#i have been working on this shit my ENTIRE LIFE. i have been memorizing social cues and analyzing body language and vocal tone my ENTIRE...

[fantabulisticity]

If you know someone autistic who has difficulty telling the difference between rhetorical and literal questions, do me and them a favor and don't fucking keep asking if I tell you "that's all the context I have. I don't know anything else." And don't then get pissy when I keep telling you "I don't know" when you KEEP ASKING ME QUESTIONS. IF YOU ASK ME A FUCKING QUESTION THEN I AM GOING TO ANSWER IT. I AM FUCKING DISABLED. I CANNOT TELL THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN RHETORICAL AND LITERAL QUESTIONS ALL THE TIME. IF YOU DON'T CHANGE YOUR TONE OR PHRASING AT ALL BETWEEN A RHETORICAL OR A LITERAL QUESTION THEN YOU ABSOFUCKINGLUTELY DO. NOT. GET TO BE FUCKING PISSY WITH ME WHEN I ANSWER YOUR QUESTIONS. LEAVE ME ALONE OR I WILL FUCKING LEAVE. I AM SICK AND TIRED OF THIS SHIT. I AM DISABLED. I AM UNABLE TO TELL THE DIFFERENCE IF YOU DON'T USE VERBAL OR TONAL INDICATORS. IMPLICATIONS FREQUENTLY GO OVER MY HEAD. THERE IS ABSOLUTELY NOTHING I CAN DO ABOUT IT. I AM TRYING MY BEST DURING EVERY SINGLE SOCIAL SITUATION IN EVERY SINGLE PART OF MY LIFE. DO YOU KNOW HOW EXHAUSTING IT IS TO HAVE TO ANALYZE EVERY SINGLE SOCIAL SITUATION YOU ARE EVER IN AT ALL FUCKING TIMES???? LEAVE ME THE FUCK ALONE.

[pansexual-puppy-pack]

day 5 of @theoraekenapperciation 's theo week 2024: college!

note: i don't know how community college works. non-american here. i didn't wanna do research. im sorry americans.

Theo dug his heels into the pebbled stone of the quad.

Beacon County Community College wasn't bad, really. It's just that Liam, Mason, and Corey had dropped him off a day before, helped him move into his dorm, and left him. Alone. In a new place with new people, and he didn't even know what he wanted to major in—holy shit, what was he doing here?

He should leave. He should turn around and go. And he could! He could pack everything back up, get into his truck, and leave.

He was about to.

Like, give him a second, he'll do it.

Fuck it, who was he kidding.

Theo started walking towards Building B.

It wasn't... bad. (Yeah, Theo was skeptical. He'd never really been to any kind of college before, and although he'd memorized the map before setting foot on campus, he didn't really know his way around. In a more social sense. It didn't help that he was surrounded by Liam, Corey, and Mason yesterday, who kept pushing him towards various different groups of people that Theo kept walking away from.)

It really wasn't—it was actually pretty nice, Theo had to admit, as he opened the oddly heavy front doors and went to look for the main auditorium. Just his luck, a couple RAs with nametags were at a table covered in the school colors handing out flyers and pointing to a bunch of places.

Fuck it. Theo approached the table.

One of the RAs noticed and gave him a friendly smile. "Hiya! How can I help you?"

"Which way to the main auditorium?" Theo asked, taking a flyer she handed him.

She pointed behind her, where a crowd of people were flooding towards the end of the hall. "Turn right at the corner—which dorm are you in?"

Theo gave her a close-lipped smile. "Gansey Hall,"

She seemed to light up at that and tapped the arm of her co-RA. "Hey, I think this one's yours!"

He looked up from his laptop, where he seemed to be looking at a disgustingly huge spreadsheet, and turned to face Theo, flashing him a smile. "Hi! Henry, I'm the Gansey RA for floors three and four, you're...?"

"Theo Raeken," He introduced. "Dorm 4D."

Henry laughed at that. "God, 4D—one of my friends used to be in there. If you find any plastic rats, please tell me, I think she stole at least five."

"Noted." Theo nodded. The clock on the wall said he had ten minutes before orientation started. "Why?"

"How much time do you have?" The first RA asked. "Dot. Mare Hall RA for floors 1 and 2."

"Ten minutes," Theo said, glancing back up at the clock. "Nine." He corrected.

"Not enough time, I think," Henry said. "I'll find ya when I do. For now, you should be getting to orientation—have fun!"

Theo decided to test the waters. (Wouldn't do any harm to get in his RA's good graces.) "Listening to a room of old people talk for two hours? Always." He said, heavy on the deadpan sarcasm as he started to follow the crowd.

Henry and Dot's light laughs echoed behind him. (Good. They like him. Hopefully.)

He got a text on his phone.

liam: Don't forget to be normal about making friends

Well. Theo wasn't entirely sure if what he just did was normal or not.

In the auditorium, Theo decided to flip a proverbial coin and take an unoccupied seat between two people in a middle row.

They were pretty nice, too—on his right was a nice lady in her mid-forties who started regaling him with a short version of her life story (Margaret), and on his left was a seventeen-year-old teenager who really wanted to be a full-time archivist (Dmitri). If by "normal", Liam meant "people around Theo's age", he'd already failed it once, but Margaret took a liking to Theo and gave him her number after she learned that they'd be taking the same Biology class, so a win was a win. Dmitri also handed Theo a little crocheted mouse after the orientation, so.

Once it wrapped up—thankfully without incident and without any classes that day—Theo went back out to Henry and Dot's table, where they quickly asked if he had any snacks on him.

"No," Theo said. "But I could grab you something from the vending machine around the corner if you want,"

"Oh my god, please," Dot begged. "I like, need a chocolate bar right now."

"Anything. Literally anything." Henry said. "You could shovel me dirt from the quad and I'd eat it,"

"Okay, jesus," Theo said lightly. "I'll be back."

More than a couple thank you's followed him down the hall as he blew fifteen bucks and five minutes on the vending machine, returning to the table with two handfuls of candy bars and chips for the two of them.

"Holy shit, thank you," Henry said, ripping into a bag of chips. He ate one and whispered, "You get one free pass for this, use it wisely,"

"Henry!" Dot whisper-yelled, unwrapping a chocolate bar.

"What?" Henry asked. "He doesn't look like someone who'd need it, anyway, right, Theo?"

Theo nodded. "If my dorm's trashed, it was my friends from highschool."

"I'll take your word for it," Henry said, making a zipping motion in Dot's direction when she opened her mouth to protest.

Theo greeted them a goodbye as he walked off. He wanted to explore the campus.

[gudakko]

hanging some thoughts out in the void to dry

one thing ive been thinking more and more as I get older is the kind of people 10 years ago i would've called "normies" didn't deserve half the shit I'd think about them

i was a real chuuni back then and in hindsight i really don't get where id get that sense of superiority

you know people like that now have a lot of stability in their lives

they're done with their studies, they have pretty healthy social lives and already well on their way to start their lifelong careers

such an alien word to me that last one

i think the problem for me is more or a root issue

aside from the fact i didn't go on with my "academic life" i just struggle with the base concept of making something my own

that's kind of the whole thing really, both with jobs, degrees and even just hobbies

i have not seen another person ever talk about this kind of feeling before

people will get into things, spend time acquainting themselves with them and then they'll have that thing

It'll be something they know about with some confidence to the point they can speak about it to other people and even educate them to a degree if they were unfamiliar with it

This applies to any sort of hobby and game

I can't really say i feel that way about anything I'm "into"

if someone was to ask me things about any of those things I'd always have a looming sense of guilt for not being the right person for that question and could immediately think of someone better for it

so how do people confidently get into things? i know it takes time and effort but even things I've been into a long while and enjoy still don't feel *mine*

"someone is consuming this content better than i am" is what ill think

it's weird

i do like learning, memorizing things, learning a bit of this and that and storing that information as something I will know from that point onwards, but it's not enough

there's always the pervading feeling that anything i engage with i do so in an extremely superficial way and i don't know how to do better

i feel it might have to do with me often struggling to process information if it's presented a certain way

it's weird, it just makes me feel like im really stupid and obtuse but I know I like to learn things it's just so hard to look at them and not short circuit sometimes

It really does make me feel like I'm some kind of picky eater unable to process some things for no reason, it's really frustrating and i wish i knew how to get better at it

it makes me wish i wasn't so lazy and easily distracted at school too and that id just find "the right way" to learn things

but some days it'll really feel like that's just some part or setting of me that's always been there and is just supposed to work like that unfortunately

I also think i really exude this "superficiality" of mine to people

maybe they don't know what it is and can't quite put their finger on it but they can tell something is off and it makes communicating with me harder

maybe they can tell i won't be able to understand things the way they do and it just feels disheartening

people that have known me for long enough have come to know this and will sometimes talk down to me like im just some dumb kind and honestly while it was pretty annoying at first i realized i don't really have a comeback for it and they're not entirely wrong

did i just miss an important developmental step in information assimilation? i really think i might have

sometimes ill see people that make art or music, entirely new things that weren't there before

from nothing they made something that hadn't existed before up until now, and they just did that by themselves

i look at these people and i can tell they have a soul, it's undeniable proof to me that they do

I couldn't even begin to imagine the process behind something like that, both conceptually and practically

i wonder what that says about me

[mermaidsirennikita]

could be that that i'm getting a bit of a skewed perspective because of how my social media is curated but i'm seeing as much if not more hype around margot than ryan at this point? especially now that promo has kicked off and margot has some of the best red carpet promo styling that i've seen in recent memory.

Yeah, idk. I've seen a lot of hype around her outfits, and to be clear, these aren't just great promo outfits, but the BEST styling choices Margot has selected in basically her entire career. She is NOTORIOUS for having horrid style, lol, which I think is more noticeable because she's obviously a gorgeous, very conventionally attractive woman. Who should be easy to dress! But Kate Young is, frankly, super bad at her job and somehow botched it constantly (and not just with Margot). Andrew Mukamal started styling her more this year, and while I wouldn't say he's like... Law level, he really seems to have shown out for the Barbie press tour.

But, idk--Ken is having so much official promo dedicated to him. There's the "I'm Just Ken" song/promo tour. He's got the memorable parts of the teasers--the cheesing for the camera, the moment with the doctor, the sleepover. And the thing is, lol, Barbie is just as bland as Ken in doll form; she has more going for her, really, in that she has all the jobs. Ken just tends to get bumped up a lot in terms of being the Fun One, and to be fair that was a thing before this movie (Life in the Dreamhouse is another time I can remember Ken being the "meme worthy" one) but here it's even bigger.

I really do tend to wonder if some of it does have to do with Margot's career and rep kind of taking several hits before this. Although I loved Birds of Prey, it got zero support from DC and came out at a pretty unfortunate time; Amsterdam not only bombed, but made her look bad/hypocritical; she's gotten slammed a lot for not only the Russell association, but fawning over Brad Pitt in the press when backlash against him is rising; the 1920s movie was, I'll be honest, not only one of the worst movies I've seen in my life, but like... the pinnacle of an actress going so hard for an actor and ending up looking cringe as hell. You saw the attempt at rallying around her performance in online spaces, but she was never in serious contention because the truth was that the movie did laughably bad and her role was also really, really bad.

Whereas Ryan has been at this shit forever and had every form of image he could have without ever getting too bad. He was a teenybopper, he was a Rising Serious Star, he was a heartthrob, he was a part of a major tabloid relationship, he stepped back and settled down and became known as a wife and kids guy, he's done action, he's done comedy, he's tried real hard for an Oscar but, and this may be crucial lol, took time off after that didn't work. I'm not a stan, but I think he's been pretty smart about his career (and of course, had the benefit of being a cis white dude).

Idk. Margot just had a lot of bombs in a row for an actress in this stage of her career, in one case a LEGENDARILY major bomb; and we all know how harsh execs can be. But all of it could be my social media feed as well, where I think a lot of my mutuals are kind of over her. And part of it could also be the execs not knowing how to sell this movie and using Ken to be like "look how funny it is" because feminism is scary, even when it's the most basic, simplistic feminism on earth as Greta movies tend to specialize in.

[xtrablak674]

Getting My Affairs in Order

Not being shady or even trying to fish for a compliment but I don't think even ten folks would show up to a memorial service for me. #facts

My position on this point hasn't really changed in decades, and it has to do with a few factors. It's not that I am particularly unlikable or anything albeit that may play a part, I am not going to try to gaslight myself into believing I am everyone's cup of tea, because I am not.

I am a bachelor.

I've long been estranged from my entire family.

I am an orphan, neither grandparents or parents are still alive.

In recent years I have not been overly social, not joining any groups or organizations like I had in my youth.

More or less I am a hermit, with contact with truly no more than a single handful of people.

I also have a tendency to be radically honest with folks, and let me tell you folk definitely don't like this.

On its face this may appear extremely sad, but I never wanted a life full of hollow meaningless connections. Depth, honesty and truth have always been paramount to me in my relationships, and when a particular friendship isn't serving those things its time to move on from it. It may seem harsh, but why would you stay in a relationship that is no longer serving you? Living things grow and change, only dead things stay the same. #period

In the past I have talked about, what good is love you don't feel? I have had and or have people in my life, who I rarely interact with but they say, they have love for me. I reiterate, what good is love you don't feel?

Why do we allow people to move through this life and not give them their flowers why they are still here? Part of my remunerations about my life is reflecting, reviewing and rewarding the accomplishments I have had during my brief time on the planet. Per my list there isn't really anyone else doing that work, so I do it for myself. #selfcare

Part of this is making sure my death is as frictionless as my life, and making sure I have taken care of as many things as humanly possible to prepare for my demise.

The big thing grabbing my attention today is how to I wish to be visually remembered and this had me thinking of the artist who I have known who have captured my image in to my liking.

Without doing too much of a deep dive, Ms. Abramson is one of those artist, her portrait [seen above] at a former friends art exhibition opening is one of those shots I love, and the top of the list for favorite profile shots. The second shot in this category would be this shot by Mr. Kushner, now some of the technical aspects of this shot I don't love its not as clear and crisp as I like my portraits, but Mr. Kushner was still learning at the time in 2016 when this shot was taken.

Another photograph that has meaning to me is shot by Laylah Amatullah Barrayn, I was in a show she was curating at the time. It's meaningful because it was the one and only time a significant amount of family showed up to one of my exhibitions. This event was never repeated and was very memorable for me because of its uniqueness. It's rare that I get folks there clapping for and celebrating me.

The no-brainer photos that I would also want included is me and the kids, and when I say kids I am meaning nieces, niblings and nephew. Most of those ones I have actually met I have those in-case-of-death photos. You know the photo you make your wallpaper or post on IG when someone you knows dies. I have specifically instructed certain friends that we haven't created this shot and should get on it STAT. But they may find themselves wanting and that isn't on me.

An aside photos I wouldn't want included in any remembrances of my life are any photos of me and any former siblings, each and everyone of those shots I had to personally orchestrate and still got shit on by the lot of them. I don't want anyone to think for a moment that is how I would want my life reflected, but basically fantasies.

The reason these kind of things are important to me is because I didn't have those kind of shots of my former-siblings and myself as children and no shot ever of both of my parents together with me. I think these kinds of absences are significant to our identities and our perceptions of ourselves, which is why I have always made sure that I always try to get these kinds of shots with the children.

That's all I had to say, this ish may seem dark, but the truth is once we are born we are going to die, might as well get yourself right for the inevitable. #facts

[mandareeboo]

SU Music Rankings

Bc I can and I wanna start some Disk Horse rip. These are all in order of preference, with explanations, etc. It’s a long bitch. That said, I’m not counting little short jingles or small joke songs like Little Butler. This is the meat and potatoes of SU music- just under 30 songs. I might do the rest if people like my takes lol.

I scored it mostly on three bases- how dear it was to my heart, how much/often I relisten to it, and also what it means to the plot. That said, little fun songs don’t automatically go farther down than big, plot-heavy songs either! It’s a strange little balance.

Special Note: I don’t dislike any of this music! I love SU and that includes its bumps and glitches. I just pick favorite children lol.

1.) Change

Was there ever a more Steven moment than when he wiped the blood off his face and kissed it into sparkles? I think not. 

If “Be Wherever You Are” is an ode to young Steven, then this is teen Steven’s. Talking about change, and how much and how little it can do. How he holds his arms up for Spinel to hug him, so trusting. How he seems able to just. Break into soft tears at will, and not to be manipulative- it’s just his kind nature. The warmth in his voice. Fuck yesssss.

