#i spent so long on this and also was arguing with my parents over petty shit the entire time

[sssaturnsnake]

happy easter or whatever

[ultraericthered]

SDRA2 Chapter 3 is the chapter of the game everyone either loves or absolutely hates, or has a love-hate relationship with. It's the one with the Otonokoji Twins front and center of the murder case and its outcome, so of course I'm going to have something of a bias towards it myself even though I can pinpoint a slew of problems in it, many of them being severe unforced errors on LINUJ's part, that ultimately makes it fall victim to the typical Third Case Syndrome by the end.

And I bring it up now because of a post I read that ranked it dead last among all Danganronpa + Fanganronpa third chapters, for reasons that seem about right and also for reasons that seem (to me at least) completely wrong. And I really don't think it deserves that placement since I feel V3 and even DRA did a lot worse in their third chapters.

That’s no exaggeration. LINUJ has stated that his ideas for this chapter of SDRA2 changed after he saw V3′s, which gave him the inspiration for this part of the game.

Uh, not quite. I think this is a misrepresentation of what he said. When LINUJ created Hibiki and Kanade, he had them as the Double Blackened of Chapter 3 in mind from the start - that was to be their main purpose. The only thing that changed about Chapter 3 as we got it versus what he'd initially came up with was how Kanade's villainous nature was revealed. The twist that she was the truly evil twin fixated on secretly controlling and abusing her sister was always the plan, but the extra twist that she was a psychopathic serial killer with a high body count who was obsessively infatuated with her sister and had even killed their parents was added in because the similar twist done with Korekiyo in V3, for some reason I do not get, impressed LINUJ and made him want to do his own version of that.

Not only is this the worst Chapter 3 out of them all, this is honestly one of the worst pieces of media in anything Danganronpa-related that I’ve ever seen. I mean that genuinely, not out of anger, but out of disgust and disappointment.

Pure emotion-driven hyperbole. When Ultra Despair Girls' third chapter, V3's third and its final chapter, this game's final chapter, and the entirety of the DR3 anime exist, this doesn't even come close to scratching the surface of All Time Worst Stuff In Danganronpa.

First of all, this trial is too long. I can accept that trials would need to go on for a while in these circumstances, but six hours? SIX HOURS?! And most of that time is spent with Kanade arguing with Syobai over small, petty details. There is so much that goes on here that can only be explained with either heavy-handed exposition or handwaves of “Fuck you, she’s smart” or “fuck you, I’m lucky.”

YES. That actually might be my biggest gripe with this chapter, and it's one I have about Chapter 6 as well. The trial drags on and on and on for so long, it just wipes you out by the end, so it ends up harder to enjoy stuff you otherwise might've enjoyed better and it makes the problematic areas that much more frustrating. Three to four hours to complete one of these trials is the most I'm willing to spend. SIX is pushing it far beyond the limit. Initially, I'd thought Chapter 3 might be my second favorite case in the game behind Chapter 4, and it is the first case where I actually game a damn about the victim of the murder, but that goddamn Class Trial just holds it back too much.

When Kanade and Hibiki (in her puppet state) murder Setsuka, they stab her with such synchronized timing, milliseconds apart, that Monocrow can’t even decide which happened first. And this was never addressed or shown at any point beforehand, just vaguely referenced here and there. If there had been similar scenes with Kanade and Hibiki demonstrating their synchronization, even just one or two, I would’ve been more willing to believe it.

Wasn't the entire deal with Kanade and Hibiki that they're basically the Ultimate Twins Duo? Hibiki's the vocalist while Kanade's the guitarist, and the two of them perform as a pair in perfect harmony and synchronization with each other, regardless of how dysfunctional their relationship is outside of their work? If Hibiki's singing and Kanade's guitar playing are normally perfectly in sync, I don't get why it's suddenly this super huge stretch to believe they could stab a body in perfect sync. Their whole shtick set this up. Admittedly, it would have felt a lot more sensible without that "puppet state" thing...

Likewise, another element of Kanade’s murder plot is that she’s apparently good at throwing. I’m a bit more lenient toward this one, as I recall there might’ve been a scene where she was throwing darts and Hibiki was like “She’s the best at darts!” It’s not much, but it’s better. 

The dart throwing scene happened in this very chapter. Still wish there'd been a little bit more to it, though. Like if Kanade needed Hibiki to keep her steady as she thrusted her arm to throw, and this again would work better if Hibiki was in a more right state of mind.

Kanade, who manages to be both a ridiculous genius and completely incompetent at the same time. She describes herself as a perfectionist and makes sure to think about every detail of her plan beforehand, from timetables to which handbooks they need, every shot she needs to make, every tool they need, etc. And yet she leaves behind a bottle of antibiotics. One that proves to be a crucial piece of evidence in incriminating her. If she were really meticulous, she could’ve taken stock of everything she’d brought in her medical kit beforehand and then checked to see if she had it all before they left. But she didn’t, and it’s even acknowledged that it was a stupid mistake.

OK, this is the biggest fallacy out of this post I wanted to address. This acts as though Kanade leaving behind something that would serve as an incriminating clue was a careless, stupid error by Kanade that completely contradicts the narrative of her as some evil genius perfectionist who's always many steps ahead of everyone because she is so thoroughly meticulous and precise in her every thought, word, deed, and objective. Except...it wasn't. This is what set up a huge twist in the case that unfortunately contributed to the trial's monstrous length. This was very deliberate. Kanade, whether consciously or subconsciously, dropped that antibiotics bottle where she did for any one of the investigators to find so that if any one or more of the other students were smart enough, they'd put together the truth and it would lead them right to Kanade herself. That way, they'd all vote for Kanade as the Blackened who murdered Setsuka. And it would've been classified as a wrong vote because it was both Kanade AND Hibiki who stabbed Setsuka to death. Everyone else, including Mikado, would be executed while only the twins would go free. Kanade planned for the eventuality that she might get caught, and made damn sure that the emphasis was placed on that SHE might get caught, with everyone none the wiser of the part she'd had Hibiki play in the murder. That's why Sora realized something didn't feel right and they couldn't do a vote yet even when Kanade's guilt had been fully established. It wasn't Kanade being incompetent or not a genius, it was her being the Riddler playing a 4D Chess gambit that successfully nearly fooled everyone into thinking things were going to go a certain way when it actually would get them all killed.

Add to that the pins that they needed that also got them incriminated. Where did they come from? The bags Hibiki stuffed into her shirt to pad her chest and make herself look like Kanade, which contained Setsuka’s disembodied hands.

That part was weird. The whole "dismemberment and then moving the dismembered body" angle in the murder is a double edged sword because it makes the crime, who did it, where it was carried out and how it was carried out so difficult to determine, which made it a nearly perfect crime on Kanade's part, but it also means figuring that shit out lengthens the trial way too much. A lot of fat in how the body was taken apart and how those parts were moved where, by what, and at what time should've been trimmed so that the pace would be hastened considerably and we could move on to what matters more.

Setsuka’s death is absolutely horrifying and works in the moment, but things like Kanade’s reveal of being a serial killer, while foreshadowed decently, are only really effective on a first viewing. The more you think about it, the less it actually makes sense and the more it hurts both her image and the logic of her plot.

I don't think the reveal of her being a serial killer was foreshadowed decently, or at all. There was plenty of foreshadowing for Kanade being a villain, but not a serial killer. And yeah, it never really made sense in the moment and it only gets more nonsensical the more thought you give it. Her exaggerating, embelishing and straight up making shit up to fuck with people honestly makes more sense.

And I’m going to be genuine about this: this chapter is also guilty of serial killer glorification. It doesn’t matter if it frames her in a negative light or paints it as horrific, this was LINUJ trying to make her as shocking and horrific as possible, but also making her into a genius who gets everything she wants at the expense of all the people she’d hurt. The narration goes out of its way to refer to Kanade as a genius multiple times. And the fact that she was the second most popular character in a poll really shows what I’m talking about.

This is clearly a hangup that this person has. I noticed that they don't have a lot of fondness for the more morally black characters in this franchise and doesn't care for the "Evil Is Cool" trope when applied to sadistic murderers, calling it "glorification" here. Given my noted villain love, I don't feel the same. Kanade being an evil genius who applies herself to nigh perfection at everything she does and ends up claiming victory even in defeat makes her an impressive, almost twistedly commendable character as much as she is a despicable, horrific and vile person. That's why she's so popular; she earned it.

To be clear, I don’t like how much focus Genocider Syo gets in the canon games, especially with how they’re played for comic relief more than anything. However, the difference is that Toko actually has a character that grows and develops beyond Syo, Syo doesn’t actually kill any of the main characters (still highly questionable but given how desperate the Tragedy is, I can accept that) and it’s made pretty clear in UDG that even she has some humanity in her. Syo has a sense of decency and compassion, shared with Toko, that grants her some humanity. That is not the case with Kanade, who is a monster through and through.

See what I just said about a bias against morally black characters.

Kanade, by contrast, is not capable of unconditional love; she’s an incestuous, manipulative, stalking, psychopathic control-freak.

Sure, but being a narcissistic psychopath incapable of unconditional love isn't necessarily where all that other stuff directly flows from. Kanade wanted to love Hibiki and for Hibiki to love her since they're like each other's mirror image, but Hibiki's insecurity and envy of Kanade got in the way and made her lash out, driving Kanade's want for her sister to be her special someone to the point of obsession, all because the girls' parents were negligent as fuck and concerned more with raising two Ultimates who could gain them credit and money than nurturing two people who were part of their family. LINUJ tried to push the "Kanade's a demon" angle, but much like Monaca Towa, there's still an inherent humanity to her backstory and in all the factors that shaped her into the monstrous person she is.

Additionally, Kanade’s death isn’t true justice, it’s her getting to die with a smile on her face knowing that she ruined countless lives and has her sister die with her too.

As I've said before, yes and that was the whole point. Executions of the Blackened are never meant to be "justice" in this franchise, and this is one where it's played up as an unarguable injustice. Kanade is beyond the mentality and emotions that would put her in despair at the prospect of getting brutally killed alongside her twin sister, and the fact that said twin sister is despairing over it right there with her is what gives her the greatest rush of joy she could hope to go out on. And as she ensured that she and Hibiki were in perfect sync when they killed Setsuka, thus ensuring they'd both have to be voted for as the Blackened in order for it to be correct, there was never a chance left that Kanade could lose here. If it makes you feel disgusted, disturbed, uncomfortable and frustrated, good! It was meant to! You don't have to like it for that, but you do need to take it as what it is.

Fuck this chapter and what it did to Hibiki.

If by "what it did to Hibiki" you mean stripping her of any agency in her role in the murder mystery and trial, and making her suffer the worst despair with absolutely no attempts at comfort from anyone around her because they all act like she was equally guilty of the murder even when she wasn't then yes, absolutely fuck that shit.

If you mean killing her off? Well, I already covered that.

She was the biggest victim in all of this, even worse than Setsuka. At least Setsuka wasn’t aware of what was happening and died before she was chopped into pieces. Meanwhile, Hibiki not only learns that she’s partially responsible for it, she gets next to no sympathy from the rest of the cast for what happened, then learns her serial killer sister has been killing and torturing people her whole life to isolate her. And then gets to learn Kanade killed their parents before being dragged off to their double execution, screaming for help the whole time.

I like that she did at least fight back and bludgeon Kanade during the execution and try to set herself free rather than just take it. Problem is that it now kind of doesn't match up with her earlier demeanor over what all had just happened and how unready she was to face death.

And this was after a ton of character growth and development I was far more interested in and impressed with. When I saw this chapter play out, I didn’t see a tragedy with her or an engaging villain, I saw a frustrating shock-baity twist that left me disgusted, confused and annoyed. Two great characters died to glorify another shitty repetition of the serial killer plot beat, and somehow Kanade is the one who gets all the attention and all the popularity.

Already covered why Kanade came out of this so beloved and well remembered, but I also have to address this idea that Hibiki's character development getting thrown away with her life is a huge affront to the characters and the story that needn't have happened. As I've made clear, Hibiki and Kanade were always set to kill together and die together, so what you ought to be blaming LINUJ for here is giving Hibiki that character growth and setting her up for further development she'd end up not recieving. If he knew in advance that both these girls had to be dead by the end of Chapter 3, he should've written both of their arcs in a way designed to lead to that point rather than have one of them seemingly going in a different direction only for her to get dragged back in the direction of her sister's plot.

And to make matters worse, she was actually planning on framing Iroha. Iroha. A girl whose only real method of attack is crying and pushing someone off a balcony. Did she seriously think anyone would buy that she not only killed Setsuka, but dismembered her and set her body up in a weird way?

Another stupid part of the trial that ought to have been exised, though I will say that the "pushing someone off a balcony" part didn't happen yet and the very fact that Iroha was a member of Void, thus expected to attempt murder at some point, adds a layer of irony to what Kanade was trying to pull there.

Not that it matters, since her attempt at framing Iroha- knocking her out with spiked coffee- failed because she doesn’t even like coffee. This girl is not as meticulous or careful as she thinks she is.

Even a genius will have their off moments, especially a young one.

And no, I’m not going to say that all of this is retroactively justified by Sora having Divine Luck and that’s why all of this happened. That reveal coming at the end does not justify any of this by any means. Please do not use “Fuck you, I’m lucky” in place of “Fuck you, I’m smart.” Nagito playing Russian Roulette with 5 bullets and winning is not the same as Kanade being incompetent and Sora having a gut feeling that it’s not over yet.

But again, had everyone voted to convict Kanade as the Blackened due to her "incompetence", they'd all end up dead and Kanade would be scot-free with her twin sister as her puppet. So if Sora didn't have that "gut feeling that it's not over yet", you get a Bad End. That's how the Divine Luck saved not just Sora but everyone besides the twins.

But do you want to know what the worst aspect of this Chapter 3 is? I could maybe overlook all the other details- all of them- if this weren’t the case. It’s how completely irrelevant this chapter is in the greater story.

Unfortunately yes. Chapter 3 always tends to be the least relevant to anything and does the least to advance the overarching story, but this one ends up taking it a whole new extreme level. Kanade setting fire to Setsuka's letter and us never learning what Setsuka had found out and written in it sort of symbolizes the whole deal. Nothing was gained by anyone in-story from this ordeal, we're just left with three characters less than the cast we began the chapter with and a darker, more untrusting and unsettled atmosphere going forward.

But SDRA2′s? It feels like a completely separate story shoved in the middle of the existing one. Kanade has no connection to the Voids or Mikado, not to Utsuro, not to the Despairs, not to any outside groups, not to Hope’s Peak, not even the Tragedy itself plays any role in her character. All she wants is to control Hibiki, and she only did all this because she was losing that control.

If I recall, that really was LINUJ's whole idea. He acknowledged that Chapter 3 always stands as "the midway point" of any DR story, as that's where the first half concludes and the second half begins, so he wanted to present a case with a worthy mid-game culprit and something that clearly marked the first half we'd played through as distinct from the second half still to come, those distinct factors being that we didn't know much about Void in Half 1 but they're far less shrouded in mystery in Half 2, and that the Otonokoji twins are around for their own little sub-story arc for Half 1, and they're not in Half 2. Kanade as a villain with no connection to anything else took care of both those distinction needs. The problem is that LINUJ forgot to account for what the end of the twins' arc would actually do to impact the setting and characters in a way that would linger on enough to justify its whole existence, and to directly segue the events of the first half into the events of the second. It's just sort of its own little story that suddenly eats up all the focus in this chapter, then it goes away and things in the main story continue on as though it hadn't even happened. It's just a strange and disturbing detour.

When you peel away all the shock value, Kanade is ultimately, like every serial killer out there, a painfully flat and boring character with shitty motivations to be a shitty human being. Her entire personality revolves around her creepy obsession with Hibiki; there is nothing deeper there, and LINUJ has even said that Kanade would’ve killed herself if Hibiki died. I don’t find someone like that very appealing nor interesting.

You hate serial killers and really evil characters, so of course she doesn't appeal to you or interest you much. Others will differ, as we can scratch that "flat and borng" surface of that "shitty human being" to find something a little deeper and sadder in that creepy obsession with her twin sister, to make us ponder what might have been done to stop this person and possibly set them straight prior to tragedy.

I can name about three things: Hibiki’s puppet state foreshadowing Yuki’s transformation, the implication that more time had passed than they’d realized and her burning Setsuka’s note. The latter is the only piece of the story that actually feels like it connects this chapter to the others. But after Kanade and Hibiki are gone, they’re barely even mentioned and it’s clear how little impact they had.

I don't think any of those really work, especially Setsuka's note since there's nothing later in the story that lets us know what information she'd wanted to convey in it. Maybe LINUJ could've had Mikado been inspired by how Kanade almost had everyone fooled into making the wrong vote and that played a part in his plan in Chapter 5, as well as finding some way to link Hibiki to something that becomes more crucial in the end. Little things to make this an invaluable section of the story instead of a cul-de-sac that leads absolutely nowhere.

There’s also Iroha being revealed as a Void at the end of the Chapter, but that has nothing to do with Kanade and it really could’ve been placed anywhere, or even just left out entirely.

But the fact is that it was placed right at the end of this and is tied directly to how Iroha hadn't attempted a kill yet but was set up to take the fall for Kanade's murder in this chapter. That is one thing that Chapter 3 contains that needs to be seen to make sense of the stuff we get with Iroha in the later chapters.

What this means is that this is the only chapter 3 where you can skip it and miss basically nothing. Think about that: 1/6th of SDRA2- a full 16%- is completely irrelevant to the overarching story, all for the sake of emulating the worst part of V3. Granted, I don’t know how much better LINUJ’s original plan would’ve been, but I have my doubts it could be worse.

If you skipped it, you'd be left wondering where the fuck Setsuka and the twins went. Obviously. And I think DR2's Chapter 3 is just as fillery as this one, as the mystery part of it starts after Nekomaru is taken off to be healed and after it's over, Nekomaru's released from his care and back with us as a robot, which matters for Chapter 4. The entire detour with Despair Disease, Monokuma's movie, and Mikan's murders ultimately had no relevence, as while they do foreshadow things, they're never directly called back to once those foreshadowed things get their payoff. As for LINUJ's "original plan", there is one part about it that I feel would have been worse and so it's absolutely to the characters' benefit that he chose to forgo it in favor of a Korekiyo knockoff - originally, Kanade was going to reveal that she'd always hated Hibiki rather than being in lust with her, and that her goal was to make her suffer in despair and then die as the ultimate "fuck you" to her. Such a reveal would've been like "Really? You actually hated the twin sister who constantly picks on you, insults and demans you, bosses you around, and makes herself the center of everything you two do together? What a shocker! Never thought you had that in you!" It's way too expected and would've rendered the twins relationship into just a worse version of Hiyoko and Mikan. Kanade having fallen in love with the idea of a loving and obedient twin sister who she could treat like a pet and have power over was the more unexpected and interesting direction to take. It just needed stronger execution and less crazy serial killer nonsense.

Bottom Line is? LINUJ is a writer in desparate need of an editor, IDK.

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Ch. 21: Apologies (Father’s Day)

AO3

Prev

Marinette purses her lips as she looks at the neatly wrapped package in her hand. She knew she should still give it to her dad, shouldn’t let her hurt over the Gala stop her from celebrating Father’s Day with him for the first time. She’d already gotten confirmation from her Maman that her present for her Papa had arrived. So that was taken care of. A small part of her, the petty part, wanted to use Kaalki and go back to Paris for Father’s Day. But she also didn’t want to hurt her dad, no matter how much he’d hurt her. She had to be better than that, she is Ladybug after all. Sighing, she drops the present onto her bed. Grabbing the rest of what she needed for a movie night at one of Jason’s safe houses, she rushes out of her room. She knew that her dad’s conversation with Superman in the Batcave wouldn’t last too long, and then he’d be looking for her and Damian to lecture the hell out of them. Unfortunately for him, neither of them planned to be around to listen to it. 

“Got everything Pixie Pop?” Jason asks as she rushes down the last of the steps, barely stopping herself from falling. She quickly balances herself and shoots her brother a small grin. 

“Yup. Let’s go before I can get grounded.” She says, rushing past him and out the door, grinning as she hears his loud cackles behind her. It will get better. She’d talk to her dad eventually, and shove the bad feelings away. But she was going to let herself mope for another day. After all, letting herself feel negative emotions was part of the reason her parents agreed to let her stay in Gotham for the summer. 

---

“What do you mean there’s an entire movie about you and Cat boy?” Jason asks, shoving another cookie in his mouth. Marinette shrugs. 

“I mean we have a movie. It’s not my favorite, it’s kind of ridiculous. None of it is accurate. Except, Adrien did voice Chat Noir for the movie...still not sure why he thought that was a good idea.” She says, thinking back to the original premiere of the movie and all of the drama that came with it. 

“Well shit. He’s not the brightest kid, is he?” Jason asks with a snort. Marinette opens her mouth to argue, then remembers some of Adrien’s….less brilliant moments. Okay, so maybe he’s not perfect.

“Ya know, we were once cast as Ladybug and Chat Noir in a music video.” She says, snorting at the look on Jason’s face. 

“You’ve gotta be kidding. Really? Kid, please tell me you didn’t go through with it.” He says, looking mildly distressed. Marinette just rolls her eyes. 

“No, we didn’t. The concept for the video changed and so no more hero costumes. I was terrified though. Kept losing the mask on purpose ‘cause I was convinced the mask would be what gave it away.” She admits with a small laugh. 

“Ya know, that’s almost as bad as the time that someone at WE thought it’d be a good idea to enter B in a Batman look alike contest. Sent in his photo and everything.” Jason says with a snort. Marinette’s jaw drops.

“Wait, really?” She asks. He nods. 

“Yup. But that’s not the best part.” He says. Her eyebrows furrowed together. What could possibly be better- Oh. No, oh my-

“He lost, didn’t he!” She cheers, laughing at Jason’s huge smile. 

“Of course he did! You didn’t really think Brucie Wayne could ever be THE Batman, did you?” He asks with a smirk. 

“Who entered him?” Marinette asks, kind of assuming that Jason did it with Tim’s computer. 

“No one could ever prove anything, but Lucius Fox couldn’t stop smiling for weeks after it happened.” Jason says. 

“No way, Lucius Fox? Oh my god!” She starts laughing again, the negative feelings from earlier almost completely gone. Disappeared. Times like these, she was beyond relieved that she wasn’t an only child anymore. She doesn’t know how she’d ever function again without her brothers and Cass. 

---

Bruce takes a deep breath before knocking on Marinette’s door. He’d spent some time talking to Clark in an attempt to calm down. He still couldn’t believe his two youngest children had gone to the Watchtower without permission...well, he could believe that Damian went. But not Marinette. And then there was her attitude towards him at the Tower. Her posture was very Damian, but her words and tone were very much Jason. He couldn’t decide if he was glad that they were bonding, or frustrated with the way his sons were corrupting his daughter. Not hearing an answer on the other side of the door, he knocks again. 

“If?” He says. Alfred nods. 

“Marinette, I know you’re angry, but shutting yourself away in your room is not the answer. I’ll give you ten more minutes, but then we need to talk about your behavior today.” He says, nodding to himself. That sounded good. That was right, right?

“I’m certain that wouldn’t work on Miss Marinette even if she was in her room, Master Bruce.” Alfred says, giving him an unimpressed look. Bruce’s eye twitches. 

“Indeed, sir. It seems that Miss Marinette will not be sleeping at the manor tonight.” He says, turning to walk away. 

“And I’m assuming you know where she is?” Bruce says, doubting that Alfred will actually give up her location. He’d definitely been picking the kids’ side the last two weeks or so. It was different, and he wasn’t fond of the change. 

“Of course I do, sir.” Alfred says, raising an eyebrow in a silent challenge. 

“Will you tell me where she is?” He asks, trying hard not to huff when Alfred shakes his head. 

“Of course not, sir.” He says before walking away. Right. So she wasn’t sleeping at the manor, but she was safe. If she wasn’t, Alfred would have told him where she was. He mentally runs through a list of possible places she could be. Dick’s apartment, one of Jason’s safe houses, the Siren’s apartment, Paris- He pales as he realizes that she could definitely be in Paris. Was she really so upset that she would go back to Paris? Would she ever come back if she left? He lets out an uneven breath. He messed up. He messed up and now she was going to go back to Paris and she’d never talk to him again. Unless- maybe she didn’t. Swallowing the guilt that appears at the thought, he pushes her door open. If she had left for Paris, she would’ve taken everything with her. The sight of her clothes and sewing supplies still scattered around the room makes him breathe a sigh of relief. She hadn’t left Not yet. He’s about to walk out when an envelope on her bed catches his eye. Frowning, he walks over and picks it up, ‘Dad’ written on it in neat cursive. Now standing by her bed, he realizes there’s also a neatly wrapped package (Batman wrapping paper) on it. He smiles, then glances back at the envelope. He opens it, smiling at the art on the cardstock. It was clearly Marinette’s art, but he was confused why it was addressed to him. 

‘Dad, I just wanted to let you know that I’m so happy you’re my Dad, and I’m so glad that I got to meet you. Finding out that I was adopted was a little scary, but you’ve made sure I’ve been okay through it all. Happy Father’s Day! Love, Marinette’

Bruce blinks. She was scared. If he had to guess, she was most likely scared that the family wouldn’t accept her. They’d been getting along so well, until the Gala mistake. Until he’d decided for her. Assumed she wouldn’t want to go to the Gala. And now she didn’t even want to stay at the manor tonight, and she was angry enough earlier to throw a chair at him. He pushes a hand through his hair, cursing lowly under his breath. He had to fix this. 

---

A sharp pounding at the door makes Jason leap off the couch. He holds up a finger and gestures for Marinette to hide. No one should be here. No one else knows which of his safe houses he was at today. Grabbing a gun, he walks over, glancing through the peephole. He scoffs. 

