clicked as you typed. You tapped the enter key and the web screen showed the results “Two teens found dead in alley behind Bradley Incorporated” You read the headline out loud. Your eyes scanned the words reading the rest of the article inside your head. Police have no leads and no suspects as of yet.

“I heard their hearts were cut out.” Annie’s words pulled your attention from the screen.

“Their hearts?”

“Yea…”

You tried to keep your mind on your work, but something kept pulling your mind back to those girls. So young. Probably so scared. Just thinking about it sends waves of nausea through your stomach. Why would anyone want to hurt them. And why in God’s name would they cut their hearts out.

Somehow you managed to get work done on time. Shiver ran up your spine as you walked out onto the street. You put your hand out for taxi. No way, you were walking home with a lunatic on the loose.

You poured yourself a glass of wine after dinner. Maybe this would help you get some sleep tonight.

The dream started out the same way. Dark, cold, you on one side of the parking lot. Him on the other just standing by that black car. Hearing the growling you start to run. Your legs pumping as hard as you could make them, but you didn’t feel any closer to your destination. If you could just get to him. If you could just get to his embrace everything would be ok.

A jolt of pain surged through your head as you head hit the corner of your nightstand on the way to the floor. Son of a bitch that hurt. You felt the rising bump on your forehead. Fucking great. You did the best you could do with concealer and foundation, hopefully it wasn’t noticeable

Annie was waiting for you at the door. “What happened to your forehead?!” Great so the makeup didn’t work.

“I fell out of bed.”

“You fell out of bed?!” you nodded. “Right...”

You shrugged. “That’s what happened.”

She took your story.  “So, get this.” Hmm. That phrase was new, but still held the promise of gossip.  “There’s 2 FBI agents here today, questioning everyone in the office.”

“They really think one of us did this?”

“I don’t know. They told Nick it was routine since the girls were found behind our building.”

“I guess that make sense, but I don’t think it was anyone from our company.”

You watched as every one of your coworkers got called up to the office. An overwhelming tide of anxiety washed over you as you sat in anticipation for your turn. Every muscle in your body tensed as the phone on your desk began to ring.

“Yes?”

“Could you come up to the conference room please?”

“Sure, thing boss.”

The butterflies in your stomach got bigger with every step closer. What was wrong with you, there was absolutely no reason for you to be nervous.

You eased your pace and softened your footsteps upon hearing the deep voices drifting from the room. Moving as silently as possible, you positioned yourself next to the door.

“This is the last one.” The deep voice stated. “I don’t know Dean. Maybe this is just some sick sadistic person.”

“Heart ripped out and missing on a full moon? No way in hell that this isn’t a werewolf.”

Werewolf?! His words repeated in your mind. What the hell.

“Where is she?” the huskier voice asked.

“Mr. Bradley said she was on her way.”

“Yea, or she ran out the front do.” He almost walked right into you. “Hi.”

You gave him a half smile. Your heart raced as you stood there, caught red handed ease dropping on their conversation. He motioned for you to step through the door ahead of him.

“Miss [y/l/n] I’m Agent Plant. This is Agent Page.” Your eyebrows furrowed automatically at his words as you walked through the door. You turned around as he looked up “You, ok?”

“Yea. I’ve just heard those names somewhere before. Sorry.”

He cleared his throat. “Well, uh. I don’t know if you are aware, but there was a murder in the alley behind this building the other night. FBI has taken over the investigation.”

"May I take a look at your ID?" You couldn’t put your finger on it, but there was something else in his words. Like he wasn’t telling the truth, but he wasn’t there to do any harm.

“Uh, absolutely.” The one that claimed his name was plant said as they gave each other a look. You held out your hand as they pulled out their badges from their breast pocket. You wanted to see the first names on the badges. “Oh, you wanna... ok.”

“Robert Plant.” You said looking at the green eyes one. He raised his hand and gave an awkward wave. “And Jimmy Page.” You looked at the long-haired one. He smiled as he nodded. You knew they were lying, and you knew where they got the names from. “Hmm. You boys classic rock fans?”  you asked, handing them back their badges.

They looked at each other again. “No. Not really.” The one claiming to be Plant said while shaking his head.

“You sure?” you don’t know what came over you. You just wanted them to admit to their lies and cut the bullshit. First you overheard them talking about fucking werewolves and now they were lying about their names and being FBI. Who the hell were these guys.

The one claiming to be Page cleared his throat now. “Yea. Anyways we need to ask you some questions.”