2.) Change Your Mind

This song is only fifty five seconds and it’s EVERYTHING to me. It really felt like someone was speaking the words I’d always held deep inside of me, unsure of how to say. It feels like a goodbye to someone who never really loved me. 

As much as I enjoyed Future, if this was the finale of SU, I would’ve been perfectly okay with that.

3.) Drift Away

This song gave me legitimate shivers the first time I heard it, and it still haunts me to this day. Spinel stayed, and waited, and all she got was a transmission thousands of years later. Fuck.

4.) Here We Are In The Future

THE MOVIE IS SU AS ITS BEST AND I WON’T BE SWAYED ON IT. Steven being a teen who loves his weird family but is growing just a bit sarcastic to their drama. The adorable love he and Connie share. His slow realization that he will always be working, always have things to do, is both somber and real. The Crystal Gems won’t be safe with one epic battle. They’ll be safe with years of hard work and love. HIS LITTLE HANDSHAKE WITH AMETHYST.

This is a helluva bop and a great way to summarize the main character’s backstories.

5.) Let’s Only Think About Love

Did ya’ll know that Zach Callison killed his throat with that last note? He gave his all for this performance in a vocal range he no longer comfortably do and by god did it SHINE. The FLAIR. The FORESHADOWING. All of the Gems all being awkward about Rose and Steven trying to bring them to the present. Peridot having a mini-existential crisis in a cute yellow dress. I love Zach Callison’s normal singing voice but man is that a fucking bop. Nothing will ever beat it.

6.) Here Comes A Thought

This bad boy helped me out a LOT with some mental issues I was dealing with in high school. I was unmedicated, unsupervised, and full of anxiety. I’d have break downs when I tried to speak about certain things. I couldn’t function. This song inspired me. It helped me feel okay with my intrusive thoughts.

And the episode! -chef’s kiss-. Once again bringing up the morally gray area of training child soldiers. Connie expanding her social group. Steven’s trauma hauling ass in that second half. The ANIMATION. Stevonnie’s gorgeous singing voice. GOD yes.

7.) It’s Over Isn’t It?

Just barely squeaking above Stronger Than You, this ballad is everything gorgeous. The whole episode is. I think Mr. Greg stands in the top five of my episodes for the entire show. It even got nominated!

There’s just so much about this song that I love. The gentle melancholy of Pearl’s voice. How the crew had to redo the shots for this bit bc Deedee went so fucking hard. The hard cuts between Pearl, remembering the love of her life, and Steven, who has begun to feel like he took her away. I’d recommend this song to anyone, regardless of what they do or don’t know about SU, simply bc it tugs so many heartstrings of love, loss, and responsibility.

8.) Stronger Than You

Did you realize this episode aired SEVEN years ago? This bitch was what got me into SU! Hearing about Ruby and Sapphire made my little gay heart so happy inside, and then getting a whole song confirming that they were a couple, that their love powered the strongest Gem on the team? Aaaaaaaaa

To this DAY I get excited when I hear Estelle start singing. This song is timeless. This song will live in media history. God I fucking love this song.

9.) Other Friends

I’m not the biggest musical person, so I hadn’t heard of Sarah Stiles before her casting as Spinel, but JESUS CHRIST the lady went hard. She went SO fucking hard. Sarah Stiles started on 100 and somehow just kept CLIMBING. You can just hear the sheer manic energy building in her voice, the anger and resentment. 10/10 Sarah Stiles is a queen.

10.) Independent Together

This made the list entirely bc the crew was like “you’re gonna get a himbo ass Steven-Greg fusion singing with Opal while Garnet flies across the moon on Lion while floating” and I am forever thankful to them for it

11.) Who We Are

Bismuth deserved more songs. ‘Nuff said.

12.) Peace and Love (On the Planet Earth)

It Could’ve been Great is EASILY one of my favorite s2 episodes. I love the entire concept of this song. Of Steven making music to reflect how much Earth means to him and his family. Of him teaching Peridot some self-care. Also Peridot’s singing voice is really cute and squeaky. 

I know it’s silly, but I would’ve really enjoyed a flip around of this in Future! Like Peridot reminding Steven how much he loves music, that he needs to take time to relax for himself, maybe with a new verse or just a remix of the original song!

13.) Something Entirely New

I watched this episode as it aired, and I legitimately almost cried. I love Charlyne Yi’s voice so much ya’ll- her raspy, not perfect singing voice against Sapphire’s deep soothing lull is great.

And to have Ruby and Sapphire’s meeting be the way it was- for Ruby to bemoan Sapphire losing Homeworld, to being stuck with a single Ruby, while Sapphire is a noble who has always been taught everyone in her “caste” is vitally important (and has, in her own mind, taken that to mean every Gem, as she should) and how they come together and make each other happy. Good shit good shit.

14.) I’m Just a Comet

The fact that Greg’s music career never really blasted off pisses me off to this day bc Tom Scharpling’s voice is fucking BUTTER. Also the song really feels like a jab at his parents now that we know the kind of dynamic he had growing up. “This life in the stars if all I’ve ever known” is definitely him wiping away their existence after reminding them (and himself) the things they used to say about him.

15.) Do It For Her

This episode. This fucking episode. This episode got me permanently hooked on SU. I’d just binged season 1 and was kinda meh about it overall after the bop of Stronger Than You. “Oh,” I thought to myself, foolishly, “I’ll probably just casually watch this from time to time.”

Like three days later Sworn to the Sword aired and that was it. I was hooked! Pearl’s gentle training song turning darker and darker, Connie’s accompaniment from nervous to determined to fully into such a toxic mindset. The fact that SU had the BALLS to discuss the repercussions of training child soldiers, now and later. This episode was everything to me, STILL is everything to me.

Six years and well over 100 fanfics written later, I think it’s safe to say this show swallowed me whole and never let go.

16.) System/Boot.pearl_final(3)

I debated putting this on the list because it’s not anything crazy important, just a way to show things are Wrong, but I had to do it entirely bc Pearl is so damn SALTY.

Like telling us about the Gems makes sense, she felt like she was given a duty, but she went so damn petty. WHY is that Ruby alone. Gross. This Amethyst is a trash dump. Wtf are you people.

17.) Full Disclosure

This episode really feels like a turning point for SU. Before, the show had its dark moments- but now we’re in the thick of it, and it’s not going away. Full Disclosure felt like an rebuff to the idea of returning to any normal we’d established in season 1. Gems are actually a giant species now. Gems tried to kill us now. There’s this Yellow Diamond bitch who got namedropped. Something about a Cluster. 

The song itself is BALLER, with its ingenious use of Steven’s ringtone and photos as he tries to decide whether to clue in Connie on all this nonsense. Meanwhile we, the audience, already know damn well Connie about to yeet some common sense into him.

18.) What’s the Use of Feeling Blue?

I’mma admit it- I’m a Yellow Diamond stan. I’ve always loved her- her anger, her poise, her hardworking nature. I actively argued against the “Yellow Shattered Pink” theories back in the day. But, man, when this arc leaked? I got so overexcited I was too jittery to watch it for like two days. It’s easily my favorite arc of the series. The sheer alien nature of the zoo, the Famethyst, and absolutely Patti Lupone’s beautiful ballad. Goddamn. Yellow singing to Blue to try and help her regain her old status, the warble in her voice as she reminds Blue she misses Pink too, the movement of the bubbles as she talks about attack. It gives me shivers to this day. FUCK.

19.) Tower of Mistakes

This is, fun fact, that only SU song I have completely memorized. The story itself is kinda funny! See, we lost internet at my house for a solid 5 to 6 months when these episodes aired, so I only got a very brief window to view them all. But this was the first Amethyst song in a long while, and I didn’t want to forget it! So I keep replaying it in my head for ages. And that’s still definitely a thing.

Anyway will never not be sad that this entire song was about making it up to Garnet for Amethyst’s perceived slights with Sugilite (which was a two-way road), only for Garnet to pressure her into fusion later when pissed and never discuss it again bc Garnet probably never thought twice about it and Amethyst has the emotional openness of a clam that’s just been told its ugly. Helluva way to make someone feel like shit, G. Helluva way to bottle that shit, Ames.

20.) On the Run

I’ve said it once, I’ve said it a million times: Amethyst! Needed! More! Songs! 

The dichotomy between Steven’s play and Amethyst’s honest desire to run away from home is so well-done, especially when you consider a lot of Steven and Amethyst’s actions are playing together. The song is also near and dear to me simply bc it’s my favorite Amethyst episode to exist (well, maybe second to What’s Your Problem, but not by much). Moments like these are all the proof I need that they were right to fuse first.

21.) Be Wherever You Are

This tune really just feels like an ode to who Steven was as a kid. Trapped on an island with no way home, and he’s just happy to be with his friends. The stars are beautiful and not oppressive. Also that one animatic with Lars and the Off Colors playing in the Homeworld Kindergarten to this music was iconic and made this song get stuck in my head for a solid month.

22.) Familiar

I ADORE how the crew use bright neon colors to show how alien Homeworld can be. And Steven recognizing that the Diamonds treat him how the CGs used to, and how prepared he is to “fix” a broken family. It’s a soft, gentle tune about melancholy. Also the Pebbles are beautiful.

23.) Let Me Drive My Van Into Your Heart

Such a cute little love ballad, but every time I listen to it now I just imagine the heart attack Rose must’ve had at the line “And if we look out of place/Well, baby, that's okay/I'll drive us into outer space.” like there’s a Vietnam war flashback if I ever heard one

24.) What Can I Do?

I’m kind of neutral on this one? Rose and Greg both have great voices, but the song itself lacks many lyrics. I think it was definitely a good way to show Rose’s flaws in thinking.

Also, I’m shocked they managed cram that much vaguely sexual innuendo into two minutes, followed by how Not Hetereo that dance between Rose and Pearl was, and not get their asses chewed by it. You go guys.

25.) Cookie Cat

I love a lot of the vibes this song has. The lyrics are so damn prophetic, but they also sound like the kind of weird 90s commercials I grew up on. It’s been like two decades since I saw the Shirley Temple commercial but I’ll be damned if I don’t remember “Animals crackers in my soup! Monkey and rabbits loop-de-loop.”

26.) Giant Woman

I am. NOT the biggest fan of Steven’s original singing voice. I feel bad saying that, since it was just Zach Callison as a kid, but he never jived well with me for some reason. So I wouldn’t listen to this on the fly. 

The song itself is still really good though, with all sorts of fun animation of Amethyst and Pearl being bitchy to each other. It’s a bit sad in hindsight to see tiny Steven trying to get his moms to get along. Ahh, season 1.

27.) Strong in the Real Way

This song has SUCH a strong start. Pearl reflecting on Sugilite’s problems, but the show making sure to show us that Pearl’s lack of enthusiasm towards her also lends itself to jealousy as well as just general malaise. How much she cares about Steven, and wants him to grow up strong. 

And then Steven just kinda. Ruins it? I appreciate his enthusiasm for tryna bulk up but to take what was starting as such a rich, personal song and broadcasting it to random strangers just makes me a bit sad. Almost a bit angry on her behalf?

28.) That Distant Shore

I KNOW this is gonna create some discourse, but I’m just not the biggest Lapis stan. I love her voice. I love the visuals of the song. And I get why she felt afraid and needed to flee.

But Lapis never got to take responsibility for her own actions. And, in the end, the song feels hollow to me- because we all know she’ll never talk to anyone about it, know she’ll burst back in and destroy the barn, and no one will ever question it. I like Lapis a lot, but I feel like her arc never was fully finished. She never got help. She never learned to feel safe.

29.) Dear Old Dad

I’ve yet to meet a single human being who likes this episode tbh. There’s some great discussion about what kind of parent Greg is from it, and what kind of dynamic he has with the Gems that he felt he had to fake an injury to hang out with his son. Honestly the first half was fine and dandy. It’s just that then they Greg just went out of his way to drag Steven away from missions and such. It never jived well with his character before or after.

Also, is it just me, or does Zach himself sound like he hates the song as he sings it? There’s no passion or heart in his voice. It sounds like they told him to read off cue cards and he did. Tom Scharpling’s best attempts didn’t save this one for being a skipper. But the episode, unfortunately, isn’t, so it gets a spot on here.

[aquilaofarkham]

title: the little death rating: T+ word count: 2,409 summary: Two years after his fight with Death, Trevor’s injuries start catching up to him while Alucard realizes that humans are more fragile than he thought. 

For @trevorsmellmont ❤️  Thank you so much for commissioning me!

READ HERE

There’s a sharp pain pooling beneath his right arm, coursing through his ribcage. Trevor ignores it just as he’s ignored all the other aches, jabs, and stings over the past two years. Two years of building something better, something sustainable to last far longer than its young, admittedly green founders. Countless days, weeks, and months erecting homes, gardens, and pens for those dumb gentle animals who think the entire townscape is their personal pasture. Not another mistake of allowing them to wander aimlessly straight into the castle. As if heifers need to learn how to craft medicine or conduct what’s being referred to as “electricity”.

The work will never be finished. Even on days like this when the sun burns hotter than any circle in hell. A few drops of warm salt-ridden sweat crawl past Trevor’s pressed lips and into his dry mouth. Pain and thick heat were never enough to stop him before—he tells himself this, barely certain of his own supportive thoughts (a new concept taking root in his mind). Take it slow, don’t push yourself, idiot. This cabin made from the earth will get built eventually. Another family will receive their forever home to fill with lots of babies. Old wounds beg to differ as Trevor’s arms begin to weaken, each movement slower than the last, struggling to keep up with Greta’s superior pace. She’s always known her way around a mallet.

Another bead of sweat gets caught in Trevor’s lashes, sparing his eyes from temporary discomfort. Though it wouldn’t have mattered as they’re already past any sort of respite. He looks for distraction but can only see the blurred shapes coming from a huddle of bodies, despite being a short distance from them. He knows it’s only Sypha and Alucard with the village children, which gives Trevor some relief.

There’s more comfort to be felt when he remembers that one of those little monsters is his own, nestled in Sypha’s lap then placed in Alucard’s gentle arms. She has a name far too long for any toddler to pronounce—Elizabeta Belnades Tepes Belmont—so what rolls off her developing tongue instead is simply “Liza”. She’s innocent now but once she leaves this little man-made paradise and ventures into a harsher world, she will take more after her mother and father. Grabbing whatever life offers with both fists, clawing and biting her way through every obstacle until her teeth are reddened with bloody meat. For the time being, they relish Liza’s soft cheeks, wispy hair, and the way she throws herself at whichever adult happens to be in her nearest vicinity. The other children are helping her socialize by playing games and embracing frivolity; a tactic Trevor remembers from his own upbringing, though with less games and even less frivolity. 

“Think you can handle one or two more?”

Greta’s voice manages to cut through Trevor’s mental fog. Funny how she asks if he can “think” about anything especially at this suffocating moment. She must have noticed the way his lips curl into a happy doped up grin while observing his family and couldn’t help but inquire. As any close, loved and valued friend would.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“What’s wrong with looking a bit further into the future? Now that we all have one.” 

“Looking is one thing, but seriously suggesting is something else completely. My… performance in certain areas isn’t as up to snuff as it used to be.”

As Trevor says this, things deteriorate and get a bit fuzzier from his eyesight down to his chest. Out of focus. Painful. He keeps talking, keeps ignoring the inevitable. Always ignoring what his own body screams for.

Greta wrinkles her nose at his statement. “There are children present, Belmont.”

“What? I’m referring to the house. I barely managed to get one wall up while you’re already on the fucking roof.”

“So dramatic. You three really do deserve each other. And you’re still young.”

“On the outside, maybe.”

She laughs at his lie, misinterpreting it as another piece of mild self-deprecatory banter he might never be able to live without. Greta says something else, perhaps her own personal jest to counter his, but Trevor cannot hear. Breath grows heavier, forcing out a raspy “it’s fine. It’s just my chest”. Barely able to tell if Greta actually said anything about his sudden condition. Or rather, not so sudden. No, this has been building over quite some time now. His muscles and bones screaming, begging for relief or death, and end to everything—whichever comes first. Feelings that only worsened over the years.

