#ive been laughing at this travesty for like an hour

[oopsalltes]

goodbye sweet prince you died as you lived: a fucking comatosed toddler

[seanfalco]

(More Than Just) Travel Partners - Part IV

Fandom: The Witcher Pairing: Jaskier x f!Reader Word Count: 3.7k Rating: E Warning(s): Smut a/n: okay so, I promise this is a reader insert.  There is a plot relevant reason why the reader is introduced with a name, you just have to find out why.  :3

[ Masterlist ]

——

This was it, the hour of the king’s party.

Upon arrival at the palace you’d been surprised to find that even a humble minstrel such as yourself was to be treated like a guest, and you and Jaskier were shown to separate rooms to freshen up.  Your stomach buzzed with anxiety as you checked your reflection in the large gilt framed mirror in your room.

Nerves about the party mixed with the lingering apprehension from your episode in the market the other morning until you were pacing the room, muttering positive affirmations under your breath in an attempt to calm yourself.  The knock at the door startled you, but you were glad to see Jaskier standing there, a reassuring smile on his face.

“You ready?” he asked, his blue eyes flicking down to admire your new dress once more.  “For the record, you look amazing, by the way.”

“We look amazing,” you insisted with a grin, admiring him in return.   Suddenly you remembered the gift you had for him and swore under your breath, rushing back into the room, wanting him to wear it with his new doublet.  “Hold on!  Just a moment!”

Jaskier followed, watching you curiously as you rummaged through your belt pouch, left on the bed.

“Forget something?” he teased.

“Close your eyes,” you instructed instead, giving Jaskier a level look when he merely stared at you in confusion.  “Come on we’ll be late.  Close your eyes,” you repeated.

Sighing dramatically Jaskier obeyed, an amused half grin playing at his lips.  “What are you going to do to me?” he asked coyly, wriggling his eyebrows though his eyes stayed closed.

“I’m going to prick you with this pin if you don’t stop moving,” you grumbled, fastening the small silver brooch you’d picked out at the market to his lapel.  “There,” you breathed, stepping back.  “You can open your eyes now.”

Jaskier’s eyelids fluttered open and his hand went to his collar and he turned toward the mirror.  “You got this for me?” he murmured in disbelief, leaning closer to his reflection to get a better look.  

“I saw it at the market and thought of you,” you replied simply.

When Jaskier didn’t respond you stepped up to his side, your reflection joining his in the mirror.  “What’s wrong?” you asked, afraid you’d upset him somehow.

“Nothing.”  He grinned, turning to you.  “It’s just, I can’t remember the last time someone gave me a gift just for the hell of it.  Thank you.”

You could already feel your cheeks heating.  “Compared to how much you spent on this dress, it’s really nothing,” you murmured.

“Well I don’t think it’s nothing,” Jaskier said, hesitating before leaning forward quickly to press a chaste kiss to your cheek.

Without giving you time to react properly besides pressing your fingers to the place his lips had been moments ago Jaskier hooked his arm with yours and pulled you out into the hall, laughter in his voice.

“Come on, they’re gunna start without us if we don’t hurry!”

——

The throne room was resplendent in gold and royal purple with candles glittering on every surface and you couldn’t help but gape at the sight.  Courtiers and revelers filled the long tables arranged around the great hall, decked in their finest garb and jewels, and you were somewhat surprised to find you blended in quite well in your fine new dress.  The rich smells of the different dishes laden on every table had your mouth watering and you chewed your lip as you decided which you wanted to try first.

Catching Jaskier watching you with an amused smile you leaned in so he could hear you over the hum of voices.  “I’ve never seen anything like this before.”

“Really?  I couldn’t tell,” he teased dryly.  “If you don’t pick your jaw up off the floor you may trip over it.”

“Rude,” you gasped, elbowing him in the ribs, unable to hide your smile as he winced.

Taking your place with the other musicians you eyed them as you began softly tuning your fiddle.  You were the only woman in the group.

There was one bard that stood out to you above the rest, wending his way across the room, lute in hand, toward the royal table to speak with the king.  He was a peacock of a man, his doublet richly coloured and the silk hat on his golden curls bore a ridiculously long feather.

“Let me guess, that fellow over there is the friend you met with yesterday?” you asked Jaskier.  He glanced up from his lute, his gaze following yours.

“Yeah, that’s him, Monteforte,” he grumbled darkly.  “At least Valdo Marx isn’t here,” he added under his breath as the King rose from his seat to address the crowd, welcoming them and calling for the food to be served.  As he sat, the bard Jaskier had called Monteforte stepped out onto the floor with a flourish, much to Jaskier’s chagrin, his lips twisting with disdain during the man’s performance.

After a couple songs Monteforte swept his arm out, gesturing toward yourself and Jaskier.  “Your Highness, I’d like to introduce my old friend, Jaskier and his lovely companion, Miss Aevryn.”

Jaskier threw you a shocked glance before composing himself and swaggering over to Monteforte.  As you followed, trying to look half as self-assured, you noticed the way the guests tittered excitedly when Jaskier took the floor; several ladies’ gazes following him with interest as they spoke in hushed tones behind their silk fans.

Curtsying to the King to match Jaskier’s bow you positioned your fiddle under your chin and began to play on his count.  Closing your eyes you focused on your breath and the feel of the strings beneath your callused fingers; the sound of the music and Jaskier’s voice filling the hall.  Soon people were getting up to dance and the overall feel of the space was becoming more familiar to you, chasing away the nerves that threatened to overwhelm you.

After several songs Jaskier turned the floor over to you and you nodded to the rest of the musicians to back you up, playing the first notes of a lively hornpipe; looking to show off a little.  Surveying the crowd when you could spare the concentration, you managed a smile and a wink for the King, who looked absolutely tickled, before finding Jaskier.  You half expected him to be surrounded by a handful of young countesses or the like, but to your surprise he stood off to the side speaking with Monteforte, their eyes flicking to you as the other bard clapped Jaskier on the back.  

‘What’s that all about,’ you wondered, dying to know just what the two were talking about.

Bowing to the King after several more songs you headed straight for your table and downed a glass of wine before searching the room once more for Jaskier.  The revelers were everywhere now and it took several minutes for you to pick him out, circled by a group of noblewomen.  Scowling, you poured yourself another glass, thinking to numb the pang of jealousy in your chest with more wine when Monteforte approached, his gloved hand extended.

“I’ve been waiting all night for this chance, my dear, and I’ll be damned if I don’t take it before someone else snatches you up.  Won’t you please honour me with a dance?”

Taken aback you stared at his hand before glancing back to Jaskier, whose gaze met yours across the room.  Clearing your throat you nodded, setting down your goblet and taking the bard’s hand.  Joining the other dancers Monteforte spun you and you fell into step with him easily.

“Julian was right about you, you know,” he murmured cryptically, flashing you a charming smile.

“Julian?” you asked, confused.

“Forgive me, Jaskier,” he clarified with a chuckle.  

“And what was he right about?” you asked, watching Jaskier out of the corner of your eye.

“That it would be a travesty if you were not in attendance tonight,” Monteforte replied smoothly.

“What do you mean?”

“Those were the words he used as he begged me for an invitation for the two of you.  I must admit I was rather surprised that he was more worried about making sure you should be in the spotlight than himself.  I’ve known Julian for a long time and believe me when I say that this is a first for him.  I’d say he cares for you rather deeply.  He hasn’t been able to keep his eyes off you all night, you know?”

Monteforte smiled knowingly as you fought for the words that were caught in your throat.  

“Ah, speak of the devil,” he announced as Jaskier appeared at your side looking flustered, a frown creasing his forehead.

“Okay okay, that’s enough of that,” he exclaimed shooing the other bard away.  “I’m cutting in now.”

Monteforte merely smiled as he bowed to you and backed away; the amused look in his eyes speaking volumes.

“Hey, he didn’t say anything, oh I dunno, inappropriate to you, did he?” Jaskier asked, a touch defensively and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“No,” you gasped with mirth as he spun you across the floor.  “We talked about you actually.”

“Me?”  Jaskier nearly stumbled, muttering something about loose lipped cads under his breath.  

“Why did you tell me that Monteforte invited us to play tonight when he made it sound like you begged him for the honour?  Is that why you didn’t want to meet him initially?”

The more questions you asked the more uncomfortable Jaskier appeared.

“I told him not to tell you,” he grumbled under his breath, glowering across the room at the other man.  Turning back to you he sombered.  “I”m sorry… I wanted to surprise you with this, and yes, I didn’t exactly want you to see me abase myself for this opportunity,” he admitted.

“He said you did it for me,” you murmured, watching his face carefully.

Jaskier’s eyes met yours as the music stopped.  

“I did.  I would do anything for you.”

The words were so soft you almost didn’t catch them as the next song began and the other dancers moved around you as you stood still in the middle of the floor.  Overwhelmed with affection you did the first thing you could think of, leaning in to kiss him lightly on the cheek.

“Oh, Jask.  Thank you.”

——

Jaskier sat down heavily on the edge of his bed as you took a swig from the bottle of wine you’d taken with you once the party had finally wound down.  Giggling, you handed him the bottle before plopping down next to him.

“That was so amazing,” you exclaimed, replaying the evening over in your head, still in awe of everything you’d gotten to experience.  Jaskier stiffened next to you as you leaned into his side, but didn’t move, instead offering you the bottle back.  

Feeling slightly tipsy, but not yet drunk you shook your head, not wanting to worry about a hangover in the morning.  Shrugging, he brought the wine to his lips for another long drink.

“So,” you mused, warm and slightly uninhibited; the words falling from your lips without filter.   “You seemed a bit jealous when Monteforte asked me to dance.”

 Jaskier choked on the wine, quickly pulling the bottle from his mouth to cough.  “Wha -- no!” he spluttered, setting the bottle on the nightstand and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.  “I certainly, was not, jealous,” he remarked haltingly.

A coy grin crossed your face.  “I dunno, you extricated yourself from that group of ladies rather quickly in order to steal me away from your rival,” you pointed out.

Jaskier cleared his throat, not quite looking at you.  “And I suppose you weren’t jealous either that I was surrounded by beautiful women all vying for my attention?”

“Nope, not at all,” you quipped, though your voice came out tenser than you planned.

“...Aev,” Jaskier sighed, his expression sobering.  “How long are we going to keep up this farce?”

“What farce?” you asked, voice cracking, and in that moment you wished more than anything you had the bottle of wine back.

“That we’re not crazy for each other.”

“Jask…” You couldn’t remember leaning in, closing the already thin gap between Jaskier and yourself, but as your eyes flicked up to his you realized just how close you were and suddenly you hesitated; wanting so badly to just give in.

What’s stopping you?  A voice in your head whispered.

I’m afraid, you whispered back.  Afraid of trusting, only to get hurt again.

But think of what you’re missing if you don’t even try?  The voice replied, giving no quarter.  We both know you want this.  Have wanted it for a long time now.

“Aevryn?”  Jaskier breathed, his lips so close to yours and you shivered at the warmth of his breath against your skin.  Closing your eyes you pulled away though every fibre of your being screamed in protest.

“I can’t.”

Your voice came out more like a strangled sob and you pushed off the bed, the urge to run growing.

“Why not?” Jaskier asked, following you to your feet.  “Did I do something wrong?”

“Oh Gods, no!” you exclaimed, looking at him and then and knowing it was a mistake.  

“Then why?”  The crack of desperation in his voice was too much and you shuddered.  

“Because if I kiss you now, i won’t be able to stop,” you whispered.

“Then don’t stop.”

Jaskier’s plea broke what little restraint you had left and you fell into his arms, your lips colliding.

The whine that left your throat was quickly swallowed as Jaskier deepened the kiss and you eagerly gave in, pulling him closer, stumbling back toward the bed as his hands roamed your body.  Your head swam at the intensity behind his kisses and you tugged at his open doublet in a feverish haste to undress him.

Spinning you suddenly Jaskier tilted you back and a gasp burst from your lips as you fell to the bed and he shucked off his jacket, climbing over you to resume where he’d left off kissing you thoroughly.  The soft moans and whimpers he managed to elicit sounded foreign to your ears, but all you could think was that you wanted more.

Desperately your hands went to his undershirt, fingers fumbling with buttons until the light fabric fell open, baring his chest, and you ran your fingers over the dark exposed hair.  Humming into your mouth with pleasure at the feel of your hands on him Jaskier ran a palm up the outside of your leg, pushing up the tulle of your skirt and massaging your soft skin as his body pressed you further down into the mattress.

Your bodies nearly flush you gasped as you felt his arousal straining his trousers and the fog of lust cleared for a moment as the reality of what you were sprinting headlong toward caught up to you.  

“Jaskier, wait,” you murmured hastily as his lips left yours to gasp a breath and he froze, worry flickering across his visage.

“What’s wrong?” he asked, the huskiness of his voice sending heat flooding through you despite your request.

“I need to tell you something first.”

“What is it?”

“My name isn’t Aevryn.  It’s [ y/n ],” you blurted out, the urge to tell him the truth overpowering the white hot desire that gripped you.

Jaskier’s eyebrows shot up, but he didn’t interrupt as you quickly continued.