“Proceed,”

“Ok. Have you noticed any strange behavior from anyone in the office?”

“Can’t say that I have Agent Plant.”

He narrowed his eyes at you. “Ok lady, if you got something to say just say it.”

“Dea.” Page coughed “Agent Plant. That’s not how we talk to people.”

“It is if they have a piss poor attitude.”

“Maybe I wouldn’t have a piss poor attitude if you weren’t lying.”

“You seen the badges. We aren’t lying.”

“Ok. You’re not lying. Continue.”

“Have you seen any strange activity around the building?” Agent Page asked you.

“Like?”

“Gangs. Drug deals. Hookers. Anything that usually doesn’t happen around here.” Agent Plant said with a snarky attitude. Agent Page closed his eyes and sighed.

“Oh, no.”

“What happened to your head?” Agent Plant asked.

“Oh, funny story, I slipped when I was snorting a line in the bathroom. And just bashed my head right into the counter.” You smirked.

Agent Plant rubbed his forehead with his hand before covering his mouth with his fist. “Okay, get out.” he said, his voice barely audible through his hand.

“That’s it?” you asked raising your brows.

“I guess so. Have a good day.” Agent Page told you.

You got up and walked out, standing by the door you heard “That chick is #1 on my list.” You rolled your eyes and walked away.

Thanks to the fake agents it was late before you got your work done for the day. It was dark as you left the building. Great you thought, no cabs in sight. You heard the humming engine of an older muscle car, as you began to walk down the road. You stopped in your tracks as it passed you, It was the same car. The car the man was standing next to in your dream. What the fuck. You started to run, well tried to stupid high heels. The car turned right at red light a couple blocks away. You squinted trying to make out any details of who was in it, but it was too far away. Damnit. You took your heels off and hauled ass. Trying to get around that corner as fast as you could, but it was gone by the time you got there.

What is going on you thought as you twisted the cap off the whiskey bottle and poured some in a glass.

The dream started out the same again. Cold, dark. You in the same spot. Him, standing by the car you saw today. The lighting on him was different. You still couldn’t see his face; you focused on every detail you could see. He was tall, muscular, short cropped hair, a leather jacket maybe. That’s all you got before the growling started.

He raised his hands to his mouth and yelled “Baby! Wake up!” in a familiar voice.

You took off. You pushed your feet as hard as you could onto the pavement. Just get there, just get there. The snarls behind you got closer.

“Come On Baby!!” The voice said again.

Your face bounces off the floor wake you up again.

You saw Annie waiting by the door for you. “Hey. The cute agents are back.” Fake agents you thought.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yea. And they are asking about you.”

“Excuse me?”  You sat your things down at your desk and marched toward the stairs.

“Whoa.” Mr. Bradley was standing outside the conference room. “You can’t go in there right now.”

“Well then I’ll wait.”

“You don’t know how long they are gonna take.”

“If they are questioning people about me, I want to know why.”

The door opened and Janet walked out. You could feel the judgement through her eyes. Agent Plant poked his head out of the door. “Come on in Ms. [y/l/n]. Mr. Bradley you’re dismissed.”

As you walked into the room the courage drained from your body. They were both over 6 feet, both very intimidating. You waited for him to close the door.

“What the hell is going on? You’re questioning people about me?”

“Well with your attitude and disrespect you became a suspect.” Agent Plant told you.

“Drop the act. You’re not FBI. I told you I snorted cocaine yesterday, you did nothing. Robert Plant is the lead singer for Led Zeppelin. Jimmy Page is the guitarist and founder of Led Zeppelin” Plant’s eyebrows raised. “I overheard you call each other Sam and Dean yesterday before my integration yesterday right before you said something about werewolves.”

They looked at each other. Then back at you. “Alright. I’m Sam. This is my brother Dean.” Dean gave you a grin. “We hunt monsters.”

“Monsters?”

“Yeah.” Dean said. “Ya know all the stories about things that go bump in the night well, they are true.” Your eyes went back and forth between them.

“We think someone is your office is a werewolf.” Sam explained. “Now we just have to find out who.”

“Before someone else gets killed.” Dean added. you stayed silent. “Do you want to sit down?” You shook your head.

“Do you want something to drink?” you shook your head again.

“So, how do we find it?”

“We,” Dean pointed to the three of you. “Do not.” He pointed at Sam and himself. “We have a plan.”

“Oh you have a plan?”

“Yes.”