Trevor loses control over his legs, now practically boneless. The collision between his head and the ground is nothing compared to the inner war over his heart. Whether it will finally succumb. Greta immediately calls for help—he thinks without confidence, once again. Trevor can still hear voices, but not their exact words. Not Sypha when she demands to know what happened. Not Alucard when he begs for him to stay conscious. Not even Liza as she cries for her papa.

Then all the chaos in the world fades into slow darkness.

--

Alucard stands outside the closed bedchamber door, contemplating how often he’s touched Trevor’s body. Lithe fingertips have memorized every crevice, scar, soft and rough spots alike. Not just as a lover with wandering hands underneath blankets in the dead of night. Or a friend who holds him steady on both feet when he needs it. But as this family’s self-appointed physician. 

Perhaps the prince of two worlds took after his father after all. “Polymath” is what Alucard used to describe Dracula and the very same word others have referred to him as, mostly in the realm of medicine. He knows more than anyone, little offence given towards the herb dispensers and leech farmers (only to be polite for his own townsfolk). Thus, through the anxieties and trembling hands, Alucard gave Trevor his diagnosis: heat exhaustion along with a muscle somewhere in his chest that decided to go rogue and strain itself.

The son of Tepes, the only local doctor worth trusting, and arguably the co-leader of their little prospering hamlet paces across the hall like Trevor did the day Liza was born. He’s on the other side of that closed door, resting. Bedridden from heat exhaustion and a fucking pulled muscle. It bothers Alucard. This shouldn’t have happened to someone who stood up to the personification of Death and pissed in his eye. A stupidly common and easily treatable inconvenience to the human body shouldn’t be the end of a fucking Belmont.

It shouldn’t—unless Trevor’s scars have anything to say about it. The ones on the inside and outside. Inside, unseen, and untreatable. There’s a harsh revelation to be found there; one which the prince has been purposefully avoiding up to this moment. Alucard can try as he wants, use the tools left behind by his father and mother as though it were their final death wish, but he might never tend to what pains Trevor on the inside. He’s a Belmont, undeniably so, but Belmonts are human despite the many recurring signs pointing to the contrary. Then there’s Sypha with her magic, but she’s human as well. Greta and Liza are still human. Humans are more susceptible to dying easy, little deaths even when they follow world-saving victories.

Where does this leave Alucard? Thoughts spiral down, down towards darker places the longer he nervously hovers outside the bedroom. He’s been known to awkwardly stumble into deflection, insisting he’s only half human whenever certain someones bring up this topic of necessary conversation. Meaning he might as well not be human at all. Not when the bodies of those he loves change so rapidly while his remains petrified. It’s only been two years, filled to the brim with countless hours he wouldn’t ever want to trade for the entire world. But the thought of one night as they nestle themselves into bed and Alucard touches either Trevor or Sypha’s chest only to feel an anomaly within their hearts. The earliest sign that time and age will eventually betray them as it does for all mortals—it could be the one thing to break him.

Alucard stops himself at the opportune moment, right before he starts thinking about his mother and father. Did Dracula ever contemplate Lisa’s mortality? Was the decision to never turn her easy or the hardest thing he forced upon his unstable, immortal conscience? Arms crossed over his chest like a protective cage, fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt until it hurts, Alucard swallows a bitter glob of spit and reaches for the doorknob. Sypha will have to accept the fact that he couldn’t wait for her. He quietly thanks her for the lessons she taught him. If he needs to talk about something—truly talk, no sarcastic wit or banter, just the raw emotions—Alucard no longer hesitates. He won’t, not as he enters the room and immediately sees Trevor still in bed, not quite altogether there. At least he can manage a decent smile and wave of his hand.

“Evening.”

“How does your chest feel?”

“Still a bit tight, but I’ve been taking deep breaths like the doctor ordered.”

The amount of strain heard in Trevor’s voice worries Alucard. Hopefully the Belmont has learned something from the recent past, so he won’t be stupid and suggest anything having to do with leaving bed or getting back to work.

 “I think I should get up.”

“I think that’s a poor decision.”

“Are you saying that as my physician or because you’re letting that pretty little blonde head of yours get too worked up?”

No. Yes. Both? If only Trevor didn’t look up at him with those glassy eyes (can he still see him?) the colour of stained glass windows erected in cathedrals he felt so unwelcome inside. If only that smile, somehow both soft and shit-eating, wasn’t in place of a more serious expression. Then maybe Alucard could voice his concerns without being accused of acting overbearing—an accusation grounded in solid evidence but he’s not ready to admit that yet. Not out loud.

“Normal, healthy adults do not become bedridden after pulling a small muscle in their chest.”

“Belmonts aren’t normal… or healthy in my case.”

Alucard’s brow furrows. “I want to think you’re healthy—” I need to. “—that you’ll live long enough to see the children of this village have little ones of their own. Liza included.”

“God’s sake, she’s only two years old. You and Greta, always talking about looking one step too far into the future. Let her be a child before adulthood rears its ugly maw.”

“Try not to change the subject.”

Trevor lifts his head off the indent pressed into his sweat drenched pillow. “Alright. Fine. I feel much better. I won’t push myself and give my heart some more time to recover.”

No response coupled with broken eye contact; sure signs of Alucard’s reluctance to accept his rather weak assurance. The Belmont has no other choice.

“Come here. Sit.”

Another moment’s hesitation before Alucard complies. Feeling his weight upon the mattress, Trevor blindly reaches for his wrist until calloused fingers grip cool, unblemished skin.

“Now lie down. No, no. Not like that. Place your head right here.” He pats his chest and with a fleeting amount of guidance, Alucard’s cheek fits perfectly between his breasts. Two hands smooth over the dhampir’s curves before one before one rests on his silk smooth head and the other against the small of his back. Alucard lied about one thing: his own body can change in small yet noticeable ways. Without the need to fight for the lives of others, whether today or tomorrow, sharp edges turn softer. Trevor and Sypha have finally let themselves breathe as well, let go, and enjoy all of life’s pleasures.

“Hear that?” He asks Alucard.

“... It’s slow.”

“Slow and strong like it should be.”

Alucard wishes he could bottle up that heartbeat or place it in a box. Preferably a music box to listen to its soothing melody long after its original body and soul are both eventually gone from this world. Who knows? It might make things hurt a little bit less like when he redrew his parent’s portrait or built a much larger nursery where his own used to be. Not a lot, but Alucard could possibly live with just “a little”.

“Speaking of Greta…” The baritone of Trevor’s voice sends deep vibrations through his broad chest, tickling Alucard’s cheek. “She said something about more children.”

“More orphans joining us?”

“No, even though I know how much you love those damn orphans. She asked if we could handle one or two more.”

“What did you say?”

“I implied that she was taking after Sypha’s influence by being wonderfully insane.”

Alucard chuckles in agreement. That sounds like Greta. “You never know. It might be good for Liza if she has a younger sibling.”

With the sound of Sypha’s well timed arrival, he’s mercifully saved from Trevor’s lengthy speech about how patience is apparently a virtue and tirades about his “performance” or lack thereof. Greta reveals herself shortly afterwards with a still crying Liza in tow. So many bodies gathered around one inebriated individual, here for him and him alone. Trevor’s consoled yet exasperated expression directed at Greta in particular says “isn’t there someone more important you could be helping right now?”

Sypha is the first to voice her gratitude after fussing over her exhausting loved one. “I will never be able to thank you enough, Alucard.”

“I think the bed did most of the heavy lifting, love.”

Trevor is given an affectionate, somewhat caring glare in response but his focus is demanded elsewhere once he suddenly notices Liza jumping onto the bed. She snuggles herself between him and Alucard, wetting their shirts with her tears.

“Easy there, you little monster. Papa’s still a bit tender.” Not that she can understand or care.

There’s an aura of relief felt amongst everyone in the room—less with Alucard who smiles bittersweetly. It’s a truth he knew he had to acknowledge before it tore his heart open. Trevor and Sypha will die one day and he will have to bury them. He’ll bury Greta, he might even bury Liza. Not today thank all the gods, or tomorrow, not for the next few decades if fate is kind enough. 

But the day will come. And it will be Alucard’s own little death.

[teawaffles]

Albert’s Drinking Contest: Chapter 3 / End

Note: Some language.

“G-Goddammit……”

“No way, how……?”

Roughly twenty minutes had passed.

And with their glasses in hand, Moran and Louis were both gasping in agony.

Once the match had resumed, the three participants had attacked their glasses, consuming drink after drink like a surging tide. Now that Louis had been saved the trouble of approaching the other two time and again to fill their glasses, the rate at which the wine now entered them had seen a remarkable jump.

Although Louis was not a strong drinker to begin with, his sheer determination to prevail had allowed him to keep pace with his veteran opponents: at this point, he’d already downed a comparable portion of wine.

However, even mental willpower had its limits. Back when he’d consumed his twentieth glass, the intoxication had hit Louis like a brick, and a wave of dizziness swamped him. From then on, Louis had placed his spectacles on the table, and repeatedly rubbed the inner corners of his eyes in a bid to chase away that sense of vertigo.

Now, Louis was attempting his thirtieth glass of wine since he’d entered the match. In other words, Moran and Albert had already drunk an astonishing 51 glasses.

Even as they moaned like spirits of the dead, both Louis and Moran tried to fill their glasses for the next round; but the hands that held those glasses kept trembling, and wine spilled onto the table many times over.

“——This is truly an excellent wine. With this flavour, I can enjoy myself twice as much.”

On the other hand, Albert was still in perfect shape.

Having long finished preparing his next glass, Albert looked at his two opponents, barely able to hold their own glasses, as if watching them from on high.

Despite having consumed an extraordinary quantity of alcohol, he was still unperturbed, and enjoying the taste of the wine. With unfocused eyes, Louis turned to look at his oldest brother.

“Ha, haha — as expected of you, nii-sama.”

In the face of this overwhelming presence, his own powerlessness seemed almost hilarious in comparison, and he chuckled as if he’d given up.

“This isn’t, the time to be, laughing, Louis……”

Moran thumped his back, in an effort to coax some life back into him. But that gesture was much too weak, and looked as though he was simply trying to soothe a badly drunk man.

Yet perhaps that move had worked, for then, Louis knocked back his entire glass. Following suit, both Moran and Albert drained their glasses too.

“Well then, we’ve finally reached the thirtieth glass.”

Watching the three of them, William announced the tally with dispassion. But at this point, it wasn’t clear if his voice had even reached Louis and Moran.

Having reached a nice round number, it seemed Louis was starting to loosen up. With the last ounces of his strength, he turned his head, and looked at Moran beside him.

“Mr Moran. My apologies, but it looks like, this is my end……”

“Wha…… Oi, hang in there, Louis!”

But his desperate plea went unanswered. The moment Louis uttered those final words, just like Fred, he slumped onto the table.

“L-Louis……”

Half-dazed, Moran mumbled the name of the fallen — and William swiftly appeared by his brother’s side.

“You’ll catch a cold if you fall asleep here, Louis.”

Gently, he tucked the blanket he’d prepared around Louis’s shoulders.

Albert looked on in concern.

“William, is Louis alright?” he asked.

“Yeah, it seems he’s just asleep for now.”

“…………”

The two brothers looked on at their youngest sibling, now keeled over; but even as Moran too fretted over his condition, a sense of admiration and gratitude towards the man had grown within him. Despite being drawn into the match, Louis had pressed on and fought alongside him to get this far. If Moran himself hadn’t been so sozzled, he would even have wanted to give the man a huge round of applause.

However, even those ardent emotions dwindled with time. For Moran was now back to square one — as the only player standing up to Albert — and that lonesome despair weighed heavily on his shoulders.

Here was an opponent so tough, that even someone who’d joined halfway had been no match for him.

That raw power sent a chill down Moran’s back. Desperately trying to hold his vision steady, he glared at Albert.

“……How the hell are you still alive?”

Through his hazy consciousness, Moran barely managed to utter that one phrase. Although it’d come from his own lips, to him, it sounded as if it’d been said by someone else far away.

Albert shifted his gaze from Louis to Moran.

“It’s not so surprising, is it? I just genuinely enjoy drinking wine, Colonel.”

“This is no longer in the realm of ‘enjoyment’, innit……”

Perhaps his inebriation had finally tipped over into delirium: at that moment, the sight of Albert lounging with a glass in hand looked almost like that of the devil.

And finally, that time had come.

“Oh, shit——”

In his final moments, with every last ounce of strength he had within him, Moran uttered that cheap curse.

And in an instant, as if someone had flipped a switch — he blacked out. Like a marionette whose strings had been cut, he collapsed onto the table in front of Albert, and began to snore loudly.

“Looks like…… it’s settled, then.”

Watching the sleeping figures of Fred, Louis, and now Moran, William announced the end of the match.

And thus, on this memorable night, the drinking contest had ended in complete victory for the preternaturally strong Albert.

“……Mm?”

Around thirty minutes after that, Fred — who’d been the first to drop out — opened his bleary eyes.

Blinking, he slowly sat up, and saw Moran and Louis fast asleep in a row beside him, with blankets wrapped around their shoulders. Why Louis too?, he thought; but seeing that sight before him, at the very least, he somehow understood that the match was over.

Perhaps it was inevitable, but it had ended in a crushing defeat for Moran, Louis and him.

“Good morning, Fred; though the sun hasn’t risen yet.”

Someone called out to him from the side — by reflex, Fred’s gaze snapped toward the voice, and he saw William smiling gently at him, seated in the same spot from earlier. Beside him was Albert.

“……How long has it been?”

Since he already knew how the match had turned out, for now, still a little groggy, Fred enquired as to how long he’d been unconscious.

“It’s been around thirty minutes since the end of the match. So that makes it around two hours since you passed out,” said William. “It’s past midnight now.”

That voice had a somewhat comforting note to it, as if he was worried for Fred, who’d just awakened from the depths of drunkenness.

Then Albert — who was still enjoying his wine — spoke up in concern.

“Still, the colonel has done this time and again without learning his lesson. Even though wine is a luxury to be savoured and enjoyed.”

“Although you’ve beaten him every time, it seems that argument has yet to persuade him otherwise.”

Looking at Albert, who seemed to be functioning perfectly despite everything, William shrugged in amazement.

Fred had no clue as to how exactly how much wine Albert had ended up drinking; but from the wryness of William’s smile, he could at least tell that it was an amount beyond an ordinary person’s imagination.

Once again, Fred reflected on how it’d been a mistake in itself to challenge this monster to a fight.

“Although Moran seems to have given it his all this time around, as I thought: he was no match for you, nii-san.”

As if narrating Fred’s thoughts, William looked back on the outcome of the battle. Then, Albert picked up a bottle that still contained some liquor.

“Won’t you join me for a bit, William? Just to enjoy the wine.”

Despite having consumed a copious amount of alcohol, Albert was still game for more. But William waved a hand in refusal.

“I won’t. Anyway, I already had my fill over dinner.”

“That’s a pity; now that it’s just the two of us, I’d wanted to discuss its flavour at length with you.”

Saying that, Albert tilted his glass, and gently brought it to his lips. That gesture looked almost as if it’d been calculated down to the millimetre — the atmosphere surrounding him truly befitted that of a British aristocrat.

“…………”

William, the pivotal intellect of their organisation, and Albert, who was speaking to him.

Gazing vacantly at the two men, a thought suddenly struck Fred.

——How did this man come to be what he was today?

Albert had been born and raised as a noble — in this stratified society, he was considered part of the upper class.

But despite the position bestowed upon him by his birth, he had not sunk into the degenerate practices of the nobility; instead, his heart ached for the twisted nature of their country, and he wished to overturn it from its very foundations.

And the catalyst for all that, had been the two brothers he’d picked up.

Rather than indulging in their social positions and means, the Moriarty brothers instead refined their intellect and abilities with unyielding force of will, thus turning themselves into the “Lord of Crime” — an existence working in the shadows of Britain’s underworld.

Fred looked at Louis, asleep to his side, and then at William and Albert, who were engaged in conversation.

It was almost as if they’d been destined to meet.

——Could I, too, get closer to them?

Despite not being related by blood, Albert saw William and Louis as his brothers — the bonds between them were strong. In that case, perhaps Fred’s relationship with them could become even closer than what it was now.

Secretly, that thought blossomed in Fred’s heart.

“Well then, it’s getting late, so we should call it a night. Seeing as they’re asleep, what should we do with Louis and the colonel?”

Paying no heed to Fred’s longing gaze, Albert drained the last of his wine, and calmly got to his feet. Remaining seated, William spoke.