“I should have told you sooner, but I was afraid.  I’ve been on the run, hiding for so long now,” you trailed off, shame welling up inside you and you turned your face to the side, unable to face him.

“Hey,” Jaskier murmured as he gently turned your face back to him, his hand caressing your cheek.  “I know.”

Swallowing, you nearly gaped up at him.  “You know?” you asked, unable to keep the incredulity from your voice.

“I guessed, anyway,” he admitted softly.  “I figured you would tell me what you were running from when you were ready.”  A chuckle burst from his lips then.  “I didn’t exactly think it would be in the middle of getting hot and heavy.”

You couldn’t help but huff a laugh in return at the irony of it.  “Yes well, I didn’t want you to go into this, believing a lie.”  Taking a shaky breath you looked into his face, your hand reaching up to comb your fingers through his mussed chestnut hair falling over his forehead.

“Jaskier I’m married.”  There you’d said it.

If he was surprised he didn’t show it.

“My-my… husband,” you began, fumbling over the word, now foreign to your mouth, “he’s a monster.  He —“ Having to stop to take another breath Jaskier waited patiently, his thumb slowly caressing the length of your jaw as you fought to get the words out.  “He would beat me when he was unhappy and-and… I had to get away from him and there was no other way.”

“Shh, it’s alright,” Jaskier quickly assured you, not wanting you to have to put your pain into words.  “I get the picture…” Sadness filled his blue eyes, but he didn’t pull away.

“You’re not mad?”  The question left your lips in a whisper.  “You’re not going to leave me?”

“No.”  The fierceness in Jaskier’s voice stunned you and all you could manage to do was stare at him.  “Aev — [ y/n ],” he corrected, seeming to savor the sound of it, “I’m not going anywhere unless you tell me to leave.  I-I think I’ve finally discovered what pleases me and I’m not going to let it go.”

“Oh, Julian,” his given name fell from your lips and you tightened your arms around him, pulling him back down to you.  “I want you,” you admitted softly.  “Now there are no more secrets between us.”

A smile spread across his face and he leaned forward to press his lips to yours slowly, his kiss gentle but far from chaste, his teeth nipping at your lower lip as he pulled back slightly to catch your gaze.  “I want you too,” he groaned, resting his forehead against yours.

“Then don’t stop.”  

You purred his words from earlier back to him, your eyes finding and holding his as they darkened with lust.  The low desperate growl that rumbled from his throat sent heat pooling low in your stomach and then his mouth was on yours again, though this time slow and deliberate as though he were savoring you like he savored your name.

Breaking to pull his shirt over his head he pulled you up with him, his hands deftly working to loosen the laces on the back of your dress as his lips explored your neck and jaw until your dress fell away.  Lowering you back down Jaskier eased the delicate fabric down your waist and your lifted your hips so he could slide it off completely, letting it pool on the floor, soon joined by the remainder of his clothes.

By the flickering light from the fireplace you admired him, committing his body to memory, as no doubt he was doing the same.  Crawling back over you, his hands gliding up your body stopped to caress your breasts as he kissed you, tasting you, the heat between your thighs spreading.

You could feel his hardness twitch against your thigh and you rolled your hips against him, pleased with the low groan it drew from Jaskier’s lips.

“Jaskier,” you moaned and could feel his grin against your skin as his hands continued their exploration of your fevered flesh.  “Please…”

“Please what?” he asked, lifting his head to watch you.

“Please, touch me,” you said, breathlessly.

“Oh, but I am touching you,” he replied, pausing to trace a finger teasingly down your navel and over the crest of your hip; your body practically quivering in response.  He was so close to where you wanted him and it was clear he wasn’t going to give you what you wanted until you begged.

“Jaskier please, you know what I want,” you tried again, but the coy smile that curved his lips wickedly made it clear you would have to say it.

“Do I?” he mused, leaning back down to trail kisses across your chest, nipping at your skin between each open mouthed kiss.  The warmth of his tongue nearly drove you mad and you finally gave in.

“I want you inside me,” you gasped in frustration and Jaskier chuckled in response.

“Oh, like this?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow as he brushed his thumb over your throbbing cunt and slid a finger between your folds, adding a second one as you rolled your hips instinctively to meet each slow thrust.

“Are you always such a tease?” you managed to gasp, wrapping your arms around his shoulders.

“Maybe I just want to take my time with you,” Jaskier replied, wetting his lips.  Your eyes followed the quick swipe of his tongue, biting your lip as his fingers continued to move in and out of you, curling up to hit just the right spot.  “All the best things are worth waiting for, are they not?”

Smiling, you pulled him closer, kissing his laughing lips, feeling the heat between your legs coiling.  Just as you hit the brink, ready to overflow Jaskier pulled his hand away and the frustrated whine that left your lips only seemed to fuel him.

Before you could complain, you felt his length press against you, replacing his slick fingers and you shuddered as it teased your entrance.

“Oh please,” you whimpered, closing your eyes.

Jaskier kissed you slowly as he pressed into you by increments until he was fully sheathed.  “Oh fuck.”  The plea that tumbled from your lips was soon replaced by moans that grew louder as he began to move in you, thrusting slowly at first until he was certain you were accustomed to his size.  

At some point you wondered if the guests in the rooms next to his could hear your cries, but you were past caring.  All you could think of was him and how wonderful the moment was, how good and right he felt, until you could no longer think at all, the pleasure his every movement, his every touch overwhelming your senses, pushing you toward the edge.

Your cries reached a fever pitch, mixing with his string of praise and encouragement, begging you to cum for him, to call his name.

And you did.  

[peachywise]

nullify part 3

an umbrella academy fanfiction // klaus hargreeves x reader

- part iii: the difference between truths and lies || part i ⋆ part ii ⋆ part iv ⋆ part v ⋆ part vi ⋆ more parts to be released

- synopsis: Klaus may have terrified your neighbour, broken an unspoken contract, and overall just acted like an absolute ass, but hell. That wasn't anything compared to how shitty your first meeting went when you met the rest of his family.

- notes: Sorry, this chapter took a little longer to get up than expected! Then again, it was delayed because I got a puppy, so yeah man I'm not that sorry lmao. Hope you enjoy! Swearing and minor violence TW.

link on ao3 

________________________

“Did you break my lamp?”

Looking over his shoulder, Klaus peered at the tall beige light lying haphazardly on your floor, its shade squished to shit with little pieces of broken light bulb scattered around. It also just so happened to be right beside the window he had crawled in to get here.

“Would you believe me if I said it was like that when I got here?”

You pinched the bridge of your nose. Patience. You had to have patience. Granted, that would be easier to achieve if you also had a lamp that was intact.

“Hey, if it makes you feel any better, it made a loud enough crash and you didn’t even wake up. Would have thought you were dead if I wasn’t such a brilliant expert on the subject already.” Crossing the room to stand in front of you, he lowered his voice slightly, asking, “what pills do you take for it? Never seen anything like it.”

“Nothing. Just the sheer anger and exhaustion that comes from having been born,” you bluntly stated, only half-joking.

He tilted his head in a funny nod. “Ah, yes. That would do the trick.”  Shaking your head, a little amused despite it all, you brushed past him to grab one of your canvas bags hanging by the front door. In doing so, Klaus’s eyes fell down to your hand, only just noticing the object clasped in your grasp. His face contorted in confusion “Are you actually bringing that clock with you? I was joking when I suggested it, sweetheart.”

Slipping the clock in the bag—which was little more than a defensive weapon now—you snorted. “I’m not taking any chances.” You’d already had a plate thrown at you, a spoon, and a pot dropped on your stomach, and that was all in less than twenty-four hours. If they were going to keep tossing ridiculous objects your way, then the clock was yours to use freely as far as you were concerned.

You almost wanted to smack him over the head with it again to avenge your fallen lamp. At least that’s why you told yourself you wanted to.

“Remind me why I agreed to go meet them, again?” You muttered, slinging your bag over your shoulder as you slipped some sneakers on. Klaus moved back over to your window, gingerly stepping over your lamp like he was afraid of damaging it more than he already had. How nice of him.

“Because I’m incredibly charming. And if you’re thinking of backing out, you aren’t going to get the ice cream cone I was going to treat you too on our midday stroll.”

Well, shit. Couldn’t say no to that.

“Let’s go, then."

Klaus’s grin was way too big, his face a little too excited. It was the same as that almost anticipative, hopeful look in his eyes you saw when you first met. The near intensity that he looked at you was enough to unnerve even the most confident of people. It was confusing. You had begun to think about what they could need. Clearly, they weren’t as interested in your forcefields ability of simple defense, given Five’s early dismissal of it. He was way more interested in learning you could nullify powers. At the very least you knew you could cancel out Klaus’s. Most likely they just needed you to do that with someone else. The question was, who was it?

Moving to unlock your door, you heard a familiar swish and click of a window. Turning back around, you noticed Klaus trying to squeeze himself through it, his body already halfway out.

“I genuinely can’t tell if you’re doing that to be funny, or because you forgot we could leave out the front door.”

Stalling just before he stuck his second foot out on your fire escape, he stayed still for a beat then backtracked, maneuvering himself inside the apartment once more. Clearing his throat as he stood upright, he murmured, “I was just following Ben’s lead,” walking past you to swing the front door open. “Well come on, we haven’t got all day. Early bird gets the worm and all that."

Patting Klaus’s arm condescendingly, you stated a little loudly simply in hopes ghost boy was actually still in the room, “with how much I assume Klaus pins his stupid stunts on you, it's a travesty that you haven't been anointed to sainthood, Ben.”

“Please,” Klaus scoffed, throwing his arm over your shoulder as you moved out in the hallway, closing the door and locking it behind you. “You can’t even hear him and you believe him over me?”

Shrugging his arm off, you span around and walked backward, facing him. “Are you kidding? Currently, he’s my favourite because I can’t hear him. It’s blissful.”

Klaus was about to shoot something back at you, his face lighting with the knowing signs of amusement, but stopped himself before he could begin. Oh, so no clever come back? You’d gotten so used to the rapport you were almost disappointed, despite what you had just previously stated about the quiet.

But then you heard another voice behind you, and Christ, you already dreaded having to explain the presence of your rather scantily clad, eccentrically distinctive acquaintance.  

“Honey, are you okay? I heard some noises coming from your apartment and I was just on my way to check.”

Spinning back around, you gave a tight smile in welcome to your elderly neighbour, Eliza Carr. She was a sweet little woman, albeit nosy as all hell. Shrunken to about 4’9 with overly long grey hair pinned up in a tight bun, you always wondered if she did it too stretch her wrinkles in a make do facelift. Ingenious, really. She’d always kind of reminded you of a fairy. Odd comparison, but it worked when you considered they were often pleasant under the guise cover an impish exterior.

Once you had even caught her looking through your mail. You were pretty sure she had taken a pizza coupon from the stack and hid it in her bra.

“I’m fine, Mrs. Carr. I was just—”

“With me,” Klaus interjected, stepping beside you and looping his arm through yours, pressing you closer to his side as he put on his fake little polite act.

Shit.

Why he interrupted, you had no idea. Maybe it was just his incessant need to hear his own voice, or his need to make his presence known lest he disappears like the invisible ghost who trailed along after him.

“Believe me, I tried to quiet them down but they just can’t keep their hands off! Didn’t help that they ball-gagged me and had my hands and feet tied together, but that’s pretty tame compared to last night.”

Maybe he interrupted because this truly was hell and Klaus was a literal fucking demon given the duty to torment you in every sense of the word. Then Eliza’s hand went to her chest, and you had decided he was actually the grim reaper who just tried to kill the poor old bat.

Widening your eyes, you were completely stunned into silence, unable to cough even the slightest noise or retaliate against his words. Then Eliza dropped her hand and took a small, concerned step forward, reaching that hand out to place it on your forearm in a comforting, though at the moment mortifying, gesture. “Why don’t you come to church with me on Sunday, Hun? I think—”

Sidestepping away from her grasp, you gripped Klaus’s wrist as you finally found your voice again. “Sorry, gotta go! Late for an appointment!” Before she could try to convince you that you needed Jesus—someone who inevitably must have abandoned the earth the moment your present companion was born—you pulled Klaus behind you in your frantic attempt to escape. Then he turned just slightly to yell back at the woman, “we’re trying to adopt! I think we’ll make fantastic parents," as you turned down the hall and raced down the few flights of stairs. Klaus snickered the whole way down.

As soon as you reached the landing of your lobby, musty and welcoming with its stained emerald carpet and all, you dropped his wrist and indignantly ignored him as you exited the building. He trailed behind you like the world’s worst trained mutt. “Give me a minute to catch my breath, will ya?” He huffed, as you walked down the concrete steps and on to the sidewalk. “I’m still a little winded from having that ball gag in my—”

Sticking your leg out casually as he descended from the final step, he comically tripped over it and fell to the ground just as gratifyingly as you had imagined it.  

“Do that again and I’ll shove coal so far down your throat you’ll be shitting diamonds for years to come.”

“You promise?” He smiled, pushing himself off the ground and wiping the gravel from his hands on to his pants. Not like those things could really get any dirtier. “Also, that’s an oddly specific threat. You pick it up from Five? Sounds like him, though it’s a little crude.”