“So yesterday, I was #1 on your list” you tried to sound like him using his words. he smiled. “Then today you tell me you hunter monsters and you don’t expect me to help?!”you said normally

“Sweetheart, I’m not letting you anywhere near this.”

The dream started the same way. Dark, cold, in a parking lot. You looked up to see the shadow figure and found Dean standing next to the black car. His face twisted with worry.

“Baby! Wake up!” He shouted, waking the growls and you start to run to him. “Baby, please, wake up!”

You pushed your feet with every ounce of strength, yet he remained frustratingly out of reach. Come on, you urged yourself. You pushed harder, determined to close the distance. Suddenly, a sharp pain shot through your calf as claws tore into your flesh. You collapsed to the ground, a scream escaping your lips as you rolled over to see a monstrous figure looming above you. It had the body of a man but the face of a wolf, with long, jagged teeth and claws that glinted menacingly. The creature lifted its hand, ready to strike.

You let out a shout as you come to consciousness. Pulling the leg of your sweatpants up to check your calf. There was nothing there.

You approached the doors to the building, No Annie waiting for you today. Huh odd you thought to yourself. You looked over at her desk. No sign of her. You were worried now. You made your way to the reception desk, “Ellen has Annie came in yet?”

“No,” She clicked on her mouse a couple time. “She hasn’t called in sick either.”

Fuck you thought. “Did those FBI agents leave a contact number?”

“Yes, I believe they left one with Nick.”

“Thank you.”

You quickly walked to Nick’s office. The door was shut, and the lights were off. You knocked. Nothing. You tried the knob, it was unlocked. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness you found an empty room. What the hell was going on. You looked o his desk for the contact info. You found a business card hidden under his keyboard belonging to an Agent Plant. Bingo. You slipped out and shut the door.

You stopped at reception on the way back to your desk. “Well, no one here has heard from him.” Ellen said into the phone. “Yes, we will. And we would appreciate the same from you.” she listened. “Thank you. Buh bye.”

“Have you heard anything from Annie?” you asked her.

“No hon. I’m sorry. Did you find what you were looking for?”

“No, the door was locked.” you lied.

You walked back to your desk, grabbed your things, and walked out the front door. You called the number on the card as soon as you got to your apartment.

“Uh Agent Plant.”

“Dean. It’s [y/n]”

“How did you get this number?”

“No time, Annie and Nick are both missing. I need your help.”

You had just finished changing when you heard a knock on your door. You hesitate to answer.

“It’s us. We’re here.” Your feet started moving again as you heard Dean’s voice. You unlocked the door and opened it, but no one was there. “Baby.” you heard his voice again. You shut the door and locked it.

You slipped your shoes on as another knock landed on your door. You looked out your peep hole to find Sam and Dean “It’s us, we’re here.”

You opened the door “I’m ready let’s go.”

“Um no.” Dean argued.

“There’s no time. Let’s go.”

You could tell he didn’t like it, but he gave in.

“So, this is probably a bad time, but I feel like it’s your kind of thing. I have had the same dream for 6 straight nights.”  You said as Dean started to drive.

Sam and Dean looked at each other

“Tell us everything.” Sam demanded.

“Is your mom alive?” Sam asked.

“Yea I just talked to her the other day.”

Sam looked at Dean with furrowed brows. “What the hell is going on?!”

Annie’s door was locked. Fortunately, you knew where she hid the spare. You unlocked the door and pushed it open. “Annie?” Silence followed your call.

“Get behind me,” Dean said drawling his gun. You dul

“Annie? Are you here?” Sam called out.

You followed behind Dean as he crept slowly through the living room. Walking into the kitchen you could smell it. a putrid, pungent combination of earth and rotting meat. You buried your face into Dean’s back. “Is it Annie?”

“No. Just keep your face where it is.”

“Is it Nick.”

“I’m not gonna lie to you sweetheart. It is, but don’t look.”

A scream erupted through your lips as you felt claws ripping into your calf again. This time it was so much worse. Dean spun around and pushing you back out if the way. You lost your balance and fell to the floor. Under the table you saw her. Annie, your best friend. Only she wasn’t. Her face was different. Her eyes glowed yellow, her teeth were twice the size with sharp points, she was ravenous and wild. Just then you heard Dean’s voice again like a whisper in your ear. “Baby. Wake up I need you.” But he was standing, full attention to Annie or whatever the hell she was now.

“Dean?”

“Did you hear that? She said my name. She’s going to wake up.” you were looking right at him. His attention still on the creature, lips not moving at all.