“Since they’re so soundly asleep, I’d hate to rouse them; let’s leave them be a while longer.”

“I see. Then I shall remain as well.”

Listening in to their conversation, all of a sudden, Fred remembered the important agreement that’d been made at the start of the match.

Nervously, he asked after Albert.

“Um, since I’ve lost, I suppose the forfeit will fall on me too……?”

Simply owing to the fact that he’d participated in the drinking contest, as one of the defeated parties, Fred had resigned himself to accepting the loser’s penalty.

However, Albert smiled.

“Aah, no need to worry about that. As you know, this match is a personal matter between the colonel and myself; I’m sorry you got caught up in it.”

“N-no, you don’t have to apologise. Even though it was a rather sudden turn of events, it was still my own decision to participate.”

At that unexpected apology, Fred waved both hands weakly. But Albert kept up that elegant smile of his as he continued.

“You don’t have to concern yourself with the forfeit. Well, even if I were fine with him doing it, the colonel would just be a right bother; so I’d be grateful if you could just tidy up the glasses we’ve used tonight.”

“T-Thank you very much.”

Having expected a bigger penalty, Fred was grateful for Albert’s magnanimity. In his heart, he heaved a sigh of relief, and proceeded to clear the glasses.

As he did so, Albert turned to look at Louis, who was still fast asleep.

“And since Louis was also caught up in this, I’ll exempt him as well.”

Then his focus shifted to Moran, who was slumped beside Louis.

“……Instead, I suppose I’ll have to give the colonel a proper punishment.”

“…………”

Although his voice had been calm, a disquieting feeling lingered around those words. Hearing that, even the agile Fred had unwittingly stopped in his tracks.

In place of Fred, whose face had paled, William asked after Albert with a wry smile.

“Nii-san, exactly what kind of punishment will you be giving him?”

Albert’s tone remained calm as always.

“Let’s keep that a secret for now. But no matter what it’ll be, I’m sure all of you can look forward to it.”

Saying that, Albert smiled. It was elegant to a fault.

“…………”

As he took the empty glasses, Fred looked at the sleeping Moran.

He’d set up this contest of his own accord: he had it coming for him. And yet, as Fred thought about what lay in store tomorrow for the man he saw as an older brother, he couldn’t help but feel a little sorry.

Just like this, the night to commemorate the founding of MI6, had drawn to a close.

T/N: …Do I really want to know what Albert’s gonna make him do? (ohoho)

Translator’s notes

Drinking capacities

I thought I’d summarise their relative strengths at drinking :3 From weakest to strongest:

Fred (<20 glasses)

Louis (30)

Moran (52)

Albert (52, and then some)

Though William didn’t participate in the end (aww), I would think he’s on par with Louis, and maybe even a bit stronger too.

The illustration

The illustration shows Moran slumped on a tiny coffee table of sorts; but I’m wondering where Louis and Fred are, since they were described as being asleep on the table beside Moran... Perhaps this is an incongruity between the story and the illustration?

[qqueenofhades]

Re: the post you reblogged about Bush. I'm 21 and tbh feel like I can only vote for Bernie, can you explain if/why I shouldn't? Thanks and sorry if this is dumb or anything.

Oh boy. Okay, I’ll do my best here. Note that a) this will get long, and b) I’m old, Tired, and I‘m pretty sure my brain tried to kill me last night. Since by nature I am sure I will say something Controversial ™, if anyone reads this and feels a deep urge to inform me that I am Wrong, just… mark it down as me being Wrong and move on with your life. But also, really, you should read this and hopefully think about it. Because while I’m glad you asked this question, it feels like there’s a lot in your cohort who won’t, and that worries me. A lot.

First, not to sound utterly old-woman-in-a-rocking-chair ancient, people who came of age/are only old enough to have Obama be the first president that they really remember have no idea how good they had it. The world was falling the fuck apart in 2008 (not coincidentally, after 8 years of Bush). We came within a flicker of the permanent collapse of the global economy. The War on Terror was in full roar, the wars in Iraq and Afghanistan were at their height, we had Dick Cheney as the cartoon supervillain before we had any of Trump’s cohort, and this was before Chelsea Manning or Edward Snowden had exposed the extent of NSA/CIA intelligence-gathering/American excesses or there was any kind of public debate around the fact that we were all surveilled all the time. And the fact that a brown guy named Barack Hussein Obama was elected in this climate seems, and still seems tbh, kind of amazing. And Obama was certainly not a Perfect President ™. He had to scale back a lot of planned initiatives, he is notorious for expanding the drone strike/extrajudicial assassination program, he still subscribed to the overall principles of neoliberalism and American exceptionalism, etc etc. There is valid criticism to be made as to how the hopey-changey optimistic rhetoric stacked up against the hard realities of political office. And yet…. at this point, given what we’re seeing from the White House on a daily basis, the depth of the parallel universe/double standards is absurd.

Because here’s the thing. Obama, his entire family, and his entire administration had to be personally/ethically flawless the whole time (and they managed that – not one scandal or arrest in eight years, against the legions of Trumpistas now being convicted) because of the absolute frothing depths of Republican hatred, racial conspiracy theories, and obstruction against him. (Remember Merrick Garland and how Mitch McConnell got away with that, and now we have Gorsuch and Kavanaugh on the Supreme Court? Because I remember that). If Obama had pulled one-tenth of the shit, one-twentieth of the shit that the Trump administration does every day, he would be gone. It also meant that people who only remember Obama think he was typical for an American president, and he wasn’t. Since about… Jimmy Carter, and definitely since Ronald Reagan, the American people have gone for the Trump model a lot more than the Obama model. Whatever your opinion on his politics or character, Obama was a constitutional law professor, a community activist, a neighborhood organizer and brilliant Ivy League intellectual who used to randomly lie awake at night thinking about income inequality. Americans don’t value intellectualism in their politicians; they just don’t. They don’t like thinking that “the elites” are smarter than them. They like the folksy populist who seems fun to have a beer with, and Reagan/Bush Senior/Clinton/Bush Junior sold this persona as hard as they possibly could. As noted in said post, Bush Junior (or Shrub as the late, great Molly Ivins memorably dubbed him) was Trump Lite but from a long-established political family who could operate like an outwardly civilized human.

The point is: when you think Obama was relatively normal (which, again, he wasn’t, for any number of reasons) and not the outlier in a much larger pattern of catastrophic damage that has been accelerated since, again, the 1980s (oh Ronnie Raygun, how you lastingly fucked us!), you miss the overall context in which this, and which Trump, happened. Like most left-wingers, I don’t agree with Obama’s recent and baffling decision to insert himself into the 2020 race and warn the Democratic candidates against being too progressive or whatever he was on about. I think he was giving into the same fear that appears to be motivating the remaining chunk of Joe Biden’s support: that middle/working-class white America won’t go for anything too wild or that might sniff of Socialism, and that Uncle Joe, recalled fondly as said folksy populist and the internet’s favorite meme grandfather from his time as VP, could pick up the votes that went to Trump last time. And that by nature, no one else can.

The underlying belief is that these white voters just can’t support anything too “un-American,” and that by pushing too hard left, Democratic candidates risk handing Trump a second term. Again: I don’t agree and I think he was mistaken in saying it. But I also can’t say that Obama of all people doesn’t know exactly the strength of the political machine operating against the Democratic Party and the progressive agenda as a whole, because he ran headfirst into it for eight years. The fact that he managed to pass any of his legislative agenda, usually before the Tea Party became a thing in 2010, is because Democrats controlled the House and Senate for the first two years of his first term. He was not perfect, but it was clear that he really did care (just look up the pictures of him with kids). He installed smart, efficient, and scandal-free people to do jobs they were qualified for. He gave us Elena Kagan and Sonia Sotomayor to join RBG on the Supreme Court. All of this seems… like a dream.

That said: here we are in a place where Biden, Bernie Sanders, and Elizabeth Warren are the front-runners for the Democratic nomination (and apparently Pete Buttigieg is getting some airplay as a dark horse candidate, which… whatever). The appeal of Biden is discussed above, and he sure as hell is not my favored candidate (frankly, I wish he’d just quit). But Sanders and Warren are 85% - 95% similar in their policy platforms. The fact that Michael “50 Billion Dollar Fortune” Bloomberg started rattling his chains about running for president is because either a Sanders or Warren presidency terrifies the outrageously exploitative billionaire capitalist oligarchy that runs this country and has been allowed to proceed essentially however the fuck they like since… you guessed it, the 1980s, the era of voodoo economics, deregulation, and the free market above all. Warren just happens to be ten years younger than Sanders and female, and Sanders’ age is not insignificant. He’s 80 years old and just had a heart attack, and there’s still a year to go to the election. It’s also more than a little eye-rolling to describe him as the only progressive candidate in the race, when he’s an old white man (however much we like and approve of his policy positions). And here’s the thing, which I think is a big part of the reason why this polarized ideological purity internet leftist culture mistrusts Warren:

She may have changed her mind on things in the past.

Scary, right? I sound like I’m being facetious, but I’m not. An argument I had to read with my own two eyes on this godforsaken hellsite was that since Warren became a Democrat around the time Clinton signed Don’t Ask Don’t Tell, she sekritly hated gay people and might still be a corporate sellout, so on and etcetera. (And don’t even get me STARTED on the fact that DADT, coming a few years after the height of the AIDS crisis which was considered God’s Judgment of the Icky Gays, was the best Clinton could realistically hope to achieve, but this smacks of White Gay Syndrome anyway and that is a whole other kettle of fish.) Bernie has always demonstrably been a democratic socialist, and: good for him. I’m serious. But because there’s the chance that Warren might not have thought exactly as she does now at any point in her life, the hysterical and paranoid left-wing elements don’t trust that she might not still secretly do so. (Zomgz!) It’s the same element that’s feeding cancel culture and “wokeness.” Nobody can be allowed to have shifted or grown in their opinions or, like a functional, thoughtful, non-insane adult, changed their beliefs when presented with compelling evidence to the contrary. To the ideological hordes, any hint of uncertainty or past failure to completely toe the line is tantamount to heresy. Any evidence of any other belief except The Correct One means that this person is functionally as bad as Trump. And frankly, it’s only the Sanders supporters who, just as in 2016, are threatening to withhold their vote in the general election if their preferred candidate doesn’t win the primary, and indeed seem weirdly proud about it.

OK, boomer Bernie or Buster.

Here’s the thing, the thing, the thing: there is never going to be an American president free of the deeply toxic elements of American ideology. There just won’t be. This country has been built how it has for 250 years, and it’s not gonna change. You are never going to have, at least not in the current system, some dream candidate who gets up there and parrots the left-wing talking points and attacks American imperialism, exceptionalism, ravaging global capitalism, military and oil addiction, etc. They want to be elected as leader of a country that has deeply internalized and taken these things to heart for its entire existence, and most of them believe it to some degree themselves. So this groupthink white liberal mentality where the only acceptable candidate is this Perfect Non-Problematic robot who has only ever had one belief their entire lives and has never ever wavered in their devotion to doctrine has really gotten bad. The Democratic Party would be considered… maybe center/mild left in most other developed countries. It’s not even really left-wing by general standards, and Sanders and Warren are the only two candidates for the nomination who are even willing to go there and explicitly put out policy proposals that challenge the systematic structure of power, oppression, and exploitation of the late-stage capitalist 21st century. Warren has the billionaires fussed, and instead of backing down, she’s doubling down. That’s part of why they’re so scared of her. (And also misogyny, because the world is depressing like that.) She is going head-on after picking a fight with some of the worst people on the planet, who are actively killing the rest of us, and I don’t know about you, but I like that.

Of course: none of this will mean squat if she (or the eventual Democratic winner, who I will vote for regardless of who it is, but as you can probably tell, she’s my ride or die) don’t a) win the White House and then do as they promised on the campaign trail, and b) don’t have a Democratic House and Senate willing to have a backbone and pass the laws. Even Nancy Pelosi, much as she’s otherwise a badass, held off on opening a formal impeachment inquiry into Trump for months out of fear it would benefit him, until the Ukraine thing fell into everyone’s laps. The Democrats are really horrible at sticking together and voting the party line the way Republicans do consistently, because Democrats are big-tent people who like to think of themselves as accepting and tolerant of other views and unwilling to force their members’ hands. The Republicans have no such qualms (and indeed, judging by their enabling of Trump, have no qualms at all). 

The modern American Republican party has become a vehicle for no-holds-barred power for rich white men at the expense of absolutely everything and everyone else, and if your rationale is that you can’t vote for the person opposing Donald Goddamn Trump is that you’re just not vibing with them on the language of that one policy proposal… well, I’m glad that you, White Middle Class Liberal, feel relatively safe that the consequences of that decision won’t affect you personally. Even if we’re due to be out of the Paris Climate Accords one day after the 2020 election, and the issue of climate change now has the most visibility it’s ever had after years of big-business, Republican-led efforts to deny and discredit the science, hey, Secret Corporate Shill, am I right? Can’t trust ‘er. Let’s go have a craft beer.

As has been said before: vote as far left as you want in the primary. Vote your ideology, vote whatever candidate you want, because the only way to make actual, real-world change is to do that. The huge, embedded, all-consuming and horrible system in which we operate is not just going to suddenly be run by fairy dust and happy thoughts overnight. Select candidates that reflect your values exactly, be as picky and ideologically militant as you want. That’s the time to do that! Then when it comes to the general election:

America is a two-party system. It sucks, but that’s the case. Third-party votes, or refraining from voting because “it doesn’t matter” are functionally useless at best and actively harmful at worst.

Either the Democratic candidate or Donald Trump will win the 2020 election.

There is absolutely no length that the Republican/GOP machine, and its malevolent allies elsewhere, will not go to in order to secure a Trump victory. None.

Any talk whatsoever about “progressive values” or any kind of liberal activism, coupled with a course of action that increases the possibility of a Trump victory, is hypocritical at best and actively malicious at worst.

This is why I found the Democratic response to Obama’s “don’t go too wild” comments interesting. Bernie doubled down on the fact that his plans have widespread public support, and he’s right. (Frankly, the fact that Sanders and Warren are polling at the top, and the fact that they’re politicians and would not be crafting these campaign messages if they didn’t know that they were being positively received, says plenty on its own). Warren cleverly highlighted and praised Obama’s accomplishments in office (i.e. the Affordable Care Act) and didn’t say squat about whether she agreed or disagreed with him, then went right back to campaigning about why billionaires suck. And some guy named Julian Castro basically blew Obama off and claimed that “any Democrat” could beat Trump in 2020, just by nature of existing and being non-insane.

This is very dangerous! Do not be Julian Castro!

As I said in my tags on the Bush post: everyone assumed that sensible people would vote for Kerry in 2004. Guess what happened? Yeah, he got Swift Boated. The race between Obama and McCain in 2008, even after those said nightmare years of Bush, was very close until the global crash broke it open in Obama’s favor, and Sarah Palin was an actual disqualifier for a politician being brazenly incompetent and unprepared. (Then again, she was a woman from a remote backwater state, not a billionaire businessman.) In 2012, we thought Corporate MormonBot Mitt Fuggin’ Romney was somehow the worst and most dangerous candidate the Republicans could offer. In 2016, up until Election Day itself, everyone assumed that HRC was a badly flawed candidate but would win anyway. And… we saw how that worked out. Complacency is literally deadly.

I was born when Reagan was still president. I’m just old enough to remember the efforts to impeach Clinton over forcing an intern to give him a BJ in the Oval Office (This led by the same Republicans making Donald Trump into a darling of the evangelical Christian right wing.) I’m definitely old enough to remember 9/11 and how America lost its mind after that, and I remember the Bush years. And, obviously, the contrast with Obama, the swing back toward Trump, and everything that has happened since. We can’t afford to do this again. We’re hanging by a thread as it is, and not just America, but the entire planet.

So yes. By all means, vote for Sanders in the primary. Then when November 3, 2020 rolls around, if you care about literally any of this at all, hold your nose if necessary and vote straight-ticket Democrat, from the president, to the House and Senate, to the state and local offices. I cannot put it more strongly than that.

