#i had to switch trains once which was a hilarious experience

[green-mug-tomato-juice]

ive been dyeing clothes in my big witchy pot all afternoon

[fromfaewithlove]

Some Reflections on My Time in Europe So Far.

Ive been here for almost a month now so I thought I’d share a little specifically as it pertains to race, gender, languages, and nationalities. European racism isn’t better or worse it’s just more awkward also it’s very dependent on gender.

In the northwestern big cities Paris, Amsterdam, Berlin etc it was pretty normal / non noticeable but there’s a lot of young black people there and all kinds of black as well. Biracial, African American, East and West African, and a lots of islanders so we fit in pretty seamlessly. When approached people assumed I was French Canadian and that he was from Texas (lol we have very different accents). If we didn’t speak at all people in the Netherlands assumed we were Afro-German students. The real tensions didn’t arise till we went southwest to Italy.

As soon as we crossed into the country from the Swiss border Italian police pulled my boyfriend off the train and started yelling at him in Spanish asking if he was a Colombian drug dealer and they tore through our bags (we’re both afrolatinos and mostly speaking Spanish in Italy because we don’t know Italian he also has a thick Ecuadorian accent from living there) We were asked if we were Colombian several times -even after they had our American passports. However once we pulled out our college ID’s and threw around some ultra midwestern slang (a few over drawn howdies and yeppers) their tones changed and all of sudden they claimed they were helping us not profiling.

They did the same thing to a group of Asian girls demanding them to give up all their fentanyl - I felt so bad for them they weren’t older than 15 on a student exchange and the cops wouldn’t let their host parents step in at all. Multiple people tried to step in for both my bf and I as well as the other girls but the cops were pretty hostile to them too. Eventually they let us all go but the whole debacle made us miss our next connecting train. Overall me and my bf experienced the worst xenophobia when we spoke Spanish. When addressing the authorities English was always our best bet. Unfortunately this was not our only experience with Italian law enforcement on this trip.

I was genuinely just ignored a lot when I wasn’t with my bf which was fine by me. I didn’t associate it with racism as much as people who didn’t speak English not attempting to speak to me unless they absolutely had to (waiters, airline workers, people working in shops). People weren’t necessarily as nice or as helpful but it seemed to be more of a difference in work culture in general. Customer service is just a much bigger thing in the states. Service with a smile just doesn’t really exist here. Additionally, contrary to common belief ( i.e. TikTok videos about girls trying to speak in their target language and being quickly shut down) most people in Europe don’t actually speak English and it’s a hassle for them to try. They speak about as much English as Americans who last took a language class in middle school and now open Duolingo 3x a year claim to know a little Spanish.

However once I spoke French things changed tune. No matter what country I’m in I received the best customer service (which wasn’t much lol) when I spoke French. I equate this to French just being a significantly easier linguistic switch to make in countries that already speak Romance languages. And France being significantly closer than England or the States.

We experienced some racism from other Americans abroad who assumed me and boyfriend were thieves. It was fucking hilarious. In most Italian train stations there are loud PA announcements in English warning people to look out for pickpockets and guaranteed you know who the Americans were because they would immediately stare at us like they saw the ghost of negroes past while checking for their belongings. At one point I failed to contain myself with this one woman i was waiting in line behind in order to get a train ticket and said “oh please bitch you’re okay”.

It was so funny tho cause I’d watch Italian teens pickpocket and steal and they weren’t necessarily good at it - it was just that most of the tourists were too racist to pay attention to who the real thieves were. They weren’t looking for the normal looking European guy in converse in jeans that’s inching up on them, they were trying to avoid the POC. I will say, in Italy a few guys tried it unsuccessfully just because they’d be so obvious (granted I’m from a big city so I’m used to knowing when someone is trying to get me in a situation and pretty adept at getting out of them).

Regardless of the culture shock and xenophobia/racism. I know for a fact I’m gonna move back to Italy in less than a year. It’s beautiful and warm year round, housing and food are so much more affordable and it’s without the same threat of political instability that currently exists is other places I was considered moving to. Additionally this racism just isn’t as bad. In America racists treat me like I’m a threat to their very existence, here i mostly felt like an alien that people weren’t sure how to address. And free college + affordable healthcare and greater access to travel and study/use more languages are absolutely worth a few awkward uncomfortable situations for me.

[comeandreadawhile]

I love your Clone Social Media post! Do you think they'd ever film/post responses to the SW equivalent to the reddit advice threads like r/Relationships or r/AmITheAssh0le? Or would any of them (the medics maybe?) develop an Ask Column? I feel like the clones would have a unique world view and their personalities would lend to some hilarious (or amazing) advice going out on the holonet.

Definitely. Kix and the other medics probably start an ask blog crossed with WebMD, drowning in gallows humor

“‘How quickly can you amputate a leg?’ That depends, how close is the nearest Jedi’s lightsaber?”

“‘I can’t stop sneezing and I have a fever’—sounds like Rhinovirus, no known cure. Terrible shame, but you might live.”

Ponds runs an Ask Abby/Miss Manners ask column about clones and Jedi, with Mace as a reference for the Jedi and a popular guest for philosophical debate.

Gree makes sci-show vlogs about alien species and documents his brothers’ antics. Sometimes Bly makes guest appearances to talk science.

As for r/relationships and r/AITA, Wolffe co-admins both, with Bly on the former and Rex on the latter. Pretty much every AITA post is responded to with ‘yes’, either earnestly, or with blatant sarcasm for the ‘no’s followed by why it’s a no. While Bly has the rose-tinted glasses on for the relationship blog, Wolffe is that one perpetual single in every friend group who gives stone-cold logical advice.

Stone is on Space!youtube, explaining laws and their pros and cons, explaining loopholes and weird technicalities and the process of the Senate to pass laws, as well as updates from around Coruscant. It’s basically the SW version of Last Week Tonight.

Fox runs r/JustSenatorThings. He documents the antics and mannerisms of senators. He also answers personal questions.

“How often do I—hey, Thire! What’s this word?”

“How’s it spelled?”

“S-L-E-E-P.”

“FOX.”

“No, I know how to spell that.”

Thorn runs r/JustFoxThings. He documents the on-going war between the caf mug stack vs Fox’s paperwork.

There emerges Space!Insta, where GAR clone art is posted. Dogma posts foodporn, both actual food and GAR rations. “Here we see another beautiful nutrient stick. Full of 100% of a brother’s daily iron requirement and not a hint of flavor to be found.” He sneaks into the temple when the 501st is planetside to document the snack bar in the knights’ quarters. It’s only open odd hours and there is a single hotdog spinning, on and on, that none of the knights will even make eye contact with.

Toast clone runs a blog solely about different types of bread and his attempts at making them in the meager kitchens he has access to.

Wooley and Tup make hair tutorials, taking requests and experimenting on their own time. 212th and 501st meet ups are fun for them.

A space!reddit is made of Cryptid Commanders, made by their men finding said commanders up at force-forsaken hours getting caf, once of Bly hanging from the ceiling with the camera light reflecting off his helmet visor, and of Fox passed out in various ways around his office.

Space!Tiktok is sees a lot of Ahsoka and her men. Unfortunately Rex and Anakin are terrible at tiktok dances, so they’re usually her camera crew while Fives and Tup back her up; it starts a craze. Caleb (and eventually Depa) dance with Gray and their men, which means Mace and Ponds have to do something (classy of course, but it pleases the kids so Mace does it and will never admit to it being fun), Aayla and Bly look well rehearsed but claim they did it by mirroring the video reference they had on, eventually Ahsoka, Shaak, Aayla AND Luminara do one together. Quinlan does them just to annoy his commander; it works. The clones are more than happy to answer questions their followers send in as well, about themselves or the war, about anything. They like giving civilians the chance to see them in a better, individual light than dime a dozen flesh droids.

There begin r/JustCloneThings where brothers post about specifically clone related jokes and issues, and r/JustJediThings, where they post about their Jedi. (When your Jedi says the drop zone failed the vibe check.) (Won’t sleep for more than ten minutes but will meditate for four hours because the Martial Commander smiled.)

(If you suspect your Jedi knows Mando’a, switch to complete gibberish and see if they react at all. Feel free to make up hand signs to mess with them.)

Then come the proud big brother postings about their Jedi commanders, the good ole Mandalorian genes making the men gush over their respective kids when it’s safe to do so. The kids making progress in their training, and some have the honor of seeing their commanders knighted and made generals. They teach the little ones to track and lay low, how to shoot straight and wield vibroblades when they’ve grown some. Sometimes just the kids being cute, like Caleb napping against Depa, or Kal riding his master’s shoulders, and Ahsoka snuggling between Anakin and Rex on a long flight. ‘Doting grandmaster’ is a popular tag thanks to Mace and Obi-wan; Caleb and Ahsoka get away with things Depa and Anakin would’ve been severely grounded for, and the clones love watching them steam in the background while their padawans are protected by said doting grandmasters.

Note: the cursed hot dog is a joke between my roommate and I. Upon learning the knights’ snack bar existed, we determined it was only open for ten minutes at 2 am and that there’s a magical enigmatic hot dog amongst the misfit food (cotton candy jello, broken granola bars). It guards the temple and anyone who takes it and eats it gets super sick, and the hot dog is magically whole back in its case, ever rolling, on and on. It’s not meat, probably. No one’s sure, especially not the ones who attempted to eat it. Respect and fear the hot dog. It is eternal.

[razorblade180]

Interdimensional Moms: Bonus

Part 4 here<-

After many tears and tissue boxes, all members of team RWBY had finally stopped crying. Blake was the best off with her eyes a little red while Ruby was the complete opposite. The girl’s face was still rather red and her eyes were puffy. She hadn’t even completely stopped sniffling yet; much like tear marked partner. Yang on the other hand rested her head on the table. She had cried hard enough to giver herself a minor headache. She was completely drained.

Yang:Ugh, this blows! I thought this was gonna be a fun learning experience.

Blake:We definitely learned. It just so happens we had to poke at some.... extremely sensitive topics.

Weiss:I’m all for looking inward and self reflection but I’ve had my fill.

Ruby:Same. Should’ve kept the summary light.

Yang:No, I’m glad you got that off your chest. We just need a way to lighten the mood.

Blake:.....I kicked Weiss’s butt in a tournament.

RWY:......What?

Blake:During the time spent training for Salem, another tournament was held between the schools. It had team matches and singles. I kicked Weiss’s butt in my fourth round. It was a good day.

Weiss:How is that lightening mood!?

Blake:Listen, it was a big deal! I never thought I was gonna win the whole tournament but I really wanted to beat you. I love you but your head gets a little big when you’re on a roll for too long; plus I just really didn’t want to lose. I always felt a bit of rivalry between us.

Yang:Hehe, is that you’re way of saying “It would look bad to lose to a Schnee?”

Blake:Well it would!

Ruby:Hehehe.

Yang:Wait, does that mean we went back to school?

Blake:Yeah. It was pretty comforting. There was definitely a lot left to learn.

Yang:Weird. School kinda faded into the background.

Ruby:I went back to school. We all did actually. It was fast tracked by roughly a year but it was fun. We all got to pose in caps and gowns.

Weiss:Damn! I should’ve went back just for that. Unfortunately I was busy making rent and learning how to properly preheat a oven.

Yang:It’s like two buttons.

Weiss:Gas stove, and six years out of date.

Yang:Awww, you had to learn the hard way. I’m surprised and thankful you never left the gas on.

Weiss:There’s an alarm for that. Also I’m not irresponsible! Anyways, I mentioned similar tournaments earlier. I didn’t participate much but enough old videos of me in them were enough for to really light a fire under my kids. For awhile I was a bit concerned that they were just following a trend but they really love it. They used to always go around playing like knights when they were tiny.

Ruby:Carmine was a little different. She definitely always tried doing things I could but nothing got the girl jumping like seeing Yang’s horses or new ballet shoes. There wasn’t a morning when I didn’t hear a vase fall over or seeing her spin like a top. Carmine still hums some old routines when she isn’t paying attention.

Yang:Not too many memories of Yujin when she was pint size. But I do remember that wild child always loved using my bandannas for everything! Napkins, capes, ropes; anything but an actual bandanna. I used to get a bit upset with the napkin one but she’d always look at me with her big eyes and crazy hair. I never stayed mad.

Weiss:Softie.

Yang:She was like a pudgy puff ball! Fat cheeks and wholesome smiles. Ah! So adorable!

Weiss:I used to always have at least one of my kids on my hip when I was out and about. I think the media has a magazine amount of pictures of me at the park kissing my babies. Summer liked tummy rubs. She’d never go to sleep without one. Some nights I’d sing too but start to doze off so Jaune would have to take over.

Yang:*smiles* Speaking of Jaune.....

Ruby:No.

Yang:You don’t even know what I was-

Ruby:Were you about to suggest we compare our Jaune’s in the bedroom?

Yang:*red*......Well not just the bedroom! What’s the harm!? I just wanna know if he’s consistent across the board. No need to get detailed.

Weiss:You really never change no matter the world.

Yang:Can’t change greatness. It shows in any form!

Blake:He’s pretty compliant and accommodating. The benefits of being his first when I had prior knowledge I suppose.

Ruby:Don’t answer!

Blake:Why not? I’m comfortable with it.

Yang:Don’t listen to those two Blake. They’re just a bit more embarrassed since Jaune has literally been their one and only.

Blake:Huh, I never thought about it like that. Jaune would’ve been the first person you two opened up to on such a level; especially Weiss.

Yang:That’s still hilarious. All the protesting and somehow you found yourself stripping for the guy.

Weiss:Shut up! I already know! It was....I.... *blushing* emotions ran really high.

Ruby:An entire mental rollercoaster of thoughts and firsts happening all at once. Anxiety was high.

Yang:Heh, so you could say that Jaune Arc-

RW:Got through our walls. Hardy har har.

Yang:Shit, I am the same in every universe. Well I don’t have any reservations about it! *grinning* He makes me feel special every time!

Blake:Bottom.

Yang:I’m ignoring you.🎶

Ruby:Hehe, sounds about right. He...might make me feel a bit special as well.

Blake:Switch.

Ruby:How can you just guess off of that!?

Blake:It’s a gift.

Weiss:......

Blake:*smiling*

Weiss:Leave me alone.

Blake:I don’t know what has you embarrassed. You told us you’ve slept with everyone here except Ruby! I knew you were repressed but geez.

Weiss:For your information it wasn’t my idea! It was yours!

Blake:Not surprising. Let’s switch the topic. How is this other child of mine? Can’t picture me having a daughter.

Weiss:Veronica is very sensitive. Even if she tries to act like she isn’t. One time when she was tiny, a soccer ball hit her straight in the face and she sprung up saying “I’m fine!” Then you took her behind the bleachers to patch her up; tears all on her face. It both breaks my heart and very adorable to see her act fine while her ears are folded back.

Ruby:Your other son Kovu was a bit of cry baby. Partly my fault. Carmine kept beating him up and making fun of him.

Blake:What!?

Yang:Ha! Wait, that’s my kid too. How the heck!? Are you telling me you raised the rowdy child and I got the baby?

Ruby:Yang you’re a baby. I’m like twice as rowdy compared to you. A nevermore got worked day one at school.

Weiss:She has a point. You cry the most out of any of us.

Yang:Wha- that not- how....shut up! *pouts* I’m not that touchy.

Ruby:Kovu is a sweetie and not a cry baby. Carmine is just a little mean when she tries to care about others. She beat him up in an attempt to make Kovu give up dreaming about being a huntsman. That way he wouldn’t be in such a dangerous job. Reasonable logic but you know, a little over the top. Almost broke his arm. Boy did I chew her out. All it did was make him want to try harder.

Yang:Fantastic. I shouldn’t expect less from my own blood. I bet Yujin would like him. Which reminds me, anybody have kids in relationships?

RWB:We’re working on it.

The three women paused briefly before laughing at their meddling. Yang could only admire and fear her friends.

Yang:Should I be scared for your children?

Blake:Lucas needs someone to break up the routine in his life. I’m not saying he has to date her, but it would put a smile on my face.

Ruby:Carmine takes after me, not really thinking about stuff like relationships much. However, that doesn’t mean she doesn’t at all. Carmine tries her best to not act like she’s a teenaged girl with teenage wishes. But everyone sees right through it. I’m fine with her not being in one but I would like if she acknowledged that it’s okay to just....ugh, be normal! Why can nobody have normal knees in my life!?

Weiss:Nick likes Valerie who tries to deny she likes him by liking Summer, who doesn’t like her; while Veronica crushes on Nick who obviously has conflicting feelings.

RBY.....

Yang:Why is it always complicated with you?

Weiss:How is this my fau- okay it is a little bit.

Blake:Where do you stand?

Weiss:I think Valerie would be lovely for him.

Yang:What’s wrong with my baby girl!?

Blake:Yeah!?

Weiss:One, not yours. Two, have you met who I’m married to? Can’t really say he’s wasting his efforts. Though I wouldn’t be upset with Veronica. I think those two might be good for each other.

Blake:Any other bombshells people got?

Ruby:......

Ruby:Ilia is happily married.*sips coffee*

Blake:Oh that’s wonderful! I’m glad she found a loving wi-

Ruby:*smirks* To Sun.

Blake:....*stands up* I need, champagne!

A bottle of champagne poofs into existence with several glasses. Blake immediately pours everyone a glass before raising hers into the sky.

Blake:Ruby Rose, today you’ve erased guilt upon my conscious. I’m happy there’s one world where it seems all of my good exes get over me.

Ruby:Are the Ilia and Sun where you’re from miserable like Yang!?

Blake:No, but they kinda fumble in actually going for relationships. It just always makes me feel a little bad.

Yang:You can technically count two worlds. I’m fine, Ilia is dating a pretty secretary, and your one evil ex is now raising a morally good family.

Blake:You’re right! This calls for a double toast! To alternate universes! *puts glass down*

Weiss:Haha, aren’t you gonna drink it!?

Blake:No I’m still recovering; but how could I pass up the opportunity!? Man I wish I could attend that wedding! I don’t know if I’d be a bridesmaid or the best man!

Yang:You’re just gonna steal Neptune’s thunder like that?

Blake:Hey, Sun and I have taken bullets for each other and stab wounds. I think I deserve to be a little greedy and say I ride or die for that man just a little harder than Neptune.

Ruby:Geeeeeez Blake! Haha, I didn’t even tell you about the baby.

Blake:*visble excitement* Excuse me!?

RWY:*raises glass* Cheers.

Blake:CHEERS! What’s he like!?

xxxxx

Aero:AAAACHOOOO!

Carmine:Eugh! Cover your mouth! I don’t need to get sick.

Aero:Damn! What happened to uh I don’t know, “bless you!?”

Carmine:*pulls out tissues* Happy?

Aero:Where...why are those in you book bag?

Carmine:It’s flu season.

Aero:....I can’t tell if you’re the coolest person around or just a second mother.

Carmine:I can be both. My mom is arguably both but don’t tell her that. It’ll make her month and she’ll hug me too tight.

Aero:Bitch, you love hugs. Stop being difficult.

Carmine:Mmmm nah.

Aero:I feel bad for your mom.

Carmine:I feel bad for yours.

Aero:Hop off. You’re so childish.

Carmine:And yet you love me.

Aero:*red* In your dreams!

Carmine:It would make your day if I dreamed about you,wouldn’t it?

Aero:I hope you dream of spiders.

Carmine:We do not joke about that! *grabs him* Aero I will beat you up if I dream of them tonight! That’s just mean!

Aero:Stop crying ya baby. I could’ve said they were- ow!

Sun:*hitting him* Shut up and just kiss something! We’re trying to watch a game.

Aero and Carmine:We don’t like each other!

Jaune:With all do respect, that’s a lie. But please by all means Aero, continue not touching my daughter if you know what’s best for you. I don’t wanna have to fight you and your parents right afterwards.

Sun:Ilia would kill you.

Jaune:Yeah! That’s why I don’t want the fight! Much like Ruby, she’s short and terrifying. Her size holds the rage.

Ilia:*peeks in* Who’s talking shit?

JASC:Nobody, we love you!

Ilia:.....Got my eyes on you four. *holds Garnet up* and this one; the most well behaved in this bunch even with no nap.

Garnet:*fussy grumbling* I’m a ball of rage!

Ilia:You wanna nap?

Garnet:Yes!!!

Ilia:See, behaved. *walks away* don’t make me come back out here.

Carmine:....So do you like me because your mother is also imposing?

Aero:This is it, my evil origin story. It begins today.

xxxxx

Ruby:I admire his patience.

[elisaphoenix13]

Once Upon A Summer (Ch.1)

This first chapter is for @chocopiggy (thanks for the commission, and hope it's to your liking)! This actually won't be connected to the Mama Bear AU, but Stephen will always be a mom in my heart. 😂

It all started because of an alert that Tony received from Friday. It wasn't one that told him that Peter was in danger...just that something had happened with his suit. Maybe a malfunction? Friday couldn't tell him either but she made sure to let him know that the teen was safe. When Tony checked Peter's location, his eyebrow shot up.

"What the hell is he doing out of Queens?" He mumbles to himself.

When the little dot shows no signs of moving, Tony walks over to his balcony and suits up to go check on the teen. Peter never really left Queens and if he did, it was to visit Tony. Well...until now that is. Peter now permanently resided in the tower penthouse with Tony and now the roles were kind of switched. He patrolled on the way to Queens, stayed there for a few hours, and then made his way back to the tower. Then again, Greenwich Village wasn't really out of the way. Maybe Peter followed a perp in that direction and...got lost.

Tony was even more confused when he landed in front of a building that he knew housed a couple of sorcerers he only really knew about. He never actually met them but he supposed now was as good a time as any if his tracker was accurate. He stepped forward and knocked on the door, and the door opened to let him in.

"Great. Place is haunted." Tony says as he walks in.

"It took you long enough." A voice says and he looks to the side to find one of the sorcerers.

He was the first thing Tony noticed because press photos didn't do Stephen Strange justice. He was much more attractive in person and Tony could feel butterflies in his chest. Not his stomach, because that would just mean he was nervous, but his chest...it warmed. It had a tingly feeling that was nice and unconcerning for a change. Stephen's eyes were beautiful and it was even more attractive to see him make butterflies fly around...a baby? A baby wearing the Ironspider suit…

"What did you do to my kid?!" Tony accuses immediately.

"Not me. Another sorcerer." Stephen dispels the butterflies he had been keeping baby Peter occupied with. "He was caught in a crossfire of spells and this happened."

"The enemy tried to turn you into a baby?" Tony asks.

"I have no idea. Possibly. Or he was hit with a different spell that affected him differently."

Stephen carefully picks up Peter, who looked to be about six months old, and carries him over to Tony. He wasn't sure what to do with a baby, but he took him regardless and Peter cooed as he reached for Tony's sunglasses.