The sudden crack of the gun jolted you awake, your eyes flying open. A harsh light flooded in from above, overwhelming your senses. It felt as if something was lodged in your throat, making it hard to breathe. You close your eyes as you gagged, desperately trying to dislodge whatever was choking you.

“Hey, we need help in here!!” you heard Sam yelling.

You feel fingers wrap around your hand as you hear Dean’s voice again “Baby, I’m here. Right here.”

“Oh, she woke up.” you hear a feminine voice say. “Sweetie, can you open your eyes”

Your eyes blink open trying to adjust to the brightness in the room. You feel slight pressure on your chest as the nurse checks your breathing. You hear the nurse on the other side of you speak into a phone. “Dr Palley to room 2-0-4. Dr Palley to room 2-0-4.”

“What. What’s wrong?” Dean asked the nurse.

“Nothing sir. We are paging her doctor so he can check her vitals and remove the tube.” Dean pressed his lips to your knuckles. “This is very good news sir.”

“Can you understand me?” you heard as you see a man in a white coach hovering over you. you nod. He flashed a light into both of your eyes, then you felt the pressure on your chest again. “Your lungs sound good. “Let’s take this tube out, ok?” you nodded again.

The removal was a nightmare. You felt as if you were on the brink of suffocation, but once the tube was finally removed, a wave of relief washed over you. you sighed and laid your head back on your pillow.

“Now your throat is going to be sore from the tube. You have a broken arm and a cracked rib. Other than that, it’s bumps and bruises. You are lucky that bear could have done a lot worse than that. I’m going to have the nurse give you something for the discomfort through your IV If you need anything else just let your nurse know, ok?” you nodded.

“Alright darlin. Just let me know if you need anything.”  your nurse said, “I’m so happy to see them pretty eyes.”

“Me too.” Dean agreed.

She walked out of the room.

“Don’t you ever fucking do that to me again!” Dean exclaimed. You smiled and then puckered. He carefully pressed his lips against yours.  

“Werewolf?” you asked in a soft raspy voice. Dean nodded. “I just had the craziest dream”

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[iridessence]

ugh I’m so sorry. And I feel incredibly bad for any young people right now who are trying to find their way with style. the current market reminds me of the late 2000s and early teens fashion offerings, not necessarily parallel stylistic offerings but more how monotonous things are and how the availability of stylish, interesting, well-fitting and decent quality things, is now lacking.

I know that societally, we’re moving toward a more conservative age in general, and body positivity now seems like a myth that so many people are pushing back against, but it’s really affecting the clothing industry as well.

Everything I’m seeing looks so boring and traditional in ways that alarm me. I have a very specific sense of style and touch on a lot of inspirations from fashion history and so I tend to gravitate now more towards custom made commissions when I can. I have a great knack for seeing vintage and historical silhouettes in clothing marketed as contemporary with a few tweaks, but this is highly specific to me and my style.

If I didn’t have that level of development to my eye and taste, and I just had to style myself based off of what I was seeing on most sites that come up on Google when you search for plus size clothing, I would be absolutely screwed.

Like, finding a cute outfit that doesn’t feel frumpy or understated (without being goth, coquette or giving some form of IG model) is really hard right now, without having a honed eye. There are some cutesy things, and I can acknowledge that while I love cutesy, it’s not every size person‘s cup of tea. So if your style doesn’t fall under traditional mom, trying-to-be-hip mom, alt style under the three categories of cutesy/on-the-nose retro-vintage-pinup/goth, or fashion nova energy, it seems there’s little to no options right now. And even under those umbrellas, there’s not a huge wealth of options.

the (mainstream) plus size fashion market is terribly boring and just… same-y right now. everything looks the same and what it looks like is bland or bad. truly embarrassing

[the-commonplace-book]

Curt/Owen From Spies Are Forever For The Shipping Chart

I'm sorry! I'm not at all familiar with this musical or these characters :(

[hyuckonia]

AAHHHH AHHHHH EVERYONE POINT AND LAUGH!!!!!!!!!! LOOOSERRR!!!! AHHHHHH SOMEONE LOST THE GAMEEE!!! 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 (everyone lost actually (😔) )

AKA a last ditch effort to annoy the shit out of this guy

bonus!

the moment when ortho ace and kalim get inside the playful stage and can see everyone and are deciding what to do next. what easier way to defeat your enemy than completely obliterating them?

bonus 2

my friend said this pic of 2 random people showed up on google when u look up "fellow honest nui" so now theyr in fellow and gidel cosplay 💞