“Do you get off on making a random strangers life hell?” You questioned, crossing your arms over your chest as you glared at him indignantly.

Klaus stepped beside you and bumped his shoulder with yours. Smirking as he bent his face lower to your level, he groaned out, “come on, you had to find it a little funny. That woman probably isn’t a saint herself. Seen plenty of grannies reading Fifty Shades of Grey on the bus. Think she’d want to give it a go with me?”

Okay. It was a little funny.

Taking your silence and the slight upturn of your mouth as a win, he poked your arm as if the last attempt to coax you out of grumpiness. You let out a small laugh. “Fine, whatever,” you conceded, “It was a little funny. But seriously, don’t do it again. She’s tried to get me to go to her church so many times that I think next time she’ll just knock me out and drag me there in her car.”

Chuckling back, he sprang into action as he began walking down the street, calling back, “come on, let’s go get that ice cream.”

“I can’t believe you,” you muttered, pulling the vibrantly pink sunglasses down off your head to cover your eyes, despite being inside.

Klaus turned to glance through his matching pair.

“What? I told you. It will present us as a united front.”

“Not the glasses,” you said, taking another lick of the ice cream. You know, the ice cream that you paid for despite him saying it was his treat? Yeah. At this point, you were just ashamed that you had even believed him. And to trick you with the promise of ice cream, of all things! He was truly and most undoubtedly heinous. “When you say you’re going to treat someone to ice cream, typically that means you’ll pay for it, not just order mine and one for yourself, then look me dead in the eye to tell me to pay the man.”

“Did I not hand it to you? I treated you. It's not my fault you thought I had money.”

Wow. He truly would have thrived in high school debate. How disappointing he was raised to be a freakin’ con man instead.

“You know what? The glasses I was fine paying for. They’re cool. But to make me buy you ice cream, taking back an unspoken contract? Despicable.”

You couldn’t tell if the offended look on Klaus’s face was real or a weak attempt to hide the pleasure you knew he was truly taking from this mindless argument.

“Unspoken contract!” He snorted, exiting the elevator on one of the higher levels of an apartment complex way nicer than your own. “Why are we even having this conversation? We both have ice cream, do we not? I call that a win-win.”

“That’s because you're stupid,” you jeered back, reaching over to take a bite of his ice cream like a passive-aggressive child. He gasped in what seemed like true horror. “Hey, you have your own!” Klaus whined, lifting his ice cream high up like that would actually stop you. You gave him a cheery grin—downright innocent. “I bought it. Both are mine.”

Klaus stopped in front of one of the apartment doors, not even bothering to knock as he swung the door open and entered inside. You followed behind him.

“Honey, I’m home!” He called out, then turned his attention back to you, swooping down to take a bite out of your ice cream in return. You gasped, recoiling back as if he had just tried to take your most precious possession. Man, now you knew how Gollum felt. “Not fair!” You laughed loudly, Klaus’s eyes crinkling as he returned the laughter in kind.  

Then the thunk of something planting itself in the wall right beside your ear had your laughter cutting off rather fast, and you dropped your ice cream too the nicely tiled floor in shock.

Oh, hell no.

“Diego, what did I say?” Echoed a baritone voice from around the corner. Turning your head slightly to stare directly down the hall, you lifted the sunglasses back on your head and made eye contact with one of the family, Diego. Luther soon followed into view and tugged him back.

Klaus muttered a small “uh oh,” beside you.

Peering from the corner of your eye at the knife he had just thrown at you, narrowly missing your head by a fraction of an inch, you turned your attention fully back to Number Two, squinting as you did.

“I am not a fucking steak!” You yelled at him, getting really tired the cutlery this family just kept throwing at you. So tired, in fact, that you ignored the man’s inquisitive look in favour of scrounging in your bag, pulling out your broken clock and throwing it with the intent to clock him on the head, no pun intended. Instead, it just bounced enthusiastically off his chest, falling to the floor and cracking its glass face.

Everything went quiet. Well, apart from the snort Klaus tried so hard to mask by covering his mouth with his hand.

“I don’t see any force field. I told you I don’t trust them,” Diego sneered to Luther, turning back around the corridor with a lasting, “we don’t need to involve anyone else.” You weren't necessarily going to dispute that, but man, he was a bitter boy.

Klaus leaned down close to your ear, whispering, “that was Diego. A ray of sunshine, isn’t he?”

Absolutely delightful.

Luther took that opportune moment to advance towards you too. While his disposition tried to read friendly, you knew underneath it all he was scrutinizing you just as much as the trigger-happy Diego had. Reaching out a gloved hand, you tried hard not to let his intimidating size spook you. When the fuck did he get that big?

“I’m Luther,” he introduced himself, as you shook his hand firmly but briefly.

“I know who you are,” you commented back, dropping his hand and taking a tiny step back. “Care to explain what’s going on?”

A look of confusion fell over his face. “Wait, no one told you?” Wow, the whole family was smart, weren’t they? “Klaus, you were supposed to tell her,” he sighed, turning towards his brother.

“Probably best he didn’t. He’s not the most reliable source for information,” came another voice, slightly higher pitched and overly familiar. Five moved to stand in front of you. “Nice to see you again. Was that a clock you threw?”

“Yes. Probably looks a little different from the Disney themed one you have beside your race car bed, so I understand your confusion.”

The only tell he had of his annoyance was the slightest tick at the corner of his eye. “Are you done and ready to talk like an adult now?”

“What, looking for practice? Can’t remember the last time I played house. Maybe kindergarten.” You were going to milk this as long as you could. It wasn’t just that you were trying to avoid whatever weird, nearly cult-like thing this had evolved into in your mind. It was also because you wanted to see just how much you could push the little tyke’s buttons until he snapped.

And then he snapped.

Giving a small huff, a knowing, almost winning look crossing his features. “And that was before your house burned down with you in it, right? If I recall correctly, that was when you were ten.”

This motherfucker. He knew. He knew everything.

Judging by the perplexed look on Luther’s face, and Klaus’s small exclamation of, “what?” it seemed that he was the only one who did. At that moment, it was the only thing stopping you from falling into a spiraling descent of panic and unbelievable ire.

This wasn’t worth it. No matter your curiosity, this was far from worth it.

Turning to Klaus, you bit out, “I think you need to set the kid down for his afternoon nap. He turns into the world’s biggest asshole when he’s tired,” and then swiftly moved to open the apartment door, slamming it behind you as you left without even saying goodbye.  

[icarusalchemist]

just lucky

read on ao3 here

summary: After getting a pet, Clint started wanting to do more things with more people. However, it was rare anyone ever had time for him and Lucky.

~

Or five times Clint's family didn't have time for him and the one time they did.

i.

"He's not my dog," Clint said again, for what felt like the tenth time. He had to admit, though, that he was getting attached to the thing.

"Well, his tag says his name is 'Arrow'," the veterinarian said. Clint leaned down a little bit so his face was level with the bandaged dog on the table. The dog lifted its head, blinking at Clint with its one good eye. Clint sighed and ran a hand through his messy and still-damp hair before reaching out and rubbing the dog's ears with both hands.

"I could come up with something much better," he told the vet, not a single note of regret in his voice.

"Welcome to fatherhood, then," the vet said with a chuckle.

~

When Clint managed to unlock his apartment and carry his new pet through the doorway, he had already made up his mind on two things.

One, this new addition to his life would be called "Lucky," because damn if he wasn't a lucky little guy. And, two, he would call Barney to celebrate Lucky's joining of the Barton family.

But, as usual in Clint's life, everything went amiss from there on. Even though they hadn't spoken in a while, Clint had still hoped that Barney would answer the phone and come celebrate. That didn't even go partially as planned, because as soon as the first ring finished, the answer machine cut off the droning tone. And, of course, Barney's machine was full - probably with voicemails from Clint - so he couldn't even leave his stupid big brother a message.

Another typical exchange between the Barton brothers, he guessed.

ii.

A few short months later was Clint's first Christmas with Lucky. Normally, Clint would be content with staying in his pajamas and consuming a few too many pots of coffee throughout the day, not leaving his apartment once. However, this Christmas was different for some reason.

He wanted to celebrate.

Clint honestly should have expected that everyone he knew was too busy for him, though. Each of the Avengers had their own plans with the people they loved, Bobbi wasn't in town, and Natasha wasn't even answering her phone. Even the other inhabitants of the building were too busy to let him crash their celebrations for an hour or two.

So, instead of doing anything special with anyone like he had originally wanted to, Clint changed back into his pajamas, brewed a second pot of coffee, and laid out on the couch with Lucky resting on top of him, slobbering on his t-shirt.

"Merry Christmas, little guy," he said with a sigh, not feeling merry in the slightest.

iii.

"C'mon, Nat, it's your birthday."

Call Clint an idiot, call him an airhead, call him whatever you like, but he would never forget his friend's birthday.

"And how the hell do you even know that?" Natasha asked him. She was only-God-knew-where, doing only-God-knew-what, but it was a day meant for celebration and, dammit, Clint wanted to celebrate another year of Natasha not being killed in their crazy line of work.

"Because I wormed it out of you one time when you were actually drunk," he confessed. "Either that or you voluntarily told me while pretending to be completely wasted, but either way-"

"I'm not having a celebration," she cut him off.

"Fine. Just come to my place and have cake. Lucky loves cake and he loves you, so at least come celebrate with us!" Clint bartered.

"Why should I?" she asked, still sounding very disinterested.

"Uh, I just told you? Lucky misses you, I miss you, we all love cake, and it's your birthday, for God's sake," he said, rattling through his list. How embarrassing would it be if she caught the 'I miss you' part?

"I miss the both of you, too, Clint," Natasha told him, finally seeming focused on their conversation, "but I'm still not coming all the way to New York just for my birthday."

"Then tell me where you are!" he tried. "I can pick up a cake on my way and we can come see you." He was pacing back and forth in front of his kitchen bar now, only going as far as his phone cord would reach, and Lucky was trotting dutifully alongside him. "Lucky can hear your voice right now and it's making him antsy that he can't see you."

"You know that's a lie, Barton. I bet a thousand-to-one that you're pacing in that kitchen of yours with your damn corded-phone," she said, a hint of a smile on her lips. "Lucky may be a dog with good hearing, but even he can't hear off of that thing."

"Okay, fine, that part was a lie," Clint admitted. "But he does still miss you!"

"Not telling you where I am, Clint. Besides, I don't really like cake. You know that."

"I could get something else, we could meet up-"

"Clint," Natasha cut him off, "I really appreciate the effort, but I don't need or want to celebrate my birthday. I don't really see why you would want to, either, but I appreciate the sentiment."

"So... that's a no?"

"It's a no. Sorry, Clint. Give Lucky my love." A moment later, the phone line went dead.

Clint sighed and looked down at Lucky. "Sorry, bud. Looks like it's just us again today."

iv.

"Dateaversary, huh?" Bucky chuckled down the line. "Sounds like it would be cute. Too bad I won't be back home for another week."

"You don't think you could get just today?" Clint asked, scratching Lucky behind the ears. "Lucky misses you."

Bucky huffed another laugh. "I'm sure he does. Tell him I miss him, too."

Clint smiled a little to himself and leaned down to the dog in his lap. "Buck misses you, the crazy sap," he whispered.

"I'm not the sap, Barton," Bucky argued jokingly. "You're the one who wants to celebrate the anniversary of our first date."

"We've been together for six months, to the day! That's a damn good enough reason to celebrate!" Clint argued back.

"Yeah, maybe, but I still can't get the day, sorry." And Clint could admit that Bucky did actually sound sorry. "But hey, maybe we could celebrate when I get back next week."

"Maybe," Clint agreed begrudgingly. "Won't be the same, though."

"Who says?"

"I and everyone who celebrates anniversaries."

Bucky laughed a little and then sighed. "I'm sorry I can't be home. Maybe for seven months. And before you say anything, I know it won't be the same, but we can make it even more special. Six months plus one."

Clint chuckled half-heartedly and gave a soft, unheard nod. "That would be good, yeah. Might make up for this travesty."

"Hey, now," Bucky said warningly. "I'm trying my best, freezing my ass off over here in freaking Russia."

"I know you are," Clint said fondly. "We miss you, though, so maybe try a little harder and come home early." Clint laid his head back, letting it thud against the wall, his neck horribly uncomfortable against the back of the couch.

"I'll try. I miss you, too, Clint," Bucky whispered, voice soft. "I gotta go now, though, but I'll see you when I get home."

"Okay, see you then. Be careful."

v.

"You've reached Kate."

"So I have," Clint muttered. "Leave a message and I'll consider getting back to you," he mocked alongside the recording. Then he sighed, hung up, and immediately tried again.

"This is the fifth time, Barton, what the hell?" Kate said in lieu of a 'hello' after the third ring.

"Well, hello to you, too, Katie-Kate," he sang.

"Hi," she deadpanned. "What do you want?"

"Do you know what today is?" Clint asked, sliding around his kitchen in his socks, trying to prepare an actual cake.

"Uh, August twenty-somethingth?" Kate guessed. "I don't know."