"Why haven't you changed him back?"

"This is something that needs to wear off on its own." Stephen replies with a sigh.

"How long will that take?" Tony asks suspiciously.

"Anywhere from weeks to months."

Tony balks. "What?! No! I'm in no way qualified to take care of a baby. At least for that long! You're a better option Doc."

"I'm a neurologist Stark. Not a pediatrician."

"I'm sure you've made the rounds though." Tony says and moves his head back a little to keep Peter away from his sunglasses. "This is partially your fault."

"He'll be fine." Stephen huffs.

"What if there are some magical side effects?" Tony counters. "That's apparently your area of expertise and you have to help until he's back to normal. I swear if he grows a tail-"

"He's not going to grow a tail."

Tony could practically see the thoughts running through Stephen's head and he watched as the sorcerer finally sighed. They both knew Tony was right and that Stephen had to take some kind of responsibility for what happened. If some magical side effect came up, Stephen would be the one to deal with it, and he kind of was a better choice to take care of a baby. Tony was willing to do what he could, but there was very little he knew about babies.

"Alright. I'll check in every day." Stephen acquiesces. "Fortunately it seems his powers are dormant so neither of us will need to pry an infant from the ceiling." He points at the baby. "He's been diapered and fed but he'll likely be hungry again soon. I'd get baby supplies if I were you."

"Guess we're going shopping, Doc."

"...we?"

"Who's the medical doctor here?" Tony huffs. "I know less than you do about child rearing. I'm not sure what to feed him or anything like that!"

Stephen answers with another sigh and nods. With some magic, he changes into some normal clothes and walks over to the front door. It was enough of an answer for Tony and he followed Stephen out of the Sanctum and to the nearest store that sold baby items. From food to furniture. Which happened to be a Target. To Tony's relief, Peter was old enough to sit up by himself so he could sit in the shopping cart and Tony's arms could get a break. Stephen simply led the way to the furniture items first and both men looked at the collection apprehensively.

"Am I the only one who feels like we stepped in some strange land?" Tony jokes.

"Good to know it's not just me." Stephen mumbles. "I may have worked with babies before but that doesn't mean I know what half of this stuff is."

"Bare essentials then." Tony grins and grabs a set of plastic keys that they walk by and he hands them to Peter. "Here you go kid."

Peter babbles as he accepts the keys, immediately stuffing them into his mouth, and both Stephen and Tony watch as some drool drips from the baby's mouth.

"Bibs." They say in unison.

"Oh, you know what those are?" Stephen asks immediately after and Tony rolls his eyes.

"Oh very funny wizard."

"Sorcerer...and it's Stephen."

Tony smirks. "I know. I like watching your eyebrow twitch when I call you wizard though."

"You would." The younger man scoffs.

"So what's the bare minimum I need? Crib?" Tony asks, changing the subject.

Stephen shrugs. "I suppose you could buy a portable changing pad to change him on instead of getting a table."

Tony winces. Right. Peter wasn't currently potty trained anymore and the thought of changing him made him a little uncomfortable. He didn't know how to change a diaper in the first place and he didn't raise Peter from birth. His kid was just a temporary baby…

"It's going to have to happen eventually." Stephen says, as if reading his mind.

Maybe he was.

"Maybe a playpen too. It's portable and it can keep him out of trouble if you have to take your eyes off of him to make dinner." Stephen continues.

"That's definitely coming." Tony says as he grabs the box to throw in the cart.

Stephen, meanwhile, stands in front of Peter and gently sticks his thumb in the baby's mouth. Peter babbles around the sorcerer's finger and Tony watches curiously as Stephen gently opens his mouth. It was clear the doctor was looking for something, but before he could ask, Stephen removed his finger, earning an audible protest from the mini human. When it became clear that Peter wasn't getting the finger back, he turned his attention back to his plastic keys as Stephen grabbed another toy off the rack.

"He's at the age where his teeth are coming in." Stephen finally explains. "You can put this in the freezer and also get some teething gel to numb his gums. You might be in for some long nights."

"Not like I have a regular sleeping schedule anyway." Tony bemoans.

"If you're lucky, a little gel before bedtime should do the trick."

They finish up in the baby department by grabbing some bibs, toys, burping cloths, bottles, and even a sippy cup before heading to the area of the store with the food and diapers. Stephen showed him what size diaper Peter would need, the cereal and fruit purees he could try feeding him, and also grabbed formula. It was still important at his age since it had the nutrients a baby needed. Once they finished by grabbing some wipes, they had to go back to the previous baby section because they realized they had forgotten to grab clothes. Onesies, pajamas, tiny shirts and tiny pants...Tony couldn't decide whether to freak out, tear up, or laugh when he saw the socks because it was a reminder that Peter was currently tiny and fragile and was relying solely on Tony (and Stephen) to survive.

He considered buying bubble wrap.

"I can't believe I'm going to say this...but kids are expensive." Tony remarks as they wait in line.

"Incredibly. People do it multiple times too."

"They can't be trusted." Tony jokes. "Anybody who puts themselves through that over and over again are closet sadists."

"You're an idiot." Stephen rolls his eyes as Tony unloads the cart onto the belt.

The cashier, and even a few nearby customers, gave them both a curious glance but nothing more was said. Probably because it was him buying baby stuff and was accompanied by another man. Fortunately they were in a day and age where for the most part, people didn't bat an eye when they saw a child with a same gender couple. Of course, Tony decided that he was going to have fun with it and looked over at Stephen who had grabbed a magazine to flick through.

"Honey, can you grab the keys from-" The billionaire is promptly interrupted when Stephen rolls up the magazine and smacks Tony with it before tossing it on the belt as well.

Peter found it hilarious and laughed which made Stephen smile and Tony to get that fuzzy feeling in his chest again.

"You can pay for that too since I had to resort to ruining it." Stephen huffs and gently takes the keys from Peter.

It was a quick ordeal. Peter had the super strength that every baby seemed to have when they didn't want something taken from them, and when Stephen finally won, his lower lip wobbled dangerously. The doctor held out the toy so it could be scanned without the cashier having to touch the drool covered keys, and then given back to Peter before his fussing could turn into full blown crying. Stephen may have some experience with children but it was like he was made to be a parent.

It kind of turned Tony on.

Which was weird? Sort of. He appreciated both men and women, and he and Pepper broke it off for the final time a while ago so it wasn't like he was in a relationship. But he barely knew Stephen. All he knew was what the tabloids had of him on his work, his car accident that ended his career, and then his supposed disappearance. Tony only knew about Stephen's new "career" because of chance. They very briefly fought together when Stephen had a mystical threat to take care of and Tony had been in the area, but everything happened so quickly that he didn't get a proper look at the sorcerer or a proper conversation.

Tony didn't mind looking at all.

"Do you mind?" Stephen suddenly asks, holding up a chocolate bar.

Tony motions to the belt. "Not at all."

"We should get water too. I didn't feed Peter so I'm sure he's getting hungry." Stephen says as he places the chocolate on the belt and grabs a couple of water bottles from the small fridge nearby.

"Oh, yeah. Good idea. I don't think those keys will keep him occupied much longer."

It didn't take long for the items to get scanned and for Tony to pay, but when they got outside, he realized his predicament. He flew to Greenwich Village in his suit. He couldn't fly back with a baby and all of the items he suddenly accrued. But then Stephen directed him to the side of the store where they would be out of sight and opened a portal. To his kitchen at the tower from the looks of it. Tony was a little uncomfortable with the idea of using magic to get home, but it was efficient and he didn't want to be caught in the middle of New York with a baby in the dark. The sun had nearly set.

So he takes a deep breath and gets the purchases through the portal as Stephen carefully pulls Peter out of the cart and walks through the portal. Tony had the mind to return the cart to a nearby corral before following the sorcerer through, and he watches as Stephen looks around the penthouse as the portal closes behind Tony.

"A playpen was a good idea." Stephen finally says. "This isn't exactly a baby friendly environment."

"I should probably set that up." Tony says. "I have a feeling holding him doesn't feel too good on your hands."

"Let me make him a bottle first."

Stephen hands Peter to Tony and digs through the bags on the counter to fish out the needed items to make him a bottle. Tony made sure to watch closely and listen to the amounts Stephen said to feed Peter and soon enough, the sorcerer took the baby back and sat on the couch with him where he handed Peter the bottle. He fortunately didn't have any trouble holding it himself and was able to drink from it while Stephen held him on one of his legs and Tony set up the playpen and the crib. The latter he was told to set up in his bedroom.

When he finished (to his enormous relief, there were some things he never cared to put together again), he exited his room to find the tv on a child friendly cartoon and Peter bouncing happily on Stephen's knee while he watched the pretty colors fly across the screen. What was surprising was seeing the younger man looking so content as he wipes Peter's mouth with one of the burping cloths. No irritation. No expressions to betray that he hated every second of this. In fact, Tony was pretty sure Stephen was enjoying it.

"Want to stay for dinner?" Tony blurts out and Stephen's head snaps up in surprise. He recovers quickly and shakes his head.

"I have things I need to do. Thank you though." Stephen gets up with Peter and holds him out for Tony to take. "I'll come by tomorrow."

"Alright," Tony replies, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice. "See you then."

"Good night."

And he was gone through another portal. Just like that.

"Bud…" Peter looks at him and Tony smirks. "I think you're going to end up being my little wingman."

[thoughts-on-bangtan]

Let’s talk: RUN episode 130

by Admin 1

A week has passed and it’s time for the continuation of last weeks tennis episode, this time with BTS coming together on a tennis court to decide who the BTS Tennis Champion is, excluding Yoongi who was the MC and umpire due to his shoulder. He was joined by one of the coaches who’d previously given the members lessons at the club we’ve seen them at in last weeks episode. 

Before I truly get into it, and let me tell you, for those who haven’t seen the episode yet but are still reading this anyway (thank you so much for that), there is a lot to get into. Especially when it comes to vmin. It was a feast this week, I can tell you that much (so fellow vminnies prepare yourself to get annoyed and upset with you know who again this week as is tradition whenever we get a lot of vmin, am I being shady/petty?). But the other members were comedic gold as well, especially Yoongi with his amazing commentary, and fellow namjinists, we got a few nice things as well.

Funny thing is about an hour after the episode went live, the following ask appeared in our inbox and, at this point, I hadn’t seen the episode yet so reading this made me giggle but also very curious to see what exactly even happened that led to Jimin carrying Tae, as well as how Jimin did that since I immediately thought back to that moment at MAMA 2019 where he tried yet failed to lift Tae. 

From anon: Tonight's Run episode. Omg. When JM carried Tae and pretended to give him mouth to mouth, Tae gay panicked and said 'Hold on!' and swiftly got up and went back to the court. I cannot with these two. 😂It's always like someone is brave and then the other one panics. Come on VMIN you can both be brave hahahaha

But lets start...at the beginning (and make yourself comfortable because this ended up being a truly long one, also spoilers for who the winner is will be marked):

The episode opens with the members reminding themselves (and the viewer) why they are on that court again (as well as Hobi playing so much with his racket that he ends up dropping it, aww) and also letting us know that a solid 3-5 months have passed since the previous episode was filmed. Furthermore they talk about how, due to their schedules, they didn’t really have time for practice (as in they basically conclude they were bad at keeping up with this project and mostly merely went to practice once while Yoongi commented how they probably should’ve chosen something a little more approachable with a schedule like theirs), seeing as in the meantime Dynamite was released and they also had MOTS ON:E to practice for and perform. I do love how the editors flexed Dynamite’s BBHot100 longevity in the subtitles.

Since the members all spoke toward the center, mostly turned around toward Jimin and Yoongi, Seokjin commented how they should also talk toward him, which Tae took as funny invitation to stand exceptionally close to Seokjin making him laugh with a big smile on his face. When I tell you I adore their dynamic and bond, I truly mean it.

Yoongi is announced as MC and joined by Coach Kim, to whom the members apologize for forgetting everything he taught them. Next they move along to explaining the “rules” which basically ends with none of the rules actually being explained and the members making jokes about how headshots are against the rules. Then the order and pairings for the starting matches are chosen by chance by Yoongi and Coach Kim, though Hobi and Seokjin are separated so they won’t end up playing against each other since Hobi is the only one with past experience while Seokjin was the only one who actually went to practice four times between last episode and this one. 

While that’s happening, we get a wide shot of the court and the RUN crew giving us once again an idea of just how many people are involved to film these episodes and how many pairs of eyes are watching them. (this is something some people truly should remind themselves of more often when coming up with...theories.)

The order is decided as Hobi vs JK, Namjoon vs Tae (can we please talk about how, when Namjoon is pulled as Tae’s opponent, Seokjin quietly comments how he wanted to play against Namjoon? Cute!), and Jimin vs Seokjin. After the pairs are decided there’s this small hilarious moment where Seokjin stands a little further back and pulls out his phone and is promptly snitched on my Yoongi. In his defense Seokjin says that his dad was calling him so it was a completely valid reason to check while the other members complain about him having brought in his phone at all. Namjoon even tells him that he shouldn’t use his dad as excuse to which Seokjin challenges him if he should show him his phone as proof. 

Then, finally, the matches begin. Yoongi and Coach Kim settle behind their umpire desk while Namjoon and Seokjin sit in the stands behind them to the left, thus on JKs side, and Jimin and Tae on the right, thus on Hobi’s. Who starts the match is decided in good old BTS fashion with rock-paper-scissors and we are treated to Yoongi calling Hobi a dummy which had me howling with laughter.

We also get chaos immediately as Tae pretends to be the ball boy on JKs side, though quickly gives up his job and returns to his place. All signs point toward Tae being in a fantastic, comedic mood once again. We love to see it. As the match is happening, Yoongi comments on how it’s actually surprisingly fun to watch, with which Namjoon agrees (and so do I). They all get so into it making it double fun to watch and even easier to cheer along and get emotionally invested in what’s happening on screen.

During the second half of JKs match with Hobi, Tae asks Coach Kim what kind of player JK is to which he replies that he’s a passionate one, and upon prompting clarifies that JK always stayed longer after practice to practice some more. That certainly sounds very much like JK, and fits with what we’ve seen in the previous episode. Despite that Hobi wins the match!

Next up is Namjoon against Tae. Jimin playfully takes up the role of Tae’s coach, hands him a bottle of water and carries his racket while Tae ties his shoes and then approaches the net for rock-paper-scissors. Upon seeing their shenanigans, Seokjin jumps in as Namjoon’s coach, making sure he has spare balls and that he actually goes to the net as well.

Before the match even begins we get Namjoon asking first Seokjin, who says he doesn’t know, and then Coach Kim if he’s even holding the racket properly which Yoongi comments upon saying he’s holding it the way you would a knife while cooking. Honestly Yoongi is on fire this episode with funny commentary. Then as they get to rock-paper-scissors, Tae as the most endearing human ever asks upon his angels (with Yoongi asking the editors to add in actual angel graphics for his sequence) to help him win, which he does. He gets to start off the match.

Namjoon is certainly the funniest tennis player among the members adding in little hops and spins making everyone laugh so, so much. Coach Kim comments upon how, because Namjoon was so busy, he didn’t get to learn how to do backhand and thus only knows how to do forehand (please don’t ask me what that means and what kind of effect that has because I have no clue). Speaking of laughter, at some point Seokjin is laughing so much and so hard Hobi turns to him and asks “why are you so happy?” but we never get an answer. Interestingly enough, as they announce a serve change, so Tae serving instead, Seokjin immediately stops laughing and looks focused again.

Also at some point they realize that Namjoon was playing with someone else’s racket, leading to Namjoon switching to his actual one, while Coach Kim says that Namjoon had left his racket at their gym which Seokjin comments by saying “that’s Namjoon”. We’re also treated to Nam-derer (Namjoon + Federer) and Tae-kovic (Taehyung + Djokovic) by Seokjin. Honestly, extra points for creativity. The match ends with Namjoon losing, ending up at the net and immediately being ready to bump elbows with Tae accepting his defeat. Absolutely hilarious match!

Next up is Seokjin against Jimin and it starts with Seokjin promptly loosing three points one after the other with the other members commenting that tennis is a mind game and Jimin’s mind is good. Jimin loses the next point, thus the members idea of Jimin potentially winning a “perfect game” (without Seokjin getting any points) is gone. Although it’s meant teasingly, this is still really cute:

Upon being prompted by Namjoon to bring out his (Jimin’s) true tennis skills, the game turns around and Seokjin goes into the lead. Soon thereafter the score is 5 for Jimin and 9 for Seokjin which leads to Tae calling out the score to Jimin (saying Jiminie) as 5959 which apparently is both a lucky number and phonetically similar to something you’d say in a cutesy way to a child or someone you love in Korean, and on top of that it’s also 9595 backward. Unfortunately all that soulmate luck doesn’t help since Jimin still ends up losing the match.

Next up is Hobi against Tae with Hobi “teasing” Tae by claiming that he’s certain Tae will win. The match starts off with Hobi winning twice but Tae gets into it soon enough and they actually manage to get a few rallies going, as well as Coach Kim commenting on how you can tell that Hobi has prior training. As they reach 6:7 for Tae, Jimin and Namjoon start chanting KIM TAEHYUNG, with Jimin, Seokjin and Jungkook also doing some additional “cheerleader” moves. Very sweet and supportive! Look at their smiles, look at Jimin’s smile! He does that a few more times as Tae wins more points.

Then we get to the moment that had everyone, vminnies and non-vminnies alike, in absolute shambles: Tae hurts himself (though I’m still not 100% certain if it was a joke or he actually hurt himself even if just a bit) and falls to the ground, Yoongi rushes in with a big smile while calling for a medic and Jimin runs over saying he’ll carry Tae. Which he does, just like anon said. Look at him! How is it possible that somehow Tae turns so smol whenever he’s in Jimin’s arms? Also just how strong, exactly, is Jimin that he can just pick up Tae like that despite Tae being taller, and therefore also surely a little heavier than Jimin?

Also can we please talk about how Tae hooks his arms around Jimin, how he nestled his head against him, and also about that barely visible (from our angle and due to Jimin’s shoulder) smile on Tae face as he’s being carried? And also Namjoon’s face. Of course he’s there as well because what would be a vmin scene if Namjoon wouldn’t be there as well haha.

That’s still not everything (truly this episode is a gift that keeps on giving) since Jimin puts down Tae on the stands and proceeds to give him pretend CPR and acts like he wants to also give him mouth-to-mouth which makes Tae giggle/laugh, but not just any laugh, it’s his Jiminie laugh. Catch me crying. After that Tae gets up and ends up winning the match giving us the following (it’s not too visible in the gif but my heart melts at Jimin’s happy/fond smile):

And thus the final match is Kim vs Kim, place your bets now before continuing on. I do love how seriously Jimin is taking his “coach” job as he once again stands by Tae’s side before the match begins and carries his racket. 

Since this is already getting outrageously long (and there are still 16 minutes left) I’ll just mention a few highlights instead of a detailed commentary. Also, if you don’t want to know who wins, I’d recommend skipping this part. I’ll add a bold Match Over at the end so just scroll until you see that.

Tae and Seokjin tease each other which Seokjin delivering the following line “I’ll prove that the underdog can’t make it to the top”.

Tae fails his first attempt at a serve, but upon second try, wins his first point. 

Tae asks for more balls so he can keep some in his pockets which is commented by JK as Tae being greedy for balls because his mom didn’t buy him the toys he wanted as a kid. Another member, though I can’t for the life of me figure out which, asks what he’s talking about, and then Namjoon puts an end to the antics.

Seokjin rolls up his sleeves (things are getting serious serious) and Namjoon wishes him good luck (we love a supportive leaderbf). This is followed by Namjoon wondering if Seokjin is Shapovalov and Seokjin wins the point.

Seokjin wins the first set and they switch sides.

Seokjin tries to pick up the ball by hitting it with the racket just like they’d been taught in the previous episode but hits the ground instead. Yoongi wants to give him a yellow card but only has a yellow pen which he holds up instead.

They get a fantastic rally going but unfortunately Tae loses because he hits the ball too hard and it goes OUT. JK says it was so good there should be a slo-mo to commemorate that rally which makes everyone laugh.

Tae hits the ball into the OUT and nearly hits Jimin and JK which prompts Jimin to chant something in Busan satoori along with JK but Namjoon stops them by saying that they’re in Seoul.

The ball gets stuck in Tae’s racket, something that happens very, very rarely and thus the members decide to give him that point simply because of that. Namjoon also tells Tae he should buy a lottery ticket.

Finally, because “hard work never betrays”, Seokjin wins! He also wins, according to me for the cutest smile because honestly LOOK AT HIM, how can anyone not be endlessly fond, endeared and enamored with him? That’s scientifically impossible and should be a punishable crime. Am I exaggerating? Who cares!

Also Hobi gently, so very gently, dabbing away Seokjin’s sweat with his sleeve. 

Seokjin receives a skinny little gold medal, which Tae sneakily steals from him like a little squirrel while Seokjin gives a speech while being the most humble and very Seokjin. 

MATCH OVER

After the game the members gather at a restaurant with the bill being paid by Seokjin, which is something the members simply decide upon though Seokjin makes a joke about having forgotten his wallet at home. What a nice prize for winning, makes it totally worth it, right? The first dishes that are served are seafood which Namjoon comments on by saying that he can’t eat them, but he needn’t worry because there was plenty, and I mean plenty, more food to be tried and eaten.

Overall the dinner featured some funny and interesting moments such as:

Hobi, Tae and Seokjin playing the “tangsuyuk” game which Namjoon calls childish and yet makes a game out of him saying “child” and Jimin “ish” with a laugh and smile on his face.

Jimin and Seokjin having a funny/cutesy conversation in a mix of Korean and English which is followed by Seokjin saying they should now only talk in English, which Hobi accepts. The only ones who do it are Hobi and Seokjin (who shows off two sentences with great pronunciation) and then it’s over and they switch back to Korean.

JK saying “I wanna be a lobster” to the tune of “I wanna be a rockstar” from Interlude: Shadow.

An extreme closeup shot of Jimin trying Peking duck including some ASMR for those who like it.

JK and Seokjin reaching for Seokjin’s drink at the same time with Seokjin telling JK he should order his own instead of trying to take his (later we see JK still drink from Seokjin’s glass). Jimin also asks for a sip (though he might be talking to Hoseok since there’s a glass standing between them as well from which we see Jimin drink).

Tae wonders what they’ll be going through in the next episode of RUN which gets commented as “reasonable doubt” by the editors in the subs. 

Jimin tells the story of how he went to a hair salon with Yoongi though at first he can’t remember when it was. Tae and his vault of Jimin memories though does, saying that it was for their profile pictures before debut. The story goes that Jimin got an asymmetrical haircut which apparently was so bad/funny Yoongi couldn’t look at him and left him behind to meet with his friends instead. Once Jimin arrived at the dorm, Hobi woke up from his sleep yet, upon seeing Jimin, “fainted” because he laughed so hard.