“Get the fuck outta here Bruce.” He calls through the door, watching Marinette as she immediately tenses as if she’s gonna run. He shakes his head at her. She didn’t have to run, he sure as hell wouldn’t open the door if she didn’t want him to. 

“Jason, open the door. I need to talk to Marinette.” Bruce calls, Jason snorts. 

“Yeah, not gonna happen B.” He says. 

“I would like to apologize to her.” Bruce says. Jason blinks. That’s new. Did the old man finally figure out that fuck ups warrant apologies? He glances over at Marinette, raising an eyebrow. It was her call. The unsure look on her face almost makes him decide for her. Almost. The kid’d had enough of people deciding shit for her. 

“Let him in.” She says. He opens the door, glaring at the man. 

“Is it okay if he comes in?” She whispers, and Jason nods.

“Up to you kiddo.” He whispers back. She stands taller, pushing her shoulders back before nodding. 

“She’s the one who let you in. Don’t fuck this up.” He warns before stepping aside and letting Bruce walk in.

“Marinette.” He says, nodding at her. Jason groans. Yeah, B was totally gonna fuck this up. 

“Father.” She says, shifting so that her arms are crossed, a neutral expression on her face. God, he really hopes her mimicking Demon Spawn is just a phase. 

“I would like to preface this conversation by letting you know I went into your room.” Bruce says. Marinette just raises an eyebrow. Yeah, Jason wasn’t seeing the connection either. “I apologize for invading your privacy like that, Damian has definitely reminded me several times that your personal rooms are not to be messed with. However, when Alfred let me know you weren’t sleeping at the manor tonight, I was worried that perhaps you had gone back to Paris.” 

“I wouldn’t have gone back without telling you. Well, other than akuma attacks. Do you really think I’d do something like that?” She asks, frowning. 

“I know that I’ve done things I’m not proud of when hurt. Things that I came to regret. And I saw earlier today how hurt you actually are. I didn’t realize-” He pauses. “I also read the card that was on your bed.”

“What! No, that was- that was for Father’s Day.” She says with a sigh. 

“I didn’t open the gift. I originally thought the envelope would have a note from you on where you had gone. Or that you never wanted to see me again. I thought the chances were pretty even.” He says and Jason snorts. 

“Oh, okay. Wait, why would you ever think that? Yes, I was hurt. I still am hurt, if I’m being honest. But I don’t want to cut you out of my life.” She says, shaking her head. 

“Nor do I want you out of ours.” Bruce says. Marinette blinks. “I realize now what it must have looked like, to you. Not informing you about the Gala, taking the rest of the family. It was, admittedly, not my best moment. I made a decision for you when I should’ve asked you what you wanted. You could have even come with us as MDC, but I took that option away from you. I am very sorry, Marinette. I am glad that you’re my daughter, sweetheart.” He says and Jason blinks. Well shit. The old man did have feelings. Too bad no one would ever believe him if he tried to say something about it. He watches as the tension in Marinette’s body drops almost instantly before she runs over and launches herself at Bruce. She wraps her arms around him and Jason can see the way her body shakes. Bruce just stands there, staring down at the top of her head in shock. 

“You wrap your arms around her.” Jason snarks. Bruce blinks before listening, returning Marinette’s hug. Well, they were still dysfunctional as hell, but at least now he’d be able to take Pixie Pop to the manor without feeling like an asshole brother. 

---

Marinette bounces nervously in her seat as she watches her brothers hand her dad presents. She’s shocked when Jason hands over a small gift, knowing that the two’s relationship wasn’t….great. She leans forward in anticipation, watching and waiting to see what he’d picked out. 

“Thank you, Jason. Clark will never let me live this down.” Her dad says, the fondness in his tone not matching the frown on his face. He turns the box around and the room erupts in laughter. Somehow, Jason had found a company that made customizable bobbleheads. The body was probably just a stock body, dressed in civilian clothes with a superman suit peaking through the shirt. And the head, the head was hilarious. It was very obviously crafted to look like their dad, specifically with his ‘Brucie Wayne’ smile. It was awful and amazing at the same time. 

“I think Jaybird wins best gift.” Dick says with a grin. 

“Tt. Unlikely. The new katana that Cass and I gave him is obviously superior.” Damian says, crossing his arms. 

“I don’t know Damian, I still haven’t given him my present.” She points out, grinning at the slight frown on Damian’s face. 

“While I doubt your present could be better than mine, there is no doubt it will be better received than Todd’s.” Damian says. Marinette snorts at the look on Jason’s face. 

“Listen Demon Spawn, there’s this thing called humor. That’s what my gift had. I know you wouldn’t know anything about humor, so let me explain it to you.” He starts, and Marinette jumps in to cut him off before they can start arguing. It was Father’s Day, the least they could do is avoid fighting with each other for a couple more hours. 

“And this one’s from me.” She says, passing him the present wrapped in Batman wrapping paper. She grins as Tim and Dick both laugh, not having seen it before now. 

“I think Mari might win just ‘cause of the paper.” Tim admits, taking a large drink of his iced coffee that Marinette had picked up for him. She’d had to fight an akuma right before they started presents, so she’d stopped and got Tim coffee from the shop that he’d tried when they’d all been in Paris. She watches in anticipation as her dad carefully unwraps the box, opening it and pulling out the black suit jacket. He smiles at her. 

“Did you make this? It’s amazing.” He says, and her brothers nod in agreement (though Damian does so reluctantly). 

“Look at the inside of it.” She says, gesturing for him to unfold it. His eyebrow twitches, but he does as she says. She watches his face for the moment he spots it, and grins when his face drops into a wide smile. On the inside of the left side of the jacket, she’d added a breast pocket. It wasn’t really for anything though. Instead, it was so that she could embroider all of his children’s names in a way so that it would rest above his heart. The jacket also had tiny bat logos embroidered at the cuffs of the jacket. The thread was shiny and very dark so that it would barely show up against the black of the jacket. It had to be lit just right to see it, but as he tilted the jacket again, she knew he saw it. It had taken longer than suit jackets normally do for her, but it was because she knew that it had to be perfect. It was, after all, the first piece of clothing she’d made for her dad. 

“It’s perfect, Marinette.” He says softly, running a hand over the names. She lets out a sigh of relief before smiling at him. Things were still a little rough, but they were so much better than they’d been the night of the Gala. She was glad that she had stayed, that she hadn’t ran like she had so badly wanted to.

Next

Tag list: @maribat-bdbwm @vixen-uchiha @stainedglassm @liquid-luck-00 @jayjayspixiepop @jjmjjktth @trippingovermyfeet @mizzy-pop @queenz-z @thepaceperson @iloontjeboontje @waiting247 @laurcad123 @toodaloo-kangaroo @ritacrow-blog @deathssilentapproach-blog @kittenmywaythrulife @nerd-nowandforever @tazanna-blythe @jaybird-and-co @jumpingjoy82 @lady-bee-fechin

[disloopy]

𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐢𝐧𝐞

i wanted to write a college au but i was also horny so this came into existence.

tendou satori

word count: 6199

genre: smut but with a plot??

It was hard to study with your parents constantly bickering in the living room downstairs. Ever since you moved back in with them, you've found it hard to concentrate on virtually anything besides their frequent, yet petty, arguments. Sometimes you'd stay at college late into the evenings under the guise of classes and assignments but really you just hated being around them. The stress of school was already a mounting threat without the emotional toll of your parents' nearly shattered relationship.

Scraping your chair back as you stood up, you decided you'd had enough. You shoved your textbooks, notebooks, and some random clothing articles from the top of your drawer into a bag and ran down the stairs. Your mother twisted her body around to face you from the couch, an eyebrow raised.

"Where are you going, young lady?" 

You didn't look at her in the process of yanking on your shoes. "I'm going to Sam's house or am I not even allowed to visit her without you breathing down my neck?" you asked sharply, feeling your heart hammer in your chest. You were fed up. "I'm twenty and under no obligation to listen to the two of you arguing about whatever movie you want to watch just because you don't have the cajones to discuss the real issue!"

With finality, you slammed the door shut behind you and hopped onto your bike, pedaling as fast as legally possible out of the neighborhood. You always knew that the main reason your parents had urged you to move back in with them was to fill the empty void their failed marriage left in the house. At first, even you were convinced that your presence would revitalize their marriage and they'd remember why they loved each other from the start.

However, their own child wasn't enough to give them a reason to put aside their differences and love each other for what they were - a family; a family, you knew, should be willing to sacrifice a part of their individual lives for each other, that's what it meant to be married.

But your parents weren't even willing to confront the problem -- not being in love with each other anymore -- much less work it out. At your age, you were aware of the fact that love wasn't all a marriage needed, there was responsibility and sacrifice and with a little understanding, the love could be rekindled, not just once but multiple times throughout the life spent together. The last thing you'd want was for them to separate and you were quite certain that with a little communication this hellish nightmare could be put past them. They were immature, you concluded. Your parents wanted to ignore it altogether, which would only leave them stumped at this obstacle, growing angrier with each bland dinner and mismatched grocery.

You couldn't take it anymore. Stopping your bike at a nearby convenience store to pick up a few snacks, you texted your boyfriend, Tendo. He was usually around, and usually free -- plus, he lived in a dorm all by himself. It was the perfect escape from your exhausting household. Without waiting for a reply, you journeyed across a few streets to get to the college residence and parked your bike anywhere. It wasn't worth enough to get stolen and even if some desperate thief decided to have some fun, it would only serve as an excuse for your parents to finally get you a car.

After the long and silent elevator ride which seemed to compress you on all sides, you arrive at the seventh floor and felt your shoulders relax almost immediately. You'd been here so many times it was like a second home to you. Tendo's place always gave you the relief you wanted after a tiresome day of school, or your parents, or both.

Struggling to keep the strap of your heavy bag filled with books, clothes, and food on your shoulder, you lightly knocked on the front door. There were sounds of incomprehensible yelling and laughter coming from inside which you thought was strange but not enough to question it.

When there was no answer and you were fed up with waiting, you decided to try the knob which was surprisingly unlocked. So, you entered the house and called out loudly, "Tendo? It's Y/N". Not even a step later, a strong scent of weed hit your nose directly and you winced.

"Y/N?" said a voice, followed by Tendo rolling back in a computer chair, tugging his headset to his neck with the hand that wasn't latched onto the controller, his eyes wide in pleasant surprise. 

"Hey," you said quietly, smiling at the sight of him. "I texted you . . ."

"Oh, sorry. I was in a game so I didn't check my phone," Tendo murmured, throwing a distracted glance at his phone on the couch before immediately returning his attention to the screen, his headset back on his ears. "I SAID COVER ME!" 

"He's been yelling all match," someone said and you startled, looking back at the couch to see one of Tendo's friends, Semi, sitting cross-legged on the couch, a hoodie covering most of his head and a bong tucked between his thighs. It was unusual for Tendo to have friends over. Even at school, he rarely sat with a large group of friends for long. On weekends, it was mostly just you and him when it could be.

"I swear I'm playing with 11 year olds," Tendo remarked as the screen flashed red, signaling his team's failure. He spun around in his chair and glanced between you and Semi. "Sit down, Y/N, what the fuck. Semi got kicked out of his parents house so he's gonna be here for a while."

You widened your eyes. "You got kicked out?"

The ashy-blonde haired boy nodded, seeming casual as he fiddled with the bong. "They caught me smoking in the basement and said they didn't want me back till I quit," he explained with a shrug. "I miss my drum set but I'd rather be free to smoke, if I'm being honest."

Tendo shook his head, amused. "Get a fucking job, Semi -- then you can pay for half of this place and we can live together."

"Really?" Semi's eyes lit up and he seemed attentive for the first time that night. "I totally should, huh? I can work at some government institute, you know? They'll see that I'm smart since I major in political science . . ." 

"Tendo, can I get in the shower?" you asked and Tendo nodded of course. As you were about to disappear down the hall before turning around and feeling blush creep onto your cheeks when Tendo gave you a questioning look. "Um . . . I also . . . Wanted to stay here for a bit. My parents are just really . . ."

"You can!" Tendo said with an enthusiasm that made your heart jump with pleasure. "It'll be fun with the three of us. I'm sorry about your parents though." 

The shower was warm and almost therapeutic with the muffled sounds of Tendo's frustration with his team and Semi teasing him about it. You even sat down on the porcelain for a bit, the soothing water sprinkling down on your bare body. When you had finally decided to come out, you found that Semi was eating the snacks you'd brought along with you. Although you were initially doubtful of him staying over with you and Tendo, you quickly grew more open about it. He was normally quiet and serious, but the weed seemed to open him up to being actually friendly and talkative, not failing to make you laugh several times that evening.

"Yo, if you make my girl laugh that much I'm gonna have to ask you to leave," Tendo said, throwing a cheeto at Semi's head. 

You eventually fell asleep on the couch, Tendo and Semi's voice almost serving as a lullaby. You'd rather hear their weed-inspired symposium in your sleepy stupors than the sound of your parents arguing. Some time that night, unknown to the dizzy you, Tendo had hauled you into his arms and transferred you to the warm security of his bed, wrapping his covers around you, and then wrapping his arms around you. 

The next morning, Semi was already gone for an 8am class. Despite sharing Tendo's major, he had registered very late and got the worst schedule a student could ask for. You and Tendo, however, were able to fool around in the bathroom (no, not like that. Tendo spit toothpaste on you), and eat lazy bowls of cereal before heading out, walking under the warm morning sun to get to campus.

When you'd arrived at your own class, Tendo let you know he'd wait for you at the college center after class. You checked your phone while the professor was setting up his stuff. Disappointment settled in your chest at the realization that your parents hadn't bothered to check up on you. You hadn't given them the heads-up that you would be staying over at "Sam's" house and although you declared that you weren't under their jurisdiction, you half-expected a "should we wait up for you?" text from either parent.

You tried to push your dejectedness and self-pity in order to pay attention to your lecture. The anger formed into a kind of resistance, telling you to stay as contactless from them as possible, waiting for one of them to care about your absence, or at least notice.

After class, you stopped by the vending machine to buy Tendo and yourself two bottles of juice before walking with your head down to the college center. You didn't want to see any of your friends or anyone for that matter. You wanted to be alone . . . With Tendo. He knew how to give you the reassurance and comfort you needed without uttering a single word. Sometimes you wondered if he was even aware of the effect he had on you. Did he know how his mere presence could reduce your anxiety? The man was like a remedy.

You spotted Tendo slumped on one of the couches, thumbs tapping away on his phone and you were almost certain he was engaged in a game of COD mobile. Then he seemed to notice you and he lifted his bright red-haired head up, shoving his phone in his pocket.

"Damn bay-bee!" Tendo whistled and you rolled your eyes as an instant reaction to his typical attention-drawing behaviour. "Hot girl alert," he announced, grinning at you.

"Shut up!" you yelled, chucking a juice bottle at him, which he caught with extraneous ease. You would've been surprised if you weren't already familiar with the fact that he, along with Semi, were on the volleyball team of a prestigious high school. He never failed to remind you and always talked about a mysterious "best friend" named Ushijima who he strongly believed would be famous one day.

Grateful that no one was staring at you two anymore, you collapsed next to Tendo, resting your head on his shoulder. He had produced his phone once again and you realized he had been texting Semi. You didn't want to intrude on his messages but you couldn't help catch parts of the conversation. He was going out drinking with Semi later because they had both received excellent grades on one of their tests. This also didn't come as a surprise because although you've never actually seen Tendo studying, he always did well on his tests.

Tendo turned to you. "You can go ahead back to my place," he suggested, twirling his dorm keys around his finger as he handed them to you. You gave him a small smile when he left you with a parting kiss on the lips as you separated for your next class.

You didn't see him again before leaving campus to return to Tendo's house. As you walked, you felt a sinking feeling in your stomach. Why hadn't Tendo ask you to join him? You shook your head, why were you even thinking of such a thing when you knew you hated drinking? But some uncomfortable tug in your chest left you questioning whether Tendo even wanted you at his place. Maybe he had accepted to be polite, or because he felt sorry for you . . . or because he didn't want to say no to you in front of Semi.

The biting thoughts bounced around your head, a reminder that Tendo loved you popping up every now and then to shoot those thoughts into a corner but not doing much to quell your worries.

You spent your evening studying, getting excited only at the occasional text from Tendo, making sure you got home fine, or that you knew you could eat anything in his fridge, or sleep in his bed if you were tired, or play on his PlayStation if you were bored. You did neither of those things, not touching a single thing in his kitchen even while your poor stomach cried with hungry grumbles.

You felt sick to your stomach, opting to switch on the television for background noise as you hugged your knees on the couch. There was an aching fear building up inside of you, fear that you were as unwanted to your boyfriend as you were to your own parents. You knew you shouldn't have been insecure, he'd always been there for you and never gave you a reason to doubt him.

But it had been quite a while since he'd last told that he loved you, sincerely, from the bottom of his heart. A lot could change within a person in that sort of time. And the last time the two of you had sex or even really made out was several months ago before you moved in with your parents. You could blame that on the chaos of school, both of you being in your second-years with exams and pressure to find jobs keeping your heads under water.

Nonetheless, the fear of Tendo falling out of love with you the same way your father fell out of love with your mother still existed and was still very real. You could always untangle this very confusing frustration with Tendo, he'd never shied away from important conversations. However, despite the many insecurities he'd helped you through, this just wasn't one you wanted him to hear.

And maybe you were like your parents in that way . . .

You dropped your head into your lap, feeling the burn of tears in your eyes, your chest tightening under the pressure of the worries you knew had no foundations but still pushed their way into your system. Eventually, your eyes had drooped and your brain was shifting in and out of focus with the screen before you.

Before you could really fall asleep though, you heard the sound of the door opening and Tendo's voice informing you of his presence. You hummed in response and Tendo furrowed his brows at you, jumping in next to you on the couch. You could tell he was still a little delirious from drinking but not enough to turn you away from him, as you usually did when he got completely wasted.

"Y/N, I went to the corner store on the way back and got you the cake you said you really liked," Tendo mumbled, putting his arms around you and pulling you closer. You wanted the cake, sure, but to be truthful, you wanted him more than anything.

"I just wanna fuck," you blurted out and Tendo's head instantly snapped up to look at you, a lazy grin pulling at the edges of his lips.

"Uh? You wanna what?"

You blushed, tugging your knees to your chest but Tendo's hands were already on them, pulling them apart. "I said I wanna fuck," you murmur.

"That's right, baby," said Tendo, settling himself between your thighs as he licked his lips. "I knew what you said, I wanted to hear you say it again."

"I got it, stupid," you told him, curling your fingers around the shoulders of Tendo's shirt and bringing his chest to yours before connecting your lips. The effect was immediate. You simultaneously relaxed and tensed up underneath the weight of his body, completely winded by the effortlessness with which his tongue moved past your lips and pressed to your own.

"You're right, I deserve this," Tendo breathed against your lips, a hand going to your thigh and guiding your leg around his waist. You hadn't said that but didn't care enough to point it out. "I can't call it a treat without wrecking this pretty body of yours." Your heart fluttered with his words and you watched him trail his lips down your chin, jaw, and neck toward the now exposed skin of your chest as he hooked a finger over the collar of your sweater and forced it down.

You shut your eyes, drowning in the anxious ecstasy of what was to come, the outcome of all this; him inside of you, filling you up, and fighting off all your worries with each sway of his hips against yours.

His teeth grazed against your skin and you pressed your lips together, knowing it was going to be followed by a bite and it did. Tendo bit and tugged at your sensitive skin, earning a pained gasp from your lips before smoothing over the sting with his tongue. It hurt but in that good way you never wanted it to stop, not until every inch of your body was covered in marks from him and only him.

Tendo had always liked to take his time. Even now, with you practically squirming and wordlessly begging for him. You could tell by the way he rubbed the seam of his jeans right against the very spot you craved him most, knocking the air out of your lungs and making your hips snap up against his, which caused you both to moan (Tendo's turned into choked laughter). He usually opted to wear sweatpants or, at best, trousers, but the roughness of his jeans really did amplify the feeling and although it made you throb almost everywhere, you were starting to get impatient.

"Jinx," Tendo groaned, dropping his head into the crook of your neck as your fingernails raked through his messy hair.

"Shut up, Tendo, just . . . Fuck . . . Get inside already," you said between shallow breaths. Tendo was already doing that, wedging a hand between both your bodies to unbutton his jeans. But between making jokes of your desperation and dry-humping you right on his couch, Tendo (and you) failed to realize that you had company.

The sound of the door swinging open almost completely shattered your preoccupation with each other. Tendo dragged himself off you and onto his knees while you propped yourself up, slightly embarrassed but more so disappointed when Semi walked into the living room, squinting at the two of you.

"Oh," he said, realizing what he had interrupted with a nod. High Semi was a lot different than this not-very-drunk or just-sober-enough Semi, who was stoic and didn't laugh the awkwardness off like you expected. "S-sorry about that," he stuttered and made to head towards his own room.

Tendo turned back to you with a smile that told you he didn't mind continuing what you two had already started. He didn't mind . . . But that probably didn't mean he wanted to. Neither did you with Semi in the next room. The heavy feeling from earlier took residence in your stomach once more, unwarranted and so quick you felt tears spring to your eyes.

Pushing Tendo off, you ran to his room in order to cry without his prying eyes, kind as they were. But you knew you wouldn't have the room for very long. The five minutes you really were alone, you were quite sure Tendo was trying to give you space or wonder what he'd done wrong. Then the door opened and he stepped in and you buried your head in your hands.

"Y/N, what the fuck is up with you?" He asked, but in a gentle tone before you felt his hand on your back, rubbing soothingly. "Why are you crying, hm? Look at me." Tendo tugged on your forearm and practically forced your head up. You stared at him through tear-blurry vision.

"Why didn't you invite me to come with you and Semi?" You stuttered dumbly and Tendo blinked in surprise.

"I-I didn't think you'd want to come," he answered with a shrug and a look of guilt marred the fond carelessness of his face. "Usually you say no . . . I'm sorry, I should've asked."

You shook your head quickly and realized you were doing exactly what you hated about your parents: avoiding the problem. But how could you not avoid the problem when the problem was questioning his love for you? Maybe you were the immature one, thinking talking about those things was so simple. It wasn't.

So you just said, "Sorry, I've been having a rough week . . . "

Tendo nodded, understanding. "Do you want Semi out of here?"

"W-What? No, no, no," you said quickly, wiping your wet eyes. "He needs somewhere to stay, I-I don't mind. It's mostly just . . . " you braced yourself to finally voice your fear out loud. Tendo's eyes on you, full of concern and attention. "I'm sick of my parents," you ended up saying and then cringed with your whole body.

"They fighting again?" Tendo asked, wrapping an arm around your waist and maneuvering the two of you against the bed frame to lean back. You leaned into his chest and relaxed in the comforting scent of him.

"They haven't checked up on me," you murmured, feeling slightly embarrassed for needing your parents attention this much. Tendo just stroked his fingers through your hair, intently listening. "I didn't tell them I'd be away from home and I usually never am. But they haven't even texted me to ask. I just feel like I'm not wanted there."

"They're probably just lost in their own issues to even think about dealing with you," Tendo said and he seemed to have the simplest answers to the complicated worries in your heart. "Stay here with me, just until they really get worried. Besides you're wanted here all the time."

You lifted your head and smiled. "Thanks Tendo, I-I love you," you mumbled shyly and Tendo grinned, shaking his head in amusement.

"I love you too," he replied without hesitating. The two of you soon fell asleep, Tendo changing out of his jeans first and yelling at you to get in your pajamas, before throwing a shirt at your head. You were too tired to get up now and Tendo knew that but it didn't stop him from trying. He gave up shortly and muttered something about you being a stubborn little bitch before sinking into the mattress next to you and shutting off the lights.

The next week flew by just like that. You were getting quite used to living with Tendo and he seemed to be happy with that. Most days were just busy with school and assignments, the slower days were spent in wondering if Semi would be home now or then to gauge how long the two of you had alone. But in that worry itself, you and Tendo would miss the opportunity Semi seemed to have intentionally been giving you each time. Dinners were nice since the three of you got along very well. Tendo would usually make the jokes, vulgar or downright shocking, causing you to almost choke up your food and Semi to roll his eyes yet smirk all the same.

Semi had found a job as a male receptionist at some package delivering company, which was a grounds for all three of you to celebrate. Tendo explained that they probably only wanted Semi because he was eye-candy  for anyone entering the building. You agreed that Semi was very pretty and Tendo pouted at you.

Friday night, the bong was reintroduced and you surrendered to the thought of really forgetting all your stress and just getting high. Which you did. And it was really relieving. So the next day, you decided it couldn't hurt to have another session. Semi had gone off to work and he wouldn't be back till very late, which gave you and Tendo time to smoke a little and fuck a lot.

But neither of you were really in the mood that evening and you could tell by the lack of foreplay Tendo usually invested in before putting it inside. He was out of focus and so were you, lying in his bed and occasionally moaning when he hit the right spot.

And when he'd pulled out so quick, you couldn't help lifting your head in confusion. "T-Tendo, what—" but the question was cut off with warm liquid spraying over your bare chest and splashing onto your mouth, droplets almost hitting your eyes before you shut them.

"Ah shit!" Tendo gasped, giggling breathlessly. "I'm s-sorry about that. I just wanted to cum on your tits."

"I'm gonna get pink-eye!" You complained, wiping your eyes and mouth with the back of your hand.

"Don't be dramatic," he said dismissively, hopping off the bed and disappearing into the closet. You blinked, heavy breaths living your lips and slightly disoriented. But Tendo had really just . . . Done that, without bothering to ask if you'd finished (he never really asked because it was quite obvious you had every time, but not tonight).