"Twenty-second," he told her. "And do you know what that means?"

"I don't," Kate sighed, "and I also don't have time for guessing games, so come on and spit it out."

"It's Lucky's birthday."

"Oh." That finally got her attention, Clint thought. "I didn't realize it had been a year-"

"Since I adopted him, yup. And he misses you, too," Clint said. "He'd love to celebrate with you, and I'm making him a cake-"

"I swear, Clint, if it's a pizza-shaped cake-"

"Hush, Lucky loves it." Clint grinned to himself and looked into the living room at the aforementioned dog, sleeping at the foot of the couch.

"Well, you and Lucky will sadly have to celebrate one year with your stupid pizza-shaped cake without me," Kate said a moment later.

"What?" Clint asked, taken aback. "Why?"

"I'm in Cali, Clint."

"Since when?"

"Since last weekend. I'm staying with America, it's date night tonight, and I won't be home for another two or three weeks."

"Huh," Clint mumbled. "Just like last year, then."

"What does that mean?" Kate questioned, almost sounding offended.

"Nothing, I just-" Clint sighed. "I tried to see if Barney would come celebrate last year but he never even answered the phone, and now you can't come celebrate a year-"

"Clint," Kate interrupted. "You know this isn't about not wanting to be there or about ignoring you. I am honestly a bit offended that you're comparing me to your dumbass of a brother, but I'll let it pass."

"Sorry," he muttered.

"Don't," Kate huffed. "Shoot me a text when you finish the cake and sing to Lucky. I'll call and America and I will help sing, too."

"Nah, you don't have to do that, Kate," Clint said, waving her off even though she couldn't see him. "Go enjoy your date with America, we'll be fine."

"What about Barnes? Isn't he home to celebrate with you?" Kate asked.

"Nah, he, uh, had another mission, just like last month." Clint cleared his throat and got back to mixing ingredients for the pizza cake. "Lucky and I will be fine, though, don't worry. Call me when you get home."

"I will. I'm sorry again, Clint-"

"I told you, Katie-Kate, it's fine. Have fun with America and tell her and the others that I said hi."

+i

Halloween. The perfect time of year for people to get the shit scared out of them.

A typical Halloween at the Barton 'n' Lucky apartment would consist of closed blinds, probably too much coffee and pizza, and horror movies all day. But, this year, Clint got invited to a party.

Well, a "party." He knew it couldn't have been much when Tony Stark's invitation said "Clinton 'Hawkguy' Barton and Little Lucky," but he was still going to go and enjoy the time with friends. And he sure as hell was taking Lucky.

"Oh, Lucky, no," Clint sighed as Lucky pawed at the eye patch on his face again. This was the third time Clint had managed to get the thing to stay over Lucky's missing eye and the third time that Lucky had pawed it right off. "Do you not want to be a pirate?"

Lucky barked.

There was a chuckle from the stairs as Bucky walked down them, fully dressed in his costume. He had a blond wig braided messily over his loose brown hair and a homemade red coat over the rest of his black outfit.

"I don't think Lucky appreciates the eyepatch," he laughed.

"But he's got to be a pirate!" Clint argued. "He's got the perfect number of eyes for it!"

Bucky laughed loudly at that, tossing his head back and holding his stomach. "Clint, babe, no."

"What? It's the only costume that would be right for him."

"Well, maybe just forego the eyepatch. You've already got the puffy shirt and little pirate booties," Bucky reasoned, walking over and kneeling down to look Lucky over. The dog was just staring at the both of them, clearly confused.

"Too bad he couldn't be a piece of p-i-z-z-a," Clint sighed. "Would've been even more perfect than a pirate."

Bucky laughed at that then turned his head to Clint. "When are you getting dressed? We've gotta leave soon."

"Right now, then," Clint said, pushing himself off of the floor and jogging up to their bedroom.

~

"Make room, make room! He comes armed!" Bucky announced when they walked out of the elevator onto the communal floor of Avengers Tower.

"And he comes with a detachable arm!" Clint laughed, lifting Bucky's metal left arm.

"And the more important one comes with no arms and four legs!" Kate hollered, causing laughter to erupt across the room. Clint laughed as Lucky ran towards the sound of her voice, knocking arrows out of her hip quiver when he took her down.

Clint tucked his blond wig behind his pointy elf-ears and looked around the room; it wasn't necessarily crowded, but it was definitely full of people who loved one another. Everyone was in some kind of clever costume - Kate was Katniss from The Hunger Games (of course), America was Rosa Diaz of the Nine-Nine, Natasha was Sansa Stark (she was such a nerd, honestly), Tony was Alphonse Elric (he and Bucky had coordinated), and so many others were dressed up, too, in varying qualities of costume.

The room itself was decorated with orange fairy lights and jack-o-lanterns and fake spiderwebs in every corner. It was the embodiment of a Halloween party, just a lot more chill and the perfect gathering between friends.

By the end of the night, Clint was glad he had come. He had finally gotten to celebrate something on time, and with his family, no less. Honorary or not, they were all he had.

[leopardwolf]

Fuck Cancer, Fuck Inadequate Medical Care

  I got angry and lit fires at the hospital last week. The hospital originally planned to just release mom once again after barely doing the minimum to stabilize her and not give any additional aftercare. Just go home and resume what you were doing.  She had only just barely started eating solid food again and they still had her on IV fluids.  I expressed concern saying this is exactly what happened the last time after her ICU incident, the hospital let her stay a few days and then decided she was "okay enough" to go home even though they had not addressed the issues that led to her potassium drop.... her uncontrolled ( even on meds ) pain and nausea.  So I told them, even with me here now supervising her and trying to get her to stay on top it, she could not keep anything down, and within days was right back where she had been. I told them I was worried that happening this close to scheduled surgery, would mean she would not be able to have the surgery... and the surgeon made it very clear because they will have 4 docs working on this, this was the only slot they all had for months.  The hospitalist actually tried to justify it and argue medically speaking, she was technically stable and they had no reason to keep her.... I shut him down. Seriously? She is a cancer patient doing very badly and malnourished, you know she is having major surgery next week, and you are just saying "Oh, go home and if it happens again, just come back!" instead of proactively giving us any options to keep her stable until the surgery?  I said there has to be something you can do, or someone can. He admitted his hands were tied and said he would speak to his supervisor and see what they could do.  I spoke with the supervisor and she admitted it was a bad situation and just the nature of disease this bad....I said that isn't good enough, there has to be something we can do, if you won't keep her in the hospital. Even if I had to drive her to more appointments, already an issue for us since they are in the middle of nowhere. She said maybe there was, if we could get IV fluids at home, and went to set that up.  I thanked her for thinking outside the box to do so. While waiting, I had called and left a message for mom's surgeon's nurse to call back. When I told her what was going on, she agreed it was not a good situation to lead up to major surgery. Mom could hardly keep anything down, even simple liquids, and as soon as the dehydration kicks in, it gets worse which makes dehydration worse and turns into a nasty chain cycle that needed to be broken so she didn't end up hospitalized and unable to have the surgery.  The nurse spoke with the surgeon and explained the situation, and he agreed with my reasoning that it was too risky even with home IV fluids, and felt mom would be better off if they could monitor and get her where she needed to be for surgery. So he didn't hesitate to suggest we bring her in and admit her to the main hospital so he could help personally oversee her care.  I am soooooo thankful they actually listened and did not just trying to shrug it off like the hospital in Slidell did, twice.  That is unacceptable. The surgeon ordered new CT scans and other things, and of course found that her nutrition levels were real bad.  They found there is some sort of blockage in the small intestine, that is likely what is causing her to be so sick and not be able to keep food down.  Based on his experience, there is a chance it is from the cancer spreading, but he can't be certain till he goes in to see what the tissue is.  The lymph nodes that were already effected are enlarged, and it looks like a 3rd is now effected. Some of the affected lymph nodes cannot be removed.  We talked with palliative care to discuss options. Having surgery will give her extra time, provided there are no complications, and once the stuff is out of her and they clear the blockage they would probably put in a feeding tube. There is a chance after that and if she heals well they can try chemo again, and as long as she does not have another allergic reaction to it, they will see if it helps. So there is some slim hope. The whole problem is that she was allergic to the main chemo drugs they use to treat this type of cancer, and the idiot chemo oncologist kept her thinking it was okay to wait and try another and another, instead of explaining to her how serious it already was and they should have surgeried her to begin with to remove it all, and then done more chemo, not the other way around.  The surgeon does not want to promise this will cure it, because he can't remove it all and there might be microscopic spread elsewhere. So we have to hope chemo will help destroy the rest after surgery. This sort of travesty of advanced medical care happens everywhere, far too frequently, within healthcare systems in well developed countries and in facilities that have more than enough financial resources and technology to do it right, but choose not to. Big corp hospitals and big pharma have not truly been about curing people for a long time. Afterall, they get more money by making you a long term "customer" so you have to keep coming back for expensive treatments.  Greed for more money that leads to innocent people like my mother suffering. You have to strongly advocate and fight for your healthcare rights to be sure you get the best care you can, and be educated about your conditions and situation so you can fight that fight, or know someone who can on your behalf.  You also have to get lucky enough to find those special diamonds among the lumps of coal in these medical systems, the ones who are not in these fields just because of the money or forced into it by their families - the doctors, nurses, and staff that actually give a shit and want to help save lives and make a genuine difference and do what is right for the patient. Mom has surgery tomorrow morning, and is booked for a 9 hour slot. It is a pretty major surgery and will have an extended recovery time. She is determined to fight this with everything she has.  We need to give her all the laughs and happy things we can right now. Prayers and meditation for channeling healing energy. Many friends have already started prayer circles for her. Please feel free to join in. The more the merrier and stronger the energy!  I will make another update after the surgery, when we know more.  Mom and I send our love and thank you all for your love and support during this difficult time.

[uglysantas]