As final dish they get mattang which reminds them of the mattang JK made in an older episode of RUN which ended up basically being completely immovable and stuck to his plate. “First is cleanliness, second is cleanliness, and third is adhesiveness.” I’m not surprised that we remember these things, but looking at how much they do, see, and have to remember, I’m always amazed by the fact that they remember such small things as well.

Jimin asked how long they’ve been doing RUN for to which JK says “10 years” making everyone laugh. Yoongi though comes through saying that they started in 2015, which is correct.

In the end they get some coffee and Tae asks if they should leave for their next shoot now, something it seems they’ve been stalling on doing since Tae already asked that twice before and they came up with things they should/need to do or eat before that.

And that concludes the episode! Wow, this turned out way too long. If you actually made it this far, I truly applaud you and also thank you sincerely. I loved this episode and I just had a lot to say, I suppose. This might be one of my new favorite episodes, which I have a feeling I’ve been saying for the last couple of episodes as well, but what can I say, these episodes have really been amazing recently.

[clonewarslover55]

Chanting: Vaughn Vaughn Vaughn Vaughn! May we have some captain Vaughn headcannon?

Absolutely!! 

Note: I made him a damaged boy. Please forgive me. Also! Alcohol and alcohol abuse are in these headcanons. If this triggers a lot of you, I can write a more censored version so you all can still enjoy it.  

Captain Vaughn relationship and general headcanons 

SFW 

Vaughn seems like a pretty relaxed and level headed clone 

He wasn’t at first 

You probably met him at 79’s 

He was a corporal when you first meet him(Because this is before the bad times obv)

Vaughn is a little older than the Domino squad boys, but he still isn’t as old as his Captain 

When he was younger he was definitely a bit more rowdy, which is when you met him. 

He drank and partied a lot. Like, A LOT. 

Sometimes he would come up missing, because he was passed out in an alley somewhere.

Sometimes he’d be too busy throwing up so he couldn’t exercise or train

He was obviously in a very dark place

He definitely flirted with you. He would’ve been smooth if he hadn’t been slurring his words 

Vaughn was obviously a mess, so you too didn’t get into a serious relationship

You two stayed friends as he went through this terrible phase, trying to help him in anyway you can

Eventually he calms down. 

Of course only after he gets in trouble a few times, has a drunk tattoo, and spends more time on the battlefield does he calm down

He stops partying as much, but he still drinks quite a bit 

On Umbara he lost the last of his squad brothers who he trained with as a cadet 

Umbara shattered Vaughn. 

He showed up at your door in bloody armor and just collapsed into your arms in exhaustion and grief 

That was Vaughn’s breaking point. He had finally gotten the realization that he shouldn’t waste his life like this 

You help Vaughn get over his addiction, of course while falling deeply in love with him

One day he was laying on your couch in a pair of dumb pjama pants and one of your oversized sweatshirts, and he blurted out, “I love you.” 

You dropped the plate you were washing and stared at him. You loved him too of course 

Vaughn got a lot better, and that’s when your relationship took off. 

You two began to go on dates, most of which were at small restaurants or picnicking in the public gardens 

Both of you just needed to get out, which helped Vaughn even more 

He didn’t want to step foot in 79’s ever again, so you both stayed far away from there 

Vaughn always held your hand or had an arm around you in public, he didn’t care if others saw 

You’re his whole entire galaxy and he’ll hold your hand if he wants to

Vaughn learned how to cook while he was away on a particularly long mission 

You have no idea how it happened or who taught him(It was Kix) 

You just woke up one morning to see your completely armored up boyfriend making you breakfast 

He was back from the mission and he made you the best breakfast you had ever had 

He began to cook you both food often 

Eventually you had to hide cake batter and such from him because he loves sweets and wouldn’t stop baking shit 

His slightly silly side came out around you, yet he was still pretty level headed and reserved once he was healthy again 

As the war went on you saw how it had affected Vaughn, he became a better soldier but a more quiet man 

His PTSD was awful after Umbara, so he had nightmares often 

Most nights you cradle Vaughn’s head against your chest, letting him know that you would always be there for him

Sometimes he’ll tell you about the horrors that have plagued him sense he was a Shiny 

All you could do was stroke his hair and listen, helping him let it all out. 

You introduced scents and warm baths to help soothe him and it worked 

In the bath his drunk tattoo is very visible on his chest. It’s a battle droid hand with the middle finger sticking up with no context 

(@Hounding-Around’s idea)

He hates it but you find it hilarious 

Vaughn is very touch starved, like all clones, so he loves to cuddle 

He loves relaxing on the couch with you or in the bed 

He’s not really clingy, he’s just kind of touchy 

Vaughn is pretty romantic, and smooth as hell 

One time you came home to a surprise dinner lit by candle light , while your clone boyfriend stood there in a suit

It was an amazing surprise 

Vaughn is a sweetheart and sometimes a goofball, but he also has his bad days 

His depression is pretty severe but you make his life worth living 

He’ll bury his face into your hair and neck and whisper those words 

Vaughn doesn’t know what he’d do without you 

He often talks about  a future with you, on some other planet 

Where you two have children and a perfectly happy life

Vaughn isn’t away from Coruscant for too long thanks to his general, so he sees you a lot 

He never brings any trinkets or anything, but he does shower you with love and affection! 

Vaughn loves you with all of his heart, and he makes sure to prove it with his actions. 

NSFW

Vaughn knows what he’s doing in bed, but not really 

He hardly remembers so you’ll have to teach him some, but not everything 

He learns quick and memorizes your body in no time

Vaughn can make you scream with pleasure now 

If you trace his tattoo he’ll glare at you, but he loves the sensation

He’s a switch, but he prefers being topped 

That doesn’t mean he won’t be in charge, because he enjoys that too 

Vaughn isn’t very vocal at first, but once your sex life progresses you learn how to make him moan like a bitch in heat 

You’ll have to be the one to bring up kinks and trying new things 

He’d hop on board immediately! He loves experimenting with you 

Vaughn will try whatever you want 

As long as you get pleasure from it he’ll do it 

He loves your moans and noises of pleasure 

If you trace his muscles and just admire his body he will melt instantly 

He is a slut for praise

Vaughn will often admire your body before kissing everywhere he can on your skin

He knows he’s lucky to have you, so he’ll worship you 

He’s amazing at giving oral. He’s bad at dirty talking but his mouth works well for other things 

Vaughn isn’t the biggest fan of receiving oral because it reminds him a lot of drunken nights 

He’ll still fuck your mouth though. 

He doesn’t like public sex or quickies that much because of that reason too 

He has a breeding kink, like all clones, and he loves cumming inside of you 

He doesn’t want children yet, but he’ll definitely get into the heat of the moment 

Vaughn doesn’t always have to cum inside you though 

When he decides to be romantic he’ll fuck you nice and slow, drawing the night out

When he’s stressed don’t expect to be walking the next day 

His speed and how rough he goes all depends on his mood

No matter how or where you two fuck, he always treats you like a Queen/King when it’s over 

He makes sure you get all cleaned up and he’ll relax beside you 

If you want to take a shower or bath he’ll be happy to do so

After he takes good care of you he curls up with you 

He always falls asleep with you in his arms, or the other way around

Tags:@royalhandmaidens @catsnkooks @valkyrieofthehighfae @peacelandbread @blue-space-porgs @leias-left-hair-bun@Iamassbuttkingofhell @Azem-thefourteenth @opalstxrs @commanderrivercc-3628 @my-awakened-ghost @captainrexstan @hounding-around

[starshipsofstarlord]

Hard Lives - Jason Todd x Reader

It was unfair. The whole team seemed to hold a grudge against Jason, for what reason you did not know. He was cocky and arrogant, but he was harmless, to the team at least. He needed more experience, or so Bruce said, but he wasn’t being given it. Dick wanted him and the rest of you teenagers to stay in the Titans base. But it was clear Jason didn’t want to.

You didn’t either, but you were obeying the adults to the best of your ability. If they wanted you to remain put, it was in your best interest to do so.

From the way they treated him he became distant, retreating into his own quarters and limiting his socialisation to talking to Gar.

Jason liked to train. He wanted to be the best Robin he could. You envied his skill, and here you currently were, watching him take out his frustrations in a stick battle with the green haired boy.

Bruce's adoptee appeared to be winning, throwing his stick to the back of Gar's legs so that he fell onto the mat. The vigilante smirked, offering the closest person he had to a friend a hand up.

Gar accepted, shaking it before coming towards the exit, where you were stationed.

"He's not that bad." He told you, suspicious of your hovering.

Perhaps he thought you wrote examining the flaws in Robin's agility, or noticing how he was almost too cocky and confident with his physical ability. But you weren't. If anything, you'd consider what you were doing as admiring.

"I'm not judging tiger." You smirked at the blush that crept upon the meta human's face, watching as he bowed his head and fled to the hallway.

You enjoyed having that affect upon people. You had learnt a lot from those who had raised you. Your mothers as they were known.

Green eyes darted to you. Jason had spotted you. "Don't you have a circus to run or some plants to grow?"

His voice hunted his irritance. He knew that you had been raised by Poison Ivy and Harley Quinn, and he happened to hold it against you.

"Don't you have some blue eggs to squeeze out?" You retorted, coming away from the doorway and walking slowly towards Jason Todd.

"Funny." He simply remarked, not moving as you adventure closer. "What is the reason I am graced with your hilarious presence?"

The stick was still grasped in his left hand, since he had swapped it from his right when aiding Gar to his feet.

"Is it so hard to believe that I'm not here to taunt you or put you down like the others do?"

Hank was a criminal for it. He would purposely anger Jason, often ending in both a verbal and physical fight. You'd have thought that Hank, a grown man, would have more maturity than pick on a kid but apparently not.

Rachel made her occasional comments, whether that be away from his ears or not. Even if they were, Jason was well aware that she had a problem with him, even if it wasnt personal.

Kori never really had an opinion of him whatsoever. She had her own problems and it was visible that he was appreciative that she didn't consider him one of them.

Dawn kept her distance, but still stopped Hank from getting too into bullying the teenager. She was mature, not stupid. She was well aware of what Jason was capable of.

Dick always put him down. Telling him he could do and be better. It may have had the intention of being encouragement but it didn't work that way. It made his life even harder, reminding him that he wasn't the only Robin. Maybe he didn't want to be a copy of the Robin that Dick was. Just maybe he wanted to be his own version.

"Yes." He answered, tightening his grip whilst looking you in the eye the same way an enemy would.

It was stupid this whole ordeal was. Harley and Ivy stole you when you were a child from what you assumed to be a loving mother and hard working father. Yet Jason treated you as if it was your fault that you landed in their custody.

The others were nicer about the situation, possibly because you had distanced yourself from those villainous figures, and you were obedient. The same couldn't be said for Jason. He hated all of the rules that were set.

It was fine for him beforehand, when he had the full run of Wayne Manor. He could do whatever he wanted. But this was a base, a training facility that sheltered you all until you were ready to take on the real action.

"For all the time we have been here, I don't recall once doing such a thing." You smiled at him, but he only grimaced at the expression you put on your face. "Tell me if you do, refresh my memory if it's mistaken."

Jason couldn't hell himself, his eyes were trained to roll whenever you tried to be a smart ass. "Is it just a game to you? Why do you pretend to be so nice to me?"

It came blurting out of his mouth and he realised after. He had never voiced such a thing before.

"I don't pretend Jason." You told him, crossing your arms and looking down. "I've heard how hard your life was before Bruce, and I thought I'd cut you some slack. God knows that you need it."

He locked his lips nervously. He usually tried to present himself as proud and cocky, but it seemed that you had set off that switch in him.

"Do you maybe want to get out of here?" For all he knew, you would shove the offer back in his face or laugh at him for actually believing that you were joking all along. But you didn't. Instead you sent him a warm smile, one that you were clearly containing.

"And where do you have in mind?" You asked, knowing that you could trust him. You were a part of the same team, of course you could. If you couldn't have faith in one another, you couldn't have it in yourself.

...

Dick stopped Dawn when he saw her. This place, the past that came with it was a lot for them all to take in. But this was Titans Tower, a home for those who could do good with the bad in them.

"Have you seen Jason and (Y/N)?" Dawn wasnt the first person he had asked. He had yet to go around the rest of the tower, Gar had told him he saw you enter the training room just as he was leaving, but it was now empty.

"Maybe you should check the roof." She informed him. It wasnt meant to bring up their history, but when Dawn and Dick had been together, that had been their spot.

The sky was calming, even if it was under the influence of a storm. It was away from the world, and that was something they needed when being a hero.

He nodded at her, clambering up to where the roof was. And then he saw something he had never expected when he laid his feet on the very top surface.

You and Jason. It was a warm day, and the two of you barely noticed. The pair of you were curled into one another, with your eyes shut and your breathing calm.

This was how he wanted to see the two of you. Acting like teenagers instead of vigilantes in training.

The two of you had had such hard lives you deserved a break, and that was clearly what the two of you were having. Except you were sharing the time, seeing each other in a vulnerable state.

It made Dick feel old. He wasn't that old, but still, you kids were all growing up under their care, finding yourselves and each other.

...

You and Jason entered the dining space, together. Donna raised an eyebrow but remained silent.

Dick smirked at the Robin replacement, noticing how the boy kept stealing glances at you.

"I think you got a little burnt on the roof." Hank laughed at mostly Jason, which made him lower his head and shrink back into himself once again.

"He can't get burnt if he's already smoking hot." You defended him, leaning Hawk and everyone else at the table speechless.

Gar tried to stifle his laugh, but failed. For once he was happy to see you making someone other than him flustered.

And Jason was clearly flustered. His cheeks were glowing coral, and it wasn't due to the sun's beaming rays.

"You don't actually have a thing for him, do you?" Rachel attempted to joke, twirling her fork in her dominant hand.

"So what if I do?" You challenged her. The two of you got along, but you didn't appreciate anyone picking on Jason. It wasnt fair, they weren't even giving him a chance. "Perhaps you'd understand why if you stopped treating him like the shit on the bottom of your shoe."

"(Y/N)." Dick scolded you for your language but you ignored him.

You had let everyone's behaviour towards Jason slide for far too long. Today was the end of it, you'd ensure that. "No." You said to him. "None of you have even given him a chance, except for a few of us. You all look down at him or think of him as some rich spoilt boy. Maybe if you got to know him, or paid the littlest attention to detail, you would see how uncomfortable you all make him. He's human, like most of us in this room. He's done nothing but try and save our asses or follow Bruce's orders yet you still disregard him as the public does to us. Perhaps if you weren't such hypocrites, then you'd see the affect you are having on a teenage boy! "

There was nothing more you had to say, so you left, without eating or looking at Jason once more.

Dick tried to call you back, but instead you went to your room, where you hoped no one would bother you.

....

A fist lightly tapped your door. "I swear to god if it's you Rachel, I will got to the kitchen on a personal vendetta and grab that fork you were using and stab it into that stupid gem on your forehead."

But when you opened it you weren't met with Rachel. It was Jason.

"I hope you're not gonna stab me in the forehead." He sheepishly smiled, and you could only do the same. It was nice to hear him cracking the littlest of jokes.

You widened the entrance of your room, opening it so that he could enter. After he did, you shut it.

"Are you okay?" You were concerned. You knew the opinions of everyone in that room took a toll on him.

"I am after your explosive rant." He grabbed your hand. And then he frowned. "You must be hungry." He concluded.

"I'm fine." You assured him.

"Well we could always go out onto the streets and find some random food cart that serves overly expensive hot dogs." Jason still hadn't let go of your hand, and you didn't mind.

You let him see the warm smile again. "I'd like that." And you did.

[thebisexualdogdad]

Malec, Clizzy and Jimon as parents AU

Co written with @inhumanshadows

· So Alec and Magnus have 2 boys (Rafael and Max), Simon and Jace only have 1 child (Stephen) And Clary and Izzy have 3 kids (twins Cora and Iris, Liam)

· Magnus and Alec are the first to start their family so their son's are the oldest, then Clary and Izzy's twin girls and their son is a year younger than Jace and Simon's son

· Malec's sons are personality wise just like their dads

· Very smart, very stubborn and very sassy

· Clary and Izzy's daughters are a force to be reckon with and they can kick the boy's asses any day of the week

· And they protect their little brother.

· Jace and Simon's son is just a little shit who's always playing pranks on people

· He loves pulling pranks. 

· All the clizzy kids can cook. (Isabelle finally admitting she’s not best around a kitchen)

· And the Lightwood-Bane boys are so freaking smart, Rafael is already on track to taking over as the head of the Institute from Alec when he's old enough

· Maryse has her hands full with all these grandkids and she spoils all of them

· Oh the sheer amount of spoiling from her alone

· Malec have the strictest household, Clizzy are in the healthy balance and Jimon have literally no rules

· Jimon has rules put in place by Clizzy and Malec

· Stephen is not afraid of Alec at all and Jace is all proud like that's my boy

· Alec has a realization of terror that Stephen is very much like Jace

· And Izzy thinks it's hilarious

· She has a framed picture of Alec’s face

· All the couples switch off taking care of the kids for date night once a week

· Jimon babysitting means sugar crashes. 

· Clizzy babysitting ends up with simple cooking lessons or art projects or more likely both.

· Malec babysitting means awesome bedtime stories with added magic cause of Uncle Magnus

· One time Stephen got into a little trouble with some graffiti he did on the subway walls so Clary called in retired cop Grandpa Luke to set him straight

· Clary is stern and responsible on the outside but after she pulls her nephew aside and gushes over the art

· And both Simon and Jace are like oh thank god we don't have to discipline him ourselves

· Clary: “bitch you thought....” and hands them parenting books

· Cora and Iris are fascinated by the mundane world and have snuck out a few times to go dance at clubs

· They end up at pandemonium a lot. And Uncle Magnus has the place spelled to let him know.

· Magnus may be the cool uncle but he does give them the ultimatum to tell their moms themselves before he does 

· Liam is 100% like Clary. Covered in paint or chalk pastels.

· The boy is a total artist prodigy

· Izzy is a bit worried when she thinks he hasn’t inherited much from her. But Liam is killer at darts and takes up archery. Uncle Alec sheds a tear

· Cora and Iris also take after Izzy in been highly knowledgeable with weapons which the boys are all terrified of

· They pray for whomever messes with them

· Rafael and Max are more inherently book smart than physically inept but Alec trains with them everyday

· Clizzy’s children all argue over possession of Izzy’s electrum whip.

· The amount of times any of the kids have broken into Magnus' apothecary supplies and accidently blew stuff up or drugged themselves

· He has to put non lethal magic to keep them out of it. Stephen isn’t the bravest but does his best. And Jace is so the overprotective parent

· Everyone is shocked at how protective Jace ended up being, even Simon is more relaxed than he is 

· "They're so fragile! Do you know how easy it is to break a kid?"

· Simon tells Stephen to keep an eye on Jace when he babysits and Simon has to work.

· Simon "babe please don't feed them pizza and ice cream again Alec's gonna be so mad"

· Birthday parties are always awesome.

· Even Alec enjoys them as well as family barbecues

· The kids get really spoiled by Grandma Jocelyn and Grandpa luke.

· Luke is the grill master at barbecues and Jocelyn slips every kid some money for candy and junk food

· Jocelyn teaches the kids about the old days of the shadowhunters.

· Rafael and Max speak multiple languages and will speak in another language around Stephens to make him mad

· He gets back at them by making references they don’t get

· Rafael and Max are just as clueless about pop culture as their dad's meanwhile Stephen lives off it

· When the kids are old enough to start dating Clizzy are excited, Malec are worried and Jimon are 50/50 

· The twins have a very open relationship with their moms so they can talk about the people they have crushes on

· Alec on the other hand is like oh no i didn't sign up for this

· Alec: “I didn’t sign up for emotions and relationship talk.”

· Magnus: “just wait till the sex talk

· "nope, Jace can handle that" 

· "you really want Jace to give our kids the sex talk?" 

· "well he gave me the talk when we were they're age"

· Magnus is like 😑 Or *looks into camera* “this boi...”

· there’s conflicts about the kids going to school in the mundane vs the shadow world

· Clary and Simon obviously want them to experience the mundane world like they did, Alec, Izzy and Jace want homeschool like they did and Magnus is like why do they need school again?

· This leads to immense arguing. Until Jocelyn to the rescue: “they go to mundane school and learn about the shadow world at night like Clary”

· You can’t tell me that Clizzy didn’t start their own inclusive fashion label

· The kids of course designed some of the fashion labels clothing and happily promote the label.

· Cora and Iris are some of the most popular kids at school so everyone wants to wear Clizzy's stuff because they are

· Liam is popular in his own circles. He’s one of the top artists at the school.

· Stephen is the “bad influence”

· Rafael and Max get straight A's and are at the top of their classes

· The others have subjects they excel in and ones they help each other in. Although Stephen while a smart kid has some focusing problems

· All the pta mom's have a crush on Jace

· They all end up going to colleges in New York to stay close to the Institute

· They all live in a shared loft which, thanks to magic fits them all. And they have to periodically make sure the other eats

· Of course Rafael make a chore chart which Stephen doesn't follow at all

· Rafael's like: “guys chore wheel!!”

·Stephen: “fuck ya chore wheel!”

· One night the twins come home from class and the boys had stolen their face masks and were having a spa night

· They’re like: “we should be mad... but they’re taking care of themselves...” 

· They then take the boys shopping for spa day supplies tailored to each of them. They all get together and relax after stressful weeks

· And all the couples gush about how cute their kids are

· So many baby pictures

· And they all embarrass the kids on social medias

· Sole reason any of the parents have social media

· Clary, Izzy and Simon all leave supportive and loving comments on the kids posts, Magnus leaves historical facts retaining to whatever they posted about, Alec leaves the randomest comments that no one understands and Jace just leave troll comments

· And clary’s Insta is full of candids of the kids and the fam

· Alec posts once every 6 months and it's usually of the kids training

· Magnus has a lot of photos with the kids and the chairman. As well as local visits to cat shelters

· Izzy's Insta has a theme and is organized and model style photos

· Simon posts very artsy hipster pictures of New York and inspirational quotes

· He also has pics of his boys at amusement parks. And the first big family trip to Disney was a sight

· Meanwhile Jace's insta is an actual disaster and doesn't even put captions on most his posts

· Simon and Stephen give Jace a crash course on insta

· One time Alec saw a beer bottle in a story and freaked out, Magnus had to stop him from going to the loft to scold them

· “Alec... they’re grown ups... as much as you don’t want to admit it.”

[steppedoffaflight]

Summer’s a Knife - Chapter 12

Catch up on Chapter 11 here

“So?” Van brings you back to reality.