[johnkrrasinski]

illicit affair;

full masterlist

Pairings: Professor!Andy Barber x female!reader (AU) 

Word count: 2,898

Warning: SMUT!!!! fingering, blowjob (male receiving), dirty talk. (MUST BE 18+) 

Summary: you had been crushing on your sexy professor, Andy Barber since the beginning of the semester but he made it hard for you to focus in class. lucky for you, he was willing to give you the best lesson in your life though. 

a/n: this one’s written for @stargazingfangirl18​ and @navybrat817​‘s shameless hoes for chris writing challenge. i picked the prompt “your professor has a different kind of extra credit in mind.” hope you like it! leave a like and comment. enjoy! 

⭒☆━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━☆⭒

There he goes again, captivating the entire room with that dashing suit and tie, making it difficult for you to breathe. Andy Barber was the professor of your criminal law class. To say he was attractive would be an understatement. The man is the living embodiment of every girl’s wildest dreams. When you first took the class, with the hopes of becoming a social worker, you didn’t expect it to be this challenging. You were confident in your own work ethic and in being a fast learner. No major was too onerous for you to ace.

Until Andy Barber walked into the class on that first day and you realized he was going to teach you for the entire semester.

You had never had a man spellbinding you this badly before. You had a few crushes here and there, but not once did they make you feel the way Andy Barber does. And you knew that it was inappropriate to lust after your professor but, it wasn’t a crime if he is a divorcé and the whole class could relate, right?

It wasn’t only wrong but it was also cruel and unfair that he succeeded in making you lose every bit of your focus whenever he was around. No matter how hard you try to pay attention to what he is lecturing about, your mind would always drift away to nasty places that you shouldn’t even be thinking about visiting. No matter how hard you try to simply open your laptop and type away the vital points that you would need to memorize for final exams, you just couldn’t. It’s like you were paralyzed by his magnetism and oh, how well did he do it.

Like how you currently had a pen stuck between your teeth as if you were fellating it because you were imagining what it would be like to have those plump lips of his on yours and so your pen had to take the beating.

You didn’t know whether he noticed you at all from where you were sitting, you always choose to sit in the middle row, where you could still see things clearly on the board but you didn’t have to feel so exposed because sitting on the front row means everyone who sat behind you could see every movement you make and you would have to deal with the uneasiness of the proximity between you and your professor gave you and you had no wish to make it worse for yourself.

It wasn’t only that he was insanely good-looking but he was also a gentleman. He always charmed the class with his humorous comments and witty jokes while he was doing a lecture or simply when he called out a student who fell asleep. He always made himself available for his students who were confused about the subject or needed guidance on some complex topics. He always greeted the class with a warm smile and he always tried to understand the struggles of being a college student.

You had lost count on how many filthy dreams you had about this man, and how many daydreams you had lost yourself in during his class or simply when you were wide awake. He truly got you on a chokehold. A part of you would sometimes wonder, how could anyone divorce this man? If he were your husband, you would feel like the luckiest woman on earth. You wouldn’t ask for anything else in life.

“Any question…?” He ended today’s session by allowing the students to raise their hands if they needed some enlightenment.

Several students raised their hands and presented their questions and he answered them all eloquently. When there was no more question asked, he dismissed the class and all of the students got out of their seats and exited the room. You were still stuck amidst of your fantasy where Professor Barber was devouring you like you were the last tasty meal on earth and he hadn’t been fed for a month. The thought of his mouth lapping your juices as his beard creating delicious friction on your inner thigh alone was enough to soak your panties.  

You didn’t realize that the class was over until everyone had left and your professor called out your name. There were only the two of you now in the room.

“Y/N? Y/N! Class is dismissed.” He shook you out of your daydream with the gentleness of his voice.

“Uh, yeah, sorry, sir I was- I’m gonna leave now.”

“Are you alright? You zoned out a little there.”

“Yeah, I’m okay, I just- I… I was thinking… of… finals. Yeah, I was thinking of finals.”

“If you need a brief tutor, I wouldn’t mind.”

“No, no! It’s fine, really, I’ll manage. Have a good day sir.” You hurriedly pack up your laptop and stationery and you immediately ran for the door. But you were abruptly stopped by his voice that had slightly shifted its tone.

“Actually, I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Miss Y/L/N, do you have a minute?”

Oh shit. This is it. This is where he is going to interrogate you for always being absentminded throughout his entire session and you are probably going to say something really idiotic and you are going to embarrass yourself or you might even spill your own secrets and he is going to get you suspended and then-

“Yes, sir.” You swallowed the lump in your throat.

“Come here, have a seat.” He pulled a chair from one of the tables and placed it across his seat.

You nervously approached him and sat down as your hands trembled because if there’s another word to describe Andy Barber, it would be intimidating. His charisma isn’t only appealing but could also conquer his interlocutors.

“I’ve noticed that your grades have been slipping lately, why is that?”

“I just- I don’t know, maybe I’ve been really tired, sir. College can be really stressful.”

“I understand. But what puzzles me is that I did some background check on you and your grades in other subjects are doing really well. In fact, you had kept a solid 4.0 GPA for two years in a row now. So, what is the problem here, y/n?”

You gulped. Fucking hell, how the hell were you supposed to answer that? “Oh, don’t worry, it’s simply you being so ridiculously hot that you have been distracting me every time you’re lecturing. Maybe, I don’t know, if you could just bend me over on your desk and make me your girlfriend, that might help me take my mind off you.”

“I just- I’ve had a lot in my mind, sir, and it’s just- this subject is really hard,” you spoke meekly. “I promise, I will work really hard on my finals, sir. I won’t let you down.” You hoped that it was convincing enough so that you could carry on with your day and not sit here like a scared mouse.

“Final starts in two weeks,” he reminded you. “How are you going to convince me that you could wrap an entire semester within only two weeks when you have other courses demanding equal attention, y/n?”

“Um, I don’t know, maybe I’ll ask a friend to help me study. I’ll do whatever it takes to pass the test, sir. I give you my word.” Goddamnit, what the hell was he doing to you? Of course, you weren’t going to ask for anybody’s help, you were always the one who was giving help to your fellow classmates instead of needing one. Now you were just making silly excuses to get you out.

His brows furrowed. You knew he wasn’t going to buy your answer so easily. Andy took his job very seriously and it disappointed him to the extreme when one of his students wasn’t doing well in his course. It made him feel like he didn’t do enough in educating these young people. So when one of his students didn’t fulfil his expectations, he was going to address it and solve the problem together.

There was a silence that lingered between the two of you until he broke it off, “how far are you willing to go to pass this class, y/n?”

“Anything sir, I-, I care about my grades. I know I don’t show it enough but I won’t fail you this time.”

“Anything?” Suddenly, the expression on his face transitioned into something impish.

“Yeah, anything at all, sir.”

“How about I offer you a proposition?” His tone was sultry.

“You do something for me, and I’ll make sure you get an A+ on your test. You don’t have to worry about failing.”

“What do you have in mind, sir?”

Instead of giving you a direct answer, he stood up from his seat and sat on the edge of the table. His hands were folded on his propped up thigh.

“I’m gonna ask you one more time, y/n and I want an honest answer. No bullshit or the deal is off.”

You were taken aback by the word that he just used. It wasn’t very in-character of him to cuss, especially in front of a student. You didn’t know if he was a completely different man outside of the university, so this was certainly something you weren’t used to.

“O-okay…”

“Why are you failing in my class, y/n?”

You bit your lip so hard you thought it might bleed. Your lips quivered as tears began brimming in your eyes. You were scared of telling him the truth but you knew if you lie again, he would see right through you and you would end up failing his class for real and there will be no second chance. You refused to retake the same course next semester when you could be getting closer to getting your degree.

You drooped your head down in defeat. The eye contact was overwhelming you and you sucked it up and gathered every last bit of dignity you had in you to give him an answer.

“I… I’m attracted to you, sir.”

He nodded. What you didn’t see was a wicked smirk forming on his lips, as if he knew what he was going to hear when he made you confess. “Go on.”

“I can’t stop thinking about- about making love to you, sir.” you stuttered your words. You cringed at your own words. There was no way to unring the bell now. You just humiliated yourself in front of the person whose attention you wanted the most. He disclosed your dirtiest secrets and this was going to be your doom.

“Good girl. Now, we better not stall any longer, yeah? I’ve got another class in twenty minutes.” He sat back on the chair and ordered, “get on your knees.”

“Wh… What?”

“You heard me. On your knees, I won’t tell you anymore.” his tone sent a shiver down your spine. You didn’t know what was happening but you were excited. You got on your feet and before you could even take a step, he stopped you. “No, no. Crawl.”

You stared at him incredulously as if he had just told you a joke. But you did what you were told to anyway, fearing that you would disappoint him before the act could even begin. You got on your knees with your hands on the floor and crawled to between his spread knees.

You waited for his next instruction with your hands on your thighs as your head hung low. “Take off my pants.”

Without further delay, you undid the zip of his pants and pulled the waistband down along with his boxer briefs, just enough to let his enormous cock spring free. “Good girl. You listen well. Now… you know what to do.” He rested his forearms on the arms of the chair and leaned back on the headrest nonchalantly whilst still maintaining his gaze on you.

Shit, you always fantasized about him using your body but you weren’t actually experienced. Yes, you’ve had a few casual hookups now and then, but it was nothing like this. Your professor who seemed to really enjoy turning you into a puddle by simply commanding you around like his own personal sex slave.

“C’mon, sweetheart, don’t act like you haven't watched porn.”

You start by doing what you had learned from a few pornographic videos which is by stroking him with your hand and then you wrap your lips around his shaft. The taste of his pre-cum mixing with your saliva made you moan. His hand then went to grab a fistful of your hair to push you forward until his tip hits the back of your throat.

“Ah, fuck. That’s better.” Then he took the wheel from there, using your hair as leverage to guide you up and down at a moderate pace. He grunted as he threw his head back against the headrest. “Shit, that’s good. Keep going, baby.” A part of you was a tad elated when he praised you for something you had very little experience in. The ecstatic look on his face amplified the dampness in your panties, your body begging for more. He kept using your face to get himself off and you felt him convulsed in your mouth. He quickened his motion and then released deep inside your throat.  

A few seconds later, he pulled himself out after his cum painted your trachea. “Get up and bend on the table,” you did what he says and pressed your cheek on the wooden surface. “Who knew a 4.0 GPA student like you would be such a dirty slut? You might fool everyone but you can’t fool me, baby.”

He lifted the hem of your plaid skirt and smacked your buttocks with both of his hands, leaving a fiery red handprint on your buttcheeks. You yelped as it echoed on the walls. He pushed aside the crotch of your underwear, and he inserted two of his fingers inside soaked holes, scissoring you wide open for him. You moaned in pleasure as you gripped the edge of the table.

“Fucking slut. I’ve barely touched you and you’re already this wet for me?” You didn’t answer as you continued to cry out. He smacked your left bum once more, “answer me!”

“Yes! Yes, sir.” You stammered between your ragged breathing.

“Is this why you can’t get your shit together? ‘Cause you keep fantasizing about my fingers buried deep in your needy cunt?”

“Yes sir…” your voice quaked.

“Extra points for honesty.” He retreated his fingers and replaced it with his cock. The unwarned intrusion sent a jolt through your body. You squealed in shock as you closed your eyes, trying to adjust yourself to his size. “Ah fuck, you’re so tight.” His hand went to your hair once more and grabbed a fistful of it as he began driving his hips forward. The friction in your G-spot sent electricity through your veins.

He didn’t waste any time by picking up the pace as he lifted your head and brought it closer to his, making you look up to him. “Does that feel good, baby? Is this how you imagined?” He kept thrusting brutally in between his foul words. “yes… Sir. You feel so good around me.” He pecked a brief kiss on your lips and kept pounding you like an animal.

A few more violent strikes and you clenched around him, pushing him to the edge along with you. “Cum baby, show me what a dirty whore you are.” You shut your eyes as you felt the tightening coil in your belly and then it burst, your orgasm dripping all over your thighs. Andy was so close to his climax and a few more deep-seated thrusts, he reached his own and he ejaculated deep inside your womb.

You tried to regain control over your breathing with Andy still engulfed in you. A few minutes later, you both came down from your highs as Andy pulled himself out of you. He put his pants back on and threw himself back on the chair. You stood up on your wobbly legs as you felt your panties squelch with both yours and Andy’s cum blended.

You straighten your rumpled skirt and shirt, as Andy did so with his tie. “You should go, don’t you have another class?”

“I do, but… Did I pass the test, sir?” you batted your lashes at him. The fear and agitation that were there ten minutes ago had dissolved.  

He chuckled at your coquettish remark. He stood up from his chair and closed the distance between you. “Yes sweetheart, you passed the test.”

You beamed as you bit your lip once more. “If you got another test for me, I wouldn’t mind…” you spoke timidly.

“You really are something, aren’t you?”

You shrugged, “I’ve got layers, sir.”

He looked at his watch and realized that he only had five minutes left for his next session. “You are dismissed… For now. I’ve got more lessons that I’d like to teach you, baby.” He winked at you and pecked your lips.

“I’ll be looking forward to our next class, sir.” You packed up your bags and exited to the hall. Looks like you just bent every rule of the university, but you had no doubt in mind that you would do it over and over and over again for your favourite professor.

[purplesurveys]

1510

1) What’re your plans for the weekend? I’m in the middle of it, but I didn’t plan much. All I had booked was a dental x-ray appointment Saturday morning; but my dentist wasn’t too busy so he also got to treat the issue right then and there. Apart from that, I didn’t want to do anything else this weekend because it’s been raining hard anyway and it’s the perfect weather to stay in.

2) Could you ever be vegetarian - why or why not? No. I like the taste of meat too much to give it up, but more importantly there aren’t a lot of vegetarian/vegan-friendly resorces where I live, so it’ll be largely inaccessible and expensive if you need or want to have such a lifestyle.

3) Name a quote from your favourite TV show: I don’t memorize the entire quote but I will forever love the whole spiel of Walter White to Skyler where he says he’s the guy that knocks.

4) What time did you wake up this morning? I initially woke up at 7 AM but at the time I felt like shit since I turned in for bed only three hours earlier. The next time I woke up was an hour later when we had to start preparing for Sunday mass.

5) What chores do you do around the house? Wash dishes, do the mopping and sweeping, feed the dogs and clean up anything and everything that involves them, whether it’s their food bowls or play pen trays, or the dogs themselves.

6) Do you like windchimes, or do they annoy you? I don’t find them a necessity but they’re definitely calming to hear.

7) How much sleep do you usually get a night? Around 5-6. I’m back to sleeping at around 2 AM even on weekdays, but my body seems to be fine with it even if I do have work everyday.

8) If you could have any outfit, cost not an issue, what would you get? I’d get lots of cute dresses but also stock up on oversized fit shirts. My style is definitely all over the place these days hahaha.

9) Do you play any instruments? Nah.

10) What song would you say describes your life right now? Idk if there is anything. I never listen to songs because I find them relatable.

11) Do you have snacks lying around your room? Nah. There was a half-eaten bag of salted egg chips just last week but I already was able to finish it.

12) Did you get up to much today? If it’s morning, what are your plans? Hmm, I wouldn’t say so. I was on leave today which was mainly for watching Hobi’s Lollapalooza set with friends, then I went to a coffee shop...to watch the same set all over again 😂 To be fair the Weverse stream kept crashing so there were lots of bits that we missed, so. But apart from that and Jihope’s live, I made it a point to not be productive. I did have to squeeze in work occasionally because it just couldn’t be avoided, but overall it was a day for rest and recharging. 13) What’s your favourite animal to see in the zoo? I don’t really like going to zoos and it makes me feel bad inside when I do get to visit one. But if we’re talking safaris or like ecoparks where the animals are more in their natural habitat and are better taken care of, it always excites me to see animals I’ll usually only ever see in books, like the Philippine eagle or tarsier.

14) When do you start back to school or college? Are you excited or dreading it? I don’t have plans on pursuing postgrad studies.

15) What other social networking sites are you on? Facebook, Instagram, and Twitter. 16) What was the best year of your life? I wanna say 2014 and 2021 were loads of fun in their own ways. And would you look at that, a 7-year gap :) 17) What plans do you have for the rest of summer? Disregarding summer because we don’t have that ‘season,’ I don’t really make lots of big plans. I’ve been really focused on work and that’s all I want to do for now.

18) How old is the person you like right now? I don’t like anybody.

19) Do you get an allowance? How much? I’m 24 and have my own job hahaha, I haven’t gotten an allowance since I was in college and was able to physically attend classes, pre-pandemic.