Heritage Not Hate Flag T-Shirt Hoodie Sweatshirt

Hanes has partnered with adopt a Heritage Not Hate Flag T-Shirt Hoodie Sweatshirt soldier platoon and sent a fresh supply of t shirts socks and underwear to the wounded marines in afghanistan’s camp leatherneck it s hard to express how much we appreciate your incredible sacrifice and the sacrifice of all our country s brave men and women this day is for you. Line and define the latest in 90 s revival dark lips give your pout some definition with two new darker shades of our lip liner blending brush just 3. So this is going to be a bit long but bear with me I had what I believe to be a pointless and incredibly frustrating experience with the assistant manager jamie at your auburn hills great lakes crossing location today I have been coming here for three years I frequent your orlando san marcos and new jersey locations as well at least once a year when we stop we usually spend 5 to 10 thousand dollars on your products the system is simple I go in park in a corner and bring bins to my corner sort them bag them move them to the front register and repeat today I brought a personal duffel bag as it holds about 8 to 12 of your bags worth of stuff I get told that i’m not allowed to use it because it’s policy not a big deal at all I say okay i’ll do that for the rest rather than rebag all of this i’ll just go up in line and pay for it and it can sit behind the counter seems pretty reasonable to me nope I got obstructed suggested that I might be stealing something and not allowed to pass stating if I don’t want to follow the system I can leave he then takes my entire duffel dumps it onto the floor and then rebags it into victoria secret bags then moves it to the front counter so it can be rang in I thought this was a little odd but hey he was doing all the work rebagging it so whatever i’m like dude i’m going to be spending about 8k today all I want to do is come in spend some money get out without any drama what’s the problem whoevers in charge should be thrilled with a sale like this we’re spending 8k keep in mind that I told him that I would do what he wanted and it wasnt’ a big deal and the response was to the effect of stop being lippy and just listen I told him what do you want from me I just agreed with you and said I would use your bags i’m not being lippy at all I know this because I said okay dude not a problem i’ll use your bags his response was maybe if you get to buy it i’m like what are you suggesting that an 8 000 order is something you guys don’t want he’s like yeah if you buy it i’m like dude we are spending 8k today why would I bag up a bunch of stuff and spend 2 3 hours picking our your fabulous product to not buy it anyway so I had 4 credit cards one card had 2 000 one had 3500 one had 2000 and one had 1000 because I am buying for multiple people I had 4 different cards all in my name I wanted one receipt for each card not a big deal to me right wrong again he cited some policy and said if the order is more than 750 items that they aren’t allowed to ring in under 750 items on any one receipt id like to point out that that amount is higher than your employees said they could take as a cash payment I asked him to please show me that I would understand better if I could just read it he was willing to do so he brought out the policy book and to my surprise what it actually said was words to the afffect of cash payments cannot be split up or over 750 items I forget the second half my immediate reply was so what’s the big deal im using credit not cash he snatched the policy book away from me at that point and said you know what you can just listen to me or I don’t have to let you buy anything it’s up to my discretion I then called your orlando outlet and your new jersey outlet and talked to the store managers and cited your policy I was given I asked them to confirm if that was accurate and both said if it was a policy it was news to them I then asked if they would let me buy my order using 4 cards and 4 receipts the woman at orlando said oh my gosh yes we do that every single day I asked if I went to her store if I would have any trouble with this in the future and was told no then she said you can always come down here if you’re in the area and i’ll be happy to take your order after that phone call I tried again here’s the video of that attempt I said listen I have 4 credit cards your register girl said you told her she can’t ring up an order under 750 items that’s 3500 if it’s 5 items not all of my cards have that much I have done multiple receipts every time I came here heck I can even supply them to show it he tells me that because I am order so many items that I can’t have less tan 750 items per receipt so I point around to everyone else and ask what about everyone else you aren’t forcing them to spend a minimum of 750 items what about the final charge i’ll have 750 items for two tickets but the leftover isn’t going to be 750 items you’re not going to let me buy them he shrugged his shoulders to say no at this point I haven’t yelled ive been a bit snarky and sarcastic because I know he’s just giving me a hard time two people ring in our order almost every time I am up there and we were there 3 times in the last 6 months spent a bunch each time so at 730 8pm or so we are done shopping assuming that two people could ring us up ended up being a fantasy he forced one employee only to ring us up later on he comes up when its now close to 9pm and says hey you mind if we ring you up on both registers I chuckle and say no I don’t but you do you don’t want to be breaking that 750 rule do you he glared at me and then sent the employee away and walked off after blinking a few times I laugh because after telling me over and over he couldn’t do it he just got caught trying to do what should have been done to begin with a short while later after 9 I find out that everyone is standing uip front except for the one girl and another associate because none of the rest of them are allowed to help her ring us up the only two people left in the store with about 700 more items to be rang in if that’s not enough since it was a holidy all of these employees are apparently being paid overtime to stand around and wait at a bit after 10 all but two girls leave and one girl is waiting to count cash while the other girl sits and keeps ringing stuff in we apologize profusely we expected two employees to ring us up like always and timed our visit to be out around 9 if this had happened instead of having one literally stand there and watch her for 1 hour and 47 minutes after close we would have all been out on time and no overtime or extra hours spent so finally at 10 47 pm our orders are done we thank the lovely girl lauren and jasmine who got stuck staying 2 hours past close because a manager made up some random policy and had to double down when I pointed out he really needed to follow that 750 rule when he was going to toss another girl on the register if this is policy fine it doesn’t seem to be no manager at your other outlets knew what he was talking about the orlando one insisted that the only restrictions are on cash payments and verified I was paying cash or credit it’s a pretty humiliating experience to get hassled trying to buy panties and bras by someone who’s on some type of power trip the only thing I said sideways to him was that I flat out didn’t believe his policy and that credit absolutely is not the same as cash I didnt call him any names scream at him or did anything to disrupt the store beyond what you see in the videos if this is not policy i’d like an apology from that manager in person or over the phone admitting he was mistaken I would hope that the next time I go there I am not hassled but if not I guess there’s always orlando or new jersey who seem to be quite friendly I also want to give recognition to jasmine and lauren lauren is the poor soul who got stuck ringing everything in alone because of the manager’s silly rule and not allowing anyone to help because it would be in violation of the 750 item rule jasmine was the cash counter who had to wait until we were out of the store to count cash even more interesting is that I had a former employee with me helping me buy and she said she never heard of this policy either but it doesn’t mean it wasn’t added since she left she was just as confused because the manager spent over 30 minutes trying to explain and defend this when that time certainly would have been more efficiently spent doing productive things instead of hassling someone who literally sits in a corner and speaks to no one while sorting through your products one bin at a time id love a call back about this or to find out what exactly is going on ive never been hassled like this before and it was a little frustrating and very trying to keep my cool joe rossetti alexandria gunn

Source: Heritage Not Hate Flag T-Shirt Hoodie Sweatshirt

Heritage Not Hate Flag T-Shirt Hoodie Sweatshirt, Hoodie, Sweater, Longsleeve T-Shirt For Men and Women

Heritage Not Hate Flag T-Shirt Hoodie Sweatshirt

See more: Dragon It's Fine I'm Fine Everything's Fine Breast Cancer Awareness T Shirt

Premium Trending, NFL This Summer Season will Presents Who Love:

What a Heritage Not Hate Flag T-Shirt Hoodie Sweatshirt travesty that the government does not protect our heritage the management of wild horses and the american mustangs are a joke it is just a way to get rid of what the government considers a nuisance with needless cruelty we should be ashamed the government should definitely be ashamed. I told them to cancel my order on december 29th they said it had been cancelled I even got a confirmation I got an email today about my shipment being shipped what. London tomorrow noon 4pm w rag bone momsspaghetti at the sun 13 cantons for our collab launch then hang out at r b store across the steet 4 8pm See Other related products: Dr Pimple Popper T Shirt

[gvbejvmes]

Task: Secret

Title: Blood Promises Rating: PG-13 Relationships: Past Gabriel/Jonathan, Past Gabriel/Nancy, Implied Gabriel/Jillynn Trigger Warnings: Non-descriptive mentions of child neglect/abuse Brief Summary: Some meetings were always meant to be.

How many murderers are on the National Donate Life Registry? If you matched with a convict, would you take their organ? Would you rather die than having the kidney of a man who killed six people? If they were the only person who matched with you would you take it then? Will an organ transplant from a convict give you their poor impulse control? Are you willing to find out? How many people die each year because their only hope lies in a person trying to lighten their sentence? 

2004

"It looks good to the parole board." Flaco (according to his birth certificate his name was Cesar, but Gabe never asked) said, in full explaining mode. "I don't know why that wasn't a thing over in the Sand Waste, man. The parole board loves seeing that shit. They love seeing that you're trying to improve yourself. And besides, if you match with someone and you get to have surgery, you get a cushy stay in the hospital wing. It's a win-win, Gabe. Besides, what else are you going to do?" 

The way his cellmate phrased it made it sound like it was no big deal. Sign-up to give someone one of your organs or your bone marrow and hopefully you’ll get a lighter sentence out of it. According to Flaco, the Registry people came once a month and tested anyone who wanted to be added. The idea of signing up for the Registry just to do it didn’t sit right with him. If Gabe matched with someone, he knew he’d donate no matter what. That was just how he was which was why he didn’t know if he wanted to do it. “What are the chances of actually matching with someone?” He asked finally. He was looking at 25 years. A couple of years off his sentence and the good grace of the parole board? He wouldn’t mind that...

Flaco grinned, looking like he won. “That’s the spirit! I don’t know anyone who actually matched.” He admitted. “But I know guys who’ve signed up and nobody thought they were gonna get parole but boom! They ain’t here no more.”

Gabe nodded slowly. If the chances of matching were really that low, he wouldn’t have anything to worry about. What’s the worst that could happen?

Early 2019

"Good afternoon. This message is for Gabriel James-Michaels. This is Leslie Anderson with the National Donate Life Registry. I received your forwarded contact information from North County Correctional Facility. I'm reaching out today because we have a potential match for partial liver transplant. Please call me back as soon as possible to schedule additional testing. We understand that that it's been over a decade since you signed up for the registry, but we hope you're still interested. It's always exciting when we're able to find familial matches. Please call me back at...”

Late Summer 2019

"I feel like your mistress."  Kaleidoscope gushed out from the side of Gabe's bed. "Your kids and your straight life crisis think we’re staying up at my estate for the next two weeks." He made a 'tsking' sound. "What a bad boy." His friend and mentor had been talking at Gabriel for the past twenty minutes as they waited anxiously to be taken back for surgery. "What I don't understand is why you just didn't tell them what they were doing. Donating part of your liver to a total stranger is a big deal. You should have told them. Did you at least tell John?"

A wry smile slid onto Gabe's features. It amused him to no end that someone whose legal name was Kaleidoscope couldn't call a grown man Johnny because it sounded too childish to him. "Why would I tell him? We're not married any more, remember? You wanted to throw me a divorce party." He reminded him, raising an eyebrow.

"The fact that you didn’t let me is a travesty." Kale pouted, but he didn't let Gabe's obvious deflection distract him. "Because I watched you fill out your intake papers, Gabriel. You've been divorced, what? A year? And separated even longer?" When Gabe nodded, he continued on. "And yet, you haven't legally changed your name back to just James and you still have him listed as your emergency contact. Even though you know I’m more than willing to be your emergency contact. You’re mine, after all. Besides, he'd care that you were having surgery."

He shook his head. "We can't tell anyone about this surgery, Kale. Ever." He tried to convey the level of seriousness with his eyes.

Kale rolled his eyes. "Oh, because you're donating an organ to the secret child that no one knows about?" He joked out, never able to stay serious for too long, but when Gabe didn't laugh, his face fell. "Gabriel Anthony, tell me you're joking.”

Sighing, Gabe scrubbed his hand over his face. "I don't know for sure." He defended as Kale made all sorts of noises, obviously processing the information. "All I know is that CJ swears she has a vague memory of another kid being around when she was little. DJ is pretty traumatized from around that time so she can’t remember much of anything. Nancy and I were trying for another kid before Georgie died. It seems convenient is all, and they seem to think I'm a familial match."

"Gabriel." Kale breathed out, just staring at him, at a loss for words for once in his life. It sounded like he wanted to say more, but Gabe wouldn’t let him.

"He's a minor and he's here with his parents. This isn't something that anyone else needs to know about, including him. We share the same DNA, but he's not my kid, not really, okay?" He all but begged the other man to understand. 

It was quiet for a very long time before Kale said anything. "Do the parents know who you are?" His voice was much quieter than normal.

Gabe nodded. "They haven't verbalized it, but it's kind of hard to ignore sharing so much DNA with someone and the knowledge that my information came from a prison database. We discussed it, and it's best if he doesn't know where the donation came from." 

Kale didn't get a chance to say anything else before the anesthesiologist came in.

2008

Groggy. He felt so groggy and he couldn't open his eyes. There was beeping going on around him, And voices. There were a couple of different voices - one familiar, the rest alien. There was something on his face. A breathing mask? He couldn't lift his hand to pull it off, but it didn't matter. He was distracted the second he realized he could understand the voices around him. 

"Sir, don't make me call security."

"I told you already. That is my client in there and I need to see him immediately."

"And I told you already. No visitors. Only immediate family under supervision and there is only one name on that list and it is not yours."

"I am allowed to see him if the injury is directly related to his case and getting stabbed two weeks before his trial is supposed to start is just cause!" 

"And if he was in any state to talk to you, I'd agree with you, but he's not. You need to leave."

"I need to see my client."

"That's it! I'm calling security."

 Late Summer 2019 (Continued)

"Jay?" Blinking his eyes open, Gabe tried to remember why he was in the hospital this time, There was shuffling to his left, and he glanced over to find a dark haired teenager hanging onto an IV pole. He looked the way someone who was out of bed six hours after surgery looked: like he wasn't supposed to be on his feet.

The boy shook his head, his hair shifting into his face at the motion. "No, sorry." And he dragged himself into the chair next to Gabe's bed. "Is that your husband?" He gestured to Gabe's left hand, which was splayed open on his stomach, the name Jonathan more than visible on the side of his ring finger.

"Used to be." Gabe said with a cough. hand closing immediately. He glanced over to the padded bench in the corner where Kale was sound asleep. "That's not him though." He nodded towards his friend before putting his bed up a little bit and reached for the water pitcher next to his bed. "Your folks know you're out of bed, kid?"

"Of course not." He shook his head and looked at Gabe like he was crazy. "They would kill me, but I wanted to see you and thank you, but I knew they wouldn't let me. I know who you are."

Gabe looked at him as he took a sip of water and sighed. "And who am I?" He asked him tiredly.

The teen, Knox, rolled his eyes in a way that reminded Gabe so much of himself that he had to do a double-take. “I know I’m adopted. I’ve always known. I don’t remember a lot before Social Services took me away, but I remember having two big sisters and a mom who forgot about me sometimes. I had a dad, but he never talked to me. He pretended that I didn’t exist.” Knox sighed and chewed on his bottom lip. 

“I think I knew then that I wasn’t his, but I don’t remember him too much. What I remember are my sisters talking about their Dad, a man who died. This guy who could do no wrong. The Dad who magically saved the day. I used to be so angry that he was gone, that I didn’t get to meet him. And then...” Knox closed his eyes, a small smile on his face. “When we thought I was going to die, when we thought I was never going to get a donor - you appeared out of nowhere and I knew immediately that it was you. That it had to be you - my dad.”

Gabe sighed and set his water cup down. “Kid, I may have given you half your DNA, but I’m not your dad. That man asleep in the other room? That’s your dad. I just made you.” He whispered out. “And when your parts break, it’s my job to help you patch up.”

The boy looked at him. “That sounds like a dad to me.”

Frustrated and tired, he scrubbed his hand over his face. “You should go back to your room before your parents wake up and realize you’re missing. This was supposed to be a blind donation.” He reminded his son.

“I know, but...” The boy looked beyond frustrated. “Will I ever get to see you again? See my sisters again? Meet your ex-husband?”

A smile slid onto Gabe’s features, and he reached out and gave the boy���s hand a squeeze. “You got a part of me stuck in you forever, kid.” At the fallen look on Knox’s face, he couldn’t help but to squeeze his hand again before letting go. “As soon as you turn eighteen, call me. Your parents have my number. And we’ll go from there. Until then...”