“So what?”

Van’s eyes widen like your question was stupid. “Are you able to go to dinner with us?”

Your neck jerks back like he’s just said something repulsive. “Why would I go to Benji’s birthday dinner?”

The longer Van stares at you like you’re an idiot, the more irritation boils under your skin. “Because you’re our friend?” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

or

You’re cordially invited to celebrate Benji’s 29th birthday.

Word count: ~14k

A/N: content warning for drunk sex and some sliiiight under-negotiated kink

Chapter Twelve July 2019

True to your word, you hold Van hostage at your place for the rest of the weekend, making sure he gets plenty of rest, fluids, and soup. It feels amazing to have him close by, not having to wonder about what he’s up to or how he’s feeling. Whether you’re on the porch with your nose in another one of your books, or finishing up some work things at the kitchen table, it relieves you to know that Van’s only a room away, snoozing peacefully on your bed. 

On Sunday evening Van feels well enough to sit on the couch with you, dragging your comforter along with him. You two resume the Netflix show about the stalker and have a small binge of it until both of you are distracted with your phones.

“Hey,” Van croaks. “What’re you doing Monday?”

“Tomorrow? The same thing I do every Monday, Van.” You can already tell from his tone that he’s most likely about to suggest something insane. You mentally gear up for his argument against your no.

“Not this Monday, the next. And I know you work, so shut up-” He shakes his head in exasperation when your mouth opens to tell him that. “I mean after work.”

You open up the calendar on your phone. There’s nothing special happening on the day in question. “Um, nothing…” You answer Van wearily, bracing for his request.

When Van doesn’t speak you dare to meet his eyes. “Uh, why?”

“We’re having a birthday dinner for Benji,” Van tells you. “Technically his birthday is on Thursday but we’re flying out on Tuesday and we wanted to go to that restaurant we like. The one I took you to?”

You nod at the memory. How could you forget it? It was the most exclusive and expensive place you’d ever eaten at. Not to mention it’s sort of where this whole thing with Van started. Or would San Diego be considered the place where it all started? You lose your train of thought pondering this.

“So?” Van brings you back to reality.

“So what?”

Van’s eyes widen like your question was stupid. “Are you able to go to dinner with us?”

Your neck jerks back like he’s just said something repulsive. “Why would I go to Benji’s birthday dinner?”

The longer Van stares at you like you’re an idiot, the more irritation boils under your skin. “Because you’re our friend?” He says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

Your jaw goes slack at this. He didn’t say my friend. He said our friend. As in the fucking band.

“What- I mean, Benji doesn’t even like me!” You insist. “He doesn’t want me at his birthday dinner. We’ve barely said five words to each other!”

“Aw, Blakes likes you plenty. He’s just quiet, is all. Bob’s cool with everyone. You know John adores you. We love having you around!”

You can’t even wrap your head about what Van’s saying. You’ve always figured you were a nuisance to the other boys, an inconvenience at their shows. The guitar Bondy had gifted you had been an incredibly nice gesture, but you always assumed his kindness was a direct result of trying to make Van happy by welcoming you.

“I think you’re just saying that,” You argue. “I don’t think they like me. They’re nice to me because you like me.”

“Not true,” Van says. “All of them have said they liked you. They think you’re cool. You’re chill at the shows, they thought you were hilarious that time we had drinks on the patio, and Bond still talks about that one time we smoked weed at my house and you told us to do Encore at our set. It was a big hit, by the way. He loved that you made the right call.”

“I didn’t make the call,” You huff. “You two both like Encore best.”

“Y/N,” Van says seriously, “Conversation is a single. The label was one-hundred percent expecting us to do Conversation. We switched the set because you, a listener, liked Encore better. We were not going to do Encore.”

All you can do at this news is blink at him.

Van wiggles around underneath your comforter. “So are you going to fucking dinner with us or not? No pressure, but I already told them you’d most likely be there and they’re excited. Afterward we’re gonna go back to John’s place and have drinks. You don’t have to stay late, though.”

They were excited that you’d be there? “Um. I mean. Well, since you’ve already told them I’m going, what choice do I have?” You roll your eyes, but it’s all just an act so Van doesn’t feel like he got his way that easy.

Van beams at you before starting to tap away at his phone. “Perfect. It’s gonna be class.”

\\

Van makes a speedy recovery on his antibiotics, and on Tuesday you come home from work to a clean kitchen and an empty sink. 

Your house is so small that you don’t need to call out to Van that you’ve arrived, like you have to do at his house if he’s not in the living room. You can instantly hear the strumming of an acoustic guitar ringing out from your bedroom. 

You open the door slowly to reveal Van sitting on your bed, strumming away at the guitar Bondy gifted you. It’s been propped in the corner, unused, but you’ve noticed Van steadily gravitating towards it during his recovery, unable to resist the temptation of messing with it. Today’s the first day you’ve caught him doing more than just tuning it or plucking a few strings; he’s got his leather notebook spread out next to him, and he’s bobbing his head to an imaginary beat that continues even as he looks up at you. 

He finishes playing his tune, setting the guitar next to him on the bed and scrawling a few things into his notebook before closing it and tossing it onto the bedside table. “How was work?”

“Good, actually,” You tell him as you head to the closet, already starting to unbutton your silk blouse. The workday didn’t feel completely behind you until you’ve changed out of your professional clothes and into something that made you feel like yourself. “I made good progress on the research for that water company.”

 Van lays back on the bed, watching you shamelessly as you peel the silk off of your shoulders. “Ah. Do you think they’re gonna make it?”

Although it was difficult to explain exactly what it was that your company did, your department specialized in market research. In L.A. everyone’s got a big idea, and they paid your department to investigate if there was something to them. As you were only a couple of years out of college, you were assigned businesses that didn’t have a big research budget to spend, ideas that you could clearly see wouldn’t be taking off. Your more experienced coworkers were reserved for companies that had something to them, that would likely be developing life-long relationships with your firm. And though it was frustrating being assigned the businesses doomed to fail, you could tell your experience was starting to pay off, and could more easily recognize who was worth more of your time. 

“Not at all,” You snort. The business in question was run by two men that looked about your age, but were probably younger. Typical surfer-stoners, they’d developed a concept about THC water. Not CBD water- which was beginning as a profitable trend- but THC water, inspired by their friend group who thought it would be a million-dollar idea to be able to get high as they hydrated on the beach. But THC water is already a patented idea, the production costs are extremely high, and there are a lot of legal hoops to jump through with THC marketing campaigns.

You’d never discussed your job before with Van, but who could blame you? What job beat touring the world performing to screaming fans? But once you’d answered his questions about what you’re always doing on your MacBook, he’d become obsessed. A big fan of the underdog, he’d taken to placing bets against you on all of your projects. He’s certain this water company is going to make it.

“Nah, just wait,” He assures you. You turn to face him as you stand there in your bra, shimmying your slacks off of your legs. You narrow your eyes at him.

“Shut up. They’re doomed, Van.” Van gives you a once over as you stand there in your underwear, and you turn away just to deny him the privilege of admiring you. “Plus, their budget is almost used up and I’ve barely done anything. They’ll likely pull out next meeting.”

“I’ll fundraise for them,” Van jokes. “Send out a couple tweets, get the fans behind them. They’ll take off.”

“Or,” You suggest, snapping your bra off and throwing a clean t-shirt on, “Save yourself the effort of trying to remember your twitter login, and smoke your weed like the rest of us in California.”

Van laughs at that, and the argument is settled.

“By the way,” You’re clad in your typical t-shirt and sweatpants now, and pick up your guitar to settle it back in the corner. When that’s put away you sit down on the bed next to Van’s sprawled out body. “Why’d you clean the kitchen? You’re supposed to be resting.”

“I was bored today! I didn’t do anything crazy like mop. I just wanted to pay you back for the dinners.”

You’d quickly learned that Van’s chef act that he’d whipped out the first time you’d stayed the night at his place was just that: an act. He was absolutely hopeless in the kitchen if eggs and bacon weren’t involved, which meant that every night you were the one cooking up dinner for you two while Van hacked up a lung from his spot on the couch. 

“You don’t have to pay me back for anything, stop,” You ruffle his hair. Van untucks one of his hands from behind his head so he can playfully bat you away. “If anything, I owe you the dinners for the car.”

Van shakes his head at this. “What car? The car I leave baking in my driveway most of the year?”

You bat at his hand as he plucks at the hem of your shirt, another telltale sign he’s not feeling deathly anymore. He’s been making passes at you for the past two days, but you’ve dutifully ignored them. Your first fuck after time apart was always intense, and truthfully you were a little worried about breaking him. You bat his fingertips away, playfully grazing the soft skin of your stomach, and then he bats at you in retaliation, and soon you’re both breathless from laughing and your hands sting from slapping at each other. 

“So what should we do for dinner?” You ask when you’re done giggling. “Let’s get something. I don’t wanna cook.” What you actually didn’t want to do was ruin the clean kitchen. 

“Let’s go somewhere,” Van suggests. “Nowhere fancy. But I’m really in the mood for a burger.”

That’s good news, considering he’s only had an appetite for simple sandwiches and soup. And a burger does sound good, so you agree.

You sit up, preparing to switch out of your sweatpants into some leggings, when Van’s arm suddenly shoots out, keeping you from standing up.

“Wait,” He sits up, his hair straying from its usual side part. 

“What?” His sudden seriousness has you worried.

“Is that us on your shirt?”

You frown in confusion, looking down before you understand. You’re dressed in the shirt Van had given you in San Diego, the Balance toucan design on the front. “Yeah. You don’t remember?”

“Of course I remember! Just figured you’d have thrown it out by now.”

Your eyes widen in shock. “Why would I throw this out?”

“We didn’t speak for like, three months after that! Figured you forgot about me.”

“It was a free shirt! I wasn’t gonna waste it! Plus, that was a night to remember.”

Your words are tender, and you worry for a moment that you’ve betrayed your real feelings for him. But Van looks just as nostalgic and dreamy, nodding as he runs his fingers through his hair.

“It was, wasn’t it?”

There’s a beat of silence as you both remember that night, and then you both get up, preparing to make yourself presentable to the public.

\\

You’re tucked in a booth at the diner two blocks away from your house, a place where you and Mary have heavily frequented over the years. It was the perfect spot for some greasy food after your late nights out, considering it was open 24/7, and they also made some killer pancakes, perfect for mornings when she stays over and neither of you feel like making breakfast. But this time it’s you and Van settled into your usual spot, and you can see the gears turning in Van’s mind as he ponders the burger menu.

They’re not very busy tonight- probably because it was a weeknight- and the waitress is able to take your orders without much wait, and your food comes back almost as quickly. You’ve both gotten burgers and fries, and the steaming baskets placed in front of you look mouthwatering as she shuffles away, leaving you two to dig in.

Van’s gotten a classic cheeseburger, no onions, while you’ve treated yourself to the burger that included a fried egg. You didn’t get it often, but you always cursed yourself for not ordering it every single time when you remember how good it tastes. 

There’s no conversation for the first few minutes of eating, the only noise the crinkling of the paper lining in the plastic baskets. But after a sip from his bottle of beer, Van clears his throat.

“I think the waitress fancies you,” He says quietly.

His words instantly jar you. Crushing on the same sex was a complicated ritual, a delicate balance of over-friendliness while trying to avoid seeming like a creep in case the girl was straight. You’d never had any sort of playful interactions with your waitress, although she’s served you and Mary plenty of times. 

“What makes you say that?” You ask.

Van hunches over slightly, subtly trying to come in closer as he chews on a fry. “Okay, well, as soon as we got in here she started whispering,” He tells you, carefully looking around for her. “And then the second we sat down she basically ran over here and was being all nice to you. And I dunno. She was blushing when she took your order.”

You shake your head and take a sip of your lemonade. “I’m pretty sure Alexis has a boyfriend. Maybe they’re broken up now, I dunno. Mary and I heard her getting into an argument with someone in the parking lot the last time we were here.” Even as you reject his suspicions your cheeks heat up, and you fuss with your shirt self consciously. Alexis had an influencer look to her, with tanned skin and black hair so smooth and straight you were sure it was mostly extensions. There was no denying she was gorgeous, but every girl in the city was. 

“A boyfriend don’t mean nothin’,” Van insists. “Look at you!”

You choke on your bite of burger as you laugh. Your cough is loud in the small space, and you notice Alexis peers over at you where she’s dutifully bussing the front counter.

“Not everyone is bi just because I am,” You tell Van. 

He only shrugs. “Didn’t say that. It’s a possibility, that’s all.”

You shake your head. “I think she’s crushing on you, actually.”

“Me? Hell no. I’m a fucking toad.”

You roll your eyes. “Not true. And you’ve got that accent. Even the nurses were swooning over it.”

Before Van can argue, you two both sense Alexis approaching your booth.

“I’ll get you another lemonade,” She nods to your almost-empty glass. “Do you want another?” She asks Van about his beer, but he shakes his head.

“I’m alright. Cheers, though.”

She giggles as she trots off, and both of you look at one another with your eyebrows raised in a see? Sort of expression. 

\\

The sun is starting to set as Van pays the bill, and the air has cooled when you two exit the diner. You’re light on your feet, giggling as you and Van resume your argument over how you wanted to split the bill. You two are halfway across the pavement, Van jabbing at you with his elbow at something you’ve just said, when you hear the clatter of the rusty bell the diner keeps tied to their door. 

You two keep joking, disregarding the sound, until you hear someone call softly: “Hey!”

At this you two suddenly go quiet, turning to see Alexis approaching. There’s another waitress behind her, the one she’d been giggling with when you two had entered. You both stay rooted in place as they make their way to you.

“Sorry,” Alexis says immediately. “I didn’t wanna interrupt your meal, and this is so weird, but… Do you mind if we get a picture?”

Both girls are radiating nerves, their eyes glued to Van. looking at their wide, starstruck eyes makes the entire evening make sense. The blushing, the whispering. Van had misread the situation this entire time. They were fans.

As soon as they’ve broached the question, Van’s shoulders relax, his usual breeziness immediately resuming. “Oh, deffo,” He tells them, untucking his hands from the pockets of his jeans. “For sure, for sure. How are you guys?”

They both rush to answer his question, stammering and speaking over each other. You’re momentarily forgotten, his attention entirely dedicated to his conversation with them. You’re a bit amused at how they react to his intense eye contact, freezing up and stuttering over their sentences. It’s the exact same reaction you tend to have when he sets his sights on you like that.

The pictures only take a moment, each of the girls holding the phone for the other. But even after the pictures are done, Van gestures with his left hand absentmindedly.

“Have you got anything for me to sign?” He asks them, but neither of them do. “Go get my receipt,” Van tells Alexis, “I’ll sign that.”

The two girls hurry off, practically falling over their feet as they go. Once they’ve disappeared inside of the building Van remembers you exist.

He smiles in amusement, a secret inside joke over how starstruck they are, and you instantly feel included again, beaming back at him. The bell on the door rings again, both of them returning. Alexis has the bill Van just paid, and the other waitress has the pad of paper she records orders on, and Van signs both with a Sharpie they’d grabbed on their way out before he exchanges final goodbye hugs with them. Once they’ve walked back inside, giggling with each other the whole way, you two finally finish your walk to the Range Rover. 

“I’m sorry about that,” Van says immediately when you’re alone in the car. In the business of the fans you’d forgotten that you were supposed to be the one driving home, and Van’s the one that reverses out of the parking spot.

“Are you alright to drive?” You ask him worriedly, remembering the beer he’d ordered.

Van huffs out a laugh. “I’m fine.” The diner is so close to your place you’re already well on your way home by the time he passes under the stoplight in front of the building. 

“Alright. And don’t be sorry. I thought it was sweet.”

Van chuckles. “Sweet?”

“Yeah! They were so nervous. And the way you made them go get something for you to sign was so nice. You could’ve just taken the pics and left.”

“Yeah. When there’s nobody else around and I can take a second with them I like to do that. It doesn’t happen often, one or two people approaching me. Either I go without being recognized or I’m getting mobbed. Which, I’m proper surprised I got recognized. I never am in the States.”

“It was a strange coincidence,” You agree. “You’d never think the waitress that serves me and Mary all the time was a secret Catfish fan. And, by the way, I was right! She had a crush on you, not me!”

The car is stopped at a red light, and Van throws his hands up quickly in a show of surrender. “You were right, I’ll give you that. But we’ll find someone for you, don’t worry.”

You turn to look out of the window, hiding your blush from Van. How was he supposed to help you find someone when they were already sitting in the fucking car with you?

\\

In a strange- but pleasant- turn of events, Van doesn’t go home. On Wednesday he runs home to grab his MacBook and some fresh clothes, and on Thursday morning he shaves over your bathroom sink as you wiggle around him trying to get ready for work.

“Good luck with your meeting,” You call to him as you stuff things into your work tote. The band had some sort of Zoom call with their U.K. label. Van already told you what the meeting was about, but you’ve forgotten.

“Good luck with yours!” He shouts back. “Tell them I’m rooting for them!”

You’ve got a meeting today with the two founders of the THC water. You roll your eyes even though Van isn’t in the living room to see. “I absolutely will not! Bye!”

As you close the door on the morning commotion, surrounded instead by the peaceful quiet of your little street, you smile to yourself. You’ve been living alone for over a year now, and you’ve forgotten how pleasant the chaos of someone else being around can be. When you get along with them, that is. The chaos of living with an unbearable roommate is the whole reason you wanted to be alone to begin with. But you and Van seem to make it work just fine.

Your meeting goes just as you’d expected. The research budget is draining, but the boys insist you keep going, their belief in their idea still going strong. When you present the budget and the plan for your future work they make your workload easy by having to cut half of what you’d intended to do. They leave discouraged, and Van’s support for them rings through your mind. You make a mental note to put a little extra effort into their project, pro bono. At the very least, maybe you could make some calls and find someone more experienced in THC marketing that would be willing to meet with them.

You had felt your phone buzzing with texts during the meeting, but you don’t get a chance to look your notifications over until your lunch break. You’ve decided to take your break out of the office today, walking the short distance to the little coffee shop you frequent. 

There’s a text from Van asking about the meeting, and you regretfully inform him that things were going exactly as you predicted.

Mary’s sent you a picture that takes a second to load, only her message underneath visible at first: Tell me why Alexis just tweeted this last night??

The picture is a screenshot from Mary’s twitter app. There’s a tweet from @A_lexi_s that reads: Ya’ll I met Van McCann how is this my actual lifeee. She’s attached the picture you’d watched Van pose for in the parking lot. His arm is draped over her shoulders, an easy grin on his face. The breeze has made his hair a bit disheveled, and the wrinkles in his button up are visible where she’s got both of her arms wrapped around his waist. She’s absolutely glowing beside him, her waist length hair shining and her smile bright and perfect. You hadn’t realized she had eyelash extensions until now, seeing how the extra length of her lashes perfectly frame her eyes.

It’s a great picture. You don’t think you’ve ever taken a picture on the fly and looked as good as she did. In response to Mary you send back You follow Alexis on twitter?

Mary’s message pops up in your notification bar as you scroll through Instagram and munch at the bagel you’ve ordered. You don’t?! 

Before you can ask how Mary even got her handle Mary sends two messages in quick succession: That’s not the point, and This is!

Before you can question what “this” is, a third message comes through, another screenshot. 

It’s the replies to Alexis’s tweet. You recognize her coworker in the icon of one of the replies, her response a string of hearts. Someone else has asked who is that, and then someone else has responded with omg where did you meet him???!?

Alexis hasn’t replied to anyone except the last user. I served him at work!

The person has replied back Was he nice? With an emoji making an uncertain sort of face.

He was! You read Alexis’s tweet back to them. Very polite and he tipped well lol!

Was he with the band or eating alone, the user wants to know.

With a girl! I’ve served her before she’s always super sweet. 

The replies end there, Alexis’s words putting a cold pit of dread in your stomach. 

Instantly your mind starts racing. Do you tell Van? Keep it a secret? You check Alexis’s followers. 4k. Not a huge number, but there’s obviously people in that mix that know who Catfish is. Was this info going to blow up out of proportion?

You don’t reply to Mary, and spend the rest of the day debating if and how you should bring this up to Van. You push your worries aside long enough to get your work done, but the whole drive home you start to feel sick. Things felt like they were going so good. You loved having Van over and you two had been getting along so well. Now this gossip will probably scare him off. 

Still, you know honesty is the best policy. That’s why when you get home, interrupting Van as he watches something on TV, you don’t have it in you to greet him with the same enthusiasm he welcomes you with.

“Was the meeting that bad?” Van notices your energy is off immediately, sitting up straight. 

You take a shaky breath. Maybe if you were calm, you could show Van these screenshots in such a nonchalant way that he wouldn’t care. You knew your anxiety was only making everything a bigger deal. Yet, you couldn’t help it. Your heart felt certain that everything was fucked up now.

“Um. I have something to show you,” You tell him, sitting down on the couch next to him. 

Van’s brows furrow in worry as you pull up your texting exchange with Mary.

“Mary sent me these,” You tell him as you hand over your phone, letting him read the screenshots on his own.

His brows stay furrowed as his eyes skim over the tweet and its replies, and then his expression relaxes when he understands.

He hands you the phone back gently. “She said I’m nice and I tip well,” He laughs. 

You don’t have it in you to laugh along with him.

Van looks a little hurt that you don’t joke with him. “What’s wrong? Are you that embarrassed to be seen with me? Christ.”

You look up at him in shock that he read you so wrong. “Aren’t you worried about this blowing up into some big rumor?”

Van laughs at that. Like throws his head back, genuinely laughs. “I’m fucking twenty-six years old, Y/N, I don’t care what people on social media are saying. One time I took my necklace off to go through airport security and forgot to put it back on and this giant rumor started that my folks, like, disowned me or something. Shit on there does not make the slightest bit of sense. That’s why I stay away from it.”

Your nerves are still shot from the fear of Van wanting nothing to do with you, but you start to relax at how he brushes the entire thing off. 

“You’re so tense,” Van points out after you stay quiet. “Want me to roll us a smoke?”

You do, and while he goes to get the weed tray you head to your room to change. Alone in your bedroom, you let out the breath you feel like you’ve been holding all afternoon. For once, luck was on your side with Van. 

\\

On Monday morning when you rush to silence your blaring alarm, you’re alone in your bed. 

Not because Van’s left, because he hasn’t. By the weekend he was already too committed to staying at your place, citing the fact he had absolutely zero food at his own. There was no use in going back home and trying to order groceries or clean up, he’d argued, because the boys were leaving for the next leg of the tour on Tuesday. For the record, you couldn’t care less about his reasoning. You’d listened politely, nodded along and assured him he was welcome, all while repressing the urge to jump for joy. 