20) What games console is your favourite? What about favourite game? I don’t play consoles anymore. These days my favorite game is just a mobile one lol it’s called In the Seom.

21) If you could go anywhere right now, where would it be and why? I recently read a fanfic where the author was able to describe in incredible detail what it’s like to be in a cabin in a really really remote location in New Zealand. I haven’t stopped thinking about the mental images that came from that and even ended up dreaming about it last night.

22) Do your parents nag you a lot? What about? Not so much these days since I’ve been able to tidy up as I’ve gotten older. The only things they nag me about are marriage and grandchildren...and I never really know how to respond to them when it comes up. I ultimately want both of these things for me too, but how am I supposed to tell them they nearly lost me from a breakup that went wrong in every possible way it could go wrong? There’s been lots of trauma from it that I don’t think I’ll ever be up to being in another relationship. 

Anyway, I just shut them down for now by saying that I’m focused on my career, which is true anyway. That’s usually good enough for them to back off til the next time they come back to nag me.

23) What is there on the walls of your room? Some Audrey Hepburn prints and a couple of BTS posters.

24) Is there anyone that just really annoys you? Slow drivers. 25) What are your plans for tomorrow, anything good? Just work. 26) If you could wake up tomorrow being able to do one thing perfectly, what would it be? Cook.

27) You have two wishes to make to help the world, and one can’t be “another wish” or anything similar. What wishes do you make? Continued from last night. Provide clean water for everyone, whether it’s for drinking or otherwise; and making public transportation not just free, but also modern and sustainable. 28) Do you reckon world peace is possible, or are we just too selfish? I don’t think it is. 29) Do you listen to Bright Eyes? Nope.

30) Are you interested in politics or do you just not care? I care way too much.

[olderthannetfic]

I get that there has been a lot of mostly young people harassing and such, but like... the amount of hate I see young people getting seems kind of hypocritical?? Like older fandom members are great, and yeah these kids probably don't know the half of it, but... I doubt the fandom moms were perfect as fandom kids. No one is. But there is zero empathy to be found, and all these people espousing downright hatred for kids on the internet. I *work* with kids for a living, if anyone were to dislike them it would be someone who is with them 24/7, but... they don't deserve this. Especially since some TERF or SWERF or some other conservative shit fuck got to them first, probably a parent. Idk. It's complicated.

--

“Fandom mom” is almost always a pejorative applied by somebody else, honestly. I’m middle aged and trying to get pregnant, and I would never use that dumbass term for myself. But yes, no generation of fandom is flawless. In the past, the m/m shippers tended to be more pro-kink simply by virtue of a homophobic world classing m/m with extreme shit, while the people yelling about ~problematique~ fiction tended to be overtly conservative homophobes. But my fellow m/m shippers were idiotic in plenty of other ways.

Having now spent several years hearing from more randos about the depressing shit that has happened to them, I find myself knowing a lot of 20-somethings who got ostracized by their entire friend group and threatened with all the material those “friends” knew because they had been friends. Even if they were shitty little bullies as part of that pack (and quite a few of them were), that’s no way to live! Nobody deserves to live in fear that all their friends will turn on them if they’re honest about themselves or that their tastes make them a future abuser or that it will be impossible to find another group of friends later.

The problems of ostracism by the other side are very real. It came up memorably after a bunch of the thanfiction stuff in the past and after Laura Hale fought with OTW supporters. I remember the conversations around how it’s important to give people space to back off from their more toxic friends without viewing them as Forever Suspect. All you do then is isolate them with that person you don’t think they should be listening to, whether that person is a full on abusive cult leader or just a persuasive jerk. (And the fact that those conversations were happening points more to the fact that being the bigger person isn’t the norm in these situations and never was.)

I’ve seen some of those conversations in recent years with that “support ex antis” stuff, but it’s pretty small compared to the volume of messages I see that are like “If I back off from my friends, they will hunt me, and nobody else will want me now either”.

I also pretty regularly run into 20-somethings who are much more ship-and-let-ship in the first place asking me where on earth they can go find some “pro ship” friends, and I never know where to send them. The fact is, all that “conservative Protestantism in a gay hat” stuff has its claws into their age group, no matter which labels people put on themselves.

I don’t think there’s zero empathy. I think when directly asked about it, a lot of older people who are actually paying attention to fandom drama will talk about the social forces in play and how it’s not every young person. But when it’s not the direct topic, people make sweeping cranky statements that are the age equivalent of “Ugh, men!” or “Ugh, the straights!”

I agree: objectively, young people don’t deserve all this blanket blame. OTOH, all the people bitching didn’t deserve all the harassment they’ve suffered, and overly general salty statements are a fact of life on social media. I’m not holding my breath for this pattern to improve any time soon.

I say 20-somethings because, in my experience, a lot of this is 20-somethings and not people younger than that. Tumblr discourse and a fair quantity of twitter discourse is a bunch of 25-year-olds fighting with a bunch of 35-year-olds. Or a bunch of 22-year-olds fighting with 27-year-olds. It’s old vs. young, but it’s not even all that old or all that young. I assume the actual kiddos are off fighting with each other on Amino or something.

People can be dumbasses, including about history, at any age. (Try asking your average person lecturing about strikethrough literally anything about anime fanworks fandom history...)

[honeysorwell]

(a very unprofessional) game changer

Pairing: Audrey Tidall x fem!Reader x Diane Sherman

Summary: Audrey Tidall ends up conquering the role of the protagonist in the expected film that marks the great director and screenwriter Diane Sherman return to the film market, Run, that the blonde one desired really much. The filmmaker has only managed to return now since she left her job almost twenty years ago to take care of her daughter. She has no real plans other than finishing the film that will mark her return, but her nonpeaceful coexistence with Audrey during the filming, along with the loneliness that consumes her personal life ends up instigating an unexpected affection - and that grows every day - for Y/N, the costume designer for Run.

What Diane did not expect, when giving Y/N anonymously flowers during the recording months, is that the costume designer has been in a secret relationship for more than months with Audrey. However, the feeling of indifference and disdain that the director feels for the actress gradually dies after a heated argument between the two, leaving an unnamed tension in the air, while Y/N searches for her secret admirer with her girlfriend.

[gif by @sapphiclesbian​ ]

[gif by @cherry-jimin] 

A/N: I was extremely surprised when I posted You rush into my life, stay a little while (I know that we can have it all), and in less than a month I got +50likes (after all I barely know how to use tumblr and I discovered these days how and where to look at the followers that I have lol). And thanks to that, I will use (a very unprofessional) game changer as a social experiment, to see if you guys really like what I write, and if the answer is also positive, I will open requests to write things in my free time. And yes, my first language is not English so maybe something might sound strange.

I had this idea as soon as Run was released, thanks to Diane's passion for films... And since Audrey is an actress, I thought it would be good to combine these two...

I can say that this is a big AU because Diane is a lovely mother, and no one from Roanoke dies (because I don't have time to develop any of this shit).

Hope you all like it!

Synopsis of the story + Chapter 1 ,  Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 (final one)

Chapter 1

Chapter’s summary: Audrey and Y/N get to know each other thanks to Diane, and even though they are about to start recording Run, they decide that it is worthwhile to continue with their relationship. Even if secretly.

Warnings: In this chapter at least, none. Just implicit mentions of smut, it's not really something!  

Word Count: 1,2k

In theory, when someone wins an award as important as The Saturn, their career between movies becomes more likely to invitations to productions. Films, miniseries, or even theatrical productions. But that didn't happen with Audrey.

There was a voice in her head that said it was thanks to her age. But since none of the actors in Roanoke's cast, especially women, were so different in this aspect, Audrey continued to ignore that voice.

Everything was relatively ready for the British woman to participate in Return to Roanoke: Three Days in Hell, however after her breakup with Rory, the blonde one preferred to focus on something new. She quickly fell in love with him, but when the red-haired man asked about marriage, everything was clear to Audrey. Their paths and thoughts were so different, even with the significant feeling between them, that it was better to break their love relationship before their friendship was affected. And this was what she did.

It was audacious. Refuse a proposal for the same program that gave her fame and awards, to audition for a new film that she barely knew would happen. Some people would call her crazy, but the email she received from her agent was enough to give her courage.

Or rather, four words from that email. Directed by Diane Sherman was what caught her attention and prompted her to try to venture out to take the test.

She can still remember. Years ago, while she was still fighting for a minor role in any theatrical production in England, Diane Sherman was already acclaimed worldwide for the grandiose films with unexpected endings that she produced, even at a young age.

All the films of the woman with a reddish tone between her brunette hair strands became hits. But in the midst of it all, Diane decided to take a break from her career, and less than five months later, a pregnancy was announced.

After that, twenty years passed and no film was released, no interview, no magazine cover. Such a gloriously famous woman disappeared from everyone's view with her baby. But only up to now.

That test was probably the one that tired Audrey the most in her entire career. To portray in a few minutes the pain of the life of a woman who is obsessed with her daughter to the point of making her sick was difficult. But she did, and so, while her former co-stars were locking themselves up in a seemingly haunted mansion, she was getting a call from her agent saying that she got the lead role.

Everything worked well when the blonde received her script and started working with Diane on how they would like this character to be seen by the audience, but as the conversations flowed, Audrey understood why all of the woman's films were such a success. She was a perfectionist and her authority was clear.

Everything needed to be perfect. Including the costume.

And so Audrey met Y/N. A beautiful costume designer with so much talent to spare to the world.

The first time they saw each other, Diane was not present, after all, it was just a date to take Audrey's body measurements. As the story was about a housewife, movable and comfortable clothes had to be designed, which did not force Audrey to strip naked to have her measurements known by Y/N, even if an unprofessional part of her wanted to.

Quick encounters followed, some with Diane briefly present, just to define new color palettes or to approve and disapprove something. The director never stayed more than twenty minutes with the two women, but thanks to Y/N's perseverance, in producing everything exactly as Diane wished, and Audrey's free time, due to her mind being ease in memorizing lines and just a few friendships outside England, the two woman became relatively close.

When the costumes were all designed and in the final process of being made, Diane decided that she would like Audrey's hair to be longer. Some wig tests took place, but a joint decision was made.

The film would be postponed in five months from there, so that the blonde's hair would grow.

It was frustrating, to say the least, and maybe that was the trigger for Audrey's disapproval with Diane, but one thing was good. The time now acquired has started to be spent on Y/N.

Always at discreet lunches or afternoon teas in their homes...

Y/N thinks it might be extremely inappropriate and absolutely unprofessional to get personally involved with a co-worker, even outside the set, and even though their work on Diane's film was relatively distant. But, after many glasses of wine and random conversations, nothing made more sense to Y/N than Audrey's lips against hers.

A one-night stand. That was what they thought they were born to be. But the skin on Audrey's stomach was so smooth that Y/N didn't know if she wanted to kiss her until she moaned or laughed, confused as she tried to understand which one of the sounds was the actual responsible for her heart beating faster.

A one-night stand. Because Audrey didn't feel ready to start a relationship after such a recent breakup. But there was nothing more beautiful than Y/N's face full of pleasure while she was being touched, or her face concentrated on redoing a crooked seam, even if she was the only one that noticed the defect in the piece.

A one-night stand. That turned into two, three, ten, thirty... and when they noticed, Audrey's hair was long enough for the film to start recording and their mind was unconsciously bought each other's favorite foods at the supermarket.

And on one of those nights, when they were both lying on Y/N's bed and Audrey was drawing imaginary flowers on the bare skin of her right hip, a whisper escaped the actresses lips:

"I don't want this to end because we are going to work together... Does that make me unprofessional?", The moment the question escapes her lips, she raises her face towards Y/N and looks deeply into her eyes.

"Well ...", the costume designer starts and stops, distracted by the beauty of Audrey's brown eyes and a lock of her hair - now longer - that is hindering the Y/N view of the blonde's cheeks, but that soon puts the hair strands behind her ear and continues - "Count me in because I don't want this to end either..."

It is a smile so beautiful that it takes hold of Audrey's lips, that the courage to take possession of Y / N's body and one more phrase escapes her lips.

"I think I'm in love with you."

The word think sounds so low, it's like it's not even there. Because Y/N's mind knows that she is sure, even scared and that is why Y/N's eyes focus on the whole room, except the face in front of her. Until delicate fingers touch her chin and direct her to see brown eyes bathed in tears, amid the same glorious smile of seconds ago.

"And I don't know how you didn't notice that I fell in love with you too."

And so they come to an agreement. Nothing will be explicit while they are on set. At work, they will be just friends, close friends if the distance wraps their stomachs, but still, just friends.

For the sake of their reputations, their jobs, and the Diane Sherman film they will be just friends.

[flourgirl]

Heart Skips a Beat

Pairing: Peter Parker x Reader

Summary: You work at a coffee shop on campus and develop a crush on the cute astrophysics major who studies there everyday.

Word Count: 2.2k

Warnings: Pure fluff. One curse word.

A/N: There WILL be a sequel to Even If It’s a Lie! Until then, here’s a little something to hold you guys over :-)

“I saw you on a Sunday in a café And all you did was look my way And my heart started to race And my hands started to shake” -Nervous, Shawn Mendes

3 p.m. had quickly become your favorite time of the day. Sure, you had already been working for half of your shift by then, but it was worth it. Because despite how tired you were from a full day of lectures, like clockwork, the cutest guy you had ever seen walked into the café to order a caramel latte and do his homework. 

You were a hopeless romantic. A homeschooled bookworm whose only experiences with romance were through the many YA novels you had read growing up. College was honestly your first experience with independence and having a social life outside of your mom, your cat, and your elderly neighbors, Brenda and Pat.

The first day he had come was at the beginning of the semester. You had just started working there to help cut the costs of tuition that your scholarships couldn’t cover. Even though you barely knew how to use the machines at that point, and it took you almost 20 minutes and one phone call to your shift manager to give him his order, he was still really nice to you about it.

By the end of the first week that he started hanging out here, you had memorized his order. For a stranger, there was a lot to like about him. He was super sweet and always dropped his spare change in the tip jar, a rare occurrence amongst struggling college students. He always greeted you by your name, which he only knew because of the tag on your uniform, but you didn’t care. You liked hearing him say it either way.

The more you learned about him, the bigger your crush grew. His name was Peter. Peter Parker, which matched him perfectly. He was an astrophysics major, and he was always busy. So what was he doing hanging out in the café where you worked? Sure, homework, but you had always preferred to go somewhere more quiet, like the library. Not some noisy little coffee shop in the middle of campus where everybody hung out after class.

In between making coffee orders for other customers, you would oftentimes steal glances at him. You thought about how soft his messy brown hair would feel between your fingers, or what it would be like to smell his fabric softener from closer than the width of the countertop that always separated the two of you.

But it was just a silly crush. When you thought about it, the two of you were virtually strangers. He had an entire life outside of the walls of the coffee shop, and he probably didn’t think about you other than when you were taking his order every day. Still, just when you thought about how weird it was to think about somebody you barely knew this much, Peter found ways to make you like him even more than you already did.

Every now and then, Peter wouldn’t show up, and you worried that maybe he had found another place to get coffee or came at another time because he didn’t want to see you anymore. You knew you were overthinking. There was no way that Peter was planning his entire schedule around you. You were just the coffee girl to him and nothing more.

Little did you know that on your days off, Peter was disappointed to find that someone else would be making his coffee that day. Sure, he started coming here to study because it was conveniently located across the street from the laboratory that he interned at, but it was more than that. He came to see you. To see your smile and the way your eyes lit up whenever he walked in. The way you still managed to look cute in the unflattering café uniform and how you didn’t even have to ask what his order was.

He had the biggest crush on you. The five minutes that he spent talking to you each day made him feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and he took comfort in the fact that maybe, just maybe, you felt the same way about him. But he didn't know what to say to you past small talk. He told Ned and MJ that he had been planning to ask you out for a while now, but every time he walked up to the register, he chickened out. You made him too nervous, and he knew that if he tried too hard, he’d start rambling about string theory or something and scare you away. 

Peter thought about what kind of person you were outside of these four walls. Were you dating anybody? What was your favorite subject? Did you like pineapple on your pizza? He wondered if you even noticed that he was gone every time his “internship” at Stark Industries dragged him away for days at a time. Probably not. He thought about what it would be like to walk you to wherever you went after your shift ended, to make sure you got there safely, but he always had to rush off to somewhere else before you had finished working.