“We never met.” Knox whispered out getting what Gabe was saying. He nodded and then pulled himself out of his chair, using the IV pole for support again. He made it all the way to the door before turning back to look at Gabe. “Hey, dad? Thanks.”

Once he was gone, there was a sigh from the other side of the room. “Is that what you were like in high school? But with more eyeliner?” Kale asked, because of course he was awake and had pretended to be sleeping.

Gabe groaned and lowered his bed back down.

“Right.” Kale said, treating Gabe’s groan as a sentence. “I know nothing. I saw nothing.”

It was quiet for a long moment before: “I like him.”

“Me, too.” Gabe whispered out. “Me, too.”

[eversall]

jimon + jace taking a simon 101 class??? idk what this is

i know what it is its an adorable prompt

to: parabrotai, izzybelle, clearlyfray, supermaia

[jace] i can’t believe i’m stooping to this, but how can i win simon over? 

.

i. [izzybelle]: simon likes those lame pick up lines, and puns, and bad jokes.

“Simon.” Jace calls out as he slips out of the Hunter’s Moon. “Wait up.” 

“Well this is a surprise.” Simon says cheerfully, his hands in his pocket. “What brings you to my side of the docks?”

Jace snorts. 

“Alcohol.” He jerks his head at the bar. “What, you heading back to the boathouse?” 

“I have a 9 AM class tomorrow, yeah.” Simon says. Right. Simon’s going to NYU now, trying to get a normal life back. Jace isn’t sure how he manages to go to class in the morning and then sneak into their missions at night. How is he sleeping?

“I’ll walk you back.” Jace says, shoving his hands in his pockets. 

“I’m not a damsel in distress.” Simon scowls at him. 

“But what if I am?” Jace asks, smiling winningly and strolling alongside Simon. This is easy for him. Flirting is a game he knows. Too bad it never works on Simon. 

Case in point - 

“I get it, you’re the big bad Shadowhunter and I need to stop interrupting your missions.” Simon’s frown deepens. “I said I was sorry.” Jace blinks at him and sighs. 

“That’s not what I meant at all. It was a joke.” He supplies, helpfully. 

“That’s not a joke. Here’s a joke.” Simon says, snapping his fingers, his eyes brightening. “What’s the ocean stressed out about?” 

“Global warming.” Jace says immediately. “Melting ice caps. The polar bears - “

“Current events.” Simon snickers, and Jace tries hard not to let that get to him, but he can’t help the tiny snort and his lips twitching upwards. “See!” Simon crows, pushing excitedly at Jace’s shoulders. “You do think I’m funny.”

“I think,” Jace says, arching an eyebrow, “that you’re not taking global warming seriously enough, Simon.”

“Not taking - you’re a real piece of work, Jace.” Simon says, sighing, but he’s smiling too. Jace grins again and waggles his eyebrows. 

“A piece that everyone wants.” He tries again, and this time Simon blushes and shoves him. He misjudges his own strength and sends Jace careening into the lamp post. “Jace - shit!” He’s immediately in front of Jace, fussing over him for injuries. Which - ridiculous. Jace is a Shadowhunter. He fights off demons, and Simon’s still afraid of his own strength in comparison. 

“Hey, chill, I’m fine.” Jace says, straightening up and laughing. “It’s just so easy to fall for you, Simon.” He winks, for added effect.

Simon storms off. 

Well. Back to the drawing board, then. 

.

ii. [supermaia]: you should wine and dine him, he’s into cheesy shit like that. like a proper, romantic date - if you even know what romance means, herondale. 

“Hey!” Simon skids to a stop in front of Jace, breathless. “Sorry I’m late! You said to dress nice, and, well, I’ve got a lot more options since Raphael forced me to update my wardrobe.” 

“Forced?” Jace asks skeptically, trying his hardest not to ogle at Simon. It’s a difficult task when Simon’s in a tailored blue button-up, the sleeves rolled to just below his elbows, his dark jeans ending in smart looking oxfords. 

“Raphael doesn’t hold with even exiled members of his clan looking like a fashion travesty.” Simon grins at him. “So what’s this undercover mission? Are one of the waiters demons?” 

“Oh. Hm. Yeah.” Jace clears his throat and folds his arms. “Our source reported that the demon’s moved on, but Alec wants us to check the place out just in case.” 

“Argh, really? So this is like a throwaway mission?” Simon asks, scuffing his shoe on the ground. The valet’s starting to look at them funny, and Jace realizes with a jolt that he still has his glamour rune on. He hurriedly tugs Simon into the shadows and lets his eyes flash, activating the rune again as he slides his hand down to grip Simon’s. The valet stares hard at the spot where Simon must have just disappeared. 

“You sound really disappointed.” Jace remarks, his grip on Simon’s hand tight. “It’s a free fancy meal.” 

“I want to help.” Simon scowls at Jace. He hasn’t let go of Jace’s hand either. Jace’s heart starts to pound faster, and he’s sure Simon can hear it. He doesn’t care, he wants Simon to hear it, wants Simon to understand how much Jace wants this. 

“You always help, why not take a day for yourself and put it on my card?” Jace asks, cajoling him. Simon squints. 

“You -” He says incredulously, and then he stops. And starts again. “You have a credit card?” 

Jace gives him a look. “How did you think I lived in New York? Do you think I just fight demons and then power off for the day or something?” 

“Or something.” Simon says wonderingly. “So like, what, you go grocery shopping and stuff? You go to the library? Do you - “

“I told you I go to book club.” Jace says, feeling peeved. “I’m just a normal guy, Simon.” 

“That”, Simon says, pointing at Jace triumphantly, “is the most humble thing I’ve ever heard you say. Well done. Congratulations.” His cheeks dimple as he grins impishly at Jace, and Jace can’t help but shake his head, the corners of his mouth twitching. 

“Careful,” Jace teases, “that was almost a compliment.” He lets go of Simon’s hand and steps away, trying not to feel disappointed as he smooths the lapels of his jacket. It was a long shot anyway, he thinks to himself. 

Simon’s staring at him, his brow furrowed and his expression thoughtful. “You wanna go get burgers then?” 

Jace sighs and shakes his head fondly. He can go home and sulk about not getting a date with Simon, or he can get burgers with his friend. The choice is pretty easy. 

“Yeah, let’s go get burgers. You can watch me eat and be sad.” 

.

iii. [parabrotai]: i’m no expert but i’ve been told you should try to talk about your feelings?? like be open. don’t hide stuff. i think simons into that kind of communication thing

“I play the piano.” Jace says as he drops into the seat next to Simon in the Institute’s kitchen. He means to say it conversationally, like an opening to better topics, but instead he blurts it out into the silence. Simon raises an eyebrow and takes out one earphone. 

“Huh.” He says, tilting his head. “This may come as a surprise to you, but you lose this competition. I play the piano too.” 

“You play the keyboard.” Jace scoffs back automatically, before he backtracks. “No, no, I meant - you know. Now you know. I play the piano.” 

“Okay.” Simon agrees bemusedly, sipping at his cup of blood. “Now I know? What, are you trying to tell me I play the piano badly? I thought you liked my songs - “

“I do.” Jace shakes his head as he crosses his arms and leans against the counter, grinning. “Angel help me, I’m not sure why, but I do.” 

“Hey.” Simon throws his wadded up napkin at Jace, who ducks, laughing. “I’m a hot Downworlder commodity.” Jace raises an eyebrow, and waits - 

Simon flushes an attractive pink. “I mean - like I’m popular - like not hot hot - you know what, I think I am, honestly, what - “

“Don’t worry your pretty face.” Jace says sincerely, patting Simon’s cheek as he pushes off the counter and goes in search of a mug to make himself tea. Simon splutters behind him. 

“Are you making fun of me? You’re making fun of me.” Simon declares. Jace hides his smile as he roots through the cabinets. 

“I’m not.” 

“I don’t even know whether to believe you or not. You’re messing with my mind, man.” Simon moans, a thunk sounding. Jace turns to see that Simon’s let his head fall forward on the counter, desolately draped over it like some sort of tragic hero. 

“Write a song about it, why don’t you.” Jace says, grinning. Simon bolts upright at that, a strange gleam in his eyes.

So he never actually gets to have a conversation with Simon about feelings, but they do spend the next hour creating increasingly awful lyrics for a song. It’s something. 

But he’s getting tired of being rejected unwittingly at every turn. It feels like maybe friendship is all he’s ever gonna get from Simon, and that’s fine. It’s fine. Whatever puts that stupidly gorgeous smile on Simon’s face is enough for him. 

iv. [clearlyfray]: don’t be an idiot. just be you. he likes YOU

Jace goes into a state of shock when he reads Clary’s text. She looks over at him, through the crowd at Hunter’s Moon for Simon’s gig, and winks. He splutters into his beer and looks back at Simon, who’s really getting into it now, his eyes lowered as he croons into the mic. Strobe lights flash around them, and the crowd is loud and wild; Simon’s a popular act. 

He waits through the set, his heart in his throat as he obsessively smooths his thumb over his phone screen. When Simon finally finishes, Jace forcefully pushes through the crowd until he can clamp a hand around Simon’s shoulder. 

“You,” He hisses, and Simon looks at him, alarmed, “Come on, we have to talk.” 

“Izzy if he kills me you’re my witness!” Simon screeches as Jace drags him out through the back door. Jace snorts. 

“Shut up.” He commands, unable to stop himself from smiling at Simon, a fond feeling bubbling in his chest. “I’m not - Simon. You idiot.” 

“You know, I just - yeah, I’m lost at this point.” Simon says, bemused. “You alright, buddy?” Jace ignores him. 

“I’ve been flirting with you for weeks.” He murmurs softly, stepping closer and noting the way Simon’s eyes widen and his lips part ins surprise. “I even asked Maia for help, and - now Clary tells me I didn’t have to try so hard.” 

“You - flirting?” Simon asks helplessly. “I thought you were just - being you.” 

“Yeah.” Jace presses closer, and Simon swallows, holding his ground, looking up at Jace through his lashes. He’s almost Jace’s height, but his eyes are absurdly large and beautiful, and it’s embarrassing how weak Jace is for everything about Simon Lewis. “Apparently you like that, even though I made a fool of myself.” 

“I do.” Simon agrees nervously, biting his lip. “God help me, I do. I never thought I could have this, though.” 

“Neither did I.” Jace admits, honestly, and it’s his heart on his sleeve as he stares at Simon. 

“Fuck, Jace,” Simon says, and then he launches forward and crashes their lips together, hard and demanding. The kiss is fierce, unyielding, taking Jace apart and stitching him back together as Simon’s tongue parts his lips like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Jace is breathless with desire, an overwhelming want clouding his mind as he knots his fingers in Simon’s hair and pulls him closer, pulls him in to take everything that Simon’s willing to give. 

They kiss for hours, or minutes, or seconds; all Jace knows is that he has to rip himself away at the end to suck in deep, ragged breaths, shaking as he leans against Simon. Simon, the rat bastard, just laughs, content with not needing to breathe. 

“That was awesome.” Simon enthuses, his arms encircling Jace’s waist. His smile crinkles the corners of his eyes, and he traces a thumb over Jace’s cheek. It’s soft in a way that Jace is still getting used to, and he hums and leans into the touch. 

“Just shut up,” He says, laughing breathlessly, “and kiss me.” 

And Simon does. 

[ghoulstars]

ok ive been tagged a lot over the past like month and i havent done like any of the tags because im a horrible procrastinator but ive gotten tagged in this specific thing 3 times today so im properly motivated to actually do it in a timely manner LOL here we go

Rules: answer these 85 statements and tag 20 people.