Before the worthlessness could settle in, a towel was thrown directly at your face and now you were just . . . Really angry. Your own boyfriend seemed to have used you and discarded you, you thought, furiously wiping yourself down with the towel and watching Tendo from the corner of your eye light up a joint and take a deep drag from it.

You slipped your shirt back over your bare chest and stared down at your lap as he breathed out, smoke filling the air and your nose. You just wanted to turn around and sleep.

"Y/N," said Tendo, prompting you to glance up at him. You shifted your gaze to him and saw that he was dangling a pair of handcuffs in one hand and a collar with a chain attached to it in another. Tendo grinned lazily, the joint hanging from his lips as he tossed both on the bed, you gazing at them in wonder.

"Do you wanna try these?" He asked, setting the joint aside and crawling onto the bed. "I ordered them a while ago, they're cheap as fuck but if we like them — if you like them — we can get something proper."

You licked your lips, excitement rising in your stomach. "I . . . Um . . . Yes! I'd like to try . . ."

"That's my girl," said Tendo eagerly, clicking the collar around your neck with a sly smile. "You look pretty fucking hot, if I'm being honest." He turned your head to the side so you could see yourself in the mirror. You couldn't help but agree with your boyfriend. The presence of the collar on your throat did wonderful things to your conscious.

Then there was a rough tug on the chain, squeezing the collar around your neck, and a whimper tumbled past your lips as Tendo forced you to face him. Tendo's eyes widened in wicked surprise as he stared at you and felt yourself blushing.

"This chain comes in handy then, I bet," he muttered with a smile.

Once your shirt was off and the handcuffs were locked around your wrists, both behind your back, Tendo pushed you to the ground in front of him and swung his feet off the bed. He reached one of his large hands towards you, fingers immediately tangling in your hair as you made quick work of him. The constant yanking on your hair and the choked grunts Tendo made was really adding to the rush of it all. Especially when he pushed your head down and forced himself deeper into your throat. 

"Take all of my cock," he hissed out the order, the chain of your collar wrapped around his free hand, tugging at it every now and then when he wanted you to look at him. You accepted every  praise that followed, tears forming at the edge of your vision with each thrust. "You look so pretty like this, baby. God, I love face-fucking you . . . You're so good . . . You're the best." 

After he'd shuddered and his cock twitched, sending a warm stream of cum down your throat, Tendo didn't stop there. He pulled the chain up, your head rising with it as the collar squeezed your neck. "Let me see," he whispered, gently gripping your jaw as you opened your mouth, feeling the liquid drip down your chin. "Good girl. Now swallow." The instruction was followed by the harsh slap of his palm against your ass, prompting you to obey.

"Ah!" you cried out, biting your lip. "Y-Yes, sir." 

Tendo smirked and yanked the chain again, bringing your lips down upon his and the saltiness from earlier was wiped away as he sucked on your lips, grasping your hips and sitting you down on top of him where you could feel his cock pressing right against your entrance. 

"Tell me what you want, baby," Tendo groaned as you moved your hips against him, your head buried in his neck along with your lips grazing his warm skin. Your wrists were sore and aching and all you wanted was to latch onto him but Tendo didn't seem to want to take them off just yet. 

"Fuck me," you whispered against his ear.

Tendo didn't waste time, moving back so he was lying down on the bed, shirt off and you, on top of him, wanted to touch the tanned skin of his bare chest so bad. He watched your every moment with a dizzying intrigue, allowing you to fuck yourself on his cock while his fingers pressed bruises into your hips. 

"Just like that, Y/N," he grunted through a clenched jaw, pushing you all the way down as he lifted his own hips and thrust up into you. 

"Tendo!" You gasped, your head falling back, eyes shut tightly as the pain and pleasure shot up your body, releasing breathless moans from the base of your throat. "Fuck . . ."

Tendo grinned. "You ride me so well, Y/N . . . Ugh, fuck!" He pulled the chain towards him, swallowing your moan with the careful, wet kisses of his mouth. "You look so hot on top of me." You could feel the tight knots in your stomach slowly unraveling, the new angle doing mind-shattering things to your insides. 

"I-I . . . Tendo . . ." You stuttered, blinking rapidly as the feeling overcame you. 

Tendo's hands went to your thighs immediately, throwing you off of him and the sudden feeling of emptiness shocked you. "What the fuck?!" You cried, shaking the hair off your face as your wrists were still faithfully behind you. 

"Let me fuck that pussy," Tendo muttered, shifting you onto your hands and knees before sinking into you from behind as your head pressed into the pillow beneath you. "You're so tight . . . I love this pussy . . ." Tendo bent over you, till his chest was pressed to your back, his hand still clamped around the chain of your collar, making sure you were being choked how he liked you. 

"Moan for me, Y/N . . ." he whispered, lips and teeth clashing against the skin under your ear, your neck, your shoulder. You should've been embarrassed with the sounds leaving your parted mouth but you really couldn't focus on much besides the feeling of his cock buried deep inside you. 

The mindless euphoria and muffled pain of it all drove every thought out of your head, the uncertainty and unease. You wanted to be as close to Tendo as possible and he wanted to be deep inside you. As your vision blurred and you were so close to completely losing it, Tendo pulled out of you again. Your jaw fell open but he'd flipped you around and frantically uncuffed your now throbbing wrists, tossing the handcuffs to the side, before sliding back into you. 

"Fuucckkk . . ." He moaned, eyes fluttering but he tried to keep them open to watch your flushed face, your back arching until your breasts were pressed right up against his chest. The sound of profanities leaving his swelling lips was smothered as he sucked on your neck, your arms finally able to loop around his neck, yanking at his hair as he slipped his fingers between your legs. "C-Cum on my cock . . ." Tendo stuttered.

But you'd begged him to come inside and Tendo had to pull his head back to look at you with surprise. After the painful edging and denial, those words were enough to snap every knot in your stomach completely. Tendo had grabbed your chin and forced you to look at him. "I wanna see you when you cum," he managed to choke out as you tried your best to keep your eyes open, focused on his gaze and the way it sent goosebumps all over your sweat-glistening body. Tendo had sped up and groaned a string of curse words as he released inside of you, and you had given to defeat, throwing your head back, mouth open in a silent cry before Tendo's hips slowed down and the room was filled with shuddering breaths and occasional whimpers. 

"Holy fuck," Tendo whispered, unclipping the collar from around your neck and examining the red and almost bleeding skin before tossing the item to the side. "I'm so sorry . . . Did it hurt?" 

"K-Kinda," you squeaked as he kissed your neck softly. Truthfully, you hadn't noticed it then but the pain was coming back to you in short bursts as you trembled underneath Tendo. 

"I should've known considering it was like five bucks," he responded, dropping down next to you. You wrapped your arms around him and rested your head on his chest. Tendo seemed surprised by this as you two normally cleaned yourselves up first before cuddling. 

"My parents are falling out of love," you blurted out. 

Tendo scoffed, pushing your hair out of your face. "I just fucked you like you were a bitch in heat and the first thing you say is 'my parents are falling out of love' . . . What the fuck am I doing?" he murmured, leaning down and kissing the top of your head. "I'm sorry to hear that, Y/N."

You licked your lips, trailing your fingers over Tendo's bare chest. "I-I'm scared that . . . That you don't love me anymore either."

"Oh . . . This fucking girl, you can't leave her alone with her thoughts for a second," Tendo teased. "I can tell you this, Y/N; sometimes it doesn't work between people and forcing it will just make it worse." 

You nodded, shifting into a seated position so you could look at him properly. Tendo smiled at you, the mere action causing your heart to jump into you throat. "You're right . . . I'll have to hope for the best between my parents."

"That being said," Tendo continued, tucking your hair behind your ear gently. "I fucking love you and I don't plan on stopping so you can get that silly thought out of your head." There was a distant sound of the front door opening and when you'd glanced at the clock, you knew Semi was home. He'd announced his arrival and said,

"Keep fucking if you guys are fucking! I don't wanna ruin your relationship!"

Tendo rolled his eyes and hugged you closer, putting his chin on your shoulder. "You were amazing and I'm sorry about before . . ." You giggled. It seemed sort of trivial now. "You're beautiful by the way," Tendo said and you blushed. "Your face and body but also on the inside . . . and I'm not talking about these sweet insides I just ruined . . ."

"I know," You laughed as Tendo tickled your thigh with his fingertips. 

"Y/N," said Tendo suddenly and you glanced at him. "D-Do you want to try something new?"

You raised an eyebrow. "Hey, I guess the handcuffs weren't enough, huh? Yeah, let's do something new!" But you weren't expecting Tendo to call for Semi. To your own surprise though, you didn't stop him and even smiled widely when the boy pushed the door open and froze, blush creeping onto his cheeks. 

Tendo hadn't said anything further but your heart was pounding furiously again, especially when Semi's eyes shifted from Tendo to meet your own. He opened his mouth to say something but then thought better of it.

A second later, he was tugging at his own hoodie, the only two words that left his lips "fuck it" completely forgotten once the door shut and Tendo dimmed the lights. 

[twiddle-dee-twiddle-dumb]

A/N - I was bored in the office. There’s nothing much to do and an idea for ficlets, drabbles for Haikyuu Boys came into my mind. So here it goes…

WAS SUPPOSED TO ADD USHIJIMA HERE BUT I'M ALREADY TOO SPENT. HAHAHAHAUHSHSHAJSSAJSJK (TT-----TT)

HAIKYU! BOYS & S/O ARGUED BEFORE AN IMPORTANT EVENT

Toru Oikawa

Warning: slightly suggestive (???); jealousy, jealousy; provocation

It's something petty, honestly. It's just because you didn't hear what he was trying to say since you are busy making dinner in the kitchen. And that you made him repeat what he said three times. THREE TIMES. That is enough to make Toru feel neglected. You knew that there's a change in his demeanor so you apologized but he ignored you all through out the dinner. He's stubborn and you knew better than to push further. You both went to bed not speaking to each other. I mean, Oikawa not speaking to you.

The next morning, hours before the event, he went to work early. He just left a note on the fridge. "I'll go to the party. I brought my party clothes in the office. Attend if you want to." you crumpled the piece of paper you're holding and you're gritting through your teeth. You are seething with anger that Toru chose war—he chose to prolong this petty drama, so be it.

It's time to change the plans. He already knows what you're gonna wear. Well, since it has come to this point, you decide to go to an emergency shopping. You bought a red open back dress with a low neckline paired with a white gold chandelier earrings and chandelier choker necklace. Show-stopping, attention-grabbing like he wanted.

You drove to the venue, not informing your husband that you're gonna dang see him at the party. You arrived earlier than him. You greeted everyone you know at the party. They were complimenting you, men and women alike. However, people can't help but ask where your husband is. "He is still quite occupied but he'll arrive shortly." is what you tell them and try to swerve the point of the conversation to them.

Not moments later, Oikawa entered the scene as pointed out by someone in your circle. You see him greet everybody who comes in his way. Looking at him right now, he's still as popular and handsome as before (too bad, he's being a real bitch to you). You turned back you attention to your social circle before he could see you looking at him.

It was not that long when you felt a scorching gaze from across the room. You feigned indifference. You knew who it was. Your phone kept on buzzing. Taking your phone out of your purse, you checked who it was thinking it was an emergency at home or your parents' house. It was just Toru—bombarding you with messages and missed calls. Trying to get my attention I see, you thought. You glanced at his direction, for mere seconds, before turning your attention to back to your phone. With no intention to reply, you returned your phone back inside the pouch. Two can play this game.

Until you caught a whiff of his cologne and felt something being placed on your shoulders, covering your back. You eyed him, expression unreadable. "I'm afraid we're going to go home early, sweetheart.", he whispered in your ear as you feel the pressure of his grip on your side.

"So, we're talking now?", raising an eyebrow, you can't help but retort, pushing his buttons even more, even though you know that you're going to pay the consequences for the rest of the night.

Tetsurou Kuroo

Warning: suggestive; provocation; innuendos

Kuroo informed you that the company anniversary is coming up and he's bringing you along for the party. The day before the event, you decided to go to the dresser to get your hair done. It was going well until the dresser made a mistake which resulted to your hair a tad shorter that it was. The dresser apologized profusely. The poor girl was nearly in tears. You just laughed it off, reassuring her that it's fine. Not really making a big deal out of the nagging feeling that your husband might react. Oh please, hair grows back. Plus, it doesn't look bad. You looked more glowing so maybe that mistake isn't bad after all.

When you got home, Kuroo was acting weird. He kept on glancing at you like you're someone unfamiliar. When he saw you at the door, he just stared at you with his brows furrowed. When you were eating dinner, he was awfully quiet. Usually, he would tell you about his day at the office but to day, he's painstakingly silent.

"Babe, is there something wrong?" you asked again for the umpteenth time. Because clearly, something's wrong. He just evades or refuses to answer. But, this time, you pressed further. "Come on, tell me."

"Your hair!" he answered, voice slightly higher than the usual with a slight anger undertone. Of course, you we're expecting some reaction but not like this. You were surprised. You know how much he adored your long hair. You were even more surprised that he's noticed. Oh my dork, baby.

"Well, the dresser kind of made a mistake so we end up cutting it." you reasoned which he responded with a grunt. He's really sulky about this. "I apologize for the accident. But love, it's just four inches long and it's going to grow back in time."

"NO." he said. you gawked at him. Shocked at his response.

"Ruru, you're being a baby about this."

He proceeded to ignore you. He isn't usually like this. Most of the times he listens to actual reasons. You just shrugged it off, thinking that he'll come back around in the morning.

Oh boy, he's still that sulky little kid with a cold reception. He ate the breakfast you made him though but he went to work in haste. Guess, you really need to do something to rectify your situation as you start to get annoyed. He's smart but he's acting like a dummy right now. It's just hair and he perfectly knows that hair grows back.

It's only hours before the event, you're rummaging your closet for something to wear. You settled with a salmon pink pantsuit with a white chiffon string strap as an innerwear. you brought out your cream faux leather block heel sandals. You also laid out all the accessories you want to wear for this event.

You start prepping up for the event. "Testu, babe. I'll be a bit late.", you texted him but this motherfucking child had the guts to purposely leave you on read.

You put your hair in a messy half bun adorned with cute pearl accent hairpins whilst curling the remaining hair into soft waves. (Makes your hair a bit shorter, heh.) You're going for the Smokey eye look and those cat eyeliner is popping. you put on the accessories. you even wore ear cuffs for some additional swag.

All satisfied with your vibe, you took a cab to the company. When you arrived, you were greeted by the people you know while they ushered you to where your husband is. When you arrived at the table, he still hasn't spoken a word. Trying not to get the silent treatment under your skin, you excused your self to socialize with the people you know. As you kept on chitchatting with them, someone pointed out that your husband is sending weird glares to your direction. You told told them to pay him no mind.

You occasionally push your hair behind your ear or play with your hair like subtle flips while laughing with your friends. Partly provoking, trying to get Kuroo to look at the angle of your jaw and neck with your new hairdo. You got compliments because of your more fresh and glowing look.

Your phone kept on vibrating in your pocket. It was Kuroo. Ranting about what you're doing. You can't help but play with fire so you replied only with "Oh, so now we're talking?" inwardly smirking, you think you had the upper hand.

"Party's over. We're going home. There are things we needed to discuss." he replied back. Not long before a hand touched your lower back and the voice you badly want to hear was murmuring excuses and goodbyes to the people at the party while casually leading you to exit.

Oh sweet, you've never been more excited to go home than tonight.

[seokstrivia]

Life Goes On | myg

ღ Summary: You got to know Min Yoongi better than anyone else

ღ Arranged Marriage AU | Word count: 3k

ღ Min Yoongi x Reader: angst, fluff, slowish burn, breakup, sweet pick-up lines, yoongi is an actual sweetheart in this

“Min Yoongi seems like a lovely boy, doesn’t he?” Your mum smiled just before she sipped her tea.

“Very polite,” your dad added, eyes still focused on the newspaper in hand.

You rolled your eyes at the sound of his name. The one name you’d been hearing for two weeks straight, the one guy they wouldn’t stop talking about.

It was beginning to get on your nerves.

“I’ve only met him once,” you told them.

Of course, they didn’t listen to what you had just said. They were too busy in their own little world, talking about a potential son-in-law, and how perfect he was.

No one was perfect. Even Yoongi could have his bad moments, no matter how successful he could become in the future.

“We want you to stop by his class and ask him out to dinner,” your mum exclaimed.

When you told your mum you would, you were lying. You’d been lying about a lot of things, like when your parents first met Yoongi, you told them it was your first time meeting him. Of course, you knew who he was, he was your best friends’ ex, after all.

There were a lot of things you hid from your parents, simply because they thought they were right and you were wrong. That’s why they didn't know you were in a relationship with Namjoon.

It was your secret.

Kim Namjoon was different from others, he spoke freely, he was smart, he was clumsy, funny, endearing. The list could go on, and on, and on.

However, not telling them about him was not a good idea like you thought it would be, and it was too late to tell them about him now. They had become so fond of Yoongi that anything you said would go in one ear and out the other.

It was pointless. They never listened.

“I knew we should’ve told your parents about us,” Namjoon sighed.

You didn’t want to argue with him, but he was making you feel guilty— as if you’d done something wrong. There was no denying that he was right, he always was; he was Kim Namjoon. Still, you hoped for a little remorse from him.  

He had his back to you, not because he was angry or annoyed, but because he was upset that your parents were so involved with this other guy, someone who wasn’t him— the guy that loved you so much.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, eyes dropping to the ground. “It’s all my fault.”

Namjoon’s long and tired sigh was your response.

Who knew something so trivial could become so consequential? This wouldn’t even be an issue if you told your parents, but it would only matter if they listened. If they weren’t so stubborn and irritatingly petty.

More guilt surpassed through your mind like water down a drain, you didn’t know if there was a way to fix this. Running away with Namjoon was out of the question, he had a whole, successful, life ahead of him. You couldn’t take that away from him, it would be too selfish.  

“We can tell them now,” Namjoon offered. “If you want to.”

He sounded distant as if preparing himself for the inevitable. Namjoon knew what your response would be, he’d suggested telling your parents a few times and every time you had said no in response. He would be lying if he said it wasn’t hurtful.

“Joonie—”

“I’m not being selfish,” he interrupted. “I just want to be able to love you openly. Without hiding behind closed doors.”

This time you sighed in response, maybe you didn’t deserve someone like Namjoon. He was too good for this world, too good for someone as selfish as you. But now, now he was suffering, and it was all your fault.

“I love you, Kim Namjoon.”

He knew what was coming next, he prepared himself for it. This would bound to happen one day, and that was okay. It would just take a while to get over you, and all his love for you— it wasn’t easy, he knew that, but he had to do it.

You reached for his hand when he didn’t reply and interlaced your fingers together. Perhaps, he wasn’t expecting you to hold on to him, but you couldn’t let go, not now, not ever. Although it was selfish of you, it would hurt too much to lose him.

“I love you, Kim Namjoon.”

The words seeped into the cold air and disappeared as quick as they appeared. Namjoon squeezed your hand before letting go, you knew what was coming since you had also prepared yourself for the inevitable.

It was going to be okay.

“I’ll always love you, y/n,” he whispered. “But… it’s not going to work the way we want it to.”

Namjoon was right. He was always right.

><><><><><><

A long sigh parted your lips as you slumped your chin onto your hand. The library was the last place you wanted to be, especially after school.

“Stop sighing. It’s not the end of the world.”

Your best friend was sitting in front of you, her glasses hanging off the bridge of her nose while she focused on her studies. The very friend who dated Min Yoongi for nine months, however, she didn’t cry when they broke up, she said it was bound to happen.

“It is the end of the world,” you told her. “I miss Joonie.”

She rolled her eyes as she raised her head to look at you, there was an unimpressed expression on her face while she stared you down. Sometimes, you wondered if she was an emotionless soul, like a rock or something.

“Y/n, you’re going to be fine,” she stated matter-of-factly. “You’ll find someone else.”

“My parents already found someone,” you muttered under your breath.

Of course, she didn’t know you were currently engaged to Yoongi. A lot happened after Namjoon broke up with you, he deleted your number and ignored your whole existence. He got it lucky. Whereas you didn’t even have the chance to sulk, since your parents decided to get you engaged to Yoongi without another word.

“What do you mean?”

You licked your lips while trying to pace your rapidly beating heart. She was your best friend, this wasn’t something you could hide from her forever. More so, she was bound to find out one day. So, why not now?

“I’m engaged to Min Yoongi.”

She reacted in a way you didn’t expect her to. She laughed.

“Good luck with that sop,” she shook her head, a teasing smile on her lips. “He’s as real as a robot.”

You sighed loudly once more before sulking back in your seat. At least she wasn’t angry about you being with her ex-boyfriend. Besides, you didn’t want to get married to a robot! What did she even mean when she said that?

“I hate my life,” you cried aloud earning looks from the few students in the library.

Three days went by since you spoke to your friend. She said she would be there for you if you needed someone to talk to, arranged marriages aren’t easy, especially when you’re in love with someone else she voiced.

A pout subconsciously emerged on your lips while you thought about what she said. It made you feel even guiltier, what if you could never come to love Yoongi? What if you spent the rest of your life thinking about Kim Namjoon?

“I know I’m not the most interesting,” a voice piped up. “But I would like to get to know you.”

There was a small smile on Yoongi’s lips. It wasn’t fair. He was such a nice guy, so you couldn’t even hate him.

“I’m sorry,” you apologised, sheepishly playing with the sleeve of your dress. “What would you like to know?”

He shrugged his shoulders, unsure how to continue the conversation. He was never good at this, hence why everyone he dated broke up with him, or people stop trying to start conversations with him.

But that didn’t mean he wasn’t trying.

“Honestly, I’m not very good at this,” he expressed.

Yoongi’s eyes were as dark as the night sky, and his smile was as cute as a button, but he always had this blank expression on his face, and you couldn’t help but smile. He seemed so confused and lost sometimes, like a lost pup.

More so, he was different from Namjoon.

Min Yoongi was dark, bitter coffee on a cold bitter night, but he was as sweet as honey drizzled in warm tea on a warm summer’s day. He was mysterious, yet, understandable. Yoongi was different and the more time you spent with him, the more he captivated your curious mind.

“It’s ok,” you told him with a smile. “We can take our time and get to know each other, day, by day.”

He smiled wide and bright, his eyes almost disappearing behind his cheeks. It was a spectacle you wouldn’t mind seeing every day.

“Thank you for understanding,” he replied coolly.

In that time, what your friend said about him being a robot ran through your mind, Yoongi was so different from what she told you. He made you want to get to know him, he made you want to spend time with him, he made you want to try.

He was different.

As you continued to spend more time with Yoongi, you’d learnt he had some cute traits, although he had a blank or serious expression on his face most of the time, he was funny and so adorable. If Namjoon wasn’t still on your mind, you probably would’ve fallen for him in seconds.

“We’re not socks,” Yoongi spoke up. “But we’d make a great pair!”

When you turned around to look at him, he was holding up a pair of bright pink socks. There was a smug smile on his face, clearly proud of himself and his pick-up line, you couldn’t help but laugh at how silly it was.

“That was good, Yoongi,” you grinned. “I’m impressed.”

Yoongi sent you a wink causing a blush to spread across your cheeks before putting the socks back. He’d been breaking out of his shell more and more as you spent time together, it was nice being with him.

Your parents were so happy that you were getting along, and that things between you two were working out. Although you were still kind of annoyed at them, there was no denying that you and Yoongi got along really, really, well.

He was on your mind a lot more. He would be the last thing on your mind before you went to sleep, the first thing when you woke up in the morning and you always wondered what he was doing when he wasn’t with you.

At first, you thought it was because he was a new person in your life, someone you wanted to get along with and get to know more. But as you thought about it— properly thought about it, you realised you had gained feelings for him.

Some days when you were together, small touches such as fingers brushing against fingers would set your heart alight and cause a blush to spread across your face. His laugh would make you smile, his gaze would make you feel shy, his words, his sweet words, would cause butterflies to swarm in your stomach.

Of course, you loved Namjoon, but he didn’t make you feel the way Yoongi had made you feel in the short span of three months. Yoongi wasn’t afraid to share his emotions, he wasn’t scared to tell you how he felt. He trusted you more than Namjoon ever did.

“Your hand looks heavy,” Yoongi whispered. “Here, let me hold it for you.”

You bit your bottom lip, trying to contain the wide grin that was about to spread across your face. His hand was warm in your cold one, and now, now your mind wasn’t focusing on the movie on the big screen. Your mind was running in circles for the boy next to you.

There was a cheeky grin on his face as he tightened his hold on your hand, he wasn’t focused on the movie either, little did you know, his mind was running in circles for you. He never knew he would fall in love with someone so quickly.

More so, he felt like he could be himself with you. He was home with you.

“You are a ball of flowery sunshine, Min Yoongi.”

Days with Yoongi turned into weeks, and weeks turned into months.

Although you were closer than ever now, you hadn’t ever actually spoken about what you two were or what you were about to become. The thought of getting married never once coursed through either of your minds, but now that it was merely a day away, you couldn’t stop thinking about it.

What if getting married ruined what you had? What if he grew to hate you? What if… what if he never loved you?

A sigh parted your lips as you stood in front of the tall mirror in your wedding dress. Your mum was too busy thanking the tailor for fixing the dress to think about you or your concerns. She was always like that, so you didn’t expect anything from her.

Your phone buzzed in your hand, drawing you away from your thoughts. It was a text from the one boy who never left your mind, but there was also a text from the one boy you wanted to forget.

Another sigh left your lips.

�� From Yoongles ♡: I know we’re getting married tomorrow, but I have something I’d like to tell you in person if you’ll meet up with me tonight.

— To Yoongles ♡: Of course, I’ll meet with you tonight.

You licked your lips before pressing send.