He’s not in bed this morning because he couldn’t sleep. His full recovery from his strep meant that he was no longer exhausted, back to his usual bouncy self. Last night you’d left him on the couch, watching some sort of British show that was available on Netflix, and then had been woken at God-knows-what hour of the night to Van slipping into your room and grabbing your guitar. He’s taken to playing in the guest bedroom when he needs to be quiet, even though there’s no furniture in there and he has to sit on the floor against the wall.

When you stumble out of your bedroom, rubbing your eyes, the whole living room is dark except for the flashing lights of the TV on mute. Van’s lumpy form is curled up on the couch, fast asleep on a decorative pillow with throw blanket on top of him. The blanket is way too small for his height, and his legs are completely uncovered, his bare feet exposed to the chilly morning air of the house. 

You leave him be and head for the kitchen, switching on the lights so that you can start to get some coffee brewing. While that’s going you jump in the shower, mentally trying to prepare for the day ahead of you. After work you’ve got Benji’s birthday dinner, and tomorrow morning you had to drop Van off at the airport. This week of domestic bliss would be coming to a close. You dreaded it already.

Your robe is actually clean for once, a direct result of Van learning to use your washer and dryer. He throws a load of your clothes in anytime he needs to wash his briefs or the t-shirt he’s been sleeping in, and now you were actually caught up on the laundry. He couldn’t take all the credit, though, because you’re the one who actually folds the clothes. If Van had it his way, everything clean would be in a rumpled pile on the floor. 

When you emerge from the bathroom, wrapped in your fluffy robe with your towel dried hair, Van’s awake.

“Hey,” You greet him before turning the corner into the kitchen. You prepare yourself a mug of coffee before returning back to the living room. “When did you go to bed?”

Van shuffles over on the couch, making room for you to sit with him. “I dunno,” He yawns. “Lost track of time.”

You flick the floor lamp behind the couch on, the space basked in light before you sit down on the cushion Van’s cleared for you. Van searches for the remote in the cracks of the couch for a minute before he finds it, flicking the television off. 

“Write anything good?” You ask, taking a sip of your drink.

Van fusses with the throw blanket, trying to make it cover his folded legs. He nods. “I’ve had some scrap verses that I couldn’t find a place for. Finally wrote a nice chorus for them last night.”

He reaches for his pack of cigarettes on the table. He doesn’t ask if you want one anymore, automatically plucking one out of the box for you. 

“So…” You take your first drag of the day, even if 6:30 A.M. is way too early to be having a cigarette. “Who gets to hear these songs?”

Van was always writing. Always jotting down things in his notebook, always audio recording bits of melodies with his phone. But you’d never gotten to hear a finished song, or read any of these lyrics. You didn’t want to pry, but his enthusiasm for the things he’d been creating lately made you curious. 

Van scratches at his stubble. “Nobody, at first,” He says. “Unless it’s love at first listen, like this one is. So I’ll probably play this one for the boys soon. But I save mostly everything until it’s time for the new album, and by then I sort of know what my favorites are. Pick a few of those, then we’ll we write the rest around them.”

“What about me?” You decide to ask, keeping your voice light and joking. “When do I get to hear them?”

Van grins. “When the fourth album is out, duh.”

You scoff at the unfairness, before quickly composing yourself. “Fine. But if we hate each other by then I’m not listening.”

Van pretends to be wounded, hand to his chest. “Hate each other? You’re my best mate!”

You shrug as you take another sip of coffee.

Van wiggles into your personal space, resting his body against yours. You catch a whiff of your shampoo as he leans his head on your shoulder, and can tell from the waves in his hair that he’d taken a shower last night to pass the time.

He knocks your balance, almost spilling your coffee. “Van,” You glare at him. 

He blinks up at you in mock innocence. “How could you hate me?” He pouts. “Because I want you to hear a full, cohesive album? Aren’t I your best mate?”

You pat the crown of his head. “You’re my best friend,” You correct his British vocabulary. “But Mary has seniority, so be careful.”

“And friends can fight,” You point out. “You can ruin a friendship like anything else.”

Because it’s true. You two could find out you disagree on something fundamental, like human rights. Or the connection could fade with time and distance, as has happened with many of your friends back home. Or everything could be royally screwed up by unrequited love, for example. That’s an example, obviously. It’s not like you were sitting here with Van’s body pressed to yours, breathing in the scent of his clean hair as your stomach already ached with how much you would miss having him around because you were terribly, hopelessly in love with him and he didn’t feel the same. 

“Nah, not us,” Van shrugs you off, sitting up so that he was supporting his own weight now. “We’re solid.”

“Hmm,” You hum thoughtfully. Then, as you lift your mug to your mouth: “Are you pro-choice?”

It’s Van’s turn to scoff. “Course I am! It’s your body, innit?”

When he realizes how you two have never discussed this, his expression turns from indignation to confusion. “Aren’t you?”

Your laughter echoes through the silent house.

\\

Considering the fact you’ll be up late tonight for the birthday celebrations and up early tomorrow morning to see Van off, you throw yourself into work today. The less you had on your to-do list tomorrow, the better. By the end of the day you’re satisfied with what you’ve gotten done, and relieved that you’d been so distracted you’ve forgotten to be anxious about the dinner tonight.

You return home at the end of your workday to a silent house. Van is burrowed in your bed, comforter pulled over his head, the curtains in the room drawn tight.

“You’re still sleeping?” You ask, poking at his legs through the comforter while you get undressed. 

He really is sleeping, because he doesn’t respond. You tug the comforter down away from his face, watching his nose scrunch in displeasure. 

“What time is it?” He whispers, struggling to tug the blanket back over his eyes. You don’t let him.

“It’s about to be six,” You tell him, leaving the side of his bed so you can finish getting dressed. The reservation wasn’t until eight, but you might as well throw your outfit on now. You had a pretty good idea of what the boys would be showing up in, so you’ve picked out your own clothes accordingly. You’ve just bought a new baby blue tank top for your work wardrobe, with fabric so light and flowy it was like crepe paper. You throw some dark jeans on to keep it casual, and grab a dark cardigan off of the hanger so you don’t forget it. 

Van is awake, squinting up at his phone screen. 

“You gotta get ready,” You remind him.

“Gonna take me about six seconds,” He replies, his voice stiff.

You ignore him, closing the bedroom door behind you when you leave. You’re starting to learn that grumpy, exhausted Van wasn’t worth getting worked up over. You immediately head to the kitchen, getting a pot of coffee started. You weren’t usually one to have an evening cup, but Van was. You cut yourself up a bruised apple that’s been sitting in your crisper for a bit too long, and scrape the bottom of the peanut butter jar to make yourself a snack to hold you over until dinner.

You bring your paper plate into the other room, settling yourself at the table. The coffee machine has just finished warming up, getting noisier in preparation to run the hot water over the grinds, when Van finally emerges from your room.

“Coffee?” He grumbles, stumbling into the kitchen before he realizes it’s still brewing. He redirects himself to the bathroom, taking a piss with the door open before he finds his way back to the table. 

“For you,” You tell him around a bite of peanut butter covered apple. 

He perks up at that. “For me?”

“Yeah,” You keep your tone indifferent, hoping he realizes that he’s pissed you off. You think he does, because he stays silent until you hear the machine sputter, signaling the end of the brewing cycle. Van immediately jumps up, heading into the kitchen to pour himself a cup.

He comes back with two mugs. One is filled with black coffee, for him, and the other has milk in it. He places the one with milk down in front of you.

“I don’t drink coffee this late,” You inform him. You’d planned on having a cup, but Van didn’t need to know that.

“We’re gonna be up late.”

You’re both silent except for the sound as you bite into your apple slice, and the noise of Van setting his mug down. 

“Sorry I was a dick. I’m fucking wiped out.” 

“I know,” You sigh. With his apology, your mood has cleared, and you slide your paper plate towards him slightly. “Want some apples and peanut butter?”

Van shakes his head. “Apples make my teeth shift. Drives me nuts.”

You tug the plate back towards you. “More for me.”

\\

You two were supposed to leave at 7:30, but as always Van is running late. Why exactly, you don’t know. When the Uber pulls up outside, struggling not to block the entire street, Van is still in his socks, fussing with his hair in the bathroom.

“Uber’s here!” You call, but Van can’t hear you over the sound of the blowdryer. You repeat yourself in the bathroom doorway, watching Van style his hair with the dryer and a brush. 

As Van finishes shaping his waves into a presentable shape, you notice in the mirror that his hair’s gotten longer. 

“How often do you get your hair cut?” You ask as he unplugs the blowdryer, rushing past you to stuff his feet into his boots. 

“Dunno,” He shrugs. “We’ve got a stylist on tour. She gives me a quick trim whenever I need it.”

Van never seemed to have a solid concept of time. It seemed like he just floated through life, sleeping, eating and performing whenever, wherever. Unlike you, who had to look over your calendar app multiple times a day. You sigh at his vague answer, sliding your cardigan on and grabbing your bag. 

It’s 7:50 by the time the Uber is pulling away.

“We’re not gonna be there in time,” You tell Van after you check the time on your phone. The driver is grumpy that he had to wait on the two of you for ten minutes, and is brooding in the front seat. It’s making you uncomfortable, but Van seems oblivious.

“Bob’ll be there,” He shrugs. “He’s always early. Bet Bondy’ll be later than us.”

“So Bob’s just supposed to sit there alone?”

“I’m sure Blakes is there! They don’t like being late, those two.”

You raise your eyebrows. “And you do?”

“I don’t mean to be!” Van sighs, frustrated. “Christ, woman.”

You cut him some slack, deciding to drop the subject. 

You two arrive almost twenty minutes late, Van scrambling to give the driver a ten dollar bill as you two rush into the building. Once he informs the hostess of your reservation you two are led out of the lobby and into the familiar dining area. 

You spot the table that you and Van had eaten at, momentarily lost in your reminiscing as the hostess leads you away from that dining room and around the corner to tonight’s table. You’re in your own private room tonight, which hosts two large circular tables, five seats each. Only one is being used, Bob and Benji looking up as soon as you two enter the space.

Nobody gives Van any shit about being late, and Van doesn’t offer any apologies. Bob is sitting next to Benji, and Van slides into the empty seat on the other side of Bob. You sit down next to Van, and that means that Bondy will be sitting between you and Benji. You feel relieved with how the seating works out. It’s always strange being sat next to someone you didn’t know that well, but Bondy was enough of a familiar face that you didn’t mind. 

Bread has already been served, and Van reaches for the basket eagerly while you’re distracted admiring the decor. There were still the glossy white floors and the dark walls, but this area lacked any of the windows looking out onto the courtyard. Instead, the walls boasted a collection of impressive looking paintings. One catches your eye in particular, a renaissance style oil painting that depicted a woman preparing a loaf of fresh bread. It was in the sort of style where the humans don’t look very realistic, her face and arms painted with curvy, disproportionate strokes. Her dress is covered in intricate designs and bright colors. 

“Whatcha looking at?” Van interrupts your thoughts, mouth full as he chews a bread roll. 

“That painting,” You nod to the one of the woman with the bread.

Van looks it over carefully as he swallows his bite of food. “Kinda looks like my mum,” He says finally.

At this you dissolve into a fit of giggles.

“What’s so funny?” Bob asks, a smile blooming on his face only because he’s watching you and Van laugh. 

Van gestures to the painting. “Doesn’t that look like my mum? Blakes? She looks just like me mum!”

Both boys crane their heads to look at the painting. “It does,” Bob agrees quietly, smiling to himself as he returns to looking over the menu. When Benji turns back towards you guys he looks repulsed.

“Van, that doesn’t even look like a person,” He insists.

Van gestures passionately with his hands. “Oh really, because everyone agrees! It looks like my mum!”

It’s this moment that Bondy’s chosen to join everyone, trailing in behind the hostess as gets him settled with a menu in the seat next to you. Nobody seems to mind her presence, Van and Benji bickering like noone’s watching. 

When she’s gone, Bondy looks up from his menu with a confused smile. “What’s this about?” He asks you, because you’re letting them battle this out between themselves. 

“Van says the woman in that painting looks like his mom,” You try to discreetly point to the one you’re talking about.

Bondy shifts in his seat so that he’s closer to you, trying to figure out exactly where you’re pointing. “The one that looks like the virgin Mary?”

There’s a painting near the one you’re referencing that clearly has heavy religious influence, although you’re not positive if it’s a painting of Mary. “Below it,” You correct Bondy. “The one making bread.”

Van and Benji have started to quiet, but both jump to attention at Bondy’s deep, throaty laugh.

“It does, it does,” Bondy agrees, and this starts them up again.

They settle when the waitress turns the corner, prepared to take their orders now that everyone’s arrived. 

“Do you want the wine we got last time?” Van stage whispers to you as the waitress hovers around Bob, carefully noting what he’s pointing out on the menu. You nod eagerly, remembering how it tasted. The freedom of not having to worry about driving home means that you’re eager to start drinking as soon as possible and loosen up. 

When the waitress gets around to Van, he orders his usual lobster and a bottle of the wine for you two. You settle on the chicken parmesan, and listen as next to you Bondy orders the roast dinner. Then your menus are carried away, and the chatter starts up again.

“So you agree?” Van jerks his head to ask you. “That looks like my mum?”

You sigh, rolling your eyes. Debates between the boys can go on forever, fueled by each of them always wanting the last word. “I don’t even know what your mom looks like.”

Van pauses, realizing this is true. “You’ve never seen a picture?”

“Where the fuck would I see a picture of your mom?” You laugh.

“Dunno… The internet?”

You actually cackle at this, even if it makes Benji look at you from across the table. “Do you think I like, sit around googling you? What should I search up? Van McCann’s mom? I’ll get right on that.”

Even Bondy snorts from where he’s engrossed in his phone. 

Bondy’s snort at his expense has Van narrowing his eyes, gazing past you at Bondy. “Texting your girl, John?”

At this you jerk your head to look Bondy. “You have a girlfriend?”

Bondy rolls his eyes at Van before setting his phone down. “A gentleman can’t say,” He teases.

“You can’t say if you have a girlfriend?” You laugh. “I don’t think that’s a real rule.”

You knew from dressing room conversation that Bob and Benji were seeing someone, but Bondy’s never spoken about his romantic life.

“Is she British, too?” You decide to ask.

Bondy takes a long sip of his ice water. “She’s not my girlfriend.” He aims this dig at Van, glaring at him. “But she’s from here, actually. She’s in London for work. But that’s all I’ll say, I don’t wanna jinx anything.” He holds up his hands, and you know that’s his way of politely shutting down any more questions.

“He’s been after her forever,” Van pipes up, ignoring Bondy’s attempt to close the topic. “She’s finally done with her bloke.”

“He’s finally got a proper chance,” Benji grins.

It feels like a family dinner, the way everyone bickers. The food is finally served, and it takes forever to eat with everyone too engrossed in conversation. Benji’s digging into the roast chicken entree you got last time you were here, and Bob’s picking at some sort of creamy pasta. Everyone drinks except Bob, and the waitress is scary good at bringing beer for Bondy and Benji whenever they’re running low, and delivering freshly chilled bottles of wine for you and Van. 

There’s not a moment that feels awkward. Just like at soundcheck, everyone loves using you to pick at Van, and your heart feels so full and warm from the atmosphere that you don’t mind. It used to be overwhelming at first, but you realize you’ve gotten much more comfortable interacting with the four of them all at once. 

You’re in a wine-induced haze as everyone heads out to the parking lot. Patrons in the regular dining area go silent, glaring at the five of you as you all laugh way too loudly at a joke. Soon you’re out in the warm summer breeze, headed for Bob’s car. 

He’s got a small sedan that only seats four. Bondy calls shotgun immediately, tucking himself into the front seat, and then it’s up to you, Van, and Benji to decide on the seating arrangement in the back.

Before your anxiety can even get a headstart on worrying, Van puts a hand on your back, leading you over to the driver’s passenger side. He climbs in first before motioning for you to sit in his lap. You’re thankful it’s dark enough that nobody can see the blush that starts burning on your cheeks.

“Put your seatbelt on,” You tell him, and Van obliges before reaching for you again. You crouch down, sliding into a sitting position on top of Van’s thighs. You feel him stretch underneath you as he grabs for the door, closing it securely.

Nobody says anything about your seating arrangement, but you’re still so self conscious you could combust on the spot. You try to shift your weight around.

“Am I squishing you?” You ask Van quietly as Bob starts to back out of his parking spot. You hunch your shoulders, lowering your head so that he can see behind him in the rearview mirror.

“Not at all,” Van says, and then you feel his arms slide around your waist, pulling you close to him.

You’re stiff as a board as the car pulls onto the road, careful to shift your weight as forward as possible, trying not to smush Van between you and the seat. But he tugs you back by your waist until you’ve relented, allowing your weight to press against him. Forever unbothered by other’s opinions, he hooks his chin over your shoulder, closing his eyes serenely. Your hands come to his forearms, one of your thumbs starting to rub back and forth, feeling the hairs on his arm ruffle with every swipe.

None of the boys even give you two a second glance. Bondy is helping Bob navigate to his house, and Benji’s on his phone, the glow of his screen lighting up the dark car. The drive is longer than you expected, and eventually you relax fully, tipping your head so that it was gently resting against Van’s, feeling his breath on your ear the rest of the way. 

You can’t help the stab of disappointment when the car lulls to a stop, Bob finally having pulled up at Bondy’s. You try to shake off the drowsiness that the car ride and glasses of wine have left hovering around you as everyone climbs out of the car and heads inside. 

While Van’s house is more classic-L.A.-bachelor-pad, Bondy’s house has a heavy Spanish influence. Missing are the clean, stark-white floors and dark walls typical in the newer homes. Instead, warm hardwood extends in every direction, interrupted only by plush rugs with rich colors. There’s at least one eccentric, abstract piece of art adorning every wall, and guitars are everywhere. Some are hung with the art, and you spend a moment hovering by his stone fireplace, admiring a very used guitar with someone’s illegible signature on it. And there are others that it’s clear he uses, one propped by the plush armchair, some on a storage rack by a large potted plant. 

The ceilings are insanely high, supported by thick wooden beams that keep the extra space from feeling empty. You gaze around in awe, mentally debating whether you prefer Bondy’s decor over Van’s.

While you’re distracted, the boys make themselves at home. Van and Bob get lost in conversation in the foyer, where they’re supposed to be taking their shoes off and hanging their jackets. Bondy has already headed to the kitchen to start the drinks, and Benji made a beeline for the bathroom, clearly comfortable with the layout of the house.

As if synchronized, the moment that the flush of the toilet sounds from the hall, Van and Bob emerge from the foyer, everyone stumbling towards the kitchen at once. Van hangs back for a second, waiting for you to stop flicking through one of the coffee table books.

“This is so cool,” You look up to see Van watching you in amusement. “Have you looked through this?”

It’s titled 1000 Record Covers. Every page is dedicated to a photo of album artwork, with minimal captions describing the source. You know Van’s waiting but you’re too intrigued.

“I have,” Van says, his voice gentle with understanding. “You can spend hours going over everything.”

You close the thick, hardcover book with a satisfying thud, and catch up to Van. He slings an arm around your shoulder, warm and comforting, and suddenly you’re regretting this afterparty. It’s lovely to be in Bondy’s home, but you wish you could be spending your last night with Van snuggled up in the comfort of your own bed. 

Bondy’s kitchen is as gorgeous as the living room. A large, square island takes up the center of the room, counters and appliances running along the walls. Everyone makes themselves at home, reaching into cabinets and shuffling around as you’re all responsible for your own drinks. 

Van grabs a beer from the fridge, and helps you navigate the kitchen as you make yourself a Diet Coke and vodka. It transports you back to your college days when you take a sip, remembering the nights where your goal was to get as drunk as possible, as fast as possible. Now you typically enjoy a more tactful (and better tasting) approach, but it’s clear the boys mean business tonight. As soon as everyone has their drinks, Bondy has procured shot glasses and is starting to splash tequila into them. 

Even Bob is cajoled into taking one. The entire night has consisted of cheers to Benji turning 29, and this shot is not an exception. After cheersing over Benji’s birthday you all down your glasses before heading into the living room. Bondy and Van struggle to get a fire going, but eventually one is roaring and everyone gets cozy on the couches, the endless stream of conversation picking up right where it left off at the restaurant.

Van slings his arm over the back of the couch, so essentially around you as well. You’re tucked into Van’s side, sipping idly at your drink while the others talk. The conversation has somehow migrated to the band, and you don’t have much to contribute. Before you know it, your glass is empty.

You don’t rush to fill it, knowing you’ll make the same mistake of downing your next one too quickly. You wait for Van to finish his beer, your body occasionally jostled when he talks with his hands, lifting the arm behind you to gesture. 

The fire makes the space a bit warm for comfort, and when Van asks you to hold his beer bottle the cold glass feels nice.

“I’m gonna down this,” You warn Van, peering down the neck of the bottle to see what’s left. It’s only a couple of inches, a few nice gulps. You see him look over at you in your peripheral vision.

You look up and Van’s smiling. “Go ahead, love,” He chuckles, but he doesn’t tune back into the conversation. He’s waiting to see you do it, so now you can’t back down.

You hate the taste of beer, but it’s bearable because it’s cold. When you’re finished you hand Van the now-empty bottle and beam at him. “Now come get another drink with me.”

You trail after him into the kitchen, where he grabs himself another beer. 

“I’ll have one too,” You say quickly where you’re leaning against the counter next to the fridge. The marble is cool under your palms, and you wish you could press your face into it. You don’t know how long you consider doing it before you realize Van hasn’t passed you a bottle, and is staring at you with his eyebrows raised instead. 

“What?” You giggle.

“I’ve never seen you drink beer, that’s all,” Van shrugs before he grabs another bottle. He uses the bottle opener set out on the counter before passing you your very own ice-cold drink. 

“It’s so nasty,” You confess, contradicting yourself by taking a sip. “But I’m so fucking hot and this is cold.”

“You do look pretty warm,” Van points out. You can feel your body radiating heat, sweat forming at your hairline. You don’t know if it’s from the wine, the vodka, or the fire. 

Van looks reluctant to head back into the other room, taking a swig of his own beer as he leans his hip against the counter. Your eyes roam over him. His cheeks are pink, too, and any effort to style his hair has gone to waste by now, the waves falling into his face. He looks so happy, like he has all night. It’s as if joking around with everyone has lit him up from the inside out, and now you just wanted to be alone with him and bask in the glow of a nice night out.

Without a second thought you pop up onto your tiptoes, pressing your mouth to Van’s. 

You’re startled by the noise of Van setting his beer down, both of his hands reaching for you instead, pulling you closer. For a moment everything is off kilter, the balance of the moment disrupted. You’d only been prepared for a quick kiss but Van’s desire for more is evident as he keeps you close, kissing you again, and again. Your body only needs to borrow the spark of Van’s attraction before you feel the heat in your belly, a full fire burning for him under your skin. 