You had started experimenting with leaving little designs on top of his coffee instead of just haphazardly pouring the milk in. At first, they were just sad little blobs, but then you graduated to vaguely leaf-like blobs, and you could now make something that was shaped like a turnip on top of his lattes. You had been working up the courage to leave little hearts, but every time you did, you swirled them away and served it to him without any design at all.

Your friends would lovingly describe you as a klutz. You were constantly tripping over nothing or knocking things over. There was even that one time you almost broke your leg trying to climb one of the supermarket shelves to reach your favorite brand of maple syrup. But out of all of your clumsy mishaps, none of them lived up to what had just happened.

You had sworn you had looked both ways before crossing the street. But when the barrage of car horns and tires screeching interrupted your favorite song, you saw your life flash before your eyes. That was, until, you were flying through the air. Looking at your savior, you were both starstruck and shocked to see Spiderman holding you tightly as he swung from building to building.

It felt like forever before your feet touched the ground and he let go of your waist, but when he did, you were a little disappointed. How did he even know to drop you off at this specific coffee shop? It was insane, but you felt like you knew him. You just couldn’t place why or how before he saluted you and swung away without a word. “Thank you!” you screamed into the sky, knowing he definitely couldn’t hear you over the hustle and bustle of the city.

Peter’s heart was about to burst out of his chest. That was way too close of a call. What if you found out that it was him? What would you think? But he knew that if he hadn’t saved you, he would never forgive himself. Sure, you might get free tuition like that rumor people always talked about in middle school, but you’d also have a ton of hospital bills to pay because Spiderman was a selfish idiot and let you get hit by a taxi.

Your head was still spinning from what had just happened. You quickly changed into your uniform and started your shift, giddy with excitement to tell Peter who you had met today. As 3 p.m. came and went and there were no signs of Peter, you started to accept that the only person you’d get to tell about today was your mom. Go figure, you thought. You finally had something interesting to say to him and he doesn’t show up.

Eventually, after many disappointing coffee orders later, it was time for you to go home and curl up to a cup of tea and watch the latest episode of the Great British Bake-Off. It was ironic, but your favorite contestant this season was Peter, and every week was more and more tense as you worried whether or not he’d make it to the next episode. Sure, he was really good at technicals, but sometimes the flavors of his signature bakes were off. And when was stupid Laura going to get eliminated?

You were so caught up in worrying about who would be going to the finals that you didn’t even notice the guy walking through the doors just as you were leaving the café, knocking you onto the ground. 

“OW!” you squeaked as you hit the tiled floor that your co-worker had just finished mopping.

“Shit, Y/N, I’m so sorry,” a familiar voice apologized from above you. You squinted up to see Peter’s brown eyes full of worry, and at that point, you couldn’t even tell that you were hurt anymore. 

He held out his hand for you to take and pulled you up as if you weighed nothing. Still a bit dizzy, you stumbled, and he wrapped his hand around your waist to keep you from falling again. That same familiar feeling you felt earlier that day was rushing back to you. 

“Hey, don’t worry. I’ve got you, Y/N,” he assured you, walking you over to a table to sit down. 

You laid your head down on the table, both embarrassed and woozy from having your crush knock you flat on your face because you were too busy thinking about a televised baking competition to watch where you were going.

“You know we’re closed, right,” you groaned, lifting your head to see him staring attentively at you.

“Yeah, I know,” he answered, laughing nervously and running his hands through his hair. You wished that you were the one doing that instead.

“Oh. Well, you can if you really want to,” he said, leaving you confused as to what on earth he was talking about. It wasn’t until a few moments later that you were ready to curl up into a ball and hide forever. Did you say that you wanted to touch his hair OUT LOUD? TO HIS FACE?

Your cheeks turned crimson and you buried your face in your arms again. “Peter, I’m okay. You can go now.” If he didn’t leave now, you’d probably die of embarrassment right in front of him.

“Y/N,” he started, running his thumb across your arm. “I don’t want to go. I… I came here to see you.”

Your head shot up and you stared at him in disbelief. “You know I’m not the only one here who knows how to make a caramel latte, right?”

“Mhmm,” he hummed, nodding his head with a soft smile. Even in the dim lighting of the café at night, his eyes sparkled. “I hope this is okay for me to say, but… Y/N. I like you. I like you a lot, and I don’t even like caramel lattes but by the time I realized that I would never get used to the taste, you were already making them without me even having to ask you to.”

“Oh,” you replied, instantly feeling good as new. “I, uh...I like you too.”

You watched as the smile that never failed to brighten your day returned to Peter’s face. “So... Do you—would you, maybe, like to go out with me sometime?”

“Yes!” you replied enthusiastically. Checking your phone, you realized just how long you two had been sitting down. “But we should probably go. The doors were supposed to be locked thirty minutes ago.”

You grabbed his hand, pulling him out the front doors of the coffee shop before scrambling to lock them. When you turned around, you were standing face to face with the guy you’d been crushing on for months. 

Right before Peter could lean in to kiss you, you remembered what you had been dying to tell him about all day. “I almost forgot. I met Spiderman today!”

Peter’s eyes widened. He had hoped you wouldn’t bring it up, but then again, he probably shouldn’t have come here in the hopes of seeing you tonight. Play it cool, Parker, he thought as the two of you walked towards the subway station.

“Oh. That’s really cool,” he said in a tone that was suspiciously underwhelmed. “How’d that happen?”

“Well, I was on the way to work and I guess I was listening to my music a little bit too loud,” you started. “And suddenly I hear all these cars honking at me and WHOOSH! I’m in Spiderman’s arms and he drops me off right in front of the coffee shop. I mean, how did he even know that that’s where I was supposed to be? It was incredible!”

Peter really liked listening to you talk. He liked the softness of your voice and how excited you sounded whenever you spoke to him. “Huh. Are you sure you have a crush on me and not on our friendly neighborhood Spiderboy?”

“Spiderman,” you corrected, intertwining your fingers with his. “And no. I like you and only you.”

Peter laughed, thinking about how mad you’d be when he finally let you in on his little secret. But for now, there was no Spiderman. It was just you and him, and that’s how he liked it.

[allsassnoclass]

hi!!! for the i love you prompts i was thinking about 83 for cashton 💙

Hello Maya!  Thank you for the prompt.

Warning: this fic takes place after a car crash

Cashton: “Stay there.  I’m coming to get you.”

Calum isn't sleeping when the call comes in, but it's a near thing.  The clock reads 1:37 when he glances at it before looking at the caller ID on his phone.  It's an unfamiliar number, something in his area code but not in his contacts, and he lets it ring through.  After a few moments of silence his phone rings again, the same number, and Calum figures that anyone calling twice isn't going to be a spam bot.

"Hullo?" he asks, clearing his throat so he doesn't sound as tired the next time he speaks.

"Calum?"

The voice makes his blood run cold, familiar even though he hasn't heard it say his name for months, sounding much too small and tired.

"Ashton?"

"Yeah, it's me," Ashton says.  "Sorry for calling so late.  I hope I didn't wake you."

"What's wrong?" he asks, sitting up and rubbing at his eyes.  If Ashton is calling him after radio silence for months sounding like that, there's no way this is a casual social call.

"I, um.  I need someone to pick me up from the hospital.  I'm sorry, you can call Luke or Michael if you want, but I-- my phone is smashed and your number is the only one I have memorized."

"Holy shit, Ashton," Calum says, heart leaping into his throat.  "Are you okay?  What happened?"

Ashton laughs helplessly, the kind of laugh he uses when he's dangerously close to a breakdown.  Calum used to be fully fluent in every sound Ashton makes, able to read his mood from the cadence of his breathing.  It seems like he still can, to some extent.

"I crashed my car.  Phone is busted, but they're letting me go.  Concussion and a broken arm."

It could be worse.  It could be so much worse, but Calum doesn't feel comforted.

"Is everyone else okay?"

"Yeah.  I was the only one in the car and I crashed it into a tree, so no one is hurt."

"No one except you."

Ashton hums.

Holy shit, Ashton crashed his car.  Ashton, who is the safest driver Calum knows.  Ashton, who Calum hasn't seen outside of passing moments with mutual friends in months and who still has his phone number memorized.

"Which hospital?" he asks.

"OSF.  You don't have to, I--I should've called a cab.  Sorry, I didn't think--"

"Stay there.  I'm coming to get you."

Ashton sighs.  Calum recognizes relief in it, but also defeat.  He needs to see Ashton right now.

"Okay," Ashton says quietly.  "Thanks.  I'll be outside by the discharge parking."

"Okay.  See you soon."

He doesn't speed, the knowledge that Ashton is fresh out of a car crash making him keep a careful eye on the speedometer, but it's a close thing.  He doesn't like the idea of Ashton waiting alone in a hospital, no one else there to make sure he's okay or to keep him from getting too deep in his own head.

He probably should've called Michael or Luke.  Ashton would surely be more comfortable with either of them right now, but Calum's number is the one he dialed.  Calum's number is the only one he has memorized, even if they broke up months ago.

Ashton seems so small sitting on the bench with the entire hospital lit up and looming behind him.  The florescent lights spilling from windows the sliding front door do nothing to penetrate the night, a floodlight instead beaming down on the bench like a spotlight, drawing Calum's eyes straight to Ashton.  He's hunched, arm drawn to his middle, head bowed.  When Calum pulls up to the curb Ashton doesn't look up until he rolls down his window and calls to him.

"Hey," he says.  Ashton tries to give him a tired smile, but he doesn't quite manage it.  He looks like he's about to cry, and it makes Calum want to cry, too.

He's supposed to be immune to Ashton by now, but it seems that a few months isn't long enough to get over him.

Ashton gets into the car silently, carefully buckling himself in around his busted arm.  There's a piece of gauze taped to his forehead near his temple.  His face looks gaunt, hair in need of a wash and clothes rumpled and torn from the crash.  He's definitely looked better, but Calum drinks him in anyway.  They haven't been alone together since they broke up.  Calum doesn't remember the words that they screamed at each other, just that it had felt like something important inside him shattered when Ashton slammed the door on the way out.

Calum is the one who said they were finished.  Ashton is the one who said he didn't love him, even though Calum knows that was a lie.

He doesn't need to ask how to get to Ashton's apartment from here.  He starts driving and gives Ashton a minute to compose himself.

"Why are you doing this?" Ashton asks eventually.  Calum glances over at him, but he's facing away, watching the city pass by outside his window.

There's a lot of things he could say here.  I didn't like the though of you waiting here longer than necessary.  I wasn't asleep anyway.  You sounded like you need a friend and when I told you to get out of my life I never actually thought you would.

"Why do you still have my phone number memorized?"

Ashton stays silent.  It's not like him; Calum was always the quieter of the two.  Ashton likes filling dead air.

"Are you okay?"

Ashton snorts.  He takes a shaky breath and Calum knows that he's crying now.  He doesn't have any tissues in the car.  He wants to reach out and comfort him, but he knows it wouldn't be welcomed.  Ashton has pride, a lot of it.  If he wasn't able to swallow it to salvage their relationship, he won't be able to swallow it a few months after the end.

"Sorry," Ashton says.

"Stop apologizing," Calum snaps, then winces.  "You don't have to apologize."

"I thought you wanted me to work on that," Ashton says.

He had.  Ashton was allergic to the word "sorry."  It was one of the things that contributed to their last argument, but Calum doesn't like how easily the word has slipped off his tongue tonight.

"Well, it's weird.  You don't have anything to apologize for tonight.  Not to me, at least."

Ashton makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat.  Calum clenches the steering wheel tighter to keep from reaching for him.

"It's been a bad fucking day," Ashton says.  "Everything's gone to shit at once and I-- you're the only person I could call and I thought you were going to hang up once you knew it was me."

"I wouldn't do that to you," Calum says.

"I wouldn't blame you if you did."

Calum doesn't know what to say to that.  They drive in silence for a few minutes, lights flickering by as the car winds through streets that Calum has been down hundreds of times before.

"You know I don't hate you, right?" he says quietly.  "Not for how we ended.  That was as much my fault as yours.  For a few weeks, I kept going over it in my mind what I could've said differently to change that outcome."

"Calum--"

"We don't need to do this now, but I think we need to talk.  I don't know if I can stop loving you until we do."

Ashton makes another wounded noise, one that Calum hasn't heard before.  He winces.

"Sorry,' he says.  "I shouldn't've said that right now.  I know you have a lot on your mind."

"You think?" Ashton huffs.  He's putting on a brave face again, trying to shift the conversation tone lighter.  It's false, but Calum lets him.  He knows that he needs to tonight.

He reaches for the radio and lets Ashton make halfhearted complaints about the songs or commercials until they pull up to his apartment complex.  Calum turns down the radio and watches Ashton unbuckle himself.

"Do you need anyone to stay with you?  Are you supposed to stay awake due to your concussion?"

"It's okay.  Matt should be home."

Calum nods.  Ashton reaches for his door handle, but hesitates.  He drops his hand and turns back to Calum, facing him fully for the first time all night.

"I'll get a new phone within the week and text you.  We can meet up and talk about... things.  Us.  Whatever we both need to."

"I look forward to it," Calum says.  Ashton presses his lips together and Calum wonders if that was the right phrasing.  It probably won't be a pleasant conversation, but Calum was telling the truth regardless.  He's looking forward to it because now that he's seen Ashton, he can't wait to do it again.  He's been in a desert without realizing it, and every glimpse of Ashton is a sip of water.

"Thank you for coming to get me," Ashton says quietly.

"You can call me any time," Calum says.  Ashton closes his eyes briefly, then musters up a smile.  It's fake, it's so fake, but it's the most real one he's given Calum all night.

"Have a good night, Cal.  Get home safe."

Calum watches Ashton until he's through the door, then stays in the car for a few moments longer before he can bring himself to put the car in drive and pull away.  He'll see Ashton again later, and he has to keep reminding himself that the entire way home.

[inkedstarlight]

Bittersweet: Chapter Twelve

Summary: With the New Year comes new changes: Azriel and Elain are now together, Nesta and Cassian have a moment, and someone new enters the mix. Notes: This was the longest I've gone without posting new content, but I'm back in the groove. I'm officially making Sundays my upload day, so look out for that! There will be a new chapter every week. I already have the next couple chapters written, and it will be a lot more consistent now. Read it here on AO3! Warnings: very brief mentions of PTSD and sexual assault Bittersweet Masterlist

January

It was the third week of the desolate, grey month of January. The snow arrived quickly and ruthlessly. The city of Boulder was coated in a thick layer of knee-deep snow, its surface glittering under the sun enough to blind a passerby. Nesta embraced the winter, but there was nothing more she hated than a frozen ground paired with a sunny sky. Going outside bundled in multiple layers only to return home a sweaty mess. It was a suffocating feeling, to be wearing a heavy coat under sunshine.

No, Nesta preferred the unforgiving version of the coldest season. She knew how to dress; she knew what to expect when she stepped outside. It was predictable. Easy.

With the New Year came new changes. To start, Elain and Azriel were now dating, which came as a surprise to no one. When Elain sidled up next to Nesta in the kitchen on New Year’s Day and bashfully told her that she and Azriel were officially together, Nesta just levelled her a look as if to say, No shit, Sherlock.

As much as she despised the fact that their lives were becoming inextricably connected with Feyre's little group, however, Nesta was happy for her sister. Azriel treated Elain like she walked on water. of course, in Nesta's mind, no one would ever be good enough for her sister. Azriel was just managing to wiggle his way over Nesta's impossibly high standards for Elain, the bastard.

He had been spending time at their apartment quite a bit. At first, he and Nesta didn’t speak much. They would both stare at their phones in silence when Elain went to the bathroom or checked on whatever was in the oven at the time.

It wasn’t until the day that Nesta returned home from work to see Azriel playing with Minx in the living room did they 'bond.' When Nesta made her way into the apartment, Azriel explained to her that Elain was switching over the laundry in the complex’s basement. She merely nodded, her piercing stare falling to Azriel's ankles where Minx was rubbing against. She could hear his purrs from where she stood. The fucking traitor.

Nesta watched them play before they began to talk about animals, which turned into shitting on Cassian (Azriel was most certainly joking, but Nesta’s jabs were 100% genuine), which then turned into complaining about the frequency of their little family dinners. Turns out Azriel isn't exactly a social butterfly but Nesta figured that out pretty quickly. When Elain returned with laundry basket in hand, she found Nesta showing off the tricks she’d taught Minx to Azriel, the latter of whom was quite impressed. And that’s how Nesta realized that she and Azriel had more in common than she would've guessed. They both preferred to be in the background, not drawing too much attention to themselves. To Nesta's delight, she also realized Azriel had just as sharp a tongue as she did. The only difference was he knew how to control himself. Although Nesta would never admit it, she could learn a thing or two from Azriel.