— From Namjoon: Please don’t get married. I need you.

A sigh parted your lips. 

— To Namjoon: I wish you the best with your future.

After sending your reply, you blocked Namjoon’s number.

The only one who mattered now was Min Yoongi, and you would be lying if you said you hadn’t fallen in love with him. More so, it felt good to finally move on from an old love, especially one who gave up on you so quickly and easily.

“Are you okay, dear?” Your mum asked catching you by surprise.

You smiled at her while nodding your head, “I’m great.”

It was the truth, for once in your life, you were happy with how things were going, you were also, somewhat grateful, to your parents, but they didn’t need to know that. As if you would ever tell them they were right.

When you got home with your mum, the first thing you did was rush to your room to get ready. Although Yoongi had seen your worst moments, you wanted to put in a little effort for him. Today he was… your friend? Tomorrow he would be your husband.

The thought itself was thrilling— exciting, but it was a big step since you’d completely missed the dating stage. A part of you didn’t mind, but the other part yearned for his touch. Yearned for his lips on yours, his lingering touches and sweet moans.

However, the more you thought about what Yoongi wanted to tell you, the more your insecurities and worries surfaced your mind. What if he didn’t want to marry you? What if he found someone else? What if he didn’t want you in his life?

Oh my god, breathe!

“Y/n, are you okay?”

His voice startled you, but when you turned around to look at him, you suddenly felt calm.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you chuckled sheepishly.

Yoongi shook his head in scepticism while reaching for your hand to intertwine it with his.

“Get those worries out your head, love,” he scolded.

A pout formed on your lips because he figured you out, and it wasn’t fair. Over the months, Yoongi observed you closely, he learnt about your habits and traits, he remembered your favourite foods, he carefully considered what you said. He was the ideal man.

“So,” you breathed out while releasing all worries. “What did you want to tell me?”

Yoongi smiled his perfect gummy smile, and your heart swooned. He let go of your hand as he took a step back and bent down to one knee. That’s when your heart stopped beating, more so, when you thought you were going to pass out.

“Y/n, my love,” he grinned just as he pulled out a navy velvet box. “I know we’ve skipped a big step and we’ve been engaged for a year, but I wanted to do this properly. Will you marry me?”

You wiped your tears before nodding your head and choking out a yes. Yoongi slipped the ring onto your finger and bound his arms around your waist, drawing you in for a long-awaited hug.

>> Honeymoon <<

“Are you a banana?” Yoongi whispered. “Because I find you a-peeling.”

You rolled your eyes, “we’re married now. You can stop with the pick-up lines!”

He chuckled into your ear while pulling you closer to his chest, “I love you.”

“Yeah, I love you too, Min Yoongi.”

[smiting-finger]

I tripped and I fell and this HP AU came out

So I was chatting to @silverink58​ about the beautiful original picture of Professor LWJ, and they were saying that when they picked up the prompt for the inktober exchange, they were hoping to read Hogwarts student!LWJ, 

And I thought “oh how delightful, maybe I’ll think about that idea later”, and then that “later” became “now” and what I’m saying is they shouldn’t have let me download the google docs app onto my phone, because I clearly cannot be trusted.

@silverink58​ this is for you, lol. Thanks for naming “Little Apple” :’D.

He almost doesn’t see it: a flutter of black fabric, the edge of a student robe before it slips away out of sight. But he catches the movement from the corner of his eye, and pure reflex has Lan Zhan drawing his wand to fire off a quick body-bind curse.

There's a muffled noise of surprise, abruptly cut off, and then the thump of a body hitting the floor.

When Lan Zhan turns the corner, it’s to the sight of Wei Wuxian, lying face-down on the ground.

“It’s after curfew,” Lan Zhan says, turning him over with a quick Levitation spell. “You should be inside your dormitory.”

Dark eyes glare indignantly up at him. Calmly holding Wei Wuxian’s gaze, Lan Zhan lifts the curse.

“Report for detention tomorrow,” he says, as Wei Wuxian sits up and pointedly rubs the small pink spot on his forehead.

“Lan Zhaaaan,” Wei Wuxian complains, giving the edge of Lan Zhan’s robe a beseeching tug. Lan Zhan feels his own lips thin at the over-familiarity of both the form of address and the physical contact. 

“Don’t be like that! Let me off just this once? Think of the five wonderful years we’ve spent together as potions partners!”

“Just last week, you exploded our cauldron,” Lan Zhan reminds him flatly, and Wei Wuxian grins.

“Oh come on! Let’s not harp on about petty things like that,” he says, pushing himself up onto his feet. He shakes out his robes. “You wanted to know what would happen if we added the xiezhi horn, too, just admit it.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t dignify this with a response, and simply meets Wei Wuxian’s gaze and holds it.

He is a Lan of Gusu.

He would never admit to such a thing.

Wei Wuxian pouts, reaches out a hand and uses two fingers to give Lan Zhan’s sleeve a pleading tug.

Lan Zhan sighs. 

After five years of being a detention hall regular, if Wei Wuxian was going to learn anything from writing lines, he would've done it already.

“Return to your dormitory,” he says, and Wei Wuxian smiles brightly.

“Yup, sure thing, absolutely,” he chirps, nodding in enthusiastic agreement.

He doesn’t move.

Lan Zhan looks at him expectantly.

Wei Wuxian blinks back at him with wide eyes.

Lan Zhan continues to wait.

It’s Wei Wuxian’s turn to sigh.

“Okay, fine,” he says, shoulders slumping in defeat as he turns back to his original direction and beckons for Lan Zhan to follow. 

“There’s just something I have to do first - I swear it’s important. You can come with me to see, if you want.”

-

It’s a … bird.

A hatchling, almost completely featherless, that Wei Wuxian has hidden in a corner of one of the lesser-used greenhouses, and has been coming to feed every four hours.

It’s also, Lan Zhan thinks, staring blankly at its oversized head, squat little body, gangly legs and stumpy wings, really-

“Don’t stare at it like that just because it’s ugly!” Wei Wuxian hisses, turning from pouring whatever paste he’s made down the bird’s throat to swat Lan Zhan admonishingly on the arm. “You’ll hurt its feelings!”

“You just called it ugly,” Lan Zhan feels the need to point out. “But I’m the one who’s hurting its feelings?”

“Well, it’s just a baby,” Wei Wuxian replies reasonably. “It doesn’t understand anything that’s not bird-language yet.”

“It doesn’t understand anything but bird-language,” Lan Zhan repeats disbelievingly, “but it’s offended by stares?” 

Wei Wuxian nods gravely. 

“Everyone knows that body language is universal,” he claims loftily and Lan Zhan suppresses the desire to roll his eyes.

-

“You can’t keep coming every four hours,” Lan Zhan says, after the bird curls up and goes to sleep underneath a heating charm and Wei Wuxian’s threadbare toy demiguise (“What? I didn’t know if Jiang Cheng and I were going to be in the same dorm, and I was scared of getting lonely at night! I was eleven!”).

“Well, I’m going to have to,” Wei Wuxian replies carelessly, and shrugs. “Or it’ll die.”

“Its parents?” Lan Zhan asks and Wei Wuxian shrugs again.

“Didn’t seem to have any,” he says, quietly getting up and beckoning wordlessly for Lan Zhan to follow. “I waited an hour to see if one of them would come back, but nothing did, and it was crying, so.”

The moon is full and bright, providing ample light to guide their way back to the dormitories even now that all the lights have been put out.

“I did some reading in the library,” Wei Wuxian says around a yawn. “As it gets bigger, feedings will get less frequent. I don’t know what kind of bird it is, but it should only be like this for a couple of weeks, at most.”

Even for a couple of weeks, it’s not sustainable, Lan Zhan thinks when Wei Wuxian begins to list into his shoulder as they walk. He’ll have to leave halfway through every meal and risk getting caught by the other Prefects at night. He won’t be able to get enough sleep, which will affect his classwork, and, in turn, his learning, his grades, his disciplinary record-

“You can’t keep this up for that long,” Lan Zhan states firmly.

Wuxian groans. “I told you, Lan Zhan, I can’t just let it-”

“I’ll help you,” he says.

“You’ll - wait, really?”

-

They name it Little Apple because Wuxian says he's no fun.

("We should call it Little Ginseng, because that's what it looks like - bald and lumpy."

"...No.")

When it gets big enough to have a personality beyond eating and sleeping, Little Apple is surprisingly sweet. It loves: cuddles, being hand-fed and chasing after a love-knot tassel that Wuxian charmed to dance around in front of it.

It hates: eating by itself, being left alone for too long, cats (after Headboy Jin Guangyao's familiar somehow gets into the greenhouse and they have a very near miss), and Lan Zhan and Wuxian arguing.

It absolutely refuses to go to bed without being personally tucked in.

Soon, it starts to grow feathers; brown and grey patches of down sprouting all over its body, enough that they can stop renewing the heating charm.

It doesn't get less ugly.

("As its mother, even I think it's hideous. We should've called it Little Dustball, but it's too late now ")

They do, however, become very fond of it nonetheless.

("Hey, Lan Zhan, look, we learned manners today!"

Wuxian bows to Little Apple, who bobs its head unsteadily in return.

"-Lan Zhan, what's happening to your face? Lan Zhan? Lan Zhan, is that a smile?!")

-

They get caught.

"Wei Wuxian I expected no better of," his uncle growls after the greenhouse doors fly open to reveal his thunderous expression. "But Wangji, you are a prefect. I am deeply disappointed in you, sneaking off to the greenhouses at night to-"

Little Apple squawks. 

(Although its adult plumage has started to come in, there is no colour pattern that Lan Zhan can see; it has three red feathers on this wing, two on that one, small tufts of white in a patch on its belly and a scattering of green along its back.

“It’s … really not going to get better, is it?” Wuxian asks, sounding like he doesn’t know if he should laugh or cry.)

Lan Qiren stares.

-

"It's so…" his uncle says, still staring down at Little Apple, who squawks again and stares right back. "Ug-"

“Don’t listen to him, Little Apple!” Wuxian cries, hastily covering Little Apple’s ears with his hands. “It’s what’s on the inside that counts!”

-

And then one day Lan Zhan walks into the greenhouse and realises that Little Apple is ugly no longer.

Its wings are in fact red and black; red coverts edged with a line of striking black primaries and secondaries. A small plume of blue curls back off its forehead in a proud crest. The feathers on its back and shoulders are a shimmering emerald green, in some areas even tipped with gold, its belly is a soft pearlescent white, and its tail feathers are starting to lengthen into an impressive train.

Beside him, Wei Ying gasps and places a hand against his mouth, evidently coming to the same realisation. 

“Lan Zhan,” he says, deeply moved. “Our son is beautiful.”

-

It still can’t fly, though.

“I wonder if I should get my sword,” Wei Ying says, after an afternoon of running around flapping his arms has yielded no results beyond Little Apple having the time of its life chasing a new, human-sized tassel around the grounds like a particularly speedy chicken. 

He flops backwards onto the grass. Little Apple promptly jumps on top of his chest and starts to preen his hair.

"Or what if I flapped my arms and you Levitated me," Wei Ying wonders, squinting thoughtfully. With a lazy wave of his wand, he Levitates Little Apple, who squawks angrily in protest until it's brought back within range of his ponytail.

Lan Zhan takes the opportunity to re-tie the bandage on his wrist, and can’t help but hiss slightly when he has to unstick it from his burnt skin. It’s not a serious injury - a small graze from a ricocheted spell he’d been hit with between classes, while stopping an altercation in the hallway - but he hasn’t had the time to visit the infirmary to have it healed yet.

When he looks up, Little Apple is right in front of him, staring up with glistening eyes.

“Aw,” Wei Ying says, propping himself up on one elbow and looking enchanted.  “Look, Lan Zhan, he’s sad that his daddy’s hurt!”

Little Apple rests his face on Lan Zhan’s wrist for a moment, then sits back up and gives a self-satisfied squawk.

Lan Zhan looks down and finds that his wrist is fully healed.

“Huh,” Wei Ying says.

-

It turns out that they don’t need to worry about the flying, because the following week, Little Apple, eye caught by a firefly, simply spreads its wings, pushes off Wei Ying’s arm and takes off after it.

“Well,” Wei Ying begins after a moment of stunned silence. “I-”

Then Little Apple’s tail promptly bursts into flames and blazes a bright trail across the night sky.

“LAN ZHAN,” Wei Ying screeches, grabbing hold of Lan Zhan’s arm and shaking it. 

“LAN ZHAN, OUR SON IS A PHOENIX!”

-

There’s no keeping Little Apple in the greenhouse after that. It comes and goes as it pleases with the blessing of even Lan Zhan’s uncle, who is kept mollified by the fact that Little Apple is a phoenix, as well as the steady supply of tears and feathers for the school. 

Both Lan Zhan and Wei Ying take to leaving their bedroom windows ajar so that Little Apple can come in to roost at night when it returns, which it always does.

Until, one day, it doesn’t.

-

The next month, the Ministry announces that the Wizarding world is at war.

(And then, on a random morning after WWX comes back, there’s a tapping at the window of their shared bedroom, Lan Zhan gets up to investigate, and----!)

[keelywolfe]

FIC: Snowdrifts ch.5 (spicyhoney)

Summary:  Sorry so quiet, it's been a rough week. Not as rough as Edge's first day into parenthood, he's ready for some time off...isn't he?

Tags: Spicyhoney, Violence, Rescued Child, Medical Experimentation, Babybones, First Time Parenthood, Idiots to Lovers

Read it on AO3

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Read it here!

~~*~~

For a first day, all Edge had to say about it was that it could have gone worse.

He’d spent most of his day with Snow bound to him like squirmy little wormy, but there was no arguing that it worked. With a bit of experimenting, he found that he could have her facing outward while still being tied securely against him. She’d like that quite a bit and the only downside was having her tiny hands trying to assist in any of his tasks at hand. He could only hope Blue didn’t notice that the towels in the bathroom cupboard were folded somewhat…uniquely.

Not that there was any time for that when Blue came home from sentry duty. He’d barely taken off his boots and jacket before swarming over to steal Snow away. Edge wasn’t even entirely sure how Blue slipped her so neatly out of her sling, unless Stretch wasn’t the only family member who could bends the laws of physics.

“Aww, there’s a little wishbone!” Blue cooed. He swung her around as if he were about to make that nickname a truth. Edge only bit his tongue and said nothing. Snow was by no means hurt and Blue was already settling her on his hip as he bounced her gently.

Snow was somewhat doubtful over her new mode of conveyance. She looked at Edge, who tried to smile encouragingly. He was afraid that it was not one of his best efforts, but then, she was a baby, perhaps she didn’t yet know the difference between a smile and a grimace.

“I bet you’ve been cooped up all day, Edge,” Blue said happily, “Why don’t you go out and get some fresh air and I’ll look after our little Snow Monster?”

A little fresh air did sound nice. He was more accustomed to spending most his day outdoors, walking his traplines, not trapped behind four walls.

Still, Edge hesitated. “Well. I suppose I could go out for an hour.”

“That’s the spirit!” Blue said. He plopped down on the sofa, Snow in his lap. “Go out, meet some people! I, Master Babysitter Sans, will watch Snow for you!”

Well, meeting people was out of the question, Edge wasn’t about to enroll in a popularity contest on his first day, but there was at least one thing he wanted to do. “There are some bottles pre-made in the refrigerator. She likes it if you hold her outward so she can see. If she—"

“Edge,” Blue interrupted with gentle patience. “I’ve got this.”

“All right,” Edge still didn’t move. It was only when Snow began to tentatively explore Blue’s face with her little hands that he retrieved his boots. By the time he had them buckled, Snow was trying with some enthusiasm to poke her little fists into Blue’s wide eye sockets, something he was laughingly avoiding. It was ridiculous to linger any longer and Edge only took a last chance to say before he went out the front door, “I’ll be back soon.”

The moment the door closed behind him, he could hear a muffled wail coming right through it. He hunched down and struggled against the urge to go right back inside.

Stretch and his brother were right, he shouldn’t be the only one to care for her. Blue would simply have to learn the same way he was, the hard way. He wouldn’t be gone long, and she was perfectly safe, warm and dry, well-fed and well-cuddled.

So, despite his soul threatening to crack right in half listening to those bereft wails, Edge forced himself to turn away, boots crunching in the snow as he walked out of earshot.

It took him a moment to orient himself to the backwards layout of Underswap, but once he did, Edge headed off in the direction of the librarby. Despite his brother’s scoffing, a book on childrearing would surely turn out to be useful. Red certainly hadn’t been bitching about the worthlessness of booklearning when Edge found one full of recipes back in Underfell and began using it instead of relying on Undyne’s vigorous but dubious technique.

Once he was there, though, he stood in wonderment, briefly forgetting what brought him here in the first place. In Underfell, there was a librarby, well, a lib-arby, one of the ‘r’ had been stolen years ago, and why couldn’t those fools have taken the extra ‘b’ instead?. What few books were in it tended to have pages torn loose and trying to glean any information from them was something like scooping up water with a sieve. Most of the books Edge had—

(had, books he’d had, those treasured few books lost to him and never mind that he could recite them all by heart, they were forever gone, probably destroyed)

--were scavenged from the dump, days spent carefully drying them out. Perhaps if Red saw this librarby he’d be less doubtful of its usefulness because its shelves were burgeoning with volumes, every shelf filled and more stacked on the tables and front desk, so many books, and he itched to get his claws on every one of them, some underused literacy fragment of his soul woke and cried out for something to read.

Edge quashed it ruthlessly. He was here for books on childcare, not any of the ridiculous (wonderful) science fiction stories he’d sometimes found.

There were other Monsters sitting in twos and threes around the room, but aside from a curious glance or two, none seemed concerned about his presence. Edge lifted his chin and walked to the shelves as if he belonged here and began to peruse the selection. A little searching found him not one, but two books, one for new parents and another for the toddler years. He took them both, better to be prepared, and as he turned from the shelf, another book caught his eye.

A slender book titled ‘Pattycake with Pokey Puppy’. Obviously a child’s book and looking at the brightly painted cover suffused him with a sudden wave of nostalgia, a memory of curling up with his brother beneath a threadbare blanket in one of the back-alleys in New Home. The aching cold and constant gnawing hunger faded as he listened to Red softly read to him about Fluffy Bunny from a tattered old book, the front cover torn and filthy but so much like the one on the shelf.

Snow was entirely too young to appreciate being read a story. He already had two books, an entire townful of people needed to use this librarby, and it was a town he didn’t even truly belong in. He shouldn’t be greedy, he shouldn’t, and guilt was tight in his throat as he snatched that book up and added it to the other two, carrying all of them up to the front desk.

If the Bird working at the counter was appalled at his selfishness, they gave no sign of it. By all rights, they should have been looking at him in fear and given him the books in the hopes he would leave quickly. Edge knew very well the reactions that his appearance could cause, cultivated it in Underfell, and never let the way other Monsters cringed away bother him. If they were afraid of him, they would obey him, and their lives were more important than any petty wish to be admired.

Dressed as he was in one of Stretch’s rumpled sweatshirts, complete with formula stains and crushed up bits of cereal ground into the front, it seemed his threat level had decreased all the way down to acceptable Underswap levels. The Bird only smiled and stamped his books before handing them back over. He supposed the books themselves were also partly to blame for her lack of concern over having him in their quiet little librarby. Anyone checking out ‘Toddler Years: Surviving with your Sanity’ and ‘The Big Book About Little Monsters’ probably wasn’t going to go into a dust-crazed frenzy.

Books in hand, Edge started back to the Swap brothers’ house and he only took two steps in the wrong direction before he sighed and turned around. He’d get the hang of this Snowdin soon enough, at least no one was around to see him stop in his tracks and head back the other way—

“Sir!”

Edge paused warily, turning in the direction of that voice even as he struggled not to ready an attack, just in case. It was easier to dismiss the urge when he saw a young Bun dressed in bright purple stripes running towards him, carrying a large paper sack.

“Sir!” she panted as she skidded to a stop, kicking up slush and snow. “You’re Papyrus’s friend, aren’t you?”

It took him a moment to realize she was speaking of Stretch. “Yes?” he agreed cautiously. If this were about some sort of debt or prank—

The child only beamed happily and thrust the bag towards him. “My mama found some more baby stuff for you! Said for you to take whatever you need and give back anything you don’t!”

“I…” Edge reached out automatically before he caught himself, hesitating. “I’m afraid I don’t have any G.”

His confusion transferred to the child, “G? Oh, no, mama doesn’t want G! Our baby is walking and talking now, he don’t need it anymore!”

She thrust the bag into his arms and Edge took it, briefly too overwhelmed to speak. The people of this Snowdin had already been so generous, for them to offer even more was bewildering him past the point of gratitude. It reminded him of Blue who’d so often pressed them to take leftovers after dinner, bullying and cajoling until Edge found himself in his own universe with a bag in hand, so similar to the bag he held now. He didn’t understand it then and didn’t now, didn’t even know how to explain to them that it wasn’t supposed to be this way, not in his experience, not in his world.

But this wasn’t his world, was it.

The child was still standing in front of him, her hands clasped behind her back as she bounced on her toes. “Can I come see the baby sometime?” she asked hopefully. “Papyrus said she’s really cute!”

“She is.” Edge managed, trying to recover enough from his confusion to at least keep from acting like an ungrateful fool. He pulled out his phone and held it out for the child to see the background picture of Snow and her attempts to eat noodles. Even with the cracked screen, she was obviously as adorable as advertised and from the way the child cooed happily, she very much agreed.

“Aww, she’s so cute! I can’t wait to meet her!” A faint voice cut through the stillness, a name being called from one of the nearby homes, and the child looked in that direction briefly before turning back to Edge. “You should ask Papyrus to fix your phone, he’s real good at that stuff. I gotta go. Bye!”

He kept a close watch on the child to make sure she made it back to her home all right before turning back to his own path, bag in one hand and books in the other. Their house was soon in sight and Edge was half-afraid he’d still hear wails coming through the door.

But there was only the silently twinkling Gyftmas lights and Edge stifled his near-disappointment and headed inside.

Blue and Snow were on the sofa where she was currently squealing happily as she bounced on Blue’s knee and truly, Edge should be above his brief surge of triumph when he noted that Blue seemed more than a trifle weary. There was an empty bowl and a mostly empty bottle on the side table, proof that Snow’s appetite hadn’t diminished in the slightest. Blue’s scarf had a damp spot on it as if an infant chose to use it as their next gnawing target, and there was a smeary handprint right on his cheekbone that looked suspiciously like smashed peas, the green trail of it leading downward and freckled across the front of his shirt.

The baby looked over as he walked inside, and the moment she caught sight of Edge, her chortling glee faded. In an instant, her sparkling eye lights switched to a waterfall of tears and she began to squall, holding out both little arms to him.

Edge hastily deposited the bag and books on the coffee table and took her, cuddling her close until those tears faded again into happy giggles.

Blue only sagged back on the sofa, slinging an arm over his eye sockets as he groaned out, “How can someone so small be so tiring? You were only gone an hour and I’ve gone from magnificent to mediocre!”

“I’ve been wondering that myself,” Edge admitted. He snagged his scarf with his free hand, readying Snow to return to her beloved binding. He noted Blue watching intently with approval. Not that he ever thought Blue wouldn’t take his duties seriously, but it was good to have it confirmed.

“Well! I need to get off to Alphys’s,” Blues struggled to his feet, chuckling as he shook his head. “I never expected to see the day I’d consider training to be the less exhausting option. Papy should be home soon.”

“I have her, go,” Edge said, “but…you may want to wash your face first.”

One gloved hand flew up to Blue’s cheekbone. Pity it was the wrong one, “What? Why?”

“Better that you just go wash.”

Blue dashed for the stairs and Edge sat down in his place on the sofa, adjusting the sling so that Snow was comfortable against him. He reached for the first book, hesitating over the one on caring for an infant. His hand detoured instead to ‘Pattycake with Pokey Puppy’, flipping to the first page as Snow, already sucking on her fingers, looked up at him with large eye lights.

“I’m going to read you a story, little one,” Edge told her, “I think you’ll like it. I hope you will.” He began to read, “One little puppy, sitting by a fence—”

He was quite sure Snow couldn’t really understand him, but she still seemed to listen contentedly as he read. She snuggled deeper into his scarf and his arms, and didn’t react at all when Blue’s voice carried downstairs in a wail, “How did she even get it all the way in there…?”

Edge didn’t ask. He only kept reading to Snow about the adventures in patty cake for a poky puppy and his friends. He hoped she didn’t fall asleep too quickly. He wanted to see how it ended.

tbc

[serpentstole]

Luciferian Challenge: Day 12+13 (And 22)

A few of these prompts ended up being very similar in theme, so I’ve combined them into a bit of a long reply.

Dogma is something we throw about…that we reject it. Where do you think we may fall short as Luciferians/Satanists when it comes to dogma? Do you think dogma has a certain value?

I don’t think dogma has any value really, no, as I don’t like the idea of rules or ideas that cannot be questioned on principle. Even as a child, I took issue with blind obedience. My mother once called me downstairs, and I asked why, and my father got angry and said that I shouldn’t bother to ask why and just do it, and that even if one of them told me to jump out of a window they probably had a good reason for it.

That memory is seared into my brain and still irks me.

I do think rules themselves can be important, but when we speak of rejecting dogma it’s typically in the sense of it being some authoritative status quo that cannot be discussed or challenged. I think my example above is a good example of that, as petty as it may seem: that parents should be obeyed without question and with the assumption they have our best interests at heart.

I do not believe there’s room for that sort of attitude in an empathetic and respectful society, even towards children. Respecting their natural curiosity and teaching them about bodily autonomy is something I think can only be a net good. The only thing growing up in a strict household taught me, where there was little room for negotiation or challenging of the way things were, was how to be a decent liar.