It’s during that third kiss that you both hear someone call Van’s name, the two of you jerking apart. Your hands fly to your hair self-consciously, easing your fingertips through the strands that Van had just had his hands entangled in as Bondy comes into the kitchen. 

“We’re gonna break out the big E,” Bondy declares, shuffling past the two of you. He looks completely oblivious to anything that’s just happened in here, and you relax in relief. Van looks over at you with worried eyes. You furrow your eyebrows in a silent question.

Bondy’s been digging through different kitchen drawers, but suddenly he procures a zip lock baggie out of one of them, shutting the drawer with a thunk.

“Here we go!” You can tell he’s drunk by the way his voice rings loudly through the kitchen. “You want some, Van?”

The bag contains a collection of colored capsules. They look like vitamins. You hadn’t understood what he’d been referring to at first, but now it’s clear: Ecstasy.

Van looks uneasy. “Maybe in a minute, mate,” He tells Bondy, who does not seem to catch on to the lack of enthusiasm. He proceeds into the living room, hollering about what he’s got. 

You can hear Benji asking for a capsule, which makes you snort. Van looks alarmed.

“What’s wrong?” You ask him. “Are you gonna have some?”

Van’s eyes widen. “Are you gonna have some?”

You shake your head. It had crossed your mind, but probably wasn’t the best idea if you had to drive early in the morning. “But you can!”

Van hesitates before shaking his head. “Nah. It’s alright.”

You roll your eyes. The spark of your kiss minutes before has started to fizzle out with Van’s weirdness. “What’s wrong? Isn’t ecstasy, like, your favorite?”

“Nothing’s wrong. As long as you’re not uncomfortable.”

You laugh at that. “Uncomfortable? Why? I know you’ve done it!”

“I haven’t recently,” Van mumbles, sipping his beer. You remember yours, and decide to press the cold glass against your cheek after you take a sip. “And I dunno. It’s weird to be the only one in the room not blitzed out of your mind. I’ll say no with you.”

His unease makes sense now, and his concern has you stepping forward for another kiss, Van reciprocating passionately. 

“What time is it?” You ask when you pull away. You hadn’t brought your phone into the kitchen, but Van procures his from his back pocket, flashing you the time. It’s slightly past midnight. 

“One more drink and we can head back to yours?” Van suggests, and you nod in agreement.

“What are you two doing in there?” Bondy calls, all of the boys chiming in with their own teasing. Van rolls his eyes, pressing his thumb into the fingerprint sensor on his iPhone.

“Order the Uber now, you know the wait’s gonna be ages.” He passes his phone into your hands before he goes back into the living room. You immediately hear him laying into everyone, a bite of annoyance in his voice. 

You blink down at Van’s unlocked phone, handed to you so trustingly. His Instagram feed is pulled up, his favorite app for passively scrolling. You hit the home button twice to see if the Uber app was still open from your first ride tonight. 

There’s a few things running in the background, but you don’t see Uber right away. There’s Instagram (obviously), and his notes app, and you flick through the line of open applications until you see Uber, right at the end. 

But right next to it is Safari, and the preview makes you flush brighter than you already are. You can clearly see the miniature layout of a porn website, a paused video front and center. Your curiosity gets the best of you. You have to click it.

One tap of your thumb expands Safari so that it encompasses the screen. The still of the video expands, but it takes a second for your brain to understand what’s going on in the tangle of limbs on screen. It’s a woman, hunched over a man. She’s clearly riding him, evident from the focus of the shot where their two bodies are joined. PINNED DOWN AND FUCKED, the title of the video boasts in bold letters, and when you peer at the paused moment more closely you can see that the woman has two hands around the man’s neck, choking him. 

You quickly click away to the Uber app and start ordering a car, your head spinning. When you hurry into the living room to sit back down with Van and tell him when the car would be arriving, it’s clear that Bondy and Benji’s ecstasy adventure is underway. Bob’s opted out as well, and Van’s discussing how he’d like the drums to sound on the song he’s just written this morning, leaving you to ponder Van’s porn choices while you wait. 

You end up grabbing the coffee table book with the record covers again, admiring all of the artwork while you listen to the boys talk about the next leg of tour. It used to be awkward when the boys start going on about band things you couldn’t relate to, but you find that you’ve adjusted to it. They didn’t mean to exclude you; they were just passionate about their work. It feels nice to be a fly on the wall sometimes, listening to them interrupt each other in excitement. You smile to yourself at how many fans would die to be in your place right now. 

Van isn’t paying attention to his phone when the screen lights up on the coffee table. He’s too busy laughing at Bondy and Benji, who are slung over the couch opposite you three. They’re already starting to sweat, and you can tell they’re speaking faster. Benji especially tended to speak in longer, meandering sentences, and it’s clear he’s rushing to voice his jumbled thoughts. They’re discussing something about Austin Powers, which you hadn’t realized Van was so passionate about.

You grab Van’s phone, showing him that there’s an Uber notification. With a press of his thumb you see the notification that the car’s arrived.

“Alright boys, this one has to get to work tomorrow,” Van explains, heaving himself off of the couch. You follow suit, saying goodbye to everyone. Bondy and Benji reach out for hugs, and you give them one good-naturedly. Bob, who’s not craving touch like they are, gives his usual wave. You and Van stumble around the foyer, tugging your shoes on, and Van slings his jacket over his arm, and then you two head out. 

For once you’ve managed to get a female driver, and have avoided pissing her off. She’s the type who makes small talk as she navigates back to your place, and although you prefer to quietly stare out of the car window, Van clearly enjoys the attention. 

You’re both quiet as you stumble through your front door into the dark living room. Van clicks the lamp on, heading straight for the bedroom, but you head for the bathroom, eager to wash off your makeup. You’ve had it on way too long, and it feels nice to wash it all away, your skin feeling like it can finally breathe. 

In the bedroom, Van had already stripped down and changed into boxers, starfished across your comforter. 

“Are you gonna get under the covers?” You giggle, kicking your shoes in the general direction of the closet. No thoughts of neatness cross your mind as you let all of your clothes fall into a heap on the floor. You’re still flushed, and the cool air feels good on your exposed skin. You climb onto the bed in only your underwear.

Van’s eyes had been closed, but he opens them as the mattress shifts with your weight. His eyes widen when he catches sight of you topless, attempting to yank your sheets back while Van weighed them down. 

“You gonna sleep like that?” He asks, his voice high in that amused tone he gets.

“You act like you’ve never seen me naked,” You reply, finally able to tuck your body into the soft cocoon of your bed. The sheets against your stomach feel nice, and you wonder why you don’t sleep without clothes more often. 

“Never seen you sleep naked,” He points out, finally joining you under the covers.

“Well, I’m still hot!” You switch your lamp off before flopping back down, sighing happily.

You can feel your whole body thrumming with contentment. Tonight was wonderful. You felt welcomed and accepted by the boys, you were warm from plenty of alcohol and laughter, and now you were settling down for the night next to the man you loved. You can’t remember the last time that your heart felt so full. Even in your best moments, you always tended to feel a trickle of sadness, like a piece of your heart was out of place. You didn’t know why. You only knew that nights where that shadow wasn’t lurking around were few and far between; Christmas in your hometown, sleepovers with Mary where you two stayed up giggling about nothing like you were kids. But now you could add tonight to the list. Everything in the world just felt right.

That’s why you feel compelled to snuggle up to Van, kissing his neck without hesitation. 

Van’s body stiffens. “What’re you doin’?”

His lack of immediate reciprocation might send you into a spiral any other night, but tonight you’re blissfully free from inhibitions, continuing to mouth at his pulse point. 

“It’s our last night,” You murmur into his ear, smiling when you feel him shiver. “Let’s do it the right way.”

Van’s time in L.A. has completely slipped through your fingers. Between the strep throat fiasco and your busy workweek, there’s been no extra energy or time to fool around. Your bodies have been running on different frequencies all week; either Van’s in the mood and you’re not, or you’re in the mood and Van’s finally catching some much-needed sleep, or there’s the nights where you had your mind set on messing around, but had fallen asleep as soon as you’d laid down.

Van tucks a finger under your chin, tugging you away from his neck before connecting your lips with his. You recall how he’d kissed you at Bondy’s, the way he’d surprised you with his urgency. It gets that fire going all over again, and you seat yourself on his thighs, still hunched over to kiss him. 

Van’s too close to his edge of the bed, your knee dangerously balanced on the mattress. “Scoot in,” You instruct him, and your bodies rub together as he shuffles towards the center. While he’s adjusting his hips you get your fingers in the waistband of his boxers, attempting to tug them down. You don’t get very far.

You climb off of him, dealing with your own underwear while Van kicks his boxers down around his ankles. It feels so good to climb back on him again, to feel the warm muscle of his thigh press right against the tenderness of your clit. The sensation makes you jump, which only provides friction. You hadn’t realized how slick you were until you realize you’ve gotten Van’s thigh damp. You curiously run your fingers over his skin, unable to help your small gasp of surprise when you realize how much you’d smeared on him. You’d been oblivious to how bad your body was craving him.

You lean over to kiss Van again, pressing his lips apart the same as he’d done to you earlier. He tastes like beer and Diet Coke and vodka.

“You had a lot to drink,” Van murmurs when you pull away. You realize that you were the one who tasted like the Coke and vodka.

You pause the kissing momentarily, instead nuzzling into his neck. You were well past tipsy, but nowhere near blacking out. If this was someone you’d never met, going further wouldn’t be appropriate. But cuddled up to Van, breathing in his scent, you give another happy sigh. With Van, this was a no-brainer. 

“Not enough to not know what I’m doing,” You tell him. It’s definitely true. You would remember this tomorrow, even if the memory will be a bit fuzzy. 

You lean away from his neck, admiring his beautiful face. “And you’re my best friend. It’s safe.”

Your words don’t come out exactly right, but Van’s expression softens as he gazes back up at you. You had meant you were safe with Van. Because you knew it was true. You had been to plenty of sketchy parties with your ex-girlfriend, who was on the hunt for the cheapest coke she could get her hands on. You’d seen bonfires escalate from a joint being passed around to people shooting up heroin behind closed bedroom doors. You’d been approached by shifty, jittery men more times than you could count, towering over you as you struggled through the weed to figure out how you were going to get out of there. It was only pure luck that nothing dangerous had ever happened. 

But at a party where people were blatantly peddling coke, Van turned them down like he’d never done it. In the presence of four men that were all various levels of inebriated, it never crossed your mind that anything would go amiss. You trusted Van with every bone in your body, and you hope you convey that message as you lean in for a kiss. 

“Alright,” Van replies. He uses a hand on the back of your neck to tip your head down, giving your forehead a quick kiss. “If you’re sure.”

“I am,” You chirp, happy to have gotten your way. When you sit up again, you yawn. “Condoms are in there.”

Van twists to slide open the drawer of his nightstand, procuring the large value box of Trojans you’d purchased at his suggestion. “You shouldn’t have!” He teases, popping the box open to grab one of the packets. “You want me to put it on now?”

You nod. Clearly from Van’s thigh you were in no real need of foreplay, and you were eager to get started. Van gives himself a few firm pumps before expertly rolling the condom on. 

Getting into position over him makes your heart start to race. You loved riding Van, the way he went absolutely nuts when he couldn’t control every single little thing. 

“You’re not too drunk, right?” You ask when you’re ready to lower down. You had no idea how many glasses of wine he had, or how many beers.

“Nah,” Van laughs. “We’re about the same, I’d say. I think you’re just having a better time.”

This was probably true. Van’s brain wasn’t being clouded by crazy love hormones like yours was. With that settled, you sink down onto him. You’re so wet that he slips in faster than you’d prepared yourself for, the breath punching out of you. Both of you pant for air as minor adjustments are made before everything is going at a steady pace.

As predicted, Van is clearly going crazy over his lack of control. He can’t stop touching, stroking his fingers over any of your skin he can reach. It’s fine when he rubs his calloused fingertips over your nipples, or eases a thumb against your clit. But then he’s just restless, stroking lightly at your sides, which is tickling you.

“Will you stop?” You huff, pushing his hands away from your ribcage. He starts to smooth his palms over your lower stomach instead, where your skin bulges slightly with a pesky pocket of fat. It makes you self conscious, which is distracting.

You think about the porn he had pulled up on his phone, and the gears in your mind start turning. Van is stroking your upper arms now, an unnecessary sensation as you try to figure out your pace. You’d never choke Van without his consent, obviously, but maybe you could try something a little less intense, see how he reacts to that. If he’s not a fan, he only needs to say so and you two can get back to your regularly scheduled programming. 

You have to lift your hands from where you’re using them for balance against his chest so that you can loop your fingers around his wrists before bringing them down to the mattress. You press them down on either side of his head, and keeping your weight forward to balance yourself means that you can successfully apply enough pressure to hold him down while also continuing to ride him. 

Van looks stunned.

“I said stop touching me,” You explain. “It’s ruining my focus.”

Van stays silent, but under your palms you can feel his arms tense, testing how hard you were pinning him. You swear you’re not imagining how you feel his dick twitch inside of you as he relaxes, surrendering to your hold.

“You done? Want me to let go?” You ask him, eyebrows raised. It seemed like a clever enough way to make sure he was alright without breaking the mood, and you’re happy it works. Van shakes his head, and you see his Adam’s apple bob as he gulps.

You feel a satisfied flush burn on your chest, pleased that you knew him well enough to get this right. 

Only as you keep Van helpless beneath you do you realize how much he’s actually necessary during sex. You’re quickly exhausted being responsible for all of the thrusting, and without any hands available you’re not getting any of the stimulation you’ll need to come. You’re dying to kiss Van, to run your fingers through his hair or over the soft hairs on his stomach, but none of that’s possible as you keep pressing him down.

But even with all of the drawbacks, it’s one-hundred-and-ten percent worth it for the view. Van is a complete mess, sweating and squirming and whimpering. He’s not exactly one to keep quiet during sex, but you’ve never heard him like this, practically whining with each breath. He’s gulping down air like he can’t get enough oxygen, squeezing his eyes shut like looking up at you is too much for him.

He doesn’t squirm too much at first, but things get more difficult as you feel him ready to finish. Your thighs are on fire, but you keep your rhythm as steady as possible. You don’t have the core strength to lower down with control anymore, instead simply slamming down against him before you struggle to lift yourself up. The stiffer he becomes beneath you, his muscles starting to clench in preparation, the more you feel his wrists press against your palms, fighting against your restraint. You’ve got to shift more weight forward, your shoulders burning with the resistance against Van’s struggling. There’s a few moments where you realize you might have to give up, that you’re not physically fit enough to both fuck and pin down a full grown man. And then Van really pushes up against your hands for a moment before he cries out, melting beneath you as you feel the condom start to fill inside of you. You hold his wrists until you feel him shudder through his aftershock, finally opening his eyes.

Your muscles cry out as you finally shift your weight back, releasing Van’s arms. Everything aches. Van reaches down, getting his hand around the base of the condom, and you can feel his fingers trembling. Your thighs feel like jelly as you lift off of him, and the noise of him slipping out of you is obscene. 

You take care of the condom this time, worried that it’ll slip through his unsteady hands. Neither of you say anything as you gently free his dick from the latex, struggling to tie it off in the dark before leaning over to toss it into the small trashcan by the bed. 

You haven’t come, but something about Van’s orgasm felt final. You don’t expect him to muster up the energy to finish you off, and truthfully you don’t really feel like you need it tonight. 

Van coughs to clear his throat before he puts his hands on your hips, tugging you forward.

“C’mere.” His voice is rough. 

“What are you doing?” You ask, frustrated. You’re too tired, and he’s not making any sense. 

“Sit on my fucking face,” Van bites back at your frustration, and you freeze in shock at his request.

He tugs your hips forward again, and this time you start to walk your knees up the sides of his body until you’re seated on his chest.

“Have you ever done this before?” Van pants, licking his lips. 

You shake your head, reaching out for balance. You’ve got an iron bedframe, so it’s easy to wrap your palms around the top bar of the headboard. 

“That makes two of us,” Van tells you, his palms cradling your ass as he adjusts himself slightly. “So let’s see how this goes.”

You’re careful when you lower down on his mouth, scared to death of smothering him. He’s got to crane his neck up slightly so that he can lick at you, and you shiver, clenching your bedframe tightly. 

After a few licks, Van jerks you down harder onto him, his arms wrapped around your thighs. You startle, attempting to hoist yourself up again.

“Stop going so easy on me!” Van laughs, pulling you down again. He’s pulled you off balance, and your hand flies to his hair to steady yourself.

“I’m trying not to fucking kill you!” You tell him, easing yourself back up. 

“Will you quit?” You can hear the amusement in Van’s voice. “Let me do this properly.”

If he wants to be stubborn, fine. You let him pull your weight back down, pressing his tongue against your clit. Every lick makes an audible noise, and you’d be cringing self consciously if it didn’t feel so fucking good. He’s got a 5 o’clock shadow, and although his is never visible with his facial hair being so light you could definitely feel it. 

He’s angling his mouth to get deep, licking you clean when you seize up around him, frozen in place as the waves of your orgasm rock through you. Van is an expert at making it last, of keeping his licks quick and light to draw your climax out as long as possible, and as you tumble off of him you’re already dying to know when you can try this again.

Van immediately hops up from the bed, rushing from the room. He must have to pee. You catch your breath while you wait for the bathroom to be open, your mind trying to get some sort of grip of what’s just happened. 

When Van comes back in, he hunts around in the dark for his boxers. You flick the lamp on, and he finds them instantly, shimmying them on. 

It’s your turn to pee and then clean yourself up, tossing wad after wad of toilet paper out covered in your come. When you get back into the bedroom you don’t feel like trying to track down your underwear in the mess on the floor, and climb right into bed instead. 

Van has a cigarette lit, and he passes one to you right away. As terrible as you know smoking is for you, Van’s onto something with the whole cigarette-after-sex thing. It’s a nice way to relax and come back to reality. 

“Can we do that again?” You blurt out shamelessly. 

Van jerks his head. “Tonight?”

“No!” You laugh. “Not tonight! You think I’m ready that quick? Just… again!”

Van nods as he tips his head back, a puff of smoke floating from his mouth. “Shit. Whatever you wanna do, I’m down.”

You blush at that, peeking over at the time on your phone.

“Oh my god, it’s two,” You groan. You take one last hit of your cigarette before carefully snuffing it out on the empty water glass you’ve left in here. You carefully set the extinguished, half-smoked cigarette aside so that you could finish it tomorrow. You’ll have to try to remember to get yourself a pack after you drop Van off at LAX. 

Van yawns, but doesn’t seem disturbed that you two will only get two and a half hours of sleep.

You almost doze off while you wait for Van to finish his cigarette, but you’re jolted awake as he leans over to shut the lamp off before burrowing down next to you.

You wait for him to flip away from you and head off to sleep, but instead you feel the warm press of his body against yours, nudging you until he can rest his head on your chest. You force yourself to stay awake, to savor this moment, and you bend your arm so that you’re cradling his head and able to lazily play with his hair.

“I didn’t hurt you, right?” You ask him, your voice syrupy and slow with exhaustion.

He jostles your body when he shakes his head. “You got it right,” He tells you.

“Okay,” You exhale a big sigh of relief, and feel Van chuckle against your chest. “But I have a confession to make.”

You can feel Van grinning. “And what’s that?” 

You yawn. “I saw the porn on your phone.”

Van stills. “You didn’t.”

“I did,” You nod. Your mind is so hazy with sleep that you don’t consider that Van might not take your news very well. “I didn’t mean to. I was only trying to open up Uber.”

“You liar,” Van lifts his head, but he’s smiling. “You were being nosey!”

“No!” You argue, but Van’s smile is contagious, so you look like you’re lying. “Okay. Alright. I was curious. I guess I didn’t realize you were so serious about the whole… I dunno. Rough thing. Whatever you like to call it.”

Van shakes his head in disbelief, wiping his hands over his face. “Christ. You’re unbelievable. A lad’s porn is sacred!”

“I’m sorry.” You put on your best pout. “Am I still your best friend?”

Van sighs. “Of course you’re still my best mate. And if looking at my porn is what gave you the bollocks to do that, you can look at my porn history anyday.”

“Bollocks?”

“Balls,” Van translates, flopping back down against your chest. “G’night.”

You pat his hair. “Night. I’m gonna miss you.”

“I miss you already,” Van mumbles against your skin.

When you wake up at 4:30 A.M., barely conscious enough to be driving Van over to his place so you can help him pack, you shoot a text to your boss that you’ve come down with a nasty case of food poisoning so you’ll be taking a sick day. And you do it without one single lick of regret, because those late night moments with Van were worth every. Single. Second. 

\\

[inventors-fair]

Free Sample Group Commentary

Open doors only for today!

@scavenger98 I didn’t do runner ups this time but this entitled boy had serious potential, though I don’t understand the when cast part of the card. Anyway, great overall flavor, 0 actual impact like its cost, which is a good thing for this challenge. It can have serious uses in monarch matters environments, in decks that skip their draw phase for one reason or another (mad pair with Solitary Confinement ) and there can be interesting kitchen table politics since you get to decide who’s the next monarch!

@machine-elf-paladin Pretty smart flavor text and a deceptively innocent 0 drop which could warp the game around it, especially in limited formats, where it would feast on every blocker or removal target until it becomes a threat in its own right. Considering this, maybe haste is a bit too much.

@walker-of-the-yellow-path making a statement for the peculiar times we live in right now with their design! The cards reads fun, but I’m concerned about the impact it will have on the game it’s played. The back and forth of the Plaguebearer might feel too much in the long run. I would like it more if it had limited uses like in the peculiar case of Leech Bonder.

@i-am-the-one-who-wololoes one can’t go wrong with egg designs! Unlike other egg cards, this one has to “hatch” and not just break/die to get your birb, which is a neat flavor win!

@kavinika Not gonna lie, this lil robo put a smile on my face. It has the essential amount of usefulness for a 0 drop and later on, be it equipment or counters, you can make combat difficult for the opponents. I can’t wait to see more of Soscarus’ creations!

@askkrenko One major concern when designing 0 drops is what if the player gets to have two of them in the first hand? Will it be too much? The all-wise goblin lord of Ravnica tackled this problem with the introduction of the “basic creature” concept and I dig it. Yes, this goblin is stronger than the standard 0 drop, memnite, but at least you can play only one on your first turn. People with experience with affinity decks will know this matters quite a lot.

@aethernalstars Before the commentary, I’m pretty sure this hydra can enter the battlefield without counters but I don’t remember the method. Everyone please comment below to remind me of the card, it really bothers me that I can’t remember it XD Now on to the commentary, I like you used the trend in the flavor texts where Vivien describes animals from different planes! On the battlefield, a 0/1 will do what 0/1s do, but the “printed power” is the selling point of the card, be it revealing on exiling with Varolz.