But all this was heavily dampened by the fact that Cassian kept worming his way into her life. She supposed it was normal to run into your neighbors, but she had a sneaking suspicion the man somehow memorized her entire schedule. Wherever she turned, he seemed to be there. The elevator was like their rendezvous spot. Nesta was tempted to take the staircase just to avoid him, but her stubborn ass refused to change a thing for him. Even if it was just two flights of stairs.

Cassian had caught her several times in the past weeks. She thought back to a few run-ins that she hadn’t managed to stop thinking about.  

“It’s full,” Nesta said dryly, not bothering to look up from her phone. She knew who it was. Who else would go out of their way to enjoy her warm and welcoming presence?

Nesta was just getting back from a short shift she'd picked up at Rita’s. The elevator doors had been closing when Cassian’s foot shot out to stop them.

Cassian looked around at the empty elevator, his eyes finally landing on Nesta. “I think I can squeeze in.”

Nesta looked up from her phone to glare at him. He was wearing a maroon crew neck and medium wash jeans that were rolled up at the ankles. She spied a golden chain around his neck that just slightly peaked out of the sweater. She wondered if it was a cross. Was he religious?

Nesta caught herself before she could think more about it. She didn’t care; she had no interest in getting to know this man. And she knew the feeling was mutual.

She just cleared her throat and looked down at her phone once again, determined to ignore his presence.

Unfortunately, Cassian was just as determined to make his presence known.

Eyes glued to her screen, Nesta did her best to stay as still as possible as she felt Cassian walk into the elevator. She was standing at the back corner, practically a part of the wall herself. Instead of stopping where there was plenty of room, however, he kept walking until he was right next to her. He leaned back against the wall, and Nesta caught a whiff of his cologne. It was warm and fresh and purely male.

She clenched her fist. He smelled good.

She hated that he smelled good.

"Calculating something?" he asked quietly. Nesta detected the amusement in his voice and restrained herself from putting him in a chokehold.

But she followed his gaze that was looking at her phone screen. Brows furrowed, she too looked at the screen.

Fuck.

Nesta hadn't even realized she'd been staring at the calculator app this entire time. When Cassian had gotten into the elevator, she'd opened a random app, a last-ditch attempt at looking busy so he wouldn’t bother her. That plan had clearly failed.

And with her shit luck, she opened the fucking calculator app.

"Yep," she cleared her throat again, scrambling for something to say. "Just figuring out how much it would cost to hire a bodyguard. You see, I have this stalker -"

"Is he handsome?" Cassian feigned ignorance, his lips twitching upward.

Nesta gritted her teeth at his interruption. "No, he's actually - "

"Charming, rugged, good-looking?" Cassian ran his eyes up and down her body and whistled in astonishment. "Wow, you must really like this guy."

She was going to punch him in the gods-damn throat. “You’re an asshole.”

He just stood there smiling at himself, eyes sparkling with mischief. His dark hair was loose, falling at his shoulders. It looked as though he’d been running his hands through it all day. Nesta’s fingers twitched.

She could acknowledge that Cassian was a good-looking man. She wasn't blind, though she would never admit that to him. His head was big enough as is. That being said, there was no appeal beyond his thick hair and fit body. It was a shame, really. Not to mention that Nesta was unable to look at a man with anything other than cynicism after everything that happened with Tomas.

Nesta stopped herself. She didn't need to think about that right now.

Coming back to reality, Nesta realized she'd been blatantly staring at Cassian this entire time, and it hadn't gone unnoticed. He chuckled deeply and angled his body so he was fully facing her. “See something you like, sweetheart?”

Nesta crossed her arms and snorted. Classy.

“Unfortunately for you, my appetite for arrogant meatheads dissipated during college.”

“Oh?” Cassian repeated with a smirk that Nesta wanted to slap right off. “And pray tell, what’s on your menu now?”

“Just the sweet satisfaction of destroying a man’s masculinity.”

Cassian stared at her for a moment before throwing his head back with laughter. Nesta rolled her eyes just as the elevator dinged. She took the opportunity and quickly raced for the doors.

He was still laughing when the doors closed.

Nesta inwardly groaned at the memory. She’d acted like a dolt, but at least she’d gotten the last word in.

The next time they bumped into each other, however, things weren’t quite as playful.  

Nesta couldn’t sleep. She’d been tossing and turning for hours, Minx shooting her glares every time she moved. But sleep refused to come.

With a frustrated groan, she rolled to the side of the bed and checked her phone that was charging on her nightstand.

3:38am.

Fucking ridiculous.

Nesta couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten a good night’s sleep. She’d been having nightmares nearly every night for the past few weeks, only managing to get about four hours of sleep at most. It was enough that she could function during the day and go to work without passing out. Nevertheless, it was exhausting.

She did her best to untangle herself from the comforter and get up without waking Minx. He was sleeping at the foot of the bed, his entire body stretched out like dough. As she got up, she gave him some love. He didn’t even budge; he was a heavy sleeper.

Nesta couldn’t help but feel jealous.

Rubbing her face, she padded out to the kitchen slowly and poured herself a glass of water. She drank it slowly as she leaned against the counter.

After fifteen of staring into space, Nesta made her way to the fridge and opened it, the soft light glowing on her face.

She stared into the fridge for another ten minutes.

With a resigned sigh, Nesta slowly padded back to her room and closed the door behind her. She lazily pulled her long hair into a messy updo. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed her laundry bin. It was overflowing.

She checked the time again. 4:17am.

Fuck it, she thought to herself as she bent down to pick up the laundry basket.

Nesta heaved it into her arms, grabbed the detergent, and made her way down to the complex’s basement where the laundry room was. She was wearing a grey sweater that completely swallowed her body and baggy sweatpants. Her slippers were cat themed. She couldn't care less.

After dumping her dirty clothes into the washing machine and starting it, Nesta sat on top of the empty machine to the left of it. She crossed her legs in her lap and put her hands in her face.

Gods, when was this going to end?

She would almost prefer a nightmare over this. It was the silence that was insufferable. With nightmares, she woke up, stayed awake for a couple hours, and finally fell asleep once her body calmed. But this? She didn’t trust herself to be alone with her thoughts for the entire night. It was never a good thing.

She was just sick of it. The exhaustion, the darkness, the loneliness. Her father’s death still gnawed at her every day. She hadn’t summoned the bravery to read those damn journals. She wasn’t ready. She didn’t know if she’d ever be.

And then Tomas. That horrible memory still surfaced several times a day. She couldn’t shake it; she never felt safe, even when she was in her bedroom. She hated it. Hated the lack of control, the loss of strength. She felt powerless. And without that, what did she even have?

The sound of footsteps disrupted her from her thoughts. Her head shot up as a body filled the doorway to the laundry room. It was Cassian.

He, too, looked like he hadn't gotten a wink of sleep. He looked comfortable in his Nine Inch Nails t-shirt and dark joggers. In his hand was a dryer sheet.

He stared at her. She stared back.

Neither of them said anything as he walked over to the washing machine to the right of the one her clothes were in. Nesta watched with half-lidded eyes as Cassian switched over his load of laundry to the dryer, swiping his card to pay for the cycle.

Once his clothes were tumbling around in the dryer, he straightened and faced her where she sat.

Nesta couldn't put her finger on it, but he seemed different. Not because it was the middle of the night and he was tired. No, there was something else. She just didn't know what.

“Can’t sleep?” he broke the silence, voice rough with exhaustion.

Nesta pursed her lips and nodded, looking away. She expelled a shaky breath. “You?”

Cassian seemed slightly taken aback by her question, but he hid it well. He took a few steps closer. There were still a couple feet between them, but now he was standing in front of her with his hands in his pockets.

“Me neither," he murmured, his hazel eyes capturing her grey ones. "Sometimes I don't even bother trying anymore."

They both got quiet. Nesta didn’t know what to say; his vulnerability scared her.

It was strange. To have a conversation with Cassian without banter, without insults being thrown back and forth. Nesta didn’t know what to think of it.

"I could be deported any day," he admitted, so quietly that Nesta almost didn't hear. Then he added, his voice breaking slightly, "I don't want to go."

Nesta watched him as he looked to the dirty tiles of the laundry room floor. Her lips parted slightly and before she realized what she was doing, she was talking.

"I have nightmares every night. Today was the first time in two months I haven't had one. A strange part of me would rather have horrible dreams instead of this silence... and that scares me."

Cassian was staring at her now, his eyes flaring. He looked like he wanted to move closer, but he remained where he stood. He simply nodded at the piece of herself she'd just shared with him.

I see you, is what he seemed to wordlessly say to her.

A strange feeling of deja vu washed over Nesta as they looked at each other. She couldn't place it, but this - talking with Cassian - felt familiar, like it had happened -

The washing machine next to Nesta dinged, signaling that her clothes had finished. She pulled her gaze from Cassian's and hopped off to switch her clothes over.

Cassian merely watched. Then, they both waited in a comfortable silence until their laundry finished drying. Cassian's finished first, but he waited until Nesta's did to walk her back up. They didn't share a word, but something intangible transpired between them.

And even though Nesta still wasn't able to fall asleep, the silence felt a bit less scary the rest of the night.

---------------------------

“Are you excited for the semester to start next week?”

Nesta froze from where she stood washing the dishes when Elain posed the question.

Next week? That couldn’t be right. Nesta counted off the days in her head.

To her horror, Elain was correct.

It was nearing the end of January. She knew she’d had to return to Pryth U after winter break, but Nesta thought she’d have longer. Longer to get over what had happened, to figure out how exactly to avoid him on campus. She thought by now… she thought she wouldn’t be scared anymore.

She was wrong.

“Nesta?”

Nesta peeled her eyes away from the soapy knife that she was clutching tightly in her hand to find Elain peering over at her with a concerned look.

“Yeah,” Nesta forced out, despite every fiber of her body screaming otherwise. “Can’t wait.”

She continued throughout the morning as normal as she could be, even though she was shaking. When noon hit, Nesta called out to Elain who was lounging in the living room waiting for Azriel to come over.

"I'm think I’m going to go to the gym." She willed her voice not to shake.

"Okay, have fun!" Elain exclaimed from the other room.

Nesta had purchased a gym membership to Illyria last week, a pathetic effort at getting out of the apartment more often. She hadn't gone once yet. And either way, her only real plan was to use the hot tub. She couldn't remember the last time she exercised, and she had no intention of changing that.

After getting dressed and grabbing her bag, Nesta headed out.

The drive was quick; the gym was only a couple miles away. Once Nesta parked, she made her way inside the complex.

She forced a tight smile as she approached the woman who was working the front desk, scanning her membership card and continuing forward. Her mind was racing, and she prayed that there wouldn't be many people there. It was a Tuesday afternoon. She doubted it.

Nesta was weaving her way past the space dedicated to boxing to get to the locker rooms when she heard a familiar voice ahead of her.

She instinctively turned her head to see who it was, only to find Cassian standing next to a punching bag, his face breaking out into a grin as he talked to a very beautiful woman.

She was small, several inches shorter than Nesta. Her copper chestnut hair was pulled back into an elegant ponytail, and her hands were on her hips as she attentively listened to Cassian speak. She seemed captivated by whatever he was saying, probably some bullshit meant to charm her.

Nesta didn't think twice as she discreetly did a 180 and started walking the opposite way, desperate to avoid him especially after the night in the laundry room. That'd been the last time she'd seen him, and she didn't want to talk about it. Not with him or anyone else. Even though she'd opened up to him, that didn't mean they were friendly. In fact, it was the complete opposite. She was determined to keep him at arm's length now. Nesta had cursed herself the morning after those events had transpired. She was so stupid to tell him what she did. It was just because she had been severely sleep-deprived, and she had felt bad for him. It wouldn't happen again.

So, she slowly slinked away, praying to the Gods that he didn't notice her.

Her plan was going smoothly until she heard her name.

"Nesta?"

Her shoulders stiffened. Fuck.

She brought herself to a painstaking stop and turned around to see Cassian jogging over to her.

"Hey," he greeted as he approached. He seemed cautious, like he didn't want to scare her off. "I didn't realize you went to Illyria."

"I don't," Nesta replied quickly. He waited for her to say more, but she just blinked up at him.

"Well," he drawled, looking back at the woman he had been talking with. "I'm just about to start a training session." Ah, he works here. She wondered what he did in his free time. "Do you want to join? The first session is free."

Nesta looked to where the woman was methodically wrapping her hands in what looked like Ace bandages. She was more stunning than Nesta originally thought. She wouldn't be at all surprised if Cassian hooked up with his trainees. Especially if they looked like that.

"No, I'm - "

But Cassian wasn't having it. "Gwyn!" he called out, gesturing her to come to where they stood.

"What the hell are you doing?" Nesta hissed, her heart rate spiking as she watched the woman, Gwyn, make her way toward them.

Cassian ignored her, continuing to smile. The bastard.

As Gwyn made her way over, Nesta did her best to put on a friendly face. She was pretty sure she was just grimacing.

"Hi! I'm Gwyn," she introduced herself with a bubbly voice. She looked Nesta up and down. "You must be Nesta. I've heard a lot about you."

Nesta threw Cassian a sideway glare. He'd been talking about her? No doubt complaining about her horrible attitude.

Cassian winked at the look she gave him before turning to Gwyn. "Gwyn, why don't you tell Nesta a little bit about what we do while I go get some equipment from the back? Then we can get started."

Nesta opened her mouth to object, but Cassian was gone before she could even blink. Groaning inwardly, she reluctantly faced Gwyn who was smiling softly at her.

"Well, I assume you know that Cassian is a trainer," she started with an awkward laugh.

Nesta stared at her.

Gwyn continued to smile despite Nesta's coldness. "He actually created this program, Wings of Resilience, a couple years ago. He offers discounted training lessons for people who deal with PTSD. It's helped a lot of people. Cassian mainly teaches kickboxing, but in the past he's taken in some older veterans who aren't really able to do high cardio activities, so he guides them through yoga practices.  Everyone here adores him," Gwyn giggles and leans in. "Especially the older ladies who come in every week for their exercise class."

She kept talking, but Nesta was no longer listening. The room suddenly felt tiny, the air stifling. What Gwyn told her triggered her fight or flight instincts. She didn’t know why, she just knew she couldn’t breathe, and if she didn’t leave now, she was going to have a full-blown panic attack in the middle of a room full of people.

“Are you okay?”

Nesta’s eyes shot up from her shaking hands to see Gwyn take a cautious step forward, her eyes wide with something that resembled concern. Nesta nearly let out a hysterical laugh. Gwyn and Cassian - they were such good people. How did they even pretend to give a shit about someone like Nesta?

"I-I need to go,” Nesta blurted, eyes scanning the room for the nearest exit.

"I know it's a lot to consider," Gwyn said quietly. She looked down at her feet. "But it's really helped me."

No, no, no.

Nesta didn't even realize she had started running until her lungs were burning from the exertion of energy. She ran and didn’t stop. She caught a flash of someone – Cassian’s – face as she sprinted past the lobby and outside, but she didn't look back. She couldn't.

The cold air was harsh against her lungs. She welcomed the burning sensation, gasping for more oxygen. Before Nesta could comprehend what was happening, she was spilling her guts on the sidewalk until she was dry heaving.

Passersby looked at her with disgust as they walked past, but Nesta couldn’t bring herself to care.

When there was nothing more to come out, Nesta wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and straightened herself. Every muscle in her body screamed. How she was able to stand, she had no idea. Nesta beelined to her car, locked the door, and speeded out of the parking lot before anyone could run after her.

------------------------------

That night, Nesta received a text from an unknown number.

Nesta, I asked Cassian for your phone number. I hope I didn’t overstep your boundaries. I just wanted to let you know that there will be a spot here if you want it. Please think about it. Gwyn

Her first instinct was to delete the text, cancel her membership to Illyria, and never face Gwyn - or Cassian for that matter - again. There was no way she was going to show her face in that gym again.

But despite everything, Nesta found herself saving Gwyn’s number into her contacts before she fell asleep.

------------------------------

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