It harmed me in far more ways than it helped instill any positive values, and while I would not want to belittle the experiences of anyone in a similar boat, I consider myself one of the lucky ones. There are some families where a dogmatic stance, whether based in politics or religion, can lead to the alienation or outright abandonment of LGBT youth, of young women who wish control over their own bodies, of those with views that differ from their parents’, or any other black sheep.

I feel like this question and my thoughts on it really go hand in hand with the next one, so I’m going to actually combine them into one post and make up the difference later.

Do you think it’s dogma or silly to say what Luciferianism/Satanism is not?

I do not think it’s dogmatic to say what Luciferianism or Satanism is or isn’t. The reason I’ve kept both labels in these two prompts, when I’ve removed them in every other post, is because I spent a lot of time in a mixed Luciferian and Satanist community during the beginning of my religious journey. Despite our differences, especially in the case of Atheist Satanism versus Theistic Luciferianism, I saw a great deal of overlap in a lot of the values/ideals, inspirations, and talking points. 

I think outlining those ideals and values is important to just… having a label. Words mean things. Religious affiliations and ideas mean things. Even saying you belong to or adhere to a school of thought typically has some manner of definition or parameters. While Luciferianism and Satanism can be incredibly diverse when it comes to the details of one’s ethics and morals, practices, views of the divinity or lack there of, and other suck points, there’s a good deal that does unite us that’s reflected in the archetypal figures our religions are named after. I also believe that certain aspects of what is seen as the Standard Luciferian should be weighed more or less heavily. For example, I don’t see my irritation with hostility towards Christianity as something that makes me less of a Luciferian.

However, I want to combine these two prompts with one more to round out my view of this topic. 

What do you disagree with Luciferians/Satanists most?

In the goddamn dogma they cling to and perpetuate while claiming to be adversarial to or enlightened above such ideas. It’s become almost a meaningless buzzword. It barely still looks like a real word to me anymore. This is honestly where my post goes completely off the rails into a mini essay, so it’s under the cut.

The idea that all “Abrahamic” religions should be treated as inherently harmful and oppressive is a bad take. 

That Christianity, Judaism, and Islam should even be lumped together when discussing such issues betrays a shallow understanding of these religions that’s been regurgitated from one person to another, typically through a culturally Christian lens.

The idea that “only LaVeyan Satanism should be called Satanism because nothing else that calls itself Satanism is actually Satanism” is exhausting, and I will fist fight Anton myself in hell.

The principles of Might Makes Right and Social Darwanism that some Satanists perpetuate is dumb and bad and wrong, sorry, that’s the only rebuttal I’m dignifying that school of thought with. Once again, I will be fist fighting Anton in hell.

And that’s to say nothing of the Satanists and Luciferians out there that regurgitate the same racism, sexism, homophobia, transphobia, and other assorted bigotries that they’ll condemn religions like Christanity for while perpetuating it with a coat of black paint. Because I have absolutely seen this first hand, both as an observer and as the target of it.

Like... I can’t speak on Islam at all, because I have very very limited experience with it from both a research and real life experience point of view, and thus I’m not comfortable making any claims. On the other hand, I do know that to list all the ways that Judaism is not a dogmatic religion would deserve its own post written by someone far more knowledgeable than me, and it somehow still gets lumped into the Problematic n’ Dogmatic category of AbRaHaMiC ReLiGiOnS. For that reason, in the case of Islam, I can’t help but wonder if the assumption that it’s also dogmatic comes from the harmful assumption that it’s a religion that’s strict to the point of harshness that a lot of people have.

Even in the case of Christianity, which I would argue (as someone who I’d say was raised within the church) is hands down the most seemingly dogmatic of the three (particularly in North America), this is just not universally true. If it was, there probably wouldn’t be so many branches and denominations, many of which cannot stand each other and think the rest are misguided at best and heretical at worst. This is something that’s even brought up in the Satanic Bible; I’ve read the miserable thing. Have you ever seen someone say “Christians and Catholics”? That’s a pretty loaded example of how much disagreement exists within the religion when an entire core branch of it is considered tangentially related.

Not to mention, I was raised Lutheran. That came about because a German Catholic got incredibly steamed at his own religion so he made a more boring different version of it. While the existence of dogma has led to these schisms, historically speaking, the end result has been a religion so varied that it’s hard to say what is and isn’t treated as inarguable law. If you don’t believe me, try talking to a Protestant pastor about the Seven Deadly Sins and see how far you get. I tried during confirmation class and got shut down immediately... but on the flip side, my church was pretty accepting of LGBT folks, which I think some people would claim Christianity is dogmatically against by default.

Is there dogmatic thinking within specific churches or branches or communities? Absolutely, I wouldn’t argue that. I think it can arise in any community, religious or not, but that some religious communities seem to be particularly vulnerable to it. But the harm those specific cases could do should be where our focus goes, not the condemnation of these religions or the concept of religion as a whole, which I touched on in a previous prompt. 

I’m not some glorious enlightened mind. I would not want to give the impression that I think I hold in my hands the One True Way to do Luciferianism, or that I think the majority of this religious community are uncritical edgelords. This is, after all, my answer to the thing I take issue with the most, not my thoughts on Luciferianism or Satanism as a whole. I just don’t think it should be a particularly hot take that Religious Discrimination Is Bad Actually, or that maybe you can be rebellious and adversarial and hedonistic and enlightened while still genuinely giving a shit about people. Because otherwise what’s the point?

If we are hostile and rebellious with no actual end goal, no greater cause or purpose, we are simply being contrarian for the sake of it. If we blame the idea of organized religion instead of those who manipulate and abuse faith and scripture for selfish and malicious ends, we’ve missed the point, as I said in the aforementioned previous post. Not all of us have the ability to become an activist, obviously, and I would not ask you to. But I think as those who would claim to reject dogmatic thinking and strive to embody either the ideals of enlightenment or the adversary would do well to be ever questioning their preconceptions of the world around them, of other religions, and of less obvious unjust structures of power.

I don’t know why a community that believes in illumination and free thinking sees the world in such black and white ways.

While I will always strive for a greater understanding of the world, and I hold the concept of enlightenment very dear to my heart, I think it’s something that one spends a lifetime working towards. Alongside my favourite quotes from Paradise Lost, I hold the Socratic Paradox of “I know that I know nothing” as a personal motto, and I wish more people who I share this label with would do the same.

[charlieknighte]

un jour tu t’en voudras - part 1

Ethan Hitchcock/Maelgwyn

Modern AU - University AU - Fake/Pretend Relationship - Pining - Hurt/Comfort but like significantly more hurt than comfort - french people being terrible

13,060 words

content warnings: terminal illness, drunkenness and smoking, unhealthy family dynamics

For three hundred dollars, Ethan Hitchcock will attend your family's holiday event posing as your shitty art school boyfriend and do everything in his power to wreck the night. Maelgwyn's getting tired of Thanksgiving.

(Featuring art from my dear friend Matt Prairiecryptid!)

For once in his life, Maelgwyn is excited to see Thanksgiving go to shit. 

Nausea always creeps up on him as he moves towards a family gathering, but he’s distracting himself with schadenfreudian thoughts of how much of the night’s chaos and strife is going to be his responsibility this time. They’re going to hate the boy he’s bringing on his arm so goddamn much. Ethan has taken it upon himself to sound like even more of an egregious Quebecois douchebag than usual, like he's cramming a handful of extra vowels into every single word. It would bother Maelgwyn too if it wasn’t a result of an evening back home spent excitedly brainstorming ways to make him insufferable. It’s all Ethan can do to make himself as disheveled and douchey as possible. Maelgwyn’s paying a pretty penny for him to antagonize his parents, after all.

The Hitchcocks rarely advertise their services through anything but word of mouth anymore. Exam cheatsheets, less than legal party supplies, forged doctors’ notes, winning Roll Up The Rim cups—everyone around campus knows there’s not much they can’t get for you if you’re paying. Their acting services don’t come all that cheap, either, but once in a blue moon someone needs to make an ex jealous or fake a family emergency. Maelgwyn had come to them with his dilemma half expecting to be turned down, but they’d just nodded knowingly and named their prices as if they’d performed this particular service a dozen times before. 

So now Ethan’s here in Louisiana with him, blowing cotton candy-flavored clouds into the evening sky as they walk through pretty polished suburbs on their way to Maelgwyn’s grandfather’s house. He didn’t come cheap, even if they gave him a discount for a year of friendship and for the fact that they know how much shit his parents piled on him. Still, Maelgwyn is relieved he’s here. The thought of affronting his family again is much less dread-inducing with the knowledge that he’ll have backup. Ethan is a good friend to have—he’d endeared himself to Maelgwyn mostly by sleeping through the film classes they’d had together and later begging to study with him, then slyly turning their study sessions into outings with his friends. It was one of the reasons Maelgwyn had finally broken out of the lonely shell he’d hidden in through his first year at university.

He can work with him, he knows that much. He just wishes they’d had more time to prepare a plan for the night. Maelgwyn clears his throat. “So, we’re starting off on too good of a footing already. My parents are way too happy to hear I’m bringing home a boy.”

Ethan tucks away his vape and gives him a sideways look. “Aren’t you bi?”

“Yeah, well… I rode out making them think I was straight as long as I could. It pissed my dads off thinking I wouldn’t even consider experimenting.” Maelgwyn pulls a face. “Samot wanted to throw me a coming out party.”

Ethan snorts. “Too much acceptance is really an unusual complaint to have.”

“I know, I know.” Maelgwyn lets the matter slide. It’s a petty thing to bring up, and really the least of his worries when it comes to his parents. “Anyway, you’re also going to get brownie points with Samot right off the bat for being, y’know… good-looking.”

Ethan raises his eyebrows at him and gestures at himself. His Habs jersey and ripped jeans are wildly inappropriate for a dinner party, and he’d purposefully smudged his eyeliner at Maelgwyn’s request. His earrings are even mismatched. “Am I, though?” he says, skeptical.

“I mean your face. You’re not ugly.”

“Oh.” Ethan puts a fist under his chin and pouts at him. “Well, that’s all I get? I’m not ugly?”

Maelgwyn sighs good-humoredly. “Yeah, yeah, you’re pretty.”

Ethan splits into a grin, having gotten what he wanted out of him, and puts a spring into his step. Maelgwyn shoves his shoulder fondly. “Pretty fuckin’ annoying.”

“ Oh! ” Ethan stumbles and clutches his chest. “Is that any way to speak to your beloved? You wound me, mon cher .”

Maelgwyn laughs despite the strange feeling creeping into his chest. He really wishes they’d had a chance to rehearse. Hearing Ethan refer to him so affectionately is strange. Something occurs to him. “Oh, shit. Um, one more thing. My parents are pretty PDA, so we’ll probably have to… 

“Match their expectations so they don’t assume your relationship is crashing and burning?”

“Good way to put it.” Ethan really has done this before. Maelgwyn’s not sure how to feel about that.

Ethan’s hand hovers by his waist. “Can I, then?” 

“Sure.” Maelgwyn lets him put his arm around him and tries to adjust to being held as he walks. It’s not that foreign of a feeling. He’s had to endure the Hitchcocks’ drunken snuggling enough to not be fazed by them being touchy-feely when sober. Still, people don’t usually touch him here. He feels like he’s being flirted with by a spineless frat boy at a party. 

As they near the house, Maelgwyn finds himself nervously hoping he knows enough about Ethan for their false relationship to appear plausible. He knows that Ethan’s the cheery, personable one in relation to his brother, and that his general knowledge of the world is extremely hit or miss. He knows he’s kind enough to once have comforted Maelgwyn as he heaved his guts out in the bathroom of a frat party, and that he lacks enough common sense to have been found passed out in the bushes himself twenty minutes later. Maelgwyn doesn’t know shit about his life before university, but he figures Ethan will fill in the gaps if he needs to. He’s resourceful like that. Spirits buoyed again, he turns them onto the driveway leading up to the house.

Samol’s mansion is deceptively quaint, vines creeping over its two-story columns and cheerful flowerboxes and porch swings decorating the wrap-around deck. You would imagine it had been purchased for a pittance and passed down through generations. In reality, the house had been built as a wedding gift a few years before Maelgwyn was born, and the charming plant life and Victorian-era aesthetic was a result of careful curation. Maelgwyn still doesn’t know if he’s relieved or resentful over his parents giving it up. 

American Thanksgiving has always been Samol's domain, which Maelgwyn is constantly grateful for. He couldn't survive his parents' dinner party posturing again after having to endure it once in October. He doesn’t think Ethan could survive a polite evening in their mansion without snapping either, based on the three-room shithole apartment the Hitchcocks share. It might have inspired him to ask for more money too, which Maelgwyn couldn’t afford without going through the mortification of asking his parents. It’s much better to be here, where their wealth is plausibly deniable. Maelgwyn knocks on the door and braces himself.

There’s a distant hubbub deep within the house as his family politely argues over who’s going to answer. Ethan pops some gum and starts chewing obnoxiously, getting on Maelgwyn’s already frayed nerves—but he supposes that’s the point. Finally, a flash of blond hair approaches through the frosted glass on the door. Samot swings it open, flashing his campaign-trail grin. Maelgwyn’s excitement for his parents to balk at his disheveled, offensively casual boyfriend starts to wane a little as he tries to estimate how much Mayor Samot’s qipao of black silk and golden gilding must’ve cost the taxpayers of Toronto. His hair is in an elegant updo that he must’ve paid an equally opulent amount for.

“Maelgwyn!” Samot says, delighted as if he had no idea that his own son would be attending the family dinner he’s pressured into year after year. He steps out and wraps him up in a perfumey hug, earrings tinkling. Maelgwyn pats his back to participate without having to hug him back. “Oh, it’s so good to see you,” Samot effuses, stepping back. “Come in, come in. Everyone’s been asking after you, sweetheart.” 

Maelgwyn lets himself be shuffled into Samol’s nicely decorated if overly floral foyer. It’s pointless to fight Samot when he’s turned into an overwhelming cloud of energy and charm in his determination to do something. Ethan steps in after them, and Samot looks to him like an apex predator zeroing in on movement. His smile gets a little wider, showing more of his painfully white teeth. “You must be Ethan.”

“Yeah. Hi.” Ethan takes one hand out of his pocket and shakes his hand. Samot’s sharp smile dulls a little as he takes in his outfit. Still, the fact that it stays on his face instead of dropping away entirely means Maelgwyn was right to say Ethan would pass his standards for appearance. He feels a twinge of annoyance. 

An unfavorable twinge passes across Ethan’s face too as Samot’s deceptively slender fingers crush his hand. “Samot,” he says, smile back up to its maximum brightness. “Charmed, I’m sure.” Maelgwyn wishes his parents didn’t feel the need to establish authority over every single person they meet, but then again he wishes a lot of things about his parents. Every interaction with them is a fucked-up give and take exchange mired in the complicated politics of their family.

There are heavy steps behind him, and his heart sinks. He turns unwillingly. Samothes is making his way down the hall with a drink in one hand, as tall and stern and regal and terrifying as he was when Maelgwyn last saw him. That was some time ago. The golden embroidery down the chest of his sherwani matches the pattern on Samot’s qipao, and Maelgwyn has to resist rolling his eyes. He steps out to meet him, wanting to get it over with. “Hi, dad,” he says, and doesn’t deign to add anything else.

“Glad you could come,” Samothes says, hesitating for a nearly imperceptible moment before he pats Maelgwyn’s shoulder heavily. His gaze goes past him and visibly grows darker. He leans in and asks under his breath, “What is this?” As if Maelgwyn’s brought home a stray dog he doesn’t approve of.

“This is my boyfriend.” Maelgwyn turns so he doesn’t have to interact with him further and marches over to take Ethan’s arm firmly and interrupt whatever invasive questions Samot was trying to wheedle him into answering. Samot smiles innocently. Samothes comes to put an arm around his husband’s waist, frowning openly at Ethan. Maelgwyn can watch him doing Ethan’s job for him and making a dozen unfavorable assumptions about him already.

Ethan raises his chin at him in greeting and snaps his gum. “What’s good?” he asks. He’s discreetly wringing out his hand from Samot’s handshake.

“This is Ethan, dearest,” Samot says, leaning into his husband and drawing himself up to his full height to rest his head on his shoulder. His eyes are getting narrower and narrower as Ethan’s dreadfully inappropriate outfit and lack of manners already start to outweigh his pretty face.

“Ethan,” Samothes says, and doesn’t make any attempt to welcome him. Ethan puts out his hand, realizes there isn’t a handshake waiting, fumbles and puts it down. Maelgwyn can see him start to take on a tinge of genuine nervousness. He feels like he should’ve warned Ethan in some way, but there’s really not much more he could’ve done after telling him my parents are politicians. Samothes, who relishes in his position as senator of Ontario largely because of his lack of contact with the public, is really the worst one to have to impress.

Then again, Ethan isn’t really here to impress. ���Um, Samothes, I guess?” he says like he’s only half-interested, getting even more insufferable about his gum-chewing.

“Mm,” Samothes grunts, still glaring at him. Maelgwyn imagines how terrifying his parents must seem from Ethan’s point of view, tall and beautiful and hostile in that courtly, dismissive manner of theirs. Making them hate him is going to be easier than he thought. 

“Let’s not keep everyone waiting, yes?” Samot says, nudging his husband and sweeping them back off to the foyer. He throws Maelgwyn a look that says they’re going to talk about Ethan’s outfit later. Maelgwyn can’t wait. 

He kicks off his shoes and shrugs off his coat, throwing it over the rungs of the staircase to the second floor for lack of available racks. “Well, that was hostile,” Ethan remarks, following Maelgwyn’s lead with noticeably less care. “They’re very—”

"Don't joke about how hot my parents are,” Maelgwyn snaps.

Ethan raises his eyebrows at him. "I didn't say anything."

"I know. I’m just saying. I didn’t want to tell you in advance and hear a million dumb jokes from you and Edmund."

"They made a good-looking kid. I didn't really need a warning."

"You can’t deflect from calling my parents hot by flirting with me. That just makes it worse . " Maelgwyn jabs a finger at him accusingly, and Ethan raises his hands.

"I didn't say anything ,” he insists.

Maelgwyn sighs and leads him through the dim foyer and into the bright, bustling living room. The adults are dressed as if they’re attending a formal gala. Adults—Malegwyn hates that he still calls them that unconsciously. They throw a few judgemental glances at Ethan out of their cloud of cocktail dresses and tailored suits. Ethan’s jersey had set him back a few hundred bucks, but no one here would find that an exorbitant sum. “Well,” says Ethan, insolently refusing to be intimidated, “should we make the rounds?”

“Yeah,” Maelgwyn says, though he’s reluctant. He can see his grandfather in his usual rocking chair, swimming in a stark white dress shirt that used to fit him perfectly. He’s laughing at something his sister is saying. Maelgwyn makes a beeline for him, pulling Ethan along by the arm.

Samol catches sight of him and eases himself up, smile so wide and genuine it crinkles the corners of his eyes. He holds out his arms for a hug, and Maelgwyn leans into him much more gladly than Samot. “Hey, grandpa.” He puts his arms around him and feels a moment of protectiveness at just how frail he is.

“It’s been far too long. I hope they’re treating you well up north.” Samol steps back and grins over his shoulder. “And this must be the famous Ethan.” 

“Yeah, hi,” says Ethan, putting out a hand. Samol ignores it and pulls him into a hug, too. Surprise quickly flashes across Ethan’s face, and then he hugs him back politely.

“Good to meet you. I have to say,” Samol says, pulling away, “we haven’t heard all that much about you, son. I’m looking forward to getting to know just who you are.” He smiles, easy and kind. Still, there’s an edge to the statement that Maelgwyn doesn’t quite understand.

“Um, you too,” Ethan says. He can’t bring himself to be rude to Samol, as most people can’t, but he looks slightly discomforted by the idea that people have been wondering about him. Maelgwyn doesn’t blame him when it’s these people.

Samol holds out a hand to the rest of his family. “This is my sister Severea. Her partner Galenica. My… brother of sorts, Tristero.” Severea and Galenica glitter as always, and Tristero’s in his signature jet black suit. They give Ethan smiles in varying shades of politeness as he shakes their hands in turn. 

"Pleasure," he says, greatly enjoying his aggressive Quebecois shtick. Tristero narrows his eyes. His handshake looks painful. 

"Likewise," he says, with his perfect Parisian lilt. Maelgwyn can see the exact moment Ethan stops enjoying himself. Tristero snatches away his hand like Ethan has the plague and turns to speak to Severea in mainland French, abruptly cutting him out of the social circle.

Ethan stands there for a moment, taking furious breaths, and then he turns around to round on Maelgwyn. "You didn't tell me you were French."

"All sorts,” says Maelgwyn. “I said we were all sorts."

Ethan puts his hands over his face and mutters a long string of curse words that contains tabarnak no less than four times. Some of Maelgwyn’s family members look at him strangely, but none of them really grasp what he’s saying. “We’re in Louisiana,” Maelgwyn reminds him. “What did you expect?”

Ethan puts his hands down, but he’s still sulking. “Your family has a hell of a grip,” he mumbles.

“Yeah, it’s from all the political grandstanding.” Maelgwyn puts an arm around his shoulders and turns him away from the adults’ corner of the room and its dozens of empty martini glasses. “You wanna meet my cousins?”

Ethan nods miserably and lets himself be led over to where the Tristé siblings are sprawling across the couches texting. Adelaide is draped across the length of one couch, head propped on her arm, and Angelo is aggressively manspreading at the other end to try to win back some space. They aren’t dressed extravagantly, but they still drip in brand names and good taste and organic locally-sourced handpicked vegan textiles. 

Angelo rolls off the couch and hops up to give Maelgwyn that shining grin that he shares with his father and hates so much. “Bro,” he says, pulling him into a hug and slapping his back, “where’ve you been? Tristero’s made me go on a humblebrag parade around the room, like, five times. It’s your turn, Oscars boy.”

“Oh, god, I hope not.” Angelo’s been out of the house much longer than Maelgwyn has, but Maelgwyn knows he resents his father treating him like a child at these gatherings as much as he does. He punches Angelo’s shoulder amicably. “Nice to see you.”

“This your boyfriend?” 

“Yeah—yeah. Uh, Ethan.”

Ethan jolts to attention and steps in to slap Angelo’s hand. “Hey,” he says, a shade more friendly than he was with most of the family. He seems relieved not to have to shake another hand. Trusting Angelo to be polite unsupervised, Maelgwyn turns his attention to the other Tristé sibling.

“Hey, Adie,” he says, leaning down to give her a one-armed hug. “You guys look great.”

Adelaide squeezes his shoulders. “And your boyfriend looks terrible. You’re trying to piss off Samot, aren’t you?” Maelgwyn gives her a pleading look, and she raises her hands. “My lips are sealed. Enjoy whichever game you’re playing.” 

Maelgwyn breathes a sigh of relief and drops onto the couch across from her. He appreciates that the Tristés consider him to be enough of an ally in the political landscape of their family that they’ll call him out on his shit instead of pretending to fall for it. He and Ethan chat with them during the long lull before Samol announces dinner is served. Maelgwyn mostly sticks to small talk and half-listens to Ethan enthusing about his fencing team with Angelo. It’s completely unsurprising that they get along well. He just wishes he hadn't given Ethan free license to exaggerate his accent. It's already getting grating. 

It’s not even halfway into the night, and Maelgwyn’s weary and itchy and uncomfortably warm. He wishes desperately he could be home, not for the first time and not for the last. At some point Ethan leans over and asks if he can put an arm around his waist again. It helps to have some time to parse the feeling of Ethan’s arm around him in a place he usually hesitates to let people touch. It’s not so bad once he gets used to it.

Finally, Samol comes back from checking on his food and announces that dinner is served. The slow shuffle to the dining room starts, and Maelgwyn endures nearly ten more minutes of laughter and milling about and seats being scraped back and forth. Ethan’s arm around him starts being less of a touch he’s tolerating and more of a grounding sensation. Finally, the seating arrangement is established, with Maelgwyn sitting as far from Samothes as he possibly can and ending up by Samol, who’s taken up the other head of the table. His grandfather smiles at him for a moment before they say grace, eyes merry and twinkling between wrinkled lids. Maelgwyn can’t help but smile back. 

Samothes settles himself in his seat with gravitas, looking gravely out over candlesticks and seasonal decorations and heaping plates of Louisiana home cooking. "Dear lord," he begins, projecting his booming voice. There’s a flutter as hands are clasped and eyes are closed. "Thank you for this food. Bless the hands that prepared it. Bless it to our use and us to your service—"

Ethan suddenly shoves back his chair with a loud noise, makes sure people are looking as he spits his gum into his hand, and gets up to throw it out in the kitchen. The table sits in stony silence until he returns. Maelgwyn desperately holds in laughter. When Ethan returns, Samothes says in a low, dangerous voice, "Would you like to finish our grace, Ethan?"

He freezes. "Me?"

"The lord seems to have moved your spirit." 

There's a nervous chuckle around the table. Ethan's squirms, waiting to see if it's a joke that will blow over. It isn't. He opens his mouth and hesitates. As if someone else is saying it for him, he mumbles distantly, "And help us to give you glory each day through Jesus Christ our lord."

An amen goes around the table, and dinner properly begins. Samothes looks grimly pleased. Ethan rips apart a dinner roll violently. Maelgwyn briefly worries that Samothes has genuinely upset him, but Ethan's anger seems to evaporate a moment too quickly. Or maybe he’s imagined it. It’s never easy to tell what Ethan’s thinking. Too many of his actions are the result of one facade or another.