THE LAST:

1. drink: water that im slightly skeptical of 2. phone call: my friend Robi 3. text message: @shelteringskyy ??? i think?? yes probably 4. song you listened to: the fool by dead soul 5. time you cried: i think last month 6. dated someone twice: ive never dated anyone ever LOL 7. kissed someone and regretted it: yeah probably 8. been cheated on: nope 9. lost someone special: i think so 10. been depressed: in certain contexts yes 11. gotten drunk: once and never again LMAO

THREE FAVORITE COLORS:

12. purple 13. bronze 14. brown

IN THE LAST YEAR, HAVE YOU:

15. made new friends: yes and i love them ALL DEARLY and i re-iterate the sentiment THANKS GHOST LMAO 16. fallen out of love: maybe??? idk 17. laughed until you cried: YEP LMFAO 18. found out someone was talking about you: sort of but this person also told me straight up she was gonna talk about me and it was all in good fun so LOL who cares 19. met someone who changed you: YEP. 20. found out who your friends are: yeah 21. kissed someone on your facebook list: no

GENERAL:

22. how many of your Facebook friends do you know in real life: like basically almost all of them except like 6 or so ppl? 23. do you have any pets: YES!!! i have three cats and two dogs and i love them all so much!!! 24. do you want to change your name: no 25. what did you do on your last birthday: my last bday fell on the night of prom so like i got up, got my hair done and then went to prom that night LOL prom itself was sorta shitty but i got to hang out with my friends who were all gorgeous and i got to look hot too so like win/win 26. what time did you wake up: 10am then fell asleep and woke back up at 12:30-something 27. what were you doing at midnight last night: skyping @shelteringskyy ,'^) 28. name something you can’t wait for: halloweeeeeeeen 29. when was the last time you saw your mom: a couple hours ago maybe less 31. what are you listening to right now: vinny vinesauce playing some weird ass game and myself typing 32. have you ever talked to a person named Tom: i actually don't think so 33. something that is getting on your nerves: it being so sunny recently (i like clouds fight me), my sleep schedule getting FUCKED up and me struggling to fix it, mysterious bug bites, the lack of motivation to study that has been haunting me since 2 months ago 34. most visited website: probably tumblr, youtube and facebook tbh 35. hair colour: naturally im a fucking ashy dirty wishwater blonde and im fucking tired of it so now i dye my hair dark brown LOL ;_; @my body please hurry up and make my hair darker 36. long or short hair: mine is long 37. do you have a crush on someone: only fictional characters as of right now 38. what do you like about yourself: my ass, my unibrow and my stomach hair 39. piercings: i started out with four when i was younger, one in each cartilage (partially) then one in each ear lobe. the cartilage ones closed up to due lack of usage and my lobe piercings closed up a bit but just cleaning them out returned them to normal lol. early last year i got my partial-cartilage piercing redone as well as two additional holes making eight total but i was a fool and took out all my earrings over the course of prom and left them out too long and they ALL grew back over except my redone cartilage holes and my lobes -_- i plan to get one more additional hole in my ears to make up for this fucking travesty and i also want a nose piercing. 40. blood type: no idea mate LMAO 41. nickname: shebby, shebs, shelbs, shelbles, shelbilly, bee and im probably forgetting more tbh 42. relationship status: single and content 43. zodiac: aries, aquarius rising and sagittarius moon 44. pronouns: she/her/hers 45. favourite tv show: uhhh like........bobs burgers maybe???? twin peaks??? always sunny?????????? 46. tattoos: none but FUCK do i want a grucifix or a mother/daughter tattoo 47. right or left handed: right 48. surgery: none so far 50. sport: no 51. vacation: honestly ill go like nearly anywhere in the world, im not picky tbh take me over the ocean or just three hours away and i think ill be happy 52. pair of trainers: do converse count....also my moms fucked up ancient grungey tennis shoes she has that i love to wear

MORE GENERAL:

53. eating: nothing but dinner was steak, steak fries and some yeast rolls. might eat this smores poptart here in a second 54. drinking: nothing bc that water was Skeptical 55. i’m about to: either attempt to study or watch more youtube vids idk 56. waiting for: the rain that appears to be gathering in the sky and winter 57. want: papa 3 to never ever leave but also papa 4 to come and decimate us (and also possibly decimate papa 3), to not potentially have mono, to draw, to get our bulldog fixed so he can come inside, to stop being fucking squeamish when i study about internal organs 58. get married: no...nono 59. career: veterinary assistant if i can handle assisting in injection administration LMFAO or an artist 60. hugs or kisses: kisses 61. lips or eyes: eyes 62. shorter or taller: ehhhh im not picky so idc 63. older or younger: O L D E R LMAO DAMMIT PAPA 64. nice arms or nice stomach: arms 65. hook up or relationship: neither in real life 66. troublemaker or hesitant: depends on whats happening lmao

HAVE YOU EVER:

67. kissed a stranger: yes 68. drank hard liquor: NO LMAO ABSOLUTELY NOT 69. lost glasses/contact lenses: no 70. turned someone down: YEP. 71. sex on the first date: i have never been with anyone in real life ever so neither 72. broken someone’s heart: probably 73. had your heart broken: sort of?? 74. been arrested: no god LMAO 75. cried when someone died: well yeah 76. fallen for a friend: not really

DO YOU BELIEVE IN:

77. yourself: depends 78. miracles: in some cases 79. love at first sight: only sort of. 80. Santa Claus: who the FUCK is santa claus 81. kiss on the first date: ...ehhh??? 82. angels: probably

OTHER:

84. eye colour: hazel 85. favourite movie: I HAVE TOO MANY OF THESE LMAO MY FAVORITE-FAVORITE FLUCTUATES A LOT AND IDK WHAT I WOULD SAY MY CURRENT FAV MOVIE IS....

anyway i tag @cloyterus and....i think everyone else i'd wanna tag has already been tagged or done this so here u go

[jellyryans]

Doctor, Your Crush is Showing

Prompt: Injury

Relationship: Sawamura Daichi/Tanaka Ryuunosuke

Sawamura Daichi is a serious doctor and he seriously tries to bury his crush on a patient, but Tanaka Ryuunosuke doesn’t make it easy. 2312 words. 

Written for Day One of Daichi Rarepair Week! Read it here or on AO3!

“Alright, alright, quit your yapping and focus,” Ukai grumbled.

He stood next to a hospital bed, both hands in the square pockets of his white coat. The group of interns splayed in front of him stared with wide eyes and Daichi could almost hear their knees knocking from where he stood at the nurse’s station. “Our next joker here...”

He was interrupted by a delicate cough from down the hall and his shoulders tensed as he looked over the shoulders of quivering mass of young people and locked eyes with Takeda Ittetsu, the thorough and devoted chief of medicine, who smiled, and Daichi didn’t have to follow Ukai’s line of vision to know the exact look that made Ukai shiver.. “Fine,” Ukai corrected himself, “tell me about our next patient, um, Yachi.”

There was a loud squeak from deep in the group of interns and Ukai tapped his foot as Yachi pushed her way to the front. “Tanaka Ryuunosuke, um, knife wound to the shoulder?”

Ukai motioned for her to continue, and she glanced at the guy in the bed, who waggled his eyebrows. She smiled brightly and squared her shoulders. “T-Tanaka-san underwent emergency surgery to repair damage to the brachial artery. Primary repair was successful and, um, continuity was achieved. We’re watching him for potential nerve damage and infection.”

“He’s currently Daichi-san’s patient,” Yachi added. Tanaka gave her a thumbs-up and cheered silently, the memory of what happened when he interrupted Ukai’s rounds the day before obviously still fresh in his mind. Daichi held the first piece of paper he could find to muffle his laughter, because he remembered, from years ago, what happened when someone cut into Ukai’s time.

“Good,” Ukai nodded at Yachi, then he checked his watch and jerked his thumb down the hall, toward the next patient on their list. He turned around without a word and the group shuffling behind him like a single entity.

Daichi watched them leave. He wasn’t sure he had the words to express how grateful he was not to be an intern anymore. Rounds were stressful, nights were long, and tears were plenty. He was finally at the point where he got his own patients. Patients like Tanaka Ryuunosuke, who was happily showing something off to Ennoshita, the head nurse, as the nurse adjusted the IV in his arm.

Tanaka was rushed to the emergency room with a stab wound four days earlier and, post-op, he was thrown into Daichi’s care. The surgery had gone smoothly, despite the knife having nicked his artery, and despite the injury and blood loss, Tanaka had somehow dragged himself to the hospital, collapsing in the lobby. Daichi never got the full story, just enough for him to do his job.

But, that didn’t mean he wasn’t curious. He was probably some sort of drug dealer, or a member of a gang, or delinquent thrill-seeker, or something, while Daichi was a guy who didn’t remember what it felt like to not study for eighty hours a week, who had chosen this path over so many other, who had, unexpectedly, found himself with a problematic crush.

“Once you’re done staring, you might want to go check on him. He just ripped his bandage trying to flex for me and I know you like to do it yourself.”

Ennoshita’s stealthy approach and sleepy monotone unnerved Daichi, so much so that he almost fell out of his chair. “Right, hey,” Daichi coughed. “And, uh, it’s not that I like doing it, I’m just observing, the, uh healing. The process and stitches.”

“Wow,” Ennoshita deadpanned. “Your fancy doctor talk is truly impressive. You sure you’re only a senior resident?”

Daichi knew when he had been beat. He got up from the desk, nodded at Ennoshita, and crossed the hall to lean in the doorway of Tanaka’s room.

“Sawamura-san! Doc!” Tanaka shouted. He turned in the bed so quickly that it tipped and Daichi rushed in to steady the metal frame. “Was wondering when you’d come see me,” he winked.

“Hey, Tanaka,” Daichi smiled back, hand firmly on the bedrail. He ignored the way his heart squeezed when Tanaka grinned at him, all teeth and dimpled cheeks. “How’re you feeling today?”

“Good,” Tanaka replied brightly. “Great, actually! I’m pretty famous, you know, with those groups of kids coming to ooh and ahh over me and all. That Yachi’s getting much more confident, which makes sense, you know, because you guys are all a bunch of nerds,” he teased.

Daichi logged into the mounted computer by the bed and tried his hardest to not look at Tanaka while he rambled. The glow on Tanaka’s face when he gloated was annoying, and Daichi was annoyed that he wasn’t annoyed, and he tried to avoid it altogether. “Mhm,” he hummed into the screen, “famous, huh? Maybe for being the hospital idiot.”

“Hey!” Tanaka said sadly. “I’m wounded! And you sound like the big blonde doctor dude. But c’mon.” He scooted to the side of his bed, close enough to Daichi that he could almost feel the warmth from Tanaka’s skin through his scrubs. “What would you guys do without my charm?”

He didn’t have a good answer to Tanaka’s question so, instead, he chastised him. “Ennoshita told me that you ripped your bandage again. That’s twice today. Hence, hospital idiot.”

Tanaka raised his hands in surrender, but dropped them almost immediately with a sharp hiss. He pouted and looked at Daichi, face tight and screwed up, obviously trying to mask the pain.

“That’s what you get for moving around like you do. Now let’s take a look at your shoulder.” Daichi sighed, motioning for Tanaka to sit up so he could untie the back of his hospital gown and roll it down. As his fingers ghosted Tanaka’s skin and the deep brown of his skin was unearthed, Daichi sent a silent prayer into the universe. Please help me keep it together, he pleaded.

Tanaka shifted with a little difficulty, but the smirk grew on his face. “I’ve been meaning to ask… Isn’t this the nurse’s job? Or do you just like what you see?”

Daichi whacked him lightly in the head, but it was true When Ennoshita had asked the first time, Daichi told him it was good practice. His fingertips ghosted over the muscle corded around Tanaka’s shoulder and his eyes traced the dip of his sharp collarbone. He was mesmerized, as always, by the tiny bumps that formed in the cold hospital air. Yeah, he thought, good practice.

He was so deeply immersed in his thoughts and the expanse of skin in front of him that, for the second time in the last hour, someone caught him by surprise. Tanaka poked the side of his head and Daichi swatted his hand away.

“What?” Daichi asked reprovingly.

“I can almost hear those smart doctor wheels turning in your head,” Tanaka motioned to his own temples with his index finger.

Daichi finished wrapping Tanaka’s shoulder, with something that felt dangerously like disappointment. “Thinking about your chart,” Daichi lied. Well, he reasoned, he had been thinking about Tanaka’s chart at some point. And he had a job to do, teenage crush mumbo-jumbo or not. “I saw that you refused pain medication today. How’re you feeling?

“Fine, fine,” Tanaka waved it off with his uninjured arm.

“Do you want any meds?” Daichi asked carefully.

Tanaka thought about it. “Nah,” he said. “I’ll tough it out.”

Daichi nodded. They had this fight before, and Tanaka insisted that pain medication made him seem less manly, and that it would be a travesty. Daichi tried arguing, but Tanaka never budged, and it occurred to Daichi that he really knew nothing about the guy. And it weighed on him. “Okay, well, if you change your mind, which would be fine,” Daichi emphasized, “you know where the buzzer is to ring the nurse.”

“Who’s on today?” Tanaka asked quickly, suddenly alert.

“Shimizu’s not on tonight,” Daichi warned.

Tanaka sunk into the sheets and pulled the blanket up to his chin with his uninjured arm. “You think if I cry and scream and wail for her, she’ll come to my aid?” He asked, and, in a hopeful, higher voice, that Daichi assumed was supposed to be Shimizu, he clasped his hands in front of him and cooed. “Ryuu, I’m here for you, here, hold my dainty and glorious hand and shower kisses upon it…”

Daichi couldn’t help the rolling laughter that spilled out of his chest and, when Tanaka saw it, he laughed too, and they laughed together. Daichi wished he could keep moments like these. “You know that, even if she was here, she’d ignore you.”

“Ah, but I love it when she ignores me,” Tanaka replied wistfully, the tears of laughter fresh on his face. “I guess Ennoshita will have to do. He’s not bad on the eyes,” Tanaka shrugged.

Daichi choked on the spit in the back of his throat. Guys, huh? That was a thought. Daichi bit his tongue and reminded himself of his place. “Better not let him hear you say that. He might withhold your food again.”

Tanaka moaned into his hands. “Again? Is that why I was so freaking hungry the other night?”

“You did ask if Ennoshita would fluff your pillow five times in as many minutes,” Daichi pointed out.

“Okay, I kinda deserved that,” Tanaka admitted with a snort.

Daichi knew he couldn’t stay much longer, that his time with Tanaka was running out. He hated these moments, the ones where the total idiocy of his situation, an impossible, unprofessional, irrational crush, hit him hard. He was just about to excuse himself when a kid came crashing into the room, pushed past Daichi, and jumped on Tanaka’s bed.