@dimestoretajic This this the first of the three o drop gods we received! The art chosen for this is great, mighty yet hilarious XD The fury of Om rains down on infidels that mess with your creatures, and that damage can really make a difference. The threat of damage also “protects” your creatures so its a tad easier to actually flip Om’s switch!

@morbidlyqueerious The second god design comes in the form of a land creature. Technically lands aren’t qualified for this challenge since they don’t have costs at all but the problem of the design is that it’s very easy for Anagatha to start counting as a creature, and a 5/5 creature that is. If this was a regular god design for like 2 to 4 mana, it would be great, it has both a good straightforward condition and payoff.

@naban-dean-of-irritation Atropos has a very subtle impact on the game at any time, and its power level is lower than other graveyard hate cards, so I think it being a God creature evens things out. The creature awakening condition feels fair too. I believe it could see play in decks with some artifacts and/or morph shenanigans!

@emmypupcake If you frequent to mythic spoiler, you might have come across the ongoing meme of “Looks like dredge got a new toy”. I feel this can be said the wisps but for Arcades decks or defender heavy theme in general. However it being defender isn’t that much of a drawback for it to have more toughness than ornithopter, and I feel it would be really frustrating if your opponents could wall you with a 3 toughness flyer with 0 effort.

@evscfa1 Zuthfangg is a really interesting design in regards of using a drawback to justify the 0 cost of the card. And in our case the drawback/ the spice of the card is that the opponents have a say on what it can or can’t do. With that in mind, I think being a 1/1 would be okay. Yes, it would surpass memnite for sure, but it’s a legendary creatures so it makes sense!

@nine-effing-hells First of all, I got to praise your effort for writing two flavor texts, and the second in the broken message form! On to the actual card, I think it would look better if the specimen had counters and it loses them in order to transform. That would save some text and complexity. As for the power level, I think by the time you get this to transform, your opponent will be able to handle a 4/4 menace creature.

@whackycrack It’s so cute!!! And while innocent it plays pretty well especially with combined blocks and/or more tiny screamers!

@hypexion I really dig the design idea and the overall flavor but being either a 0/1 or a 4/4 flyer for 0 mana feels overwhelming. The optimal stats are debatable but my call would be either 2/1 or 3/1. I feels its ok to hit harder if you are the monarch, but the high toughness gives it more longevity than other more expensive creatures. What do you guys think?

@starch255 This design is meant for edh, where life totals and creatures are usually larger but gifting a 5/5 0 drop to an opponent so they kill all the other plays is surely undercosted, plus EDH has a lot of tutors so the threat is very real, even in a 99 card deck. A smaller body with some slight evasion would feel less oppressive?

@thedirtside Leyline of Anticipation’s best friend!! Buy yours while supplies last XD It also works well with blink effects. So this little kitty is either an innocent creature or an demon straight out of the Hellvault. Are cats allowed to have such power?

@snugz Fleeting Flame is strictly more fair than the spirit guides cards, and that says a lot. The elemental tag might also come in handy! What’s not to like?

@Danny Death triggers fit 0 cost designs because even if they do have an impact, it happens later in the game, so in this regard, Exploited Muse gets a passing grade! There’s like a lot of room in the card, so I kinda expected some sort of flavor text to explain the muse’s hardships etc

@whuh-oh a 0 mana sliver? You sir, like to play with fire! The average sliver deck appreciates all the ramp it can get but at some point the enters tapped clause will be a hindrance. Ι doubt this passes the 0 cost test, but I’m curious to see how different a Sliver deck would be with a playset of this in it.

@shootingstarhunter Another good strategy for designs with stats higher than the average of the mana cost is the group hug way! The design is also a nice throwback to the recent Generous Gift.

@misterstingyjack and @antediluvian-microchip​ With the innovation of Lithoform Engine, we can now have copies of creature spells, and two people jumped on the hype train to explore this design space. Ludevic’s Reject provides semi-useful bodies with a steep life cost, and Motes of dust, being true to their name, do.. a lot of etb and death triggers. However, there’s a reason MaRo named the storm scale after this wild mechanic, so for once, maybe we should trust Ludevic XD

@shakesZX Typical humans, they cry about being oppressed while they can enter the battlefield as a 3/3 for 0 mana and minimum effort. May Avacyn purge them! Also, it can somehow count the opponent creatures that enter the battlefield on your turn with flash or deathtriggers.

@wolkemesser​ Not gonna lie, didn’t expect to see a germ in a not-token card! The ability is really sweet, it obviously synergizes with living weapon and one scry every couple turns feels ok for a 0 cost card! Glory to Phyrexia!

@deafeningsandwichpeach​ I like that this card uses a condition to justify its power and cost but getting to ten Scute Swarms is a small miracle in itself, even with the built-in replication ability.

@milkandraspberry​ Symmetric effects are fair game in any mana cost, but the scale of this goblin is extreme. 5 damage swings can close the game very abruptly and sudden ends usually don’t provide fun or closure.

@teaxch​ The suicide recipe is never off the menu no matter the mana cost! I think this works well as a 2/1 0 drop. But I can’t help but wonder what evil acts a leech must do to return as a spirit horror XD

@ignorantturtlegaming​ Closing with a very interesting design that cares about multicolored cards. It would be bold to say this is a “build around me card” but I can see it being prime target for auras and other buffs while being supported by multicolored instants for protection. Also pearlescent dragon is all colors, which elevate it to high draft pick in environments like shadowmoor/eventide with their color matters theme.

[wifeofkimtaehyungofbts]

Chapter 3

Pairing: Jimin x Y/N

Synopsis: How do you help someone with their emotions if you don’t feel emotions? When your brother’s best friend dies in a tragic car accident and he spirals downwards in depression, you devote yourself to helping him out of his misery. But when his other best friend becomes suicidal following the loss, it isn’t merely about helping them. It’s about saving them.

Word count: 2000+

*****

I leave the office much later than planned. The big clock on the wall opposite to my desk show the time as 11.11pm and I mentally slapped myself for getting carried away with work as I rushed to pack my bags.

I tore down the stairs, almost tumbling while running as fast as my legs would carry me. By the time I exit the building, the navy-blue shirt is shades darker drenched in sweat and annoyingly sticking to my skin. Beads of sweat drip down my back slowly adding to my frustration. Fortunately, as I reach the bus stop, a white bus with blue strips across the sides is already parked and revving its engine signalling it is ready for departure. Just as it begins pulling away, I get onto it and relax against the cold seats of the bus as I make my way back home.

During the short seven-minute walk back home from the bus stop I get off at, I stopped by the fast-food joint just around the corner to my neighbourhood. A big TV hangs on the wall adjacent to the cashier, a good time-passer for customers as they await their order. Standing behind 4 men in line to place my order, I stare at the TV purposelessly. A football documentary was playing loudly, the sound echoing from somewhere across the room. Almost everybody else at the fast-food joint was watching the documentary in tensed silence and awe.

The program suddenly changes to the breaking news. Annoyed sighs break out in the small space and I tune into the news. After staring at my office computer for hours at a stretch my eyes strain and hurt when I blink as I stare at the TV.

Great. So much for wanting to watch a movie during dinner tonight.

The brunette at the news desk seemed quite firm and had an authoritative stance. She has been a host for this channel for as long as I remember. Her first appearance as a news reporter was when I was in eighth grade.

What must it be like to get your dream job?

I have no big complains about my job. I got it with minimum qualifications with no prior work experience because I’ve never been a model student, scoring average at both academics and sports. As a young big dreamer, I wanted to be a news reporter, then a sales woman and even a café owner. Ultimately, I settled with taking up the job at a journalist’s office where I edit and re-write the articles for publishing. The work is stressful, as I need to be culturally sensitive and socially aware of the trends and debates of the current world. But the pay is enough to support myself and help my brother if he needs any extra cash. I’ve never thought about further studies but my brother enrolled me for a psychology program at his university without checking with me. I was furious when I found out, but he had already paid with his own money and he kept insisting I was capable of understanding the minds of people. I had laughed, finding it beyond hilarious given the fact that I am incapable of feeling emotion altogether.

It’s in the art of seeing someone as they don’t wish to and in the act of understanding why they hid their true selves and resorted to other ways of existing, my brother had said to me.

I attentively wait for her to deliver the breaking news. Once she starts talking and the photographs of the subject of interest appear on the big screen in splendid colour, all air leaves my lungs.

A car accident.

Three university students.

The inside of my mouth has gone dry, my tongue hardening and feeling prickly. My fingertips feel eerily cold with sweat. Loud gasps followed by murmurs float in the air.

Why are they still talking about it? It happened last week?

My question is answered shortly after the description of the car accident ends. The woman goes on to explain with confirmed evidence that the man who had crashed into the car with the university students was a journalist who was drunk driving. He drove his vehicle on the wrong lane and had collided into the other car in a head on collision. The impact had thrown the car with the university students off the road, crashing into a nearby tree. The collision killed the student seated at the driver’s seat.

Taehyung.

The other two suffered fatal injuries, but were reported to have survived the car crash.

Jungkook and Jimin.

As I stare at the TV screen, warm tears fill my eyes, threatening to spill down my cheeks. Fortunately, I am the next in line and I rush to make my order. Everything around me sounds like white noise. Up until the cashier hands me my food, I am not aware of anything happening around me. I run out of the fast-food joint, the cold breeze hitting my face drying the tears that were already spilling down my cheeks.

***

I ring the bell three times, but nobody answers the door. Fortunately for me, I already have a set of spare keys in my handbag. I fished them out and open the lock of the door. To my surprise, all the lights in the house have been switched off. Which is understandable at this hour of the night. But Jungkook never turns them off. If I’m not home yet, he always leaves the light in the living room on.

Maybe he’s asleep?

Given the fact that he was home since morning and this being one of his very rare days of work, it’s understandable that he must have slept in early. My brother has always been an active person. He likes sports, working out, trying new activities and so on. On his off days, he tends to catch up on his hobbies and discover new hobbies.

It won’t be a surprise following the latest incident, he may have found it hard to engage in hobbies, therefore slept rather early. I tiptoe along the dark hallway, stretching my hands in front of me to avoid running into any obstacles my brother may have left after playing around. I knock softly on his door and then proceed to knock loudly when I hear no response.

“Jungkook?” I call out his name as I open the door.

There is no response, therefore I reached for the light switch and flipped it on. I gasp loudly as I take in the empty room. It wasn’t just an empty room; it was a messy empty room. It almost looks like Jungkook had been looking for something in his room and had thrown the blankets, the books, his clothes and the pillows all across the floor in the process. As I walked over to his bed, I picked up the fallen pens and books and placed them neatly on his study table. I went on to collect the towel and the blanket off the floor and placed it neatly on top of his bed. His phone was not on his night stand, as he would usually leave it.

So, he’s not home.

He must have left earlier in the afternoon, hence why the lights were not on and he must have not returned home till now. I look at the digital clock ticking away on his night stand.

12:45

Where could he be 45 minutes past midnight?

He does not have many friends to go out drinking with, his only friends being Taehyung and Jimin.

Taehyung was his friend.

I could not think of any place Jungkook maybe right now. I heard Taehung’s parents left town to return to their hometown for a few weeks to get over their son’s death. I do not know Jimin’s where abouts, but I do know that he himself had difficulty getting over Taehyung’s death. Therefore, I don’t think that the two of them went out drinking.

My heart starts racing thinking about where my brother could be. He is very sensitive, especially towards people and things he cares about deeply. Given his current state of mind following the incident and how broken his only other friend is, Jungkook may turn to whatever may ease his pain.

Just thinking about the endless possibilities of what Jungkook could be doing right now and where he could be made my heart ache and head throb. I dial his number on my phone and call him but he does not answer. He continues to not answer the next seven times I call him. Each passing ring worries me some more, until I’m dashing out of the house in a blind hurry.

I tear down the street frantically. I scream his name into the darkness. But I get no response in return. I turn on the flashlight on my phone and turn every corner of our lane back to the main road looking for him. There is no way Jungkook may have got onto the train or the bus and gone off to some specific destination given the fact that he does not have a specific destination in mind. I shiver in the sheer cold of the night and start crying at the side of the street.

I whip my head around so fast when somebody taps me on the shoulder. The old man that lives right next door smiles sadly at me. He hands me a piece of paper with his shaking hands. I take it from him with a confused look on my face. He leaves my side quietly as I continue to open the paper.

It’s a note written in my brother’s handwriting.

Went to Jimin’s. An emergency.

I did not know where Jimin lived, but I knew he had to live close by because my brother would often visit him during his high school and university years. My heart rate started to slow down now that I knew that he was with somebody and not attempting anything crazy. I walked back home, the seven minutes now feeling like seven hours.

***

Having a cold-water bath and curling up in warm sheets in front of the TV watching a movie I’ve been dying to doesn’t help when the loneliness and silence of the empty house engulfs me. I’ve been home alone before, days at a stretch even. But knowing Jungkook is out there in his sensitive state of mind with a friend who is equally mentally in pain does not rest easy with me. I tried calling him again but no one picks up the call.

I sigh as I switch off the TV and turn on the lights. I plop down on the couch and cover myself in the warm sheets again. My eye lids feel heavy but my eyes are curious. They want to see more. My brain needs to work more. My heart wants Jungkook home.

Dragging my feet to the kitchen, my face is greeted with the cold from the refrigerator as I get some fresh mango juice. I gulp down as much as I can before I feel like I might throw up all the liquid filling my stomach. Tucking strands of lose hair behind my ears, I make my way back to the living room.

Minutes pass by and I feel wearier. I shake my head to shake the fog clogging my mind but it doesn’t go away.

Maybe I’ll call him one more time.

The server you are trying to reach is currently switched off or not in a service area.

My heart jumps a beat and then another as I realize I have no way of contacting my brother. I know he is safe, a roof over his head and probably food in his stomach. But I needed to talk to him tonight. Hearing him say he’s fine and he’ll be back whenever would assure me of his mental and physical well-being.

Before I know it, I am rummaging through Jungkook’s books and files and even through his drawers shamelessly searching for Jimin’s number or address. I find it scribbled down in Jungkook’s neat handwriting on the corner of some musical sheets in his second drawer along with several polaroid pictures of what seems like his friends and him.

With shaking hands, I dial the number on my phone.

Ring. Ring. Ring.

“Hello?”

***

Previous / Next

[tetedurfarm]

Do you have any advice for getting into keeping rabbits? I was looking into getting a couple for meat production and possibly starting to learn to tan pelts but I don’t want to get confused over all the conflicting info on the internet about wire flooring and such things.

ugh, it’s so frustrating, isn’t it?  with pretty much every other animal you can just google “how to raise x” and get tons of good advice, but the rabbit results are dominated by HRS forums that will crucify you for even mentioning breeding, much less meat production. 

so here’s some points i’ve learned from experience to help you out:

1. wire flooring is not evil.  in fact it’s great.  it’s clean, it’s sanitary, there’s airflow if you use it in a hutch, and if you do it right you won’t have foot problems (unless you’re raising rex or giant breeds, but even then there’s easy fixes like my lattice mats.)

here’s what you’re looking for:  1″x0.5″ grid 16g - 14g wire.  if you order your cages from a manufacturer like Bass Equipment (my preferred cagemaker,) or Klubertanz, this will come standard.  if you make your own cages or buy from a feed store, it’s a bit more hit and miss.  

make sure the half-inch wires are on top when you build your cages, so the weight is distributed properly:

see how the smaller gaps are “on top”?

vs this side.  (shoutout to me having like twenty cages all in pieces in my living room to get these nice reference pics ;p)

i also recommend you get your floors galvanized after weld; they’ll last a long longer that way!

–

2. babysaver wire is called that for a reason.  babysaver is when there’s a 1x0.5 grid near the bottom of a cage.  it’s there to keep kits from falling out of the cage, and helps prevent predators from easily pulling kits out.

this is a cage with babysaver.  it does what it’s meant to.  i use these for my doe cages, and even if a kit gets dragged out of the nest, as long as i find it in time, it’ll survive because it didn’t roll out and get snatched by something off the ground.

vs one without:

i use these for bucks and my growout pens for older kits.  they are cheaper than babysaver cages, but it’s worth the money to keep your babies safe.

–

3. invest in a good pair of j-clip pliers.  even if you buy prefab cages, often times they’re cheaply made and you’ll need to fill in gaps so they don’t fall apart so easily.  it’s also good to keep them around just because, because after a while the clips can get rusty and fall off, and you’ll need to replace them occasionally.

good on left, not so good on right.  the ones on the left cost my about fifteen bucks from my favourite hilariously-named rabbit supply site:  Rabbitnipples.com.  the ones on the right were like $8 at my local feed store.  so a significant markup, but VERY worth it.  the good pliers are more comfortable to hold in your hand, and make much nicer/more secure crimps than the cheap ones.  i often have to crimp clips twice or more with cheap pliers, because of the way they’re shaped:

the good pliers have a solid mouth that make a clean loop with no pointy outy bits.  and they can double as removers if you mess one up!

this is topical because i lost my good pliers and had to order new ones, and in the meantime i built four cages and my palms are so sore/bruised from the cheap pliers.  don’t be like me.

–

4. vets kinda aren’t worth it.  one of the things you’ll see on HRS sites is that vets are ABSOLUTELY necessary.  i don’t hate vets, but they chronically have no idea how to treat rabbits, often making them worse or causing them to die because they administered a med that’s safe for cats but not rabbits.  they also often subscribe to HRS rhetoric that pellets are evil and rabbits should only eat hay and greens, which is…wrong (i’ll get to that in a minute.)  if you can find a good vet it may be worth it for one or two rabbits, but once you get into the double-digits, it’s just not worth it.  exotics vets are expensive, and i can’t afford $50 just for a consult for thirty rabbits.  learn how to treat everyday ailments like sore feet, wounds, abscesses, eye infections, stasis/bloating, and birthing issues on your own.  i suggest joining up with a meat rabbit forum (i like rabbittalk.net,) and going through their articles on rabbit medicine and herbology.  if i can’t fix it myself, that rabbit is soup.  and if a rabbit chronically has health issues, don’t use it as a breeder.  bad immune systems/teeth/feet/etc are hereditary.

–

5. things will die.  get used to it.  with livestock comes deadstock.  if you can’t handle animals dying, including newborn babies, or having to euthanize animals (including newborn babies,) don’t get livestock.  if you can’t look your food in the eye and thank it for its sacrifices, then don’t get livestock.  this is not a place for bleeding hearts.

–

6. don’t breed a new doe by herself.  rabbits are running on hormones only for their first litters, and sometimes they mess it up.  having an experienced doe kindle alongside her that you can foster to gives the new doe’s kits the best chance of survival in case she doesn’t get it quite right.  this ties in with the last point, though - you’re gonna have dead babies.  sometimes you have to make the babies dead yourself, because mama screwed up and the foster already has eight of her own.  not everyone has a n’rithaa who can nurse nineteen and not break a sweat, and the kindest thing to do is pick the strongest and cull the weaker ones so mama doesn’t have so many to feed.

–

7. feed them pellets until you know what you’re doing.  pellets are formulated to be perfect nutrition for rabbits.  they are the healthiest option imo, and definitely the easiest.  it can take a few tries to find a feed that works for you, but they’re generally not too expensive and if your animals keep weight and make babies, then they’re fine.  trying to feed fodder only is expensive, time-consuming, and often ends up with animals not getting enough vitamins that cause bone issues, bloating, and tooth problems.  i am 100% convinced this is at least half of the reason why you see a lot of house rabbits that go into stasis a lot and have bad teeth.  (The other half is they’re always poorly bred byb rabbits, but that’s another conversation.)  fodder can be done well, but unless you really have the time/resources to grow appropriate plants or have a lot of pasture to graze on (and no worms/cocci or other bad things in your soil,) pellets and hay are perfect.  especially if you show.

–

8. if you wanna get into tanning, just get a synth tan, and don’t expect fur rabbits to be an ideal meat producer.  fur doesn’t prime until the animal is about six months old, and typically you’ll be slaughtering them for meat around 12 or 16 weeks.  so if you want to produce fur, either stop caring about the quality of your hides, or get ready to spend more in feed while you grow them to prime.  i know it’s popular to use rabbits as a dual-purpose animal, but you need to set expectations lol.  so far i’ve found rabbits that are half rex produce really nice furs before “prime” age, but they still take longer to grow out than my meat-specific rabbits.  dual purpose really just means “not that great at one or both purposes.”

also just don’t even bother with brain/egg tanning and get you a synth tan like Rittel’s or Trubond.  “natural” tans have too much of a learning curve, require smoking to make them waterproof, and the results are subpar.  synth tans are cheap, easy, usually safe to put down a train if you’re on city water/toss outside if you’re on septic, and will produce a waterproof skin that’ll last forever.  

also alum isn’t a tan.  if you get it wet it’ll start rotting again.  if you wanna make clothes or rugs, use a real tan.  please.  i beg of you.

–

9. auto-water systems are godly but don’t waste your money on expensive ones.  if you don’t know this, i’m disabled, and i like to make things easy on myself so i’m not having to fill 39458639458 bottles a day.  it sucks.  auto-water systems are SUPER convenient because you only have to refill the reservoir every few days and keep an eye on the nipples to make sure they aren’t clogged.

the problem is:  they leak.  all the time.  forever.  when i first got started i used cheap water nipples from amazon and was annoyed at how often they’d start leaking, or were leaking right out of the package.  so i switched to the more expensive Edstrom system that you can order online from places like rabbitnipples.com, bunnyrabbit.com, the bean farm, and bass equipment.  problem is, those leaked just as bad, and the edstrom water nipples cost FIVE DOLLARS EACH.  when half the nipples leak directly out of the box, i’ve just wasted $20+.  at least the ones from amazon are like $20 for a bag of 100.  if they’re all gonna leak anyway, at least i won’t go broke having to replace them all.

–

i can’t think of anything else off top my head so i’mma cap it here.  i’ve been doing this for five years and learned many many things the hard way so hopefully you won’t have to!

[legobiwan]

What do you think Crowley, Loki and Obi Wan would do in each other's places?

WOAH, INTERESTING ASK, ANON

I kept coming back to this one and then closing it because it is one hell of a question, and I really needed to ponder all the possibilities here. (Well done, btw!)

Okay everyone, bear with me here, this is going to get WEIRD and I really have no idea what I’m talking about, hahahahaha. 