Either way, Ethan eventually pulls himself up from his childish slouch to serve himself like everyone else. He goes for his dinner fork, hesitates and purposefully picks up his dessert fork instead. Samot goes to say something, seems to think better of it and just purses his lips. Maelgwyn has always noted that Ethan has strangely impeccable table manners when he wants to, and he’s thrilled that he’s deciding to use his knowledge of etiquette for evil. He picks up his own dinner fork, because to do otherwise would be a little too suspicious, and digs into his food enthusiastically. Samol’s jambalaya has often been the only thing getting him through this fucking holiday.

"So, Ethan," Samol begins, smiling warmly, "where do you spend your Thanksgivings when my grandson isn't dragging you out to my neck of the woods?"

Ethan gives him a small, polite smile. Samol is too hospitable for anyone to stay standoffish when speaking to him. "At friends', with my brother." To tell the truth, Maelgwyn is tremendously envious of the friendsgiving he’s constantly missing out on. For Thanksgiving to be a pleasant night and not a drawn-out affair of family drama and faux-politeness would be a dream.

"Not with family?" Samot asks from across the table, masking judgement with concerned curiosity.

Ethan snorts. “Wouldn't know where to find them for it, and wouldn’t care to see them." They have the opposite problem, really. Maelgwyn has too much family, and Ethan has next to none. Ethan has never seemed to give much of a shit about it, which Maelgwyn envies tremendously. He wishes with all his heart and soul that what his family was doing didn’t bother or affect him.

Samot takes a slow sip of wine. “Well, I’m sorry to hear that.” His eyes are intense over his glass as he watches Ethan rub at his eye, purposefully smearing his eyeliner a little further.

Ethan shrugs and shovels more shrimp in his mouth. Samothes gives him a narrow-eyed, skeptical look Maelgwyn’s learned to fear, but Ethan seems completely unfazed by it. “This is great,” he says as an aside to Samol, mouth is full of shrimp. Samol smiles brightly, and Samothes moves on, having recognized that Ethan is outplaying him by winning his father’s favor. The strain between them tightens a few fractions more. 

“ Puis-je avoir du sel? ” Tristero says, gesturing to the salt shaker at Ethan’s elbow. 

“ Ouais, ” says Ethan, leaning unnecessarily hard into the a to make it absurdly clear that he isn’t saying a proper oui. He reaches out and drops it into Tristero’s hand. Tristero’s eyes widen as if horribly offended, and he straightens his back self-righteously. Maelgwyn braces himself for one of his insufferable speeches on table etiquette.

“ Il ne faut pas passer le sel de la main à la main, ” says Tristero, growing steadily more hostile with each word. “It should be set down on the table in front of your neighbor so they can pick it up for themselves. I just thought I should let you know, seeing as they don’t seem to teach etiquette up in your country.”

“Oh,” Ethan says, reaching the point of hostility much faster. “I see. Well, let me put this in a way you’ll understand, since there seem to be so many cultural stumbling blocks between us. Je m'en fous.” 

The table quiets slightly, everyone finally able to understand Ethan’s profanity (except for Samothes, who keeps eating his rice in blissful ignorance). Maelgwyn and the Tristés try to suppress snickers and smiles. Samot goes to snap at Ethan, finds himself in the position of not wanting to discipline a stranger, and instead says in exasperation, “Maelgwyn!”

Maelgwyn tries to stop smiling and look appropriately serious, but is only halfway successful. “Ethan,” he says, touching his arm.

“He started it,” Ethan says sulkily.

“I know, babe.” Maelgwyn finds himself rubbing Ethan’s shoulder and feels foolish both for acting like his father and for using a term of endearment for the first time. He should’ve rehearsed it earlier, as Ethan had. He drops his arm and goes back to his food, hoping he isn’t red in the face. Samot looks disappointed in him for taking Ethan’s side, but he doesn’t instigate the matter further.

“Well, it was always said that passing salt de la main a la main would cause a quarrel,” says Samol good-humoredly. There’s some reluctant chuckling around the table. The matter having been smoothed out enough to ignore, they continue picking at their plates. Still, there’s a considerable strain underpinning the evening. Ethan and Tristero keep trading blows, though neither escalate as far as the spat over the saltshaker. A steady, dull pain grows in Maelgwyn’s chest, and he starts desperately avoiding speaking with his parents. He almost thinks he’s home free when Samothes abruptly clears his throat and asks, "How are your films going, Maelgwyn?"

Maelgwyn swallows. "We don't really put out anything till third year, dad." 

It’s not technically true, but he doesn't feel like explaining the intricacies of his projects to his father and watching his eyes glaze over. He waits for a followup question and gets none. Samot touches Samothes's arm, making it clear to Maelgwyn that he told him to ask, and then he speaks up instead. "What about you, Ethan? What do you study?"

“Performing arts,” Ethan says, sounding appropriately contemptuous and uninterested in regular human interaction for someone of his major. Maelgwyn can see Samothes’s face completely drain of hope that he had brought someone normal home. Samot progresses to rubbing his arm comfortingly. It’s awfully early in the evening for him to be doing that, which is a good sign.

“I see,” Samot says, “and do you know what you plan to do with your degree?”

“Perform art,” Ethan says flatly. There’s a chuckle around the table, mostly from the Tristé siblings and Samol. Ethan splits into a shitty grin. “I’m joking. You can’t do shit with an arts degree. It’s join the army or marry rich.” 

The table finds this less entertaining. Samot’s hand goes still on his husband’s arm, and Maelgwyn can see him digging in his nails. Ethan sips his drink peacefully like he was just making pleasant conversation and as if Samothes isn’t staring daggers at him less than a day into knowing him. Maelgwyn finds himself wishing he hadn’t been thrown under the bus by association, but he still has to respect the balls Ethan has to have to act so unbothered by his father’s ire.

Samot lets out a fake, tentative laugh, pretending this is a joke to give him an opportunity to backpedal. Maelgwyn realizes he might’ve had too much wine. “But you… do have goals other than that.”

“Well, marry rich. I already said that.”

“That’s not…” Samot sighs. “Maelgwyn’s going to make films. You haven’t considered acting in them?”

“Sure.” Ethan drops his cutlery and pushes back his chair with a harsh scraping noise. “I mean, in case you haven’t noticed, you seem to be doing well enough for yourselves to look down your noses at me. I’m sure you’ll bribe someone to give your son a few dozen mil, right?” Samot’s mouth drops open in indignation. Ethan sits back, gesturing around at the dining room in all its faux-antique charm. He’s smiling one of his most horrible smiles. “Hell, I’m sure some portion of all this is willed to Maelgwyn, and your tête de la famille will keel over soon enough, won’t he?”

If Ethan’s previous outburst had quieted the table, this one completely kills all activity around it, forks clattering still and jaws pausing mid-chew. The silence is murderous. Adelaide chokes on something politely and brings a hand to her mouth. Samot sits back with his wine, staring at Ethan with open, intense malice for the first time in the night.

Samothes holds his knife like he wants to slice Ethan open with it. “What did you say?” he says, voice low and dangerous. It’s redundant. Everyone knows what he said. Ethan blinks at him.

“I said you’re doing well enough for—”

“No, you know what I mean. How dare you?”

Ethan slides back down, looking less confused than pissed off now. Maelgwyn tries to say something, but all that comes out is a squeak. It’s still enough to get Samothes’s attention, and he fixes him with his awful stare instead of Ethan. “How do you manage to be with someone like this? How could you trust him enough to tell him?”

Maelgwyn wants to disappear. He can’t even slink down in his seat, he’s so frozen with fear. The table hovers in its silence, no one daring to breathe. Samothes’s directed malice fades to an aimless fury. “You didn’t tell him,” he says quietly. It’s more of an accusation than a question. Maelgwyn shakes his head wordlessly. He feels like he was just plunged under six feet of water. Samothes sighs and looks to Samot. “Tell your son—”

“ My son?” Samot snaps, sitting forward again and sloshing wine onto the tablecloth in his indignance. Maelgwyn stares down at his plate and pushes around some rice, chewing mechanically without tasting his food.

“Aw, don’t kick up such a fuss,” Samol tries to say, but he’s spoken over immediately.

“I’m sorry, what was I not told?” Ethan says, something hostile about his tone even though Maelgwyn silently begs him to stay soft. He might’ve been pushed too far. 

The table becomes abruptly quiet again. Samot and Samothes sit looking at each other, not knowing how to break the news. They’ve never known how to talk about it. It’s like the mere mention of it has plunged them back into grief as fresh as the day the news was first broken to them.

“It’s stage four,” Samol says softly. Ethan blinks at him, opens his mouth to ask a dumb question, and then understands and slowly melts into horror.

Samothes pushes his chair back with a horrible screech and gives Maelgwyn a look before leaving for the kitchen. The blame is shifted to him as always. Maelgwyn didn't do enough, didn’t behave properly enough, wasn't enough. He should’ve better informed Ethan about his family’s history, and yet he should never have brought it up—or brought him home—to begin with. Tristero stands up in a huff and completely leaves the room, slamming the door to the back porch. Angelo and Adelaide jump up to go after him, giving Maelgwyn looks of apology and pity. Severea regards her brother with a deep sadness, and she and her partner rise and follow them out more slowly. The festively decorated table suddenly seems ridiculous and inappropriate in the sober atmosphere. Maelgwyn feels like slinking under it, pressing his head into a corner and hiding for the rest of the night. He can hear Samothes washing dishes aggressively, trying to regain some sense of control over the world. The way he bangs each dish brings Maelgwyn back to the arguments that used to echo through this house in his childhood, and how badly he would flinch at every little noise.

Samot rises from the table, still fixing Ethan with an openly malicious look. He walks around the table slowly, scaring Maelgwyn more with each step. "You've got a little something," he says, and then hauls Ethan up by the scruff of his neck like a kitten and scrubs vigorously at the corner of his eye. He drops him just as quickly, looking furiously satisfied, and storms off to the kitchen after his husband. Ethan sits there, blinking and stunned. When he looks at Maelgwyn questioningly, he can see that Samot had wiped off the eyeliner he's been so insistently smudging towards his temple. 

It almost makes Maelgwyn laugh despite everything, and then the hissing whispered argument beginning in the kitchen reaches him and all mirth he could’ve summoned evacuates his body abruptly. He took this too far. He knows that. He sinks down in his chair, every harsh consonant he can hear hitting him in the stomach like a blow. There’s nothing he can do. There never has been.

He, Ethan and Samol are the only ones left at the table. "I'm sorry," Ethan says, soft and genuinely regretful.

"It's alright, son. You didn’t know." Samol gets up and claps him on the shoulder. Maelgwyn watches Ethan re-evaluate how frail he is, how much trouble he has getting himself upright. For a moment Maelgwyn wants to burst into tears and rest his head against his grandfather’s bony shoulder and tell him everything, lay out their whole horrible scheme and try to explain why he thought it was a good idea. 

He remembers confessing the fear and unease of his home life to Samol when he’d been a child in the midst of his parents’ impending separation, and the relief of Samol telling him he’d take care of it and letting him sit in his Marlboro-scented car as he walked into the house to chew his fathers out. Maelgwyn aches for the same sort of relief, but he still can’t bring himself to speak. He watches Samol make his way across to the door out to the back porch and rest his hand on the handle. “I’ll smooth things over,” he says in his effortlessly comforting manner, and steps out. 

Maelgwyn feels a fraction better, but only that much. Even though there's no one left at the table, he finishes his dinner silently. Ethan sits there for a few more moments, then follows suit. He seems unsure of what to say.

“I didn’t think it would come up,” Maelgwyn says when he can be verbal again. It feels like a woefully inadequate excuse. Ethan looks up at him from his dish. He doesn’t seem angry with him, for which Maelgwyn is awfully grateful.

“I guess it worked in our favor,” he says, but he sounds unsure. He pushes his food around a little and then looks up again, eyes anxious. “I am sorry.”

“Don’t—Don’t worry about it.” Maelgwyn doesn’t want to talk about this anymore. He stabs a piece of shrimp a little too hard. It’s quiet for a few minutes as they finish their food. The argument keeps gaining traction in the kitchen, growing more and more heated. Samol is coughing outside. Something about the harshness of the sound makes something in Maelgwyn snap. 

He gets up abruptly and slams open the door to the porch. It’s darker than he expected it to be, none of the porch lights on and the suburbs glittering in the moonlight in the distance. Samol is sitting on the edge of one of the porch swings, a lit cigarette between his fingers as he rests his hand on his knee. The Tristé siblings lounge on another of the benches, looking sullen. Their father leans against the railing at the edge of the deck. They all blink at Maelgwyn’s sudden, violent entrance.

"You're not supposed to smoke anymore,” Maelgwyn snaps at his grandfather.

"Maelgwyn," Tristero says warningly, but Samol waves at him and goes to stub out his cigarette.

"Naw, he's right. C’mon, Tristé, ain’t there been enough unpleasantness tonight?” Tristero glowers at Maelgwyn, but relents. He shoots an even dirtier look over Maelgwyn’s shoulder as the door opens. Ethan steps up beside Maelgwyn and puts a hand on the small of his back. Maelgwyn isn’t sure if it’s supposed to be a comforting touch or just a part of the act, but it makes him feel better to have someone at his back. 

Tristero takes a step towards the staircase that leads down to the backyard as if Ethan’s very presence disgusts him. Ethan takes bold steps out to meet him, hand outstretched. "It's was good to meet you.” Tristero regards him with a moment of wary disdain, trying to figure out what he's playing at, before he clasps it.

"Have a good rest of your night," he says, enunciating his accent pointedly. The moment he lets go and steps away, Ethan jams his hand in his pocket like he wants to get rid of the feeling of touching him. Maelgwyn appreciates his dedication to his job, even if the rivalry he’s trying to embroil himself in might be a little bigger than his paygrade. 

Tristero descends the stairs and walks off across the lawn into the dark. Galenica and Severea wait for him by a streetlight. Samol stays behind, rocking back and forth on his porch swing quietly. Maelgwyn wonders if he hates the family falling apart because of him as much as he does. “Where’s everyone going?” he asks Samol. All the venom has gone out of his voice, and he sounds small and tired.

“Just to take a breather,” Samol says evenly. Maelgwyn wouldn’t be surprised if he was lying to spare his nerves. His grandfather’s guitar is leaning against one of his rocking chairs, and Samol hobbles across to sit in it and pick up a quiet tune. Even if it doesn’t quite match the situation, it’s soothing. Maelgwyn crawls onto the porch swing he just vacated and sways back and forth miserably. 

(Read part 2 here)

[streetsofsecretswegone]

@tcpimpabutterfly​   said  :    ✩—Nick & Janie

Under the cut because long!

Disagreements:

Who is more likely to raise their voice? Janie when she is entirely sick and FED UP of Nick’s trifling ways.

Who threatens to leave but never actually does? I know in my heart that Janie has no problem turning her back on Nick when she feels enough is enough and Nick, who believes he will get over her and look back on her as a fond memory -- has a hard time getting over her. So, yeah, Nick can’t find himself leaving if he says he’s done with all the “crazy shit.”

Who actually keeps their word and leaves? Janie!!

Who trashes the house? An argument can lead to Janie trying to get physical with Nick, him restraining her, her fighting back - things fall and get broken along the way. Chowder is barking and also ready to whoop Nick’s ass.

Do either of them get physical? ^^ Nick would NEVER hit Janie unless he thought she was going to try to kill him forreal. Then he has to knock her out. 

How often do they argue/disagree? Nowadays? Their relationship is fucked up so they argue more often than not. Like, “Nick get off my property.” “Nick don’t post my picture on Instagram.” It’s been a long time since they’ve been civil with each other. 

Who is the first to apologize? Nick!!!!! He’s out here like Usher releasing his woe in confessions, or Jay Z apologizing in 4:44. 

Sex:

Who is on top? Varies, but usually Janie. 

Who is on the bottom? Varrieesss.

Who has the strangest desires? Janie be on that freak shit.

Any kinks? So, Janie’s into safe knife play and rope play. Nick was cool with rope play, handcuffs, but then Janie whipped out the knife and he was like 😲

Who’s dominant in bed? You know powerplay is probably a big thing with these two.

Is head ever in the equation? I honestly feel like Janie isn’t into giving head, like regardless of if she loves her partner or not. I can just envision her pissed at Nick over something petty and she’s like, “my tooth hurts.”/“I’m trying to sleep, leave me alone.”

If so, who is better at performing it? Nick. He felt like giving Janie good head could put him on her good side.

Ever had sex in public? Yes, it leads to some AU babies.

Who moans the most? Janie.

Who leaves the most marks? Janie.

Who screams the loudest? I mean Nicky’s the one getting sliced.

Who is the more experienced of the two? I feel like the two have them have gained a lot of experience from being each others firsts in a lot of ways. They explored kinks together and what not.

Do they ‘fuck’ or ‘make love’? Fuck.

Rough or soft? Rough as hell.

How long do they usually last? It ends when Janie’s sadistic ass says it ends. 💅🏾

Is protection used? Sometimes. Typically. If they were to fuck now, I can imagine Janie telling Nick that she doesn’t know where he’s been so he needs a condom.

Does it ever get boring? Nope!

Where is the strangest place they’d have sex? Strange by JANIE’S standards would be when she slept with Nick at the house he and Jerrold were sharing at the time. Jerrold was gone, of course, but Janie was still trying her hardest to conceal her sneer. 

Family:

Do your muses plan on having children/or have children? In a better AU, Janie’s twins were the result of a PRISON VISIT. Nick always wanted to have a family with her, though. If so, how many children do your muses want/have? In main, Janie and Nick have Simone who tells Janie that she’s NOT her mother. In a better AU, Janie and Nick have Leticia and Levi. Nick has brought up the potential of them having a third kid but, I don’t know. Janie has strong reservations with Nick’s record of legal troubles. Who is the favorite parent? Both Nick and Janie are loved well by their kids. Though, granted, Simone loves her dad more on default. Who is the authoritative parent? Both - but in different ways. Who is more likely to allow the children to have a day off school? Nick!  Who lets the children indulge in sweets and junk food when the other isn’t around? Also Nick.

Who turns up to extra curricular activities to support their children? I can imagine it can be difficult for Janie due to work purposes, and Nick has missed out on a few things due to his prison stint when the twins were 7 years old. There are fill-ins though, like Louis will pop up. Jerrold too because he views these kids as his niece and nephew!! There’s also Sal and Delores of course.

Who goes to parent teacher interviews? Janie has had to go to some alone when Nick was i n c a r c e r a t e d. 😔

Who changes the diapers? Both, because Cassandra specifically told Nick: “how the fuck do you not know how to change a diaper?”

Who gets up in the middle of the night to feed the baby? Both, but mostly Nick since Janie is getting ready for work by 4 AM.

Who spends the most time with the children? Nick...because he would have tea parties with Leticia or take her on her annual Friday shopping spree at Toys R Us. Plus, he’s bound to go see the latest superhero movie with Levi, if not play video games with him. He gets really engaged in doing whatever the kids wanna do, and he will be offended if he’s disrupted by it.  I mean really, Sal can say: “the warehouse is on fire!” and Nick replies, “I’m paintin’ baby girl’s finger nails!!” Who packs their lunch boxes? Janie. Who gives their children ‘the talk’? I feel like Janie would jump on it, because she has to tell Leticia to cut their hands off if things are no longer consensual.  Who cleans up after the kids? Janie...has spent some time doing that. Nick isn’t as prompt as he should be. Who worries the most? Nick gets paranoid sometimes. He tends to be paranoid with a lot of things. Who are the children more likely to learn their first swear word from? From............someone in the family. (Cassandra/Cassandra’s kids)

Affection:

Who likes to cuddle? That’s pretty much Nicky.

Who is the little spoon? 😌 Janie because she lowkey likes to feel safe.

Who gets naughty in the most inappropriate of places? Nick tends to initiate this shit lmao

Who struggles to keep their hands to themself? Nick.

How long can they cuddle until one becomes uncomfortable? You mean how long can they cuddle until someone has to go to work or someone calls or he tries to initiate sex.

Who gives the most kisses? Nick.

What is their favorite non-sexual activity? Going out to eat Italian Food.

Where is their favorite place to cuddle? The bed!

Who is more likely to playfully grope the other? Nick, though I feel like this question is dangerous.

How often do they get time to themselves? You know in main she ain’t trying to be around him!! But even aside from that I feel like they find the right space and time to be together.

Sleeping:

Who snores? Nicky!

If both do, who snores the loudest? ^^

Do they share a bed or sleep separately? This is verse dependent. Cause they are not at a living together stage yet in main.

If they sleep together, do they cozy up together or lay far apart? Dependent. Who talks in their sleep? Neither.

What do they wear to bed? Night clothes. Pajamas. What else? 😤 Are either of your muses insomniacs? Nick can be sleep deprived sometimes, but not a insomniac. 

Can sleeping pills be found by the bedside? I’mma say nah. Do they wrap their limbs around each other or just lay side by side? Varies! Who wakes up with bed hair? Nick’s been bald for some time now and, I’m certain Janie wears a bonnet. Who wakes up first? Janie at 4 AM! Who prepares breakfast in bed for the other? Nick would. 😍😭 What is their favorite sleeping position? Nick likes to lay on his back with Janie slightly on his chest.  Who hogs the sheets? Janie. Do they set an alarm each night? Yes, Janie has a alarm set for work. Can a television be found in their bedroom? Yes.  Who has nightmares? Both. Who has ridiculous dreams? Nick. Who sprawls out and takes up most of the bed? Nick is guilty of this. Who makes the bed? Janie - because even though she leaves first, Nick isn’t the best at getting the sheets together. What time is bed time? Janie has a more set bedtime than Nick does. Because the night, for Nick, can mean he has some serious work to do. Any routines/rituals before bed? Janie does what she has to do, while Nick kind of just flops in bed.

Who’s the grumpiest when they wake up? BOTH.

Work:

Who is the busiest? I feel like they’re both quite busy. Janie at the news station while Nick is (at certain point in times) a nightclub manager. These are equally demanding occupations. Who rakes in the highest income? I’d say Nicky. Especially since he got that $cozzari money. Are any of your muses unemployed? Nope. Who takes the most sick days? Nick. Who is more likely to turn up late to work? Nick. Who sucks up to their boss? Nick is his own boss soooooooooooooooooo probably Janie. What are their jobs? Janie is a reporter who also moonlights as a serial killer, Nick is a nightclub manager who is also a high-ranking gangster. Together they’re quite the pair! Who stresses the most? Nick, he’s always obsessing with thinking three steps ahead of everyone else. Do your muses enjoy or despise their careers/occupations? Yes. Are your muses financially stable? Yup!

Home:

Who does the washing? Both. Especially when it comes to getting blood out of their outfits as soon as possible-

Who takes out the trash? Nick.

Who does the ironing? Both, Nick a little more.

Who does the cooking? Nick REALLY likes to go out to eat.

Who is more likely to burn the house down just trying? Nick, especially if he gets distracted by the kids, sports, or an invasive Jerrold.

Who is messier? Nick.

Who leaves the toilet roll empty? Nick.

Who leaves their dirty clothes on the floor? ...Nick.

Who forgets to flush the toilet? Neither, Nick has been scolded by his mother -and sisters- for forgetting to put the toilet seat down all his life.

Who is the prankster around the house? Those darn twins!!

Who loses the car keys when it comes time to go somewhere? Neither, they’re very prompt when they have to get out or get the fuck out.

Who mows the lawn? Nick - or Levi.

Who answers the telephone? Both, but Nick is more inclined to.

Who does the vacuuming? Both, but catch Nick doing it when he’s trashed the house too much while Janie is away and its important that he speed cleans.

Who does the groceries? Janie.

Who takes the longest to shower? Janie.

Who spends the most time in the bathroom? Janie x3!

Miscellaneous:

Is money a problem? Not one bit.

How many cars do they own? Janie has hers, Nick has his - so two.

Do they own their home or do they rent? Own.

Do they live near the coast or deep in the countryside? Neither.

Do they live in the city or in the country? New York City Baby 😜

Do they enjoy their surroundings? Nick can’t imagine being nowhere else, personally. Yet even with that said, I can imagine that Janie hates half of the population. She’ll find some reason to hate. Some way.

What’s their song? Nick’s so in love with Janie that it isn’t uncommon for him to hear a song on the radio and think about her. I mean, this is a man who made her so many mixtapes in high school. At the moment, Nick lays in bed and thinks of Common’s song “Faithful.” He’s also stared out the window while Jaheim’s, “Find My Way Back” plays. 😔 The main song that made him realize he was in love with her was, “All I Do Is Think Of You” by The Jackson 5 and it still rings true to this day smh

What do they do when they’re away from each other? Work and kill. Kill and work. Janie also bonds with Chowder while Nick bonds with Louis and Jerrold, who are not nearly as wonderful as Chowder!

Where did they first meet? HIGH SCHOOL, English Class!

How did they first meet? They had some boring classroom introductions on day one but Nick didn’t pay her much of any attention. Afterwards, He heard the name Janie said by the teacher, but he thought that the teacher was mispronouncing the name of another girl, Janet. Later, when Janie rose in the class to read something he would realize that she was, in fact, not Janet. Later on they would have their first actual conversation when Nick asked to copy her homework. He had to work a little charm on her too. 😏 because she was like :| “No.”

Who spends the most money when out shopping? Janie. Nick isn’t much of a materialistic man. This was a guy who wore bootleg Bart Simpson shirts when he was a kid.

Who’s more likely to flash their assets? Janie.

Who finds it amusing when the other trips over? Janie because she’s evil inside.

Any mental issues? To the roof.  Who’s terrified of bugs? Janie!! Who kills the spiders around the house? Nick has to! Their favorite place? Spaghetti Warehouse because that’s where they had their first date back in the day. Also, there’s specific areas in Florida they love. Who pays the bills? When they’re living separately they pay their own shit. When they live together, Nick has no issue making sure Janie never spends any of her hard earned money. Do they have any fears for their future? Janie may fear going to jail for her murders when she has her kids rgbmvfg Nick doesn’t fear a damn thing. He has a tattoo that says NEVER SCARED because he’s been through so much.  Who’s more likely to surprise the other with a fancy dinner? Nick all the way! Who uses up all of the hot water? Janie. Who’s the tallest? Nick at 6′0. He’s even taller than his dad! Who’s more likely to just randomly hop into the shower with the other? Nick, but he second thinks that a lot. Who wanders around in their underwear? Nick. Who sings the loudest when singing along to the radio? jkhnk Nick, especially when those oldies come on. What do they tease each other about? I don’t think Janie necessarily teases, I think she complains about certain things like Nick’s music tastes, his grumpiness with the youth, all that. Who is more likely to cringe at the other’s fashion sense at times? I think Janie would get so tired of seeing him in that same damn leather jacket. Do they have mutual friends? Chowder is their mutual friend. :) No one else. Who crushed first? I feel like Janie had a crush on Nick that she effortlessly brushed off because he would always do something dumb to ruin it. Like flirt with some other girl in their class and that reminded her men ain’t shit. Any alcohol or substance related problems? No. Who is more likely to stumble home, drunk, at 3am? Nick. Catch him drunk calling her like, “i’m just sayin’ you could do better........” or, “I NEED TO APOLOGIZE”

Who swears the most? Nick doesn’t swear as furiously as Cassandra, but I feel that he does more than Janie all the same.

[bittermarrow]

So how would Brahms, Bubba, and Michael (and anyone else you’d like to add) react to their S/O really wanting a child, like looking at baby names, or talking about having children?

A/n: Of course! I’ve gotten quite a few pregnant/ planning to be pregnant asks since posting my Child-free headcanons, and I’ve gotta say, I’m diggin’ the baby mama/ baby daddy energy!

.   .   .

Brahms

Not gonna lie, he’ll probably take some convincing and a lot of warming up to the idea before he’s on board with having a child. Asforementioned in my child-free headcanons, Brahms is very touchy about sharing your attention. He’s a fuckin’ brat and will pout and whine whenever you bring it up at first.

But, once Brahms realizes just how much you want a child, and how happy it makes you when you talk about it, sees how your eyes light up when you gush over baby names and fantasies of being a mother… Brahms can’t say no. He really does want to make sure that he’s keeping you happy because he wants you to stay with him, to love him.

The gratitude and utter excitement you expressed once he finally agreed is by far one of his favorite moments he’s shared with you. First of all, you were smothering him in affection for the entire week, and secondly… the more you talked about it, Brahms started to look forward to having a child too.

Brahms loves going over baby names with you, despite often arguing over them since your tastes are different, his preference being Ye Olde English names while yours are alternative. But a part of parenthood is disagreeing over your children after all, right? Brahms really likes the names Whitney or Timothy if it’s a boy, and Martha or Cindy if it’s a girl. You have your own long list of names that might take some sweet talking for Brahms to consider.

You eventually decide to compromise, you get to name the first kid, and Brahms gets to name the second. It’s a bit petty that Brahms is so unnegotiable with naming his child, but hey, you get another baby out of it, it’s a win-win situation for you!

Brahms is confident you’ll be a great Mummy! And he really wants to be a good Daddy, he’ll just need to learn a bit more from you is all. Hell, he might even share his toys with his kids! maybe.

Bubba

Bubba is so excited to hear you want to have a baby with him he’s practically bursting at the seams with joy. He’s in tears when you propose the idea to him. Bubba loves children, he’s always wanted to have a kid to call his own, always wanted to be a Daddy, since he never really had much of one after all. He was raised by his big brothers, particularly Drayton, who while he is abusive, Bubba looks up to regardless.

Seriously the moment you start talking about babies Bubba is babbling happily about a million miles an hour, gushing over you and squealing excitedly. But don’t be too surprised if he starts crying in the middle of a baby-talk conversation, he’s just so emotional, and so happy, and so lucky to have met you and… *sob*

If you ask Bubba if he wants a boy or girl, he’d probably say three of each! (It’s easier to understand and make sense what he’s trying to say after being with him so long) Seriously, he’s not exaggerating either, he wants as many mini-yous as possible!

Baby names are always a blast to discuss with Bubba! Sure, he can’t read too well, and can’t put in his own verbal input, but he’s very invested in the process anyway. You’ll have to read off some names out loud with him, let him hear ‘em all so he can pick the ones he likes the sound of best. He’s also extremely cooperative, and pretty negotiable (unlike somebody, B R A H M S), you could convince him to name your child whatever you want if you ask nicely enough. Whatever makes you happy, and Bubba thinks a lot of your favorites are pretty names anyways.

He’ll be nuzzling his face into your stomach before you’re even pregnant! And when you are, he’ll have a hard time keeping his hand off of you. You won’t be able to walk by without getting a few tummy pats and kisses as your stomach grows bigger.

He’d probably make the best Dad out of the three, being so affectionate, and so loving. Not to mention fiercely protective of his family, hell, he’ll probably end up being their father, mother, and granny at times. (Mask joke haha…)

Michael

You want a what? Michael is beyond confused. Children are something that Michael just doesn’t think about, sometimes he forgets that the whiney-crying things even exist. And from the babies he’s seen after murdering their parents, he can’t imagine why in the hell you’d want one.

You’ve got to understand that Michael spent much of his childhood locked up in a sanitarium with little social communication or exposure to the outside world. It was a miserable, lonely time of his life that he will undoubtedly associate with the idea of children. It will most likely remain, a definite ‘NO’ for a very long time, Michael isn’t in the right state of mind or person to be a father, and no amount of begging, affection, and guidance is going to change that until he is ready.

But, once he is in that place where he can allow himself to give you that one thing, go for it. He definitely loves you enough, he might not like the possibility of having a kid around taking all of the attention that you’ve reserved for him, but he’ll cave once he sees how happy it makes you. If it means that much to you then he’ll let you have a brat of your own.

Going over baby names is pretty simple with Michael; because he really doesn’t care all that much. Call the kid whatever you want. But… if you do happen to introduce him to a name that he really likes, he’ll point to it, or circle it.

“Lucy?” You ask with raised brows as you read the name Michael had pointed at out loud, you were shocked to begin with that he’d even decided to participate, but… to have picked such a cute name for a girl, it’s more than you ever could have expected from him. Michael nods slightly, barely enough to notice that his head had indeed moved, but it spoke louder than anything he could have said. “Lucy, I like that… “

Just be prepared for his child to be exactly like their father. Please, keep knives out of reach of your child unless you want a Michael reincarnate story to happen.

[brxdys]

( nick robinson, male, he/him ) have you heard about BRADY WRIGHT? they’re a 22 year old TEAM MEMBER in the VIDEOGRAPHY team. i don’t know what their last job was, all i know is that they’re originally from DENVER, CO. carol in hr said that they’re kinda STUBBORN and DEFENSIVE but jessica in marketing insists that they are CONFIDENT and PROTECTIVE. at the end of the day, no one is worthy of the instant hype here. i just hope they get to achieve their dream of being A DIRECTOR one day. According to the latest Vibez quiz, their Disney soulmate is ALADDIN.

hi!! nicole here, and this is brady! below you’ll find some background/bullets abt him, and you can also check out his STATS PAGE for more! i also listed some connections ideas at the bottom, but i’d love to discuss anything just based on who the muses are and what would work specifically for them.

im not actually on my laptop rn for opening unfortunately, so i might not immediately see your tumblr messages. feel free to add me on discord ( john ambrose mcclaren#1627 ) to message me there for plotting etc.!! otherwise i’ll get back to you later. NOW WITHOUT FURTHER ADO:

some background (TW homophobia):

brady is the third child of colonal bradford wright, sr. and isabella wright. his father obviously comes from the military and his mom is one of those stay-at-home military moms/wives with no actual hobbies. they’re also both from well-off families so, you know. they got moneyyyy.

the family moved around a lot due to general relocation and living on different military bases and things like that. as a result, brady and his 2 older siblings were all born in a different state. brady himself was born in colorado, where he lived for the first 7 years of his life. since then, he’s never lived somewhere longer than 5 years.

because of the lifestyles isabella and the colonel both came from in their own childhoods, and then all of the people the colonel was associated with over the years, brady was raised in an environment where appearance was key. his parents have all these rich friends and each of the children had to appear polite, put together, well-mannered, etc. when they went to their fancy parties. arguments were not well-received, so brady and his siblings learned to be quiet and get through it. it was never much of a choice at all.

the relationship with his parents, and especially his dad, is complicated. they’re strict, conservative, traditional... all the things brady isn’t. they were never quiet about the political/societal opinions and ensured the kids didn’t form their own. but of course, that was kinda bullshit, and brady and his siblings learned to think what they wanted. but it was complex at home. political debates just didn’t, or really couldn’t, happen. defying authority was simply not tolerated ― and having a father in the military was no joke. so brady didn’t argue. just like when he was a kid, he’d gotten good at shutting up and dealing with the terrible things they would say at the dinner table.

needless to say, brady discovering his own bisexuality in his early teens became a closely kept secret; his parents’ extremely conservative views and family trips to church every week made sure of that. now that he’s an adult, it’s become much less of a secret. if you’re a close friend of brady’s, you probably know that he’s bi. but it’s not quite something he’s shouting from any rooftops anytime soon. as difficult as things have been with his parents over the years, he’s just not quite ready for everything that would come along with coming out yet. so being totally out and proud is a work in progress for him atm.

more fun facts/info just about brady!

his full name is actually bradford (he’s a jr. named after his dad), but he simply will never tell that to anyone. so that’s brady to you, and always will be.

brady has always been more creative than he was ever truly able to express, so he spent a lot of time in his earlier years with an old camcorder he’d been given, messing around and making movies (and forcing his siblings and childhood friends to participate). it’s hard to tell for certain when it became the most important thing to him, but at some point brady decided videography was his passion and directing was his dream. so now you’d be hard pressed to find brady without his camera.

his sister introduced him to vibez and pushed him to apply as a way to do something he loves and is good at, so... here he is!!!

he’s also an artist, but it’s more of a hobby. he likes digital art and pencil sketches but also enjoys experimenting with paint.

he loves cryptids/true crime/all things paranormal. he even has a podcast just to talk about stories like that.

he played basketball for a long time when he was young. he thought about continuing with it and improving and at some point had dreams of going pro, but an injury in middle school stopped him from playing altogether, so there went that.

he smokes weed a lot. 

he absolutely loves movies and keeps updated lists of his all-time and recent favorites.

he loves harry potter & is a gryffindor. also has a rescued black lab named draco.

he has a tattoo of an alien smoking weed on his arm that his friend gave him in their kitchen once.

he’s headstrong, sarcastic, stubborn, cocky, has daddy issues....... what more could you want, really!

we can discuss absolutely anything as far as plotting so hmu and i’ll get back to you asap!! im def quicker on discord. looking forward to writing with you all xoxo.

connections ideas just to get started:

best friends — i would love a few of these. give brady a squad pls!!

roommates — i’d love to have like 3-4 of them in the apartment. chaos

rivals — maybe someone else in the vid. department who gives brady a run for his money and they vie for a lot of the same projects!! could be friendly or genuine pettiness lmao

childhood friends — brady lived in different states constantly growing up so could apply to any muse regardless of where they’re from!!

the bad habits bro™ — he smokes weed a lot and has a horrible sleep pattern and takes too many shots of fireball sometimes so someone who doesn’t exactly help any of that sjdjdjdjw

podcast partner — has a lowkey, just for fun, not well known podcast to talk about true crime/supernatural/cryptid stories!! so anyone who likes that stuff too

mentor — someone higher up (probably in the same department) who gives him tips n tricks

exes/hookups/short flings/fwb etc. — all pretty self explanatory and there are likely quite a few in the last few years, bc brady has been Bad at romance

mutual or one sided dislike — just love the hate n angst

[luckyjak]

Why I Don’t Ship Widojest: A Master Post

An anon sent me an ask about this topic, and I debated for quite a bit about how to answer it. Then I decided the best way was to do a long post like this. I put a lot of thought into why I don’t like it, and I thought to share it.

A few things: 1) I am not telling you not to ship it. The goal of this is not to say “Don’t ship Widojest! It is a bad ship and you are a bad person for shipping it!” That is not my goal, okay? The internet and fandom in particular is meant for fun, and if you enjoy Widojest then more power to you! Don’t let me or anyone else stop your fun! Lord knows I have shipped significantly more problematic things. All I ask is that you tag shit more but that’s beside the point.

2) I am not particularly interested in argument. You are not likely to change my mind. I am not trying to be hostile, but if you know reading this is going to piss you off, then don’t read it. A question was asked of me, and so I thought to share my opinion. Unfortunately for everyone involved I am a high school English teacher, and so I cannot think about anything without completely overthinking it.

About my shipping preferences: generally, I like all the ships! I was particularly fond of Widomauk before Molly died, and I now I really enjoy Shadowgast, but I also like Fjorclay, Fjester, Beaujester, Beauyasha, Widofjord, Clayleb, Lavorclay, and, as the only person on earth, Yasha/Caleb. Hell, if Astrid gets a good redemption arc? Caleb/Astrid or even Caleb/Astrid/Edowulf. Any of those ships could become canon and I’d be tickled pink! You can even throw Nott into the mix, even though I mostly ship her with her husband. Nott/Fjord? Delightful. Nott/Caleb? Weird flex but why not? Nott/Jester? Absolutely! They are the best detectives!

I just don’t like Widojest and I don’t want it to be canon, and here’s why:

Doyalist Reasons First:

1) Laura and Liam played twins for years, still act like siblings even though they aren’t related by blood, and it squicks me to think of them together romantically.

Laura and Liam are fantastic actors. If they were hired to play a romantic couple, I have no doubt in my mind they could knock it out of the park.

But why on earth would they want to pretend to be a romantic couple, in a game they both play for fun? 

It would be weird. I play D&D with several guys I consider my brothers, and I can’t imagine pretending to romance either of them in d&d for that same reason. It would be weird. 

Maybe it wouldn’t be weird for Liam and Laura. Maybe they are more dedicated to their RP, and they’d be able to push that aside for the sake of fictional romance. But for me, that would be the last thing I’d want to play, and I suppose I project that onto Laura/Liam.

2) A lot of “evidence” for the ship is the way Liam looks at Laura.

To which I say...did you watch Vox Machina?

That’s how Liam looks at Laura all the time. He’s the president of her fanclub. He’s her twinsie. He always looks at her with hearteyes. I have a hard time seeing that as “evidence” for him having feelings for her when...that’s just what his face looks like.

Now, for Watsion reasons:

3) It has all the benefits for Caleb, and none for Jester

Seriously. What does Jester get out of a relationship with Caleb?

Don’t say someone who understands her, because Caleb certainly doesn’t. In fact, the only person who routinely “gets” Jester is Beau. (see: their conversation on the ship.)

Lots of people accuse Widojest as being a Manic Pixie Dream Girl ship because...let’s be realistic, it has all the makings of one. Tortured, broody man meets young, innocent girl who teaches him to enjoy life once again? Wikipedia’s definition is “[girl with] eccentric personality quirks and are unabashedly girlish. They invariably serve as the romantic interest for a (most often brooding or depressed) male protagonist.” Guys, that is textbook Manic Pixie Dream Girl! It gets even worse because Jester’s character is a healer! You want her to heal him? That is squicky!

And yeah, I trust Liam and Laura to be more nuanced than that, but do you know who I absolutely do not trust to be more nuanced?

The fandom. The fandom that is already producing mass amounts of Manic Pixie Dream Girl fanfic. And as that’s where I spend a lot of my free time...egads. I do not want that.

The few Widojest fics I have read (which, admittedly, are not a lot, because again, I don’t like the ship. The few I have read have been tagged as gen and then come to find out, weren’t.) have the distinct problem of woobie-fying Caleb so that Jester can take care of him, and gosh, I do not want that to become a trend. 

4) Age Gap

Yes, thirteen years is not that major of an age gap. Yes, Fjord/Jester also have a large age gap.

However, there is a world of difference between “20 year old girl displays romantic interest in a 30 year old man, who decides he likes her back after getting to know her for months” vs “33 year old man decides to pursue a 20 year old woman after they danced one time when he was drunk and held hands and she showed general concern for his well-being.” One is decidedly more creepy.

(And would Jester be the one to pursue a relationship with Caleb? I almost think she’d have to, but again, why would Jester ever pursue Caleb when Fjord/Beau are right there.)

(Also, side note that I thought about making it’s own point but then decided it was petty: if Jester’s type is Fjord--tall, broad-shouldered, dark haired, muscled, then Caleb--skinny, red-head, shorter than Fjord--decidedly isn’t her type.

You know who is tall, dark, and handsome though? Beau.) 

And do not say Jester is mature for her age, because she absolutely isn’t! In fact, the whole point of her character is that she’s not mature, she’s very immature and childish on account of her being locked away and being incredibly sheltered most of her life! 

Also not a good excuse: Caleb spent 11 years in the asylum and therefore he’s only mentally in his 20s. Uh, no he’s not. He was in an asylum: he was not brain dead. He lived those years. He might’ve been crazy, but he was alive then. Nothing Liam’s done suggests that Caleb is mentally in his 20′s.

5) What would they even talk about?

This is probably actually the one that bothers me the most out of all these reasons, but uh....what would Caleb and Jester talk about, if they were in a relationship together?

Seriously.

They could talk about books? But Jester only ever reads terrible romance and smut. We saw when she tried to pay attention to the dunamancy lessons that she struggles to be interested in that academic stuff that is Caleb’s bread and butter. They could talk about their childhoods? That will go over well. Jester was locked away from society and Caleb straight up murdered his beloved parents. If they manage to avoid that, I’m sure they could fight again over income, what with Jester being a rich kid and Caleb being a poor farm boy. Pranking? Caleb enjoys a good prank now and again, but I can only imagine he’d tolerate getting banned from so many libraries.

They are a cat and a dog, literally. Caleb is an introvert and his idea of a good time is a quiet night at home with a good book. Jester’s idea of a good time is a party with lots of people! Yet I’m supposed to believe they’d have a happy and fulfilling relationship? Don’t get me wrong, many introverts and extroverts do get married in real life, but like...I have a hard time seeing this one working out. How many dicks do you think Jester draws in his spellbooks--which are expensive and time-consuming and require precise work--before that becomes a point of contention? 

6) He doesn’t trust her enough to tell her his secrets

Hey quick poll! Who in the Mighty Nein doesn’t know that Caleb murdered his parents?

Fjord. Caduceus. And look, Jester.

I have a hard time buying that he sees her romantically when he can’t even tell her one of the biggest things about him. And he’s known her for months at this point.

If I liked a guy, and I found out he had this big secret, and he had told Beau but not me this secret? I would think he didn’t trust me.

I suppose you could argue that he’s trying to protect her. But then that just goes back into the whole “he doesn’t trust her” argument. He even had the opportunity to and he didn’t during their whole hand-holding thing a few episodes ago!

7) What does their ending look like? 

Listen, my ideal ending for Caleb at the moment is “maybe after ten years of friendship he lets Essek tenderly hold his hand for just a moment but no longer” but that’s just me. I see a lot of people who seem to think Caleb’s going to settle down and marry Jester and they are going to have kids, and I just--

Caleb? Having children? Caleb, who murdered his parents and has severe PTSD surrounding that? Caleb, who was abused by his mentor daily for many years? You want to give that Caleb children??? Children who he would constantly worry may grow up to kill him, like he did his own parents, or worse, that he’d do something to accidentally hurt them in a fit of madness?

I could see Caleb maybe adopting a kid if one was forced onto him, but I cannot see him going “ah yes we should procreate!” 

Jester, meanwhile, needs like approximately fifteen kids ten years from now, I think. She’d love them. She’d just adopt an orphanage and let the kids run wild and be the best at playing games with them.

Also, character arcs are important. Because Caleb’s ideal ending is stability and Jester’s is exploration.

Caleb, traumatized child soldier who has spent the past 15 years in an asylum and also fighting for his life, and before that spent time traveling between the Zemni Fields, Ikithon’s home in the country, and the Empire’s Capitol, who then escaped the asylum and spent all of his time running, trying to avoid being caught by Ikithon. The best ending for Caleb is to find peace; peace that involves not having to move around anymore, and having a home again, something he hasn’t had in almost twenty years. Maybe that home is a tower in Nicodranas. Maybe it’s a house in Xhoras with six other people. Maybe it’s a quiet bookstore in Zadash, or a little cabin in the Zemni Fields. A garden/graveyard in the woods. Either way, it doesn’t involve a lot of travel from place to place.

Meanwhile, Jester, who was trapped in exactly one place for her entire life, deserves a chance to explore the world. Even when the Mighty Nein disband, I can’t see Jester being happy to just go back to Nicodranas and stay there for the rest of her life. She may settle down eventually, but uhhh, not for several decades, I don’t think. Part of why my two big ships for her are Fjord and Beau: Fjord wants to be a sailor again, I think, which involves travelling the world, so I could see Jester going out with him. Beau, likewise, is an Expositor whose job is to seek out corruption, which again, means travelling, which Jester would be happy to do with her. Hell, the three of them could go together, sailing and punching evil for all of time! It would be great!

(Also: her god is called the TRAVELER why would you want her to settle down and be a mom??? What part of her story makes you think she needs to stay in one place?)

Lastly

I apologize if this post offends anyone. I’ve just been thinking about it for a while, and while Widojest as a ship has surged in popularity, I suppose I wanted to make a counterpoint about my feelings towards the ship. This isn’t meant as an attack on anyone, again, and please, if you like the ship then don’t look at this as a reason to stop liking it! Fandom is for fun! Keep liking what you like!

And I can’t promise I’m always going to feel this way about the ship--hell, the VOD of Thursday’s episode may come out on Monday, and I may watch it and be converted myself. Who knows! I didn’t like Vax/Keyleth at first either, but it grew on me and now it’s one of my favorites from Vox Machina.

(ALTHOUGH Mr. O’brien I swear to God if you romance Jester while flirting with Essek in a direct parallel to Keyleth/Vax/Gilmore I’m going to fly to LA just to punch you.)

Part of me wonders too if it just comes down to character interpretation, if there is something about their characters that is clicking for some people but isn’t for me. Admittedly, I love Caleb and Jester’s friendship, and I see them more as growing like siblings that romantically, but I’ve been wrong before and who knows, I may be wrong again. But if it is a character interpretation, I just wonder what they are seeing about the characters that squicks me but appeals to them.

[steve-needs-a-hug]

in which Draco needs to ace Herbology

Part 1 | 2 | 3 (coming soon)

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25758838/chapters/62709049

Setting: Hogwarts, 3rd year

Content warnings: None. Contains subtle hints of Drarry

Summary: Star student Draco Malfoy is acing all his courses…except Herbology. Lucius threatens to pull Draco out of Quidditch if he doesn’t get straight As on all his exams, and with time running out, a desperate Draco finds himself reluctantly accepting help from Harry Potter, of all people. 

Now it's the day before the Herbology exam, and while Harry wrestles with confusing thoughts about Draco, Hermione has only got one thing on her mind: studying! But what happens when the group's late-night cramming session takes a few unexpected turns?

Featuring: Draco Malfoy, Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley

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

“We can’t have him dragging us down, Harry. We still have so much material to go through and the exam is first thing tomorrow morning! We have to be ready!” Hermione was adamant. Ron and Harry were just trying to eat their breakfast in peace, but Hermione was in exam season mode.

“Bloody hell,” muttered Ron, turning to a tired Harry. “I need this all to be over already. I just want Christmastime to come. Forget about these bloody exams.” Harry nodded in silent agreement before turning to address his studying fiend of a friend’s immediate concerns.

“It’s just this once more, Hermione,” Harry maintained in a low voice. “Malfoy will be out of our hair after that. Besides, he’s smart. If he can just restrain his urge to make cutting remarks about us every five minutes, it should go fine. I think we got a reasonable amount of work done last night anyway.”

Ron and Hermione didn’t feel like arguing anymore. What was there even left to argue about? Ron took a big gulp of pumpkin juice as he got up from the table, patting Harry on the back. “I’m heading to class, mate. See you later.”

Hermione rose up out of her seat as well and followed Ron out of the Hall, leaving Harry alone to stare at the back of Draco’s blond head on the other side of the room. His hair really does look glossy, he randomly thought, putting his hand to the back of his hair to feel his own messy dark mane. Hermione was always prattling on about her hair and “How about the back? Does it look okay at the back?” (Ron and Harry always told her it looked fine because what did they care?), but now for the first time Harry found Hermione’s self-conscious habits relatable.

Harry felt that everything seemed to go right for Draco all the time (until now, apparently). Not only was Draco smart, popular with his friends, and good at Quidditch, but he had parents who gave him everything and whom he could go to with any grievance (however minor it may be). Harry knew from last year’s uncomfortable encounters that Draco’s father was not a nice man. But surely having that kind of man for a father couldn’t be much worse than having no father at all? On top of all that, Draco had just grown considerably taller over the summer and Harry couldn’t help but notice that he was always looking well put-together and even rather handsome at times. Harry attempted to straighten out his crooked shirt collar as he tried to shake these unexpected thoughts out of his head. But he could so easily hear Malfoy’s taunting voice in his head saying, “Jealous, Potter?”.

I’m not jealous, Harry told himself as he got up from the table. He wished Ron and Hermione were still there to give him a confidence boost, but he realized they’d probably be even more confused by the content of Harry’s thoughts than Harry was himself.

-

Classes were over now and all the Hogwarts students were busy preparing for their exams. Some were sitting outside together and comparing notes (although they decided to migrate indoors once a bit of light snow started to fall); others were clustered in their House’s common rooms doing more joking around than studying. Hermione strode purposefully into the Gryffindor common room and pulled Ron away from a lively debate he was having with Seamus and Dean. “Come on, Ronald! Harry’s on his way to the library already.”