Obi-wan Switch

Loki: Okay, so let’s assume Loki is dropped into Obi-wan’s boots. We know Loki feels that he is underappreciated and overshone by his brother, that he has issues stemming from how he perceived his treatment by his father. I don’t see this improving under the tutelage of Qui-gon Jinn. In fact, whatever insecurities Obi-wan had would be intensified ten-fold with a Loki in place, who might have had more time to stew in his emotions than Obi-wan. Loki - who I love dearly - would probably be a far better candidate for the Dark Side under Palpatine, who I could see being a mirror for Thanos post-Thor 1 fall into the abyss. The question would be - would Loki crawl his way out?

Crowley: Now, if Crowley was dropped into Obi-wan’s boots. I think he’d just head for the hills. Crowley was barely skirting by in his work with Hell, and he’s not about to take the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders by trying to influence cosmic events. Except…Anakin is the Chosen and Warlock was kinda of the chosen one, in a way (or so they thought). So I’d imagine Crowley would either peace out to the nearest spice den and get involved in some shady deals with Hondo Ohnaka until he was able to get back to his own reality or he would very, very begrudgingly look after (not train, but check in on, in a more insistent manner) Anakin. But he no quests for good or light or whatever other nonsense. Ultimately, I could see him becoming a bounty hunter-type, helping out when needed but not getting involved.

Crowley Switch

Obi-wan: 

Hastur: *holds out basket* “Here, deliver the Antichrist.” 

Obi-wan: *not knowing anything about Western religion but having a bad feeling about this anyway* No. 

Yeah, I mean…Obes is not delivering the kid. I don’t even think that Obi-wan would have necessarily left Anakin on Tatooine had events gone a little differently in TPM. (I also don’t think Obi-wan would have brought him to the Temple to be trained, but that’s another story for another day.) Now, let’s just say for Narrative Convenience that Obi-wan makes his way to the infamous Soho bookstore with the child in tow. First of all, the accents of these two alone. Hahahahaa! Secondly, I just think everything would get derailed as Aziraphale and Obi-wan talk metaphysics for hours on end and reconciling Heaven/Hell with the Light/Dark. Perhaps Obi-wan gets some insight as to the bureaucratic nature of the Jedi he grew up with and Aziraphale is bolstered by some wise Obi-wan aphorisms. I think…this might be the healthiest environment for Obi-wan, as he can decidedly say “no” to Hell without feeling bad and help out Aziraphale while reading a bunch of books and drinking tea/wine. Obi-wan totally gets his nap in this situation and it is well-deserved.

Loki: Loki would *love* pulling stunts for Hell. I mean, this is his wheelhouse, this kind of semi-petty mischief, and for once he gets rewarded for being who he is instead of being ostracized at the Asgardian court. I could see Loki being pretty close to Crowley in action, but with fewer fucks left to give, and so when it comes to Armageddon, he’d just be like…”nah, nevermind.” Given their natures, I could see Loki being a gigantic pain in the ass to Aziraphale but them becoming friends just due to their mirrored natures and Aziraphale’s book collection, which Lokes really wants a go at. Plus, I imagine Loki would love traversing Midgard and, pulling stunts, and getting to live a semi-free life. Again, this is another best-case scenario for Loki, as it’s essentially an extended vacation. (And can you imagine - Loki, to the four horsepeople, Beezlebub, and Gabriel: “You think you fools know Armageddon, let me introduce you to my children, Fenrir and Jörmungandr. Now get out of here, I have to go mess with the stock market before my reservations.”)

Loki Switch

So I think the Loki switch is interesting because we can see in Crowley and Obi-wan two divergent paths of how things may have been able to go a little differently for Lokes.

Obi-wan: So Obi-wan has some experience being overlooked and I think he’d get really annoyed by Thor and his short-sighted family, even more so after finding out about any secret heritage issues. But! (And as much as I adore dark!Obi-wan), I think an Obi-wan in this situation would negotiate, hard, and even travel down to Earth to help out exiled Thor. In short, he would have been a decent ruler, shown his mettle, and maybe even brokered a legitimate peace with the Frost Giants. It would like…the best possible AU of Loki in Thor 1 (at least, for Loki’s mental health) where everyone just finally gets their shit together and team up to defeat Thanos. 

Crowley: In contrast, I think this situation would be out the worst tendencies in Crowley. He’s already insecure, wants to get into a fistfight with God, and without the stabilizing influence of Aziraphale and his trickster nature being looked down upon in Asgardian society - I think that’s when we’d get dark!Crowley, who just wants to burn shit to the ground, leave Thor to suffer on Earth, and bring the legions of the damned to Asgard and let them feast on the souls of those hypocritical warriors. It would be…the worst possible AU of Loki, in which Loki just lost all of his already tenuous moral compass in Thor 1. Crowley wouldn’t even need Thanos to screw up his mind, he’d be there already and what were once pranks would turn pretty damn malicious-to-murdery. Hell gets overcrowded in this one, for certain. 

What I think it fascinating about going through this exercise is the temperature of the different worlds. The Good Omens universe, by far, holds the most positive outcomes because it is the most upbeat world - I mean, both the TV show and book argue for optimism, which is why I think we get Obi-wan and  Loki in their better forms here. In the Asgard world, we kind of see both - the negative aspects and the redemptive ones and Marvel does tend to balance both, with the light ultimately winning out. Star Wars, however, is by far the most tragic universe, which is hilarious considering that it’s…you know, Star Wars! Luke Skywalker! Obi-wan Kenobi! Our heroes! Mixed with dirty politics, genocide, fascism, broken family bonds, slavery, torture, genetic manipulation, betrayal, etc. I think it’s why I’m so drawn to the Star Wars universe, as it’s so layered and so god damned Shakespearean and no one gets out unscathed. And so we’d see Loki devolve to his worst and Crowley, not devolve but just become totally amoral, a kind of extreme extension of his avoidance of Hell in GO. 

Anyway, this is totally off the top of my head, but thank you for the thought exercise, anon!

[thelonelymonths]

Social Anxiety Adventures: Shaky Hands Make For Shaky Words

Living with social anxiety is a cruel reality for those who are forced to endure it. However, it is a large part of my life. Ever since I was little, I would constantly shy away from meeting new people, occasionally running to the nearest bathroom in tears, and locking myself away in hopes that if the people left, my fears would leave with them. (This is a true story: Upon meeting my brother’s Tae Kwon Do instructor, I really burst into tears. My parents laughed it off.) Everyone would pass it off, saying that I was just a little shy and that I would grow out of it. If only it was that easy...

When I got to middle school, though, it only continued to get worse. I would fake sore throats to get out of speaking in classes, make up aches and pains so I wouldn’t have to go to swim lessons, refrain from asking my parents for anything and everything. I still have flashbacks of going into my mom’s room once to ask her for something and her getting mad because this was my third time within the hour in there, working up the courage to finally ask.

High school was a series of losing points on oral presentations for not presenting well enough, or getting a fail in participation grades even if the other aspects of my learning were fine. Each time I was called on, or up in front of the class, my heart felt like it was about to beat right out of my chest. Between shaky hands and even shakier words, sometimes I'd think that a life of tremors would be easier than what I was being forced to endure.

Physical education and chemistry were two classes in particular for which I can call myself out. Before being switched to an alternative gym class, I spent my 9th grade year in a regular class that would sometimes be co-ed depending on the sport. I didn’t care for the male gym teacher that accompanied us during these times and he was annoyed with my lack of skill. I almost failed gym that year due to skipping, not dressing, or making snarky remarks back when sarcastically asked if I’d like to join.

With my chemistry class, I just stopped showing up after my teacher made me cry. He had discovered that I was made uncomfortable being called on at random to answer questions, so one particular day he kept making a point to call on me. This was a double period and we had 4 minutes in between classes to do what we wanted. I went to get a snack with my lab partner and immediately started crying. By the time I arrived back to the classroom, I was hyperventilating. I asked to go to the bathroom and Mr. Campbell replied (in an amused tone, may I add) asking if I’d rather go to the counselor. Since the counselors were shit and I was full of rage I declined and sat in the bathroom the rest of class. I returned occasionally for quizzes and whatnot and my friends would drop off my homework so I didn’t fail, but that was still an unfair situation to be put in.

That same year, though, was luckily when I had the greatest English teacher in the world, who helped me discover my love of the language. (Shoutout to Hilary Domencic.) She would occasionally have discussion circles for the classes and I think we compromised that I would get points if I spoke even once. (It was here where she discovered that my fascination with the written word trumped my inability for spoken words and recommended that I go into Honors English my senior year.)

Not only did social anxiety have an impact on my education, but it affected my relationships and abilities to perform simple tasks. Ordering food is a risky move and there have been times where I opted to not eat rather than try to speak my order to someone. I usually request friends help me out by doing the speaking, but I don’t always have the luxury of having them around. If they do it, it leaves me feeling as if they're annoyed with me not being able to “grow up” and talk to others. This happened as recently as last semester when I had to have my friend order Subway for me as I stood there near tears with my heart inching toward my stomach.

Phone calls are another thing that fuel my nightmares. In a text-savvy world, this may not seem as bad, until family members wonder why I won't return calls, or I’m forced to schedule my own doctors appointments. I'm accused of my lack of reciprocation being because I “don’t care.” I do care about them; they just don't understand the irrational fears in my head. Usually when I have to make important and adult phone calls, I write down how I will begin and if I know how certain parts of it will go, I write those down, too, so that I still have them when I inevitably lose my train of thought. I had to do this during the phone portion of my job interview, where I wrote down answers to the usual questions they ask, which I got from a list off of google. I didn’t even use half of them, but my brain had to be prepared in case of a mental shut down.

Speaking of work, I work at a hybrid gas station/made to order food store that rhymes with let low. I started there last summer and was to be trained both in the kitchen and at the registers. I spent 2 days being trained on the register, after a week training in the kitchen, and then was forced on by myself. 8 hours of having to socially interact on any given day really made me feel like I was inching closer to death. I ended up having to ask my assistant manager for kitchen shifts only, after coming in having a panic attack because I was scheduled on register. I luckily got my coworker James to switch with me so I could be in the kitchen and he even came to check and make sure I was okay. I apologized over and over for crying to him and I think called myself a weenie, but I haven’t had to work register since.

Social anxiety has limited me from doing things that I’ve wanted to do. I cannot paint it as a beautiful picture, because it’s not. It has caused tears, panic, and disdain for things that should be enjoyable. But it has also made me stronger, and I’ve grown with different experiences from others. I am empathetic and tolerant to others struggling, maybe not with my exact experiences, but similar ones. I am patient with kids who are nervous about doing things, and I am loving to those who cannot do things. Nobody is ever alone in this life, even when it feels like we are. My 10-year-old self had support through friends, books, and television. My 20-year-old self has support through friends, writing, plants, and colleagues. My hands may shake when I speak, and sometimes I just may not speak, but I am powerful through other means.

[greengargouille]

At long last I have some time for Mother of Learning’s epilogue, which is great because I’ve been missing checking the tag but I wanted to avoid thinking too much about it before getting some rest So! What happened to our two -now former- time travellers since Zorian last fell unconscious?

-I expected either the ‘good morning’ wake up or a flashforward, but I admit I did not think of the two together. One month already, wow. Also, Zach is on friendly terms enough with Kirielle to rope her into his revenge pranks via PTSD. Neat.

(And Zorian complains about how long will Zach keep up with this, but, let’s admit it, halfway through that month Zorian probably pulled some nasty prank too in retribution, like pretending to have forgotten everything that happened within the loops. You can’t make me believe he never tried to get back at Zach) - “A dozen of people or so”, that’s... kind of a lot? I remembered that the only reason Zorian wasn’t sharing his bed with Kirielle in most restarts is because Imaya allowed her to have her own room while there wasn’t a third tenant for it. *checks previous chapters* Hmm, nope, it does say that there is a bunch of rooms on the second floor. Though I guess with the ‘slightly beyond’ capacity, some people do have to share their bedrooms.

Ah, nevermind, it does seems to be what I initially remembered. Well, one room for Imaya, one for Kael and Kana, one for Zorian and the last one for Kirielle would count as “a bunch”. But how are they sharing that between a dozen people?

(Zorian one evening just come to the Noveda Estate to get a room here, because he just can’t handle that many people under one roof and especially in his room.) (...Wait, is the Noveda Estate in good state, actually, or was it destroyed during the invasion attempt? Though I guess even if it’s mostly intact, it’s not Zach’s yet till he get a fair trial against his mentor)

-Ilsa is here! Did she sleep at the academy too? Or is she just here to watch over her students? I don’t care, I’m deciding she is sleeping here. Look, I might have never mentioned it before, but I have an incredibly soft spot at the idea of Ilsa and Imaya being girlfriends through their school years, and deciding to break up due to not being able to invest time in each other any more, but still remaining good friends. Look, I’m just a simple lesbian that like some wlw of adult age in her fantasy.

-Imaya having the time of her life aaaaaaah my heart, this epilogue only started and I already feel so blessed.

-Zorian ask where Zach is, Ilsa reply by refering to him as [Zorian’s] friend, which is... weird? He is her student too, even if she must not have seen much of him (or Zorian too, either, though he still tried to have mind magic sessions at school so maybe he was more present. Hmm. I do remember him saying to Akoja that he wouldn’t be present much though.) That would also imply that Zach is Zorian’s friend first, and eventually for his other classmates too. Hmmmmm.

...No, really, the fact that Zach was here but couldn’t wait for Zorian to wake up, wouldn’t that imply that he lives here too? Would make sense that he avoids the Estate if he is currently fighting with Tesen. Or maybe he comes to grab breakfast after whoever in charge of cooking at the Estate resigned after the invasion.

...I like the idea of Zach being part of the household, though, he must have spent enough time there through the loops to feel attached to the place. (which means that instead of Zorian going to the Noveda Estate to get at least one peaceful night, it’s Zach instead that come to crash in his room to avoid his shitty mentor outside of court meetings)

-Study groups is something I never thought about but make complete sense given how the academy is supposed to be in a bad state. Cyoria’s importance as a town will probably be massively cut despite the presence of the only rank 6 mana hole, and the academy’s management will be tough for the whole year. I wonder if, by the end of it, it will be able to go back to being the best academy of the country (continent?), or if its reputation will never recover and students will be more distributed across other academies. This could have interesting consequences, economically or politically.

-Ah, confirmation that Zorian was indeed absent from most classes this month.

-Zorian is starting to follow in Xvim’s footsteps, aww :’D

-We get to check up with Raynie, and while I don’t have much to say about it, I do like the... realism of it? The whole ‘putting this young girl with an emotional story up front to cover for other things, but ready to turn on her if it was beneficial’. We’re not left with a saccharine closure for her, but it still feels hopeful.

-Oh, Zorian is openly a mind mage. And here I thought he would really try to cover this up. Guess I will have to make major changes to that sequel fic I was never going to write in the first place

-Akoja finding motivation to become better out of the accident is... oddly sweet, in a way? Her way of explaining it is relatable. It was a terrible thing, and she knows it was terrible and feel bad for all those people, and guilty for how it turned out so well for her- but that’s not going to stop her from getting those opportunities. And she does frame it as “when war came for her again, she would be ready”, not out of altruism or wanting to protect others, which I actually really love?

-Zorian have an ‘uncanny ability to notice the problem people were having, and how to fix them’. I wonder what’s at play there. Is it his empathy/mind magic that helps him, his archmage level experience, the fact he already made training programs for multiple people in the past, or just because he is quite familiar with those people due to the time loop? Maybe all of this.

-Akoja understanding that the image she had of Zorian is flawed, but that she still likes him, is a good conclusion for her- even though the ways she notices in which he diverge from that mental picture are only due to the time loop, when even before that they already had major differences. Still a good step in the right direction.

-Akoja, Kopriva and Kael becoming buddies is nice. I like that the classmates are becoming friends even outside of the ZZ sphere of influence. (The term ‘bedfellow’ is not one I ever heard before, and I was ready to point this out as proof they all share rooms before looking at the definition. Sigh.)

-Ah, Zach is still seen as a ‘clown and a wastrel’ by his classmates, or at least Akoja. Seems obvious, as he didn’t interact much with her and need to stay low, but man, I feel like this kind of reputation could become a problem down the line. Or not. Even if he doesn’t show the full extend of his abilities, he can show enough to get some respect, for example hunting dangerous creatures.

-Kopriva thought Zorian became close to Zach for money, before learning about his sales. But not everybody have her connections. And Zorian is now a known mind mage. There’s probably one or two conspiracy theorists in Cyoria thinking that Zorian is manipulating Zach via mind magic and that’s why their relationship drastically switched.

-Hmm, if Kael is surprised someone got into his room despite the lock and ward, then it’s probably safe to say he doesn’t share it with someone else. Or another classmate, I guess he’s in the same situation with Kana that Zorian is with Kirielle.

-Some investigation ongoing! Seems like ZZ&co did a pretty good job at erasing their tracks. Zorian had probably no choice in leaving so much of the golem’s core behind, but I can’t help but think it means the end of his golem-making career, or he will have to keep it for private use- someone is going to recognise this kind of spell formula if he start producing golems interesting/effective enough to make enough sales despite being a one-man team.

-How much does the Triumverate Church knows about the summoning? Did Zorian went and erased the minds of people that were here when him and Zach first asked for an angel summon, or since it didn’t gave away anything about the loop, they were left alone? Is the fact those two were present at a not only successful summoning, but one that was hijacked by an high-rank angel, known by people higher in the Church hierarchy? Will they become unexpected allies in an eventual sequel when either of them is put in an awkward position by the crown?

-”It may take a year, or even a decade, but they were bound to make a mistake.” Flash forward a decade later, when Elayer learns the ‘saviors’ are the most powerful couple of the continent, and also are behind some of the help/money the investigation team got on other cases, and so it would be pretty bad for him to reveal the truth.

-POV switch to Damien, and we get a reminder that Zorian is basically an impostor who killed the original. Which is not something I, and probably many readers, thought much about at this point of the story, but it’s true this is a moral dilemma. Damien’s acceptance is a pretty normal reaction, though. I think. I dunno, my brother have yet to come up to me and tell me he is actually a time loop clone that killed the original, but I feel like I would be able to accept it.

-”Daimen was pretty sure his little brother would be willing to make an enemy out of the whole family for Kirielle’s sake”, except Daimen was baffled by their mother’s plans for her and wouldn’t go against Zorian, only try to smooth things over, and Fortov... wouldn’t it be hilarious if he actually supported Zorian through this plan. Zorian wouldn’t even know what to make of it since he just doesn’t care about his brother’s opinion.

-’Zorian can pull a grudge’, Daimen thinks, meanwhile Zach have been making petty pranks at Zorian for a whole month in retribution for putting him in an illusion world. The one who makes an enemy out of those two is going to have a very bad day.

-Benisek had to appear at least once in the epilogue, and with his overall contribution to the story it couldn’t have been a big part, but boy is his scene glorious. What a way to reveal some major information to people around :’)

-Spear of Resolve get to stroll openly through the city, how nice. The situation is far from being resolved for the web, and people’s perceptions probably aren’t going to shift even after getting used to them, but they are too important to strike down or ignore, and even before they already had trade relationships with some humans; a lot of possibilities are going to open for them.

-Taiven cameo! Her thriving as a combat mage and being totally independent from Zorian is a pretty satisfying end for her. Spending too much time around him would only make her discover some of his abilities and doubt her own, I’m afraid.

-The Noveda Estate is mentioned as a potential private meeting place, so it’s probably safe to assume it is not only mostly intact, and that Zach is living here/can invite people.

...Which reminds me. Didn’t Zorian have a workshop there (as seen in the chapter where he talks with Novelty and we hear about the pokeball grey hunter trap? Is the reason he asked Zach to buy a place for Kael and not for himself because he already had access to this one?

- “In all honesty, Zorian had yet to hand out even a fraction of the stuff he owed (...) It would take him literal years” This shouldn’t be surprising, given he already mentioned something similar before, but this is still something I wanted to point out, since it does align with a certain headcanon of mine on how the close future would go for him. This post is already pretty long so I won’t develop, might end up making another post about it I already said I won’t write that fic! Someone stop my brain from putting on more projects on me!

-Speaking of headcanons: Zorian is writing a book! My bet was on shaping exercises- a sort of follow up on the 15 variations basic book, putting the most interesting ones he saw during his travels, as well as less well known ones (Xvim did say there were shaping exercices for mind magic too, after all), and basically the kind of book he wished he could have during his training sessions with Xvim. But a mind magic book would actually be pretty great! If he is allowed to publish it. Not sure he can get the peer approval for it.

-Holy heck that Grey Hunter end. Well, that does answer the question of whether that primordial essence would dissolve away after Silverlake failed her contract. Man, I hadn’t expected her to actually have a part, despite joking about it.

-I expected Zach to have more of a role in the epilogue, but you know what? That just mean the unseen interactions are Free Real Estate.

This epilogue felt pretty good to read! It went in unexpected directions and managed to pull a lot of loose threads, while giving enough content to imagine an interesting sequel. I was worried till the end Zorian would date one of the girls he had interacted most with through the story, because this is the kind of disappointing ending stories tend to go for, but it really wouldn’t fit with Zorian’s character and just... the whole ethical problem of being mentally way older, having some major power imbalance and him retaining memories the other doesn’t have. Now that the story is completed I think I can go back and enjoy the passages where said girls appear more? They’re all very interesting characters in their own right, so I’m glad for that.

...I wouldn’t say I don’t want a sequel, but... I’m satisfied if Mr. Kurmaic ends the MoL-verse there (or only come back for worldbuilding posts on his blog). He did said he wanted to edit the story and eventually publish it before starting anything else, and he did want to write a completely different story, so even if he talked about a possible sequel, it wouldn’t be before years, and who knows how he will feel about the idea then. So I’m glad, I’m really glad, that the story ended so satisfying, because I feel like it’s fine for me if it’s over. I want to stay and enjoy the (very small) fandom here on tumblr, maybe contribute to it too, and I’m happy that I can do it without canon spoiling my enjoyment.

Mother of Learning will probably have a special place for me as a story. I wished it had more details on certain points, but it’s still a complete worldbuilding that felt fresh, the story had done amazingly well on Chekhov’s guns and twists, and I never felt like it went lazy or had disappointing answers to its mysteries (okay, maybe on Red Robe’s identity, but I feel that’s very forgivable). The magic system, Zorian’s progress, the time loop... so many elements that could have been badly exploited, but no, it never made characters take the idiot ball, the story didn’t pull power increase out of nowhere, it was all so good. Mostly, what I will admire the most, is that Nobody completed the story. The updates might have been constantly delayed, but it was still at a pretty good rhythm, and in a language that isn’t the maternal tongue of the author. As someone whose one-shots can stay WIP for years before I complete them... It is very inspiring.

I am so, so glad that I decided to read this story, that I was part of this adventure if only as a lurker... And I wish the best to Mr. Domagoj Kurmaic, whatever his next writing project will be- or even if he decides to stop writing at all. Sincerely, thank you.