Ron sighed wearily as Hermione dragged him out of the room by the arm. “Oh, great. We get to hang out with Malfoy again,” he grumbled.

“Forget about him,” said Hermione (she seemed willing to study with a troll at this point). “It’s the exam we need to be worrying about. It’s tomorrow and Professor Sprout expects us to know all the material!”

Ron shook his head hopelessly. “Why do we have to do exams?” he wondered aloud as they walked down an empty hallway. “Why couldn’t we just grow some plants or something?”

“Hey, guys,” Harry greeted his friends as he joined them in the corridor near the library. “Professor McGonagall said that the studying rooms are open all night so that students can get their last-minute cramming in.”

“Perfect,” said Hermione. “That way we can stay as long as it takes until we’ve gone over everything.”

Ron scoffed. “‘As long as it takes?’ I don’t know about you, but I need my beauty sleep!” Hermione rolled her eyes.

“And I need the best grade possible!” she retorted. Their bickering put a smile on Harry’s face, distracting him from his nerves as they turned a corner and headed to the entrance of the studying commons.

Tonight the dimly lit room was busier than it was the night before, and there was no sign of Malfoy yet. The three headed to their tucked away table on the far end of the room to make sure they claimed it before anyone else came, but to their surprise someone was already seated there.

Draco looked up from the dense textbook he was perusing. “If you’re wondering why I’m early, it’s because I didn’t want to be seen coming in here with you lot,” he said matter-of-factly. Ron shrugged his shoulders in agreement with the Slytherin’s petty sentiment (the feeling was mutual, after all), and Harry smirked. “Nice to see you too, Malfoy.”

Draco rolled his eyes but seemed to be suppressing a small smile. “That’s enough with the pleasantries, Potter. Let’s just get this done.” Harry nodded briskly and sat down in his spot beside Malfoy.

Hermione took a large stack of notes from her book bag and plopped them onto the table. “I made a list of all the topics and terms we need to go over. We won’t be ready for tomorrow morning until we go through this entire list, understood?” Ron sighed quietly, but all three boys nodded in agreement. Draco watched Harry carefully as the young Gryffindor started laying out and organizing his class notes, pushing his messy dark hair out of his face and adjusting his round glasses as he prepared himself for a long night of studying. His intense green eyes flitted from page to page as he started to lose focus, aware that he was being watched. But Harry didn’t dare turn to face Draco right now, not when they both needed to focus on getting all this studying done. There were still plenty of confusing thoughts swimming around in Harry’s head that he was trying to dispel, and most of them had to do with Malfoy.

Draco just didn’t know why Harry ever allowed him to study here with them in the first place. Potter doesn’t want to be friends with me now, does he? Draco wondered. What does he want from me, then?

“Hel-lo!” Ron’s impatient tone broke Draco and Harry out of their thoughts. Draco turned sharply from Harry, who looked up from his notes as Ron and Hermione stared at them with annoyance.

“We need to focus!” Hermione reiterated. “This is important. The exam is tomorrow morning, remember? If we all want the best grade possible, we need to start going through the terms right now.” Ron nodded in agreement, and Harry took a deep breath to ease his tension. Draco sat up straighter, determined to behave (at least, until this whole thing was over), and he reopened the textbook he was reading earlier, ready to look up the first topic as Hermione reached for her list.

“You’re right, Hermione. It’s time to get to work,” Harry said to the others and to himself as well. He could worry about Malfoy later.

-

They’d been studying nonstop for three hours now. Books were lying all over the table, and Ron was furiously scribbling in his notes as Harry read out an exhaustive description of the properties of Mandrakes from a particularly large and dusty volume. Hermione nodded as she double-checked her notes to make sure she had all the information Harry was giving, and Draco glanced at the text over Harry’s shoulder before jotting down the extra details in his notes.

“Are you sure we need to know all these details?” Draco muttered as he flipped through the notebook pages he’d just filled. Ron massaged his hand, looking woeful. “Never thought I’d be agreeing with Malfoy, but my hand’s cramping from writing all these things down.”

“Writing it helps you remember it,” Hermione stated without looking up from her notes. “You’ll thank me later.”

Harry set the book down and leaned back in his chair with a sigh. “I’m hungry.” Draco nodded glumly in agreement and Hermione sighed quietly, not wanting to admit that her energy was also beginning to wane.

A mischievous smile spread on Ron’s face. “Well, you’ll all be thanking me now,” he said as he reached into his pockets and drew out a bunch of cookies. “I nabbed them during dinner!” Hermione shook her head in amusement as Ron placed several mostly intact baked goods on the table.

“How do you even fit that much food in your pockets, Ron?” Hermione wondered aloud as Harry reached for a big chocolate chip cookie, too peckish to care that it had just spent a few hours in the deep and mysterious pockets of Ron’s robes. Hermione, too, gave in and started munching on an oatmeal cookie.

“Want one, Malfoy?” asked Ron. Enemies or no, his generous mother had taught him to always share.

“No,” replied Draco, as haughtily as he could muster.

“Too bad.” Ron reached over and plunked a gingerbread cookie in front of the weary Slytherin. Harry looked on in amusement as Draco reluctantly nibbled at his late-night snack.

“You’ve got chocolate on your face, Potter,” Draco commented in an attempt to deflect attention from himself and the fact that he was now participating in the universally acknowledged human bonding activity of eating food together. But despite his awkwardness about the situation, Draco couldn’t help but smile a little as the previously un-self-conscious Harry immediately licked his lips and wiped his face with his sleeve.

“Is it still there?” Harry asked as Ron and Hermione giggled.

“Yeah, there’s just a little—” Draco pointed to the left side of Harry’s upper lip, where there was clearly nothing there. Harry hurriedly wiped his mouth again and then noticed his friends’ uncontrollable laughter and the teasing glint in Draco’s eyes.

“Oh, sod off, Malfoy!” he almost shrieked as he playfully whacked Draco’s arm, a big embarrassed grin on his face. Draco laughed as he tried to fight Harry off (“Stop it, Potter!” he squealed), and Hermione shook her head in amusement once again.

“Can we get back to studying now?” she asked, still smiling.

“Oh, yeah, shtudying,” Ron mumbled through a mouthful of cookies, causing Harry to laugh louder than would be deemed appropriate in a library at 11 in the evening.

“You’re going to get us in trouble, Harry!” Hermione whisper-yelled, trying to contain her own laughter. Draco poked his head out from behind the bookshelves and peered around the room at the few tables of people still trying to study.

“Most of the others have gone already,” he reported in a hushed voice. He glanced at Harry who was still smiling broadly, his cheeks reddened from embarrassment and laughter. Despite the late hour Draco felt a sudden surge of energy (maybe it was partially due to the sugary cookie?). He could only think of one other time he felt this kind of a breathless thrill, a pure joy, and that was when he was soaring through the air in the middle of a high-stakes Quidditch match.

There was just something about seeing Potter smile—how he made him smile. Sure, it was fun to try and get a rise out of Potter, taunt him and his friends and see him get all riled up. But somehow, this was even better. Harry’s openness and sensitivity made him a perfect target for teasing, but his reactions were always so genuine. His fierce glares, his loud laughs, his awkward smiles. Draco could clearly see why everyone liked Potter so much. Harry was always himself, and so people could be themselves around him too.

Harry honestly couldn’t believe what had just happened (neither could Ron and Hermione, for that matter). Potter and Malfoy, joking around like a pair of chums? And yet it felt so natural in the moment. It was a part of Draco he felt he’d never seen before (or didn’t even know existed), an almost friendly playfulness so different from the malice-laced taunting Harry was so used to from Malfoy. Seeing Draco’s eyes glint not with evil but with wit and charm. Perhaps Malfoy could be a tad bit good-natured after all. Or maybe he was just trying to distract him so they wouldn’t get any studying done.

“Anyway, where were we?” Harry asked, a little out of breath from how hard he was laughing just moments ago. Ron and Hermione shared a bemused We’ll talk about this later glance, but the group pulled themselves together, now re-energized thanks to a tasty snack and some good laughs, and got back to work. How they were going to cover everything in time for the exam, they had no idea.

-

The large room was still and silent, except for the quiet rustling of pages, scribbling pencils, and yawns coming from the tucked-away corner that these four very tired Hogwarts students were still holed up in. The warm lights seemed to become more and more dim, the bookshelves closing in on their hard wooden table which was starting to feel comfier by the minute.

“Just a few more to go,” Hermione mumbled, peering at the list in her limp hand. Draco’s refined handwriting had descended into a droopy scrawl, and Ron was staring lifelessly into the distance, eyes half-closed. Suddenly he blinked as if stirred from a dream, and staggered up from his chair.

“That’s it. I’m going to bed.” Harry watched Ron shuffle away, hoping his weary friend wouldn’t fall asleep in some random spot on the way to the dorms. Hermione muttered a quick “Bye”, barely looking up. A bit more time passed. None of them really knew how much; it was that time past midnight where the hours seemed to drag on and bleed into each other. Draco was quietly continuing to read beside him, but Harry was struggling to focus on a single word in his notes. He took off his glasses and massaged his sore eyes. Hermione sighed as she pored over a dense textbook chapter, feeling her brain threatening to quit on her.

In the dead-silent space, Harry and Hermione heard Draco’s pencil clatter onto the table. Harry turned to Malfoy, putting his glasses back on and peering at him to see if he had fallen asleep. The warm, dim light was casting an oddly ethereal glow onto the pale boy drifting in and out of consciousness. Harry gazed at Draco’s drooping eyelashes, long and dark and delicate. That’s so pretty, Harry drowsily thought. He felt as though he were watching a sleeping dragon, deadly and beautiful. As Draco’s breath started to slow, his body began to lean over and tip towards Harry, whose eyes suddenly widened with panic. He looked at Hermione in alarm as a sleeping Draco flopped over and fell onto Harry’s shoulder.

“What do I do?” he mouthed while Hermione clasped her hand over her mouth to stifle her giggling. Harry’s shoulders were tensed up and he tried to keep the unconscious Malfoy at arm’s length, but Draco just sort of snuggled onto Harry like a sleeping cat and Harry was too scared to try and nudge Draco off him.

“Just ignore him,” whispered Hermione as quietly as possible as she resumed her reading. Harry sighed in defeat and tried to go back to examining his notes. But it only took a little while for Harry’s initial panic to be replaced by drowsiness again, and the feeling of Draco’s warm, slender body nestled into his side was oddly calming at this late hour. The room became darker and smaller still, and Harry’s vision blurred even with his glasses on. He felt like he was pushing through deep water as he lifted his heavy arm up to slip his glasses off his face again. Harry couldn’t keep track of his drifting thoughts anymore; his mind was spinning and reeling and spiralling and faraway songs and abstract shapes swam through his brain as he collapsed onto Draco, dark messy hair mingling with fine light tresses as Harry’s head rested on top of Draco’s. The last thing Harry remembered was the musk of old books and the comforting scent of Draco’s hair.

-

“What time is it?” Draco mumbled softly, eyes still closed though he could tell there was light in the room. Still half-asleep, he squirmed and snuggled into the warm body beside him, hiding his face in soft messy hair. He felt like he was slowly beginning to wake from a strange but happy dream, and as he stirred he started to feel aware of an ache in his legs from sitting in his chair all night…chair? Why am I in a chair? Shouldn’t I be in bed? As Draco hesitantly began to pull himself away from the grip of unconsciousness, he suddenly wondered who on Earth he was so comfortably nestled onto. Draco certainly wasn’t the huggy type and he wouldn’t dream of lying next to anyone (except maybe his mother? But perhaps he was too old for that now). Whoever it was, they felt so comforting and familiar that he almost didn’t want to know. Almost. He felt so tired and he struggled to recollect his memory of the previous night. Where am I, and how did I get here?

“Wake up, you bloody idiots!” yelled a very exasperated voice that could only be Ron Weasley’s. He slammed a huge textbook shut, making a loud CLAP! that, in combination with the sudden shouting and the horrifying realization of exactly where Draco was and who he was with, caused the startled and mortified Malfoy to shoot straight up out of his seat, his head smacking Harry squarely in the chin, causing Harry to jolt awake with an indignant “Ow!”

Ron had just come into the library after a good night’s sleep, unable to find Harry anywhere. To his shock and utter dismay, what he saw when he rounded the corner of their studying nook was his best friend fast asleep on none other than their nemesis Draco Malfoy. He could only stand there in shock as Hermione appeared beside him, trying to suppress her amusement at the inexplicable sight. She left them asleep the night before, but she didn’t expect them to actually stay there all night. They looked awfully cosy, snuggled into each other and sleeping the morning away. The only problem (other than the fact that Harry and Draco aren’t supposed to be able to stand each other)?

“The exam’s in thirty minutes!”

~ stay tuned for part 3 where these idiots make a mad dash for their exam and we see whether Draco ends up getting that bloody A ~

[faejilly]

i am for you (17/?)

We're back! And playing with the timeline a little... this goes back to before the fic itself starts, and then moves along a whole *six weeks* because this, my darlings, is a 5+1 chapter in the middle of everything else. (Because why not?) 5 Times Catarina Went to Brunch, and 1 Time Brunch was Brought to Catarina (ao3 / series tag)

*

1

Brunch is quiet this week.

No one's really got much to say.

Even Magnus just shrugs when Cat asks what he's been up to.

(Even Cat can't think up any fun Madzie stories; baby-girl's got a cold and this week has mostly been about tissues and soup and endless re-runs of Moana and Mulan and The Princess and The Frog. She even picked Tangled once, and Cat thought maybe they'd moved on... but then she went back to Moana. She always goes back to Moana. She once sang You're Welcome over and over again for the entirety of her bath.)

Ragnor drinks and Dot sighs and Raphael rolls his eyes at the lot of them. Tessa is looking forward to the ALA conference in two weeks, but she's quieter about her enthusiasms than the rest of them; her smile is warm, but it doesn't spark anyone else into anything.

Still, it's nice. Cat never thought a single one of them would ever be stable enough to fall into a rut, and the fact that they've settled into one together... there are worse things.

Besides, there are mimosas.

2

Magnus is... fluttering.

He's not upset, he sits and eats and passes the syrup when asked and talks about his classes, but there's definitely... something.

He pauses before he sips his drink, and he ducks Ragnor's half-assed question about his current research. (Ragnor just raises his eyebrows. He's not terribly interested in dramatic portrayals of the occult, but Magnus usually is, and the fact that he doesn't want to break-down everything he's read on the subject this week is a bit unusual.)

He zones out while Dot's talking about the idiot client she'd been fighting with the entirety of the past week, arguing with every suggestion as if he wasn't the one who'd hired her; Magnus doesn't even laugh at her petty revenge of charging her client an extra half-an-hour for "removing all those squiggly lines from under the words" in his word doc.

But there's a hint of a smile on his face as he looks out the window.

"What is going on with you?" Cat asks while everyone's gathering shoes and bags and saying their usual farewells.

"Nothing." Magnus shakes his head, and Cat frowns at him. "Really," he lifts his hands in defense. She waits. "Yet?"

He won't say more than that, no matter how much she gives him The Look, but that almost smile lingers, and she hopes whatever it almost is turns out as well as Magnus seems to hope.

3

Alec Lightwood is a revelation.

She's seen Magnus fall too hard and too fast before, but she's never seen him like this, never seen him look lighter for it rather than just more intense, never seen the person he'd fallen for look just as far gone just as fast. Alec's expression when he looks at Magnus is sublime, it's like he's smiling all the way to his fingertips, and she has to look away.

Which is admittedly a little easier once he gets his shirt on.

Magnus has excellent taste in arm-candy... even if it's blatantly obvious that this is more than that.

Already.

She wouldn't be completely surprised if they eloped to Vegas the first time they tried to take a vacation together.

She'll yell at Magnus for it forever, and hold his hand while he gets desperately drunk if it leads to an equally quickie divorce, but she won't be surprised.

Ragnor clearly likes and might even respect Alec, which is... weird. She's not quite sure what to do with that, and she keeps glancing sideways to share her what the fuck? face with Raphael, but he doesn't cooperate nearly as well as Dot or Tessa would have. He seems to be cautiously in favor of Alec too, which is... even weirder. There are days she's not sure Raphael likes anyone, except maybe Ragnor, despite eating brunch with the rest of them every week. But he's very over-protective of Magnus, usually, especially since Camille, but now... now he's just. Leaning back? Relaxed? Sipping his coffee?

Cat feels like maybe she fell through Alice's rabbit-hole and somehow didn't notice right away.

But then Alec snorts out a laugh at something Ragnor says in his usual bone-dry way, and Magnus sputters something that sounds like an honest to god giggle, and she gives up on understanding and goes to refill her drink.

Wonderland seems pretty nice, this time of year.

4

Cat gets to brunch a little early this week, before anyone else. Besides Alec, of course, who's cradling a mug she doesn't recognize in his hands, and she wonders how much of his own life this past week has been spent at Magnus' rather than his own place, wherever it is.

She ought to be worried about that, she knows, but he'd been so clearly smitten whenever she mentioned Magnus at their lunch, it's hard to hold onto any concern. He offers to pour her some coffee, and even remembers that she likes sugar but not cream, and she can't help but smile at him in thanks.

He smiles back, sort of, and she wonders if he's nervous about Dot and Tessa, or if it's something else that's bothering him, and if it would be terribly blunt of her to ask. Not that she's usually concerned about that, but he's new, and if she made him uncomfortable Magnus might murder her.

Or ban her from mimosas for awhile, at least.

Magnus comes fluttering in then, touching half the appliances in the kitchen as he wanders back and forth. She cuts her eyes back to Alec and is inordinately pleased by the way he ignores her entirely and instead reaches out to catch Magnus' hand when he tries to swan past him for the third time.

"Why are you nervous?" Alec asks, and Cat almost slips off the counter she's leaning against. So much for worrying about being blunt. "I'm worried your friends won't like me, but you don't have to worry about my parents until dinner time."

Magnus' mouth opens, then shuts, clearly slightly shell-shocked by the blunt as well, even though she suspects from how quickly he pouts that it isn't at all out of character for Alec. "I can't also be worried my friends won't like you?"

"You weren't this worried last week."

Cat blinks as she realizes he's right.

"You already knew Ragnor, and Cat will give anyone at least two chances to prove they're not an idiot, and Raphael hates everyone regardless, so there wasn't anything to worry about."

Alec tilts his head, half-considering and half-amused, and Cat can't hold in the laugh anymore, snickering over her coffee. "But you're worried about Dot and Tessa? Dot already feels bad about her accidental drama and won't make any more, and Tessa's the nicest person on the planet."

Magnus scoffs. "Tessa's all quiet and polite right up until you fail some internal judgement you didn't even realize she was making and then she very serenely ignores you so thoroughly you can feel it all the way back seven generations or so and you can never quite put the pieces of your self-esteem back together."

It's Cat's turn to tilt her head, because he's not wrong, though she hadn't ever quite thought about it that way.

Alec snickers that time though. "To be fair, the last seven generations of Lightwoods probably deserve that?"

Magnus rolls his eyes, and half-heartedly smacks Alec in the chest with the back of his free hand. "But you don't."

"Well if she's as smart as you all say, she'll know that, right?"

Magnus grunts, as if annoyed that he can't argue with that, and then the knocker hits the door, three quick hard raps, and Magnus slips his hand free, blowing a kiss in Alec's direction before he goes to answer it.

"At least you've got your shirt on, this time. Might help."

Alec chokes, almost spitting coffee all over his hands, and she's still laughing when Dot and Tessa make it into the kitchen to be introduced.

5

They make Magnus and Alec take them all out for brunch as punishment for getting engaged at first sight. (And also apparently moving in together, which Cat had strongly suspected the week before based on the mug, and the toothbrush and razor in the bathroom, and the boxes hiding in Magnus' office nook, but she makes them acknowledge it out loud before she'll sit down at the table with the rest of them. Ragnor snickers, and she wonders how long he'd known, and if he'd been planning on telling the rest of them if they hadn't figured it out.)

Tessa does, in fact, serenely ignore the both of them for about half an hour, while everyone else is ordering drinks and perusing the menu, and Magnus and Alec both visibly wilt a little.

They're also clearly holding hands beneath the table, which is unbearably sweet, and Cat kind of hates how un-surprised she is the more she thinks about it. They fit, and while Alec isn't anything like she would have pictured some ideal Magnus partner, she can't begrudge them for being happy to have found each other.

"You're idiots," she informs them after they've finally all ordered. "But you're adorable, and I'm very happy for you."

Alec ducks his head and looks perilously close to blushing again, but he's smiling.

Tessa's lips twitch before she lifts her glass. "A toast to the happy couple?"

There's a clink of glasses as everyone else agrees, and Cat's never ever in almost twenty years seen a smile like the one spreading across Magnus' face.

+ 1

Baby-girl's best friend Lizzy, who she usually goes to play with on Sunday mornings, has chicken-pox and does not want visitors. (Cat reminds herself to have Madzie tested to see if her antibodies are still up to par from her vaccination or if she should get a booster.) Which means Cat isn't going to brunch.

Magnus scoffs at that when she calls to tell him on Friday, and insists that brunch will, instead, come to her.

She's not sure that's a good idea, but she can't seem to figure out why not, and it's not like Magnus listens when he's sure he's being brilliant anyways, so she makes sure to let Madzie know that a bunch of boring adults are coming over, and that she'll help her set up her tablet so she can watch cartoons in her room just this once if she'd like.

"Can I have breakfast while I watch?"

Cat really ought to say no to that, because she's probably going to find Madzie sneaking snacks into her room for at least the next month otherwise... but the last couple days have been a bit much at work and she is too tired for that conversation, so she says yes.

Madzie fist-pumps to celebrate her victory, which is, of course, unfairly adorable. Cat hopes she doesn't try to talk Uncle Magnus into having brunch at their house every week in order to make this a regular occurrence.

Then again, for all Madzie likes Uncle Magnus, especially when he brings presents (which is almost always, they're both very fond of brightly colored plush animals and Madzie's collection is now very impressive), none of Cat's friends have kids of their own, so their conversations with Madzie tend to be pretty brief.

It should be all right.

Hopefully Alec won't be too intimidating. He is ludicrously tall, with those scowly eyebrows, and Madzie is still usually shy with new people. Cat will have to remember to introduce them carefully.

(She wonders, later, how she'd forgotten the man had at least six younger siblings; even if half of them were metaphorical, that kind of thing tends to have an effect on a person.)

Magnus and Alec show up before anyone else, carrying four bags of what she assumes is going to be breakfast. Madzie peers around Cat's legs, clearly hoping for her usual squishy from Uncle Magnus, but uncertain about the very tall man next to him.

Alec sees her, and smiles, something small but friendly enough that it makes Cat blink, and then he's down on one knee so he's at a much more reasonable height for a child, and Cat blinks again.

"You must be Madzie." Alec doesn't have either that bright condescension or the slightly formal stilted tone that most people get when talking to little kids, and he's just loud enough that his voice carries without it being obvious he's keeping it a bit quieter than usual.

To Cat's utter shock, Madzie steps out from behind Cat's legs before she nods. "You must be Mr. Alec."

Alec nods back, and to Cat's continued surprise Madzie keeps talking. "Momma said you're going to marry Uncle Magnus but I don't have to call you Uncle Alec yet if I don't want to."

Cat doesn't know whether to be impressed that she's talking to a stranger or slightly embarrassed at what she chose to say, but Alec just grins, bright and delighted, and Cat rather forgets to breathe. Madzie smiles back and takes a step forward, as if she can't help herself.

Alec waits until she stops moving before he answers. "I am going to marry your Uncle Magnus, but you don't ever have to call me Uncle Alec if you don't want to, even after we're married."

Madzie nods very seriously, as if she's considering that.

"Are you having breakfast with us?" Alec asks, his voice leading up like he's going to add more, but he stops when Madzie shakes her head very fast.

"Momma said I could eat in my room while I watch Moana!"

"That does sound like a lot more fun than listening to us talk."

"Did you want to watch it with me?" Madzie offers, and Cat has to swallow something like a squawk before it bursts out of her, because Madzie is never this comfortable around new people.

Alec leans a little closer, his voice dropping. "I did promise Uncle Magnus and your Momma that I'd help make brunch."

Madzie turns her head up towards Cat and Magnus, going full on puppy-dog eyes and pouting lips. "Please, Momma?"

Cat nods, rather helplessly, and sees Magnus looking about as shell-shocked as she feels next to her. It took ages before Madzie was all right being alone with him, and she's known Alec five seconds. To be fair, she's much more trusting and relaxed now then she was when Cat first adopted her, but... five seconds.

Cat blames that ridiculous smile.

"See!" Madzie turns back to Alec, rocking up on her toes. "Momma says it's alright!"

"Well, I'm certainly not about to argue with your Momma." Alec shoots a glance up at the two of them. "Let me know if you need our help with anything, all right?"

"Of course," Magnus answers when it becomes clear that Cat's not going to manage more than a nod, her chest aching a little at how easily he'd said our, how easily he'd included her daughter in... everything.

Cat turns very slowly to watch as Madzie drags Alec down the hallway to her room, and equally slowly to turn back towards Magnus, whose eyes widen at the sound of Madzie laughing loudly enough they can hear it clearly where they are.

"What just happened?" Magnus asks.

Cat shakes her head. "He's your boyfriend. Fiancé. I thought you'd tell me."

Magnus looks down at the two bags Alec left by the door. "She didn't even ask for her toy."

Cat leans over enough to look into the bag, and sees a small glittery white stuffed unicorn with a rainbow mane and tail on top of a mesh bag of fruit. She covers her mouth to muffle a snort of laughter. "Apparently Alec's even prettier than unicorns?"

Magnus laughs. "Well, I can't argue with that."