“Ryuu!” He cried.

“Yuu! Buddy! My man!”

Daichi took a couple steps back and was about to call security when Tanaka embraced the jumping bean in his bed with a sob. They cried into each other’s arms and Daichi got a good look at the kid. Turns out, the guy wasn’t a kid, just small and lean, with a prominent tuft of bleached hair and a wide variety of piercings, tattoos, and scars. Daichi cleared his throat and, when they both looked over, noses running and eyes red, he took his leave.

“Thanks doc,” Tanaka said with a lopsided grin.

His friend, Yuu, eyed him briefly and gave him a mock salute.

When Daichi left the room, he stopped at the nurse’s station leaned on the counter, right out of view but close enough that he could eavesdrop on their conversation. He just wanted to make sure Yuu wasn’t some drug dealer or troublemaker, that Tanaka would be okay. It was a totally natural thing, right?

Ennoshita looked up from the computer with tired eyes, his hair clipped back and a stack of paperwork at his elbow. “Need something?”

“Ah, no,” Daichi said.

“So you’re just standing at my station?”

For lack of a better excuse, and not wanting to give his presence away, he nodded. Ennoshita glared at him, but accepted it with a heavy sigh and started typing again. Daichi leaned on his elbows and tuned into the voices coming from Tanaka’s room.

They talked in rapid fire succession about people he didn’t know, places he had never been too, and bands he had never heard about. There didn’t seem to anything sketchy going on, and Daichi felt guilty trespassing on Ennoshita’s patience more than he had to, and he was about to leave, really, but Tanaka shushed Yuu so loudly that it reverberated in the walls.

“Dude! Not so loud!”

“Nah dude, you got it so bad, you’re blushing like a bride on her wedding night! I cannot let this go.”

“I know!” Tanaka whined. “It’s fucking embarrassing! I can’t help it. It’s like, he comes near me, and I have to take off my clothes. I might even rip my bandages on purpose.”

Daichi inched closer to the wall, until he was right up against it.

“You’re pathetic,” Yuu laughed.

“Well, I gotta get my kicks when I can, ya know? What am I gonna do, ask him out?”

“Wait,” Yuu stopped. “You’ve actually thought about it?”

Tanaka laughed without humor. “Since the moment he greeted for the first time in his deep, manly doctor voice and told me I looked good.”

“He was probably just talking about your gaping wound, dude.”

The room went quiet for a couple minutes. Then, Tanaka started talking. “He probably thinks i’m some deadbeat drug dealer or gang banger or something. I mean, who else gets fucking stabbed in an alleyway and passes out in a hospital lobby?”

“Fuck, Ryuu,” Yuu said quietly, almost too quietly for Daichi to hear through the wall. “You didn’t tell him how you got stabbed?”

“Nah, not really important.”

“Not important? Those fucking assholes threatened your sister.”

“Yeah, and who’s the dumbass that tries to pick a fight with guys with knives? Idiots who aren’t good enough to date doctors.”

Daichi was now right around the corner, gripping the edge of the wall.

“No, no. You might be a dumbass, don’t get me wrong, but you’re a dumbass that loves his sister and if some hoity-toity doctor thinks he’s too good for you,” Yuu choked. “Just, don’t ever fucking do that again.” His voice shook with every word.

“Hey Yuu,” Tanaka whispered.

“Yeah?”

“You’re a pretty crier.”

“Shut up!”

“You shut up!”

The voices dissolved into laughter, the bed creaked with the weight of two full-grown men, and Daichi thought he heard someone get smacked in the head with a pillow. With a deep breath, he pushed away from the wall and walked past the nurse’s station as casually as he could.

Ennoshita glanced up just in time to catch a glimpse of the skip in the doctor’s step.  

[thepdvblog]

Dandelion - Chapter 3: Turning the Page

Dandelion Directory

Previous Chapter / Next Chapter

Summary: His objective is clear: make a name for himself and see if he can make a couple friends, especially in his dorm room.

Notes: A bit of a shorter chapter, mostly serving as a sooth transition from high school life to the first type of college courses featured in this story. I'll probably name this one by its actually most common name, hypokhâgne/khâgne, in the future, so I hope it won't bother people. I'm way too excited to show Florian's roommates. (sorry for the lack of trans-related matters in this chapter, I promise the focus will be back on these in the near future)

AO3 version available here.

Outing himself as a transgender man without saying the exact term was only the first step in a journey Florian knows is going to be long and tedious. He knows he will have to move out of Colombes sooner than he would like: there is no university in the town, and he does want to be better than his now-gone parents and have an actual diploma aside from his Baccalauréat. Moreover, he has graduated in Literature, as opposed to Roxanne and Juliette with their respective Sciences and Economics and Sociology majors, so he cannot really pretend this is going to make him go very far in life aside from maybe, just maybe and by sheer luck, work as a cashier or something alike.

He has had a number of these “let’s take an hour to find everyone’s dream career and paths!” classes in the past two years. Of course, his ears have always been at least half-opened, so he knows he wants to set his life in the great sea of literature… but how? College feels like it will be too expensive unless he goes to the other side of the country. Most of his classmates seem already set on Paris’s numerous universities, including the prestigious ones (to that he laughs a bit, considering some of these same classmates cannot spell properly), but him? He does not know what he wants exactly.

 His Literature teacher, the old and soon-retired Mrs Paris (a name that would have fitted would have she not been born and raised in Nanterre, the nearby prefecture), tells him he should think of preparatory class. Apparently, it will give him the ability to shoot for the stars and rise to the top of the intellectual society of the country if he ever goes to the end of it. Ambition is not something he has been known for, so this surprises him, but the description of this multi-course class to replace the unforgiving first two years of traditional college tempt him. Moreover, if he can find one with a dorm, he can pay less than if he had to have a flat and necessities to buy on top of it.

A student, from when I was a professor in Brest, once asked me why I allowed myself to be concerned about her finances because I was just paid so much. I came clean to her that I once was an almost-homeless disowned boy. Her face’s expression immediately softened.

 However, there are a lot of different literature preparatory classes he could attend, and as such he needs to pick his favourites. He discovers Henri IV and Fénelon in Paris are the most prestigious ones, but their reputation and proven efficiency make it so they are the hardest to get. Instead, and thinking of living costs beforehand, Florian finds a far more interesting offer in the Hauts-de-Seine themselves, reducing the costs of moving in case he does need to rent a flat for the holidays. He talks about it with Roxanne and Juliette who are moving to Paris for their studies, the logical course of action to take in these cases, but they wholesomely support his decision and wish him good luck.

Post-secondary orientation is one of the toughest trials a teenager has to go through. I myself hesitated over my future job, there and after, and I suppose attending Lakanal helped me stall by thinking of potential competitive exams and great schools I could attend later. Who could guess I ever thought about becoming a landscapist by looking at where I am now?

 In the end, and with the help of his main teachers, he fills a demand for two schools. He still caved in for Mrs Paris’s requests for him to request Henri IV, but his main objective is in his first wish, the school which seems to call for him: Lakanal, in the city of Sceaux. It is the closest school he could think of, and yet the few pictures he has seen of this campus-sized middle-high school hybrid resonate with his want for education. There are results in there too, with a few graduates from the prestigious ENS of Ulm Street amongst its former students. To be exact, he has two wishes, and his very first one is the one with the dorm.

He is about to go into his Latin exam, a supplementary oral exam he wishes he did not take back in freshman year when he had to decide if he wanted to continue with that language, when the results are announced with the classic boards he has grown to known for miscellaneous information. Despite the obvious questionable character of displaying everyone’s results publicly like that, he cannot help the grin forming on his face. He allows Roxanne, who discovers his results near him, to hug him despite the discomfort she may feel from his binder and the one he feels from his chest in general. For the span of a few minutes, everything seems all right, everything seems like it cannot go wrong anywhere down the line.

 The finals arrive quicker than everyone ever expects. On his side, his class still has not finished the philosophy program, his English classes are still a mess to decipher, and it seems like he may be running out of time for studying. As such, he allows himself to read his learning sheets in all the waiting rooms he ever is in (mostly Mrs Flamand’s, he has to admit), recites some parts of his lessons when he cooks or showers. Before he knows it, before the entire school knows it, the finals have rolled around and have finished almost as soon as they have come, leaving behind them only the bittersweet taste of predicted subjects and others who completely threw him off guard. He is still sore over the travesty that was the Literature exam.

The day the results are announced is a blessing. He is graduating and it feels so good to have managed to land the “Very Well” general mention on it once he gets to see his grades. Roxanne and Juliette share his joy, to their own extent and personal results, and the three of them realize the downsides to all these: they will not see each other again once this is over. They are parting ways, them to Paris, him to Sceaux, them to college, him to preparatory class. And yet, Roxanne keeps a smile on her face, tells them it is not over for their friendship as long as they can remain in contact. She gets her phone out, smiles as she points at it, reminds them of their email addresses they all have by this point. Juliette dries the beginning of tears in her eyes, agreeing with another smile. In the end, Florian is the last to get over it, but he does not cry, and instead he gives them his address from way back home on a piece of paper.

Needless to say, I did my best to remain in contact. I’ve eventually lost Juliette, due to her changing phones and having her email address unresponsive after a few years, but Roxanne and I are still best friends to this day.

 The summer holidays start on the note that they need to see each other as much as possible while working to spare money for college. As such, they try to have workplaces near each other, but Florian is left out by his much earlier preparations. Instead, he has opted for a place near Mrs Flamand’s office, just in case he needs to see her in a hurry. It is not the most fulfilling activity he has ever had, but it pays decently and he needs this money, so he shrugs off the boredom and soreness at the end of the day by thinking of the pay check and his future studies.

In fact, he gets great enjoyment from following the instruction he got sent early in the summer as a confirmation for his enrolment in Lakanal. He has bought most of the books required for the Literature and language classes, got far more lenient on Philosophy and especially on History. He has nothing against the latter –in fact, he was a great fan of his former teachers on this – but they are the most expensive books for what seems to be a limited use.

 He starts class back in early September, so when he tells Roxanne about it, she almost pleads him to let her drive him there. To be fair, Florian did not have the time or money to get his own driver’s license: he made sure to have his road code before it, but he cannot drive a car himself and it is otherwise very difficult to get from Colombes to Sceaux, so he accepts what she calls an “impromptu road trip!”. It is the best day he has spent in a while, laughs shared and remembering old stories from their previous years.

“To think I dated a boy!” Roxanne seems to tell herself aloud as she tries to keep her calm in the middle of a traffic jam. “Now that’s something I didn’t expect. To think you were still closeted a couple months ago… How has it been?”

“To be honest, it feels so much different. I get stares and some people still call me ‘miss’, but I suppose that’s to be expected. Tell me, does my voice sound bad?”

“No, you sound like… a normal dude? Well,” she seems to correct herself, “a guy whose voice is changing, but that makes sense considering it’s like a second puberty or something. Don’t worry, you’re doing great Flo!”

He blushes slightly at the compliment before replying “thank you”.

 There still are formalities to fill when they arrive to the school. Its grandeur is not reflected in most of the pictures he has seen of it: imposing buildings carved in stone, surrounded by the green of the grass shining in early September’s summer sun. This truly looks like a dream school, one with a rather expensive dorm and lifestyle, but he has the money for it. His summer job and his financial helps for being a student living on his own are all going to this and he hopes the part-time position as a cashier he has found not too far from Lakanal itself will help his finances.

When they arrive to the desk to fill in the last-minute details, such as exact option classes and installing in the dorms, he is the first surprised when the secretary calls him “Florian” without a shred of hesitation. She does hesitate when glancing up to them, hesitating between the short-haired Roxanne and the assigned-female-at-birth Florian, but she has otherwise no difficulty continuing the process.

 It is when they are en route for the dorm that Roxanne fully expresses her surprise about this. She has been used to administrations calling him by his obsolete name that she is perplexed now that he does not. To this, Florian replies with the proudest smile that his enrolment in Lakanal’s preparatory class is the first step of his “administrative transition”.

Even if Roxanne is his closest friend and the one who has seen him at his most vulnerable, he still tries to hide how soothing it was to hear the secretary call him anything but a female name. He has worked on changing his name legally ever since he turned eighteen and got disowned, steadily writing his actual first name on everything, from his bank account to his identity papers. He has stalled on his driver’s license so it could have this, the real way he refers to himself, with a photo of his actual face.

 Once at the dorm, he fills a bit more paperwork, mostly focused on medical information and who to call in case he feels ill. He writes down the number of Mrs Flamand, even if she lives in Colombes, because she is the closest he has to a parent nowadays. He gets the key to his room and another for the post-secondary-only door to the dorm, granting him access to where he is going to sleep. He makes sure to check if it really was remembered that he lives there on the weekends and holidays, to ensure any paper is sent to Roxanne’s home, list goes on. His parents do not need to know where he has actually gone.

When they arrive to his room, on the second floor’s boys building, he is the first to arrive to his room. He says hi to the boys and parents he comes across in the corridor, wondering if they will be in his class or if they are either second-years or in the other similar courses to his. In any case, most if not all of them refer to him as a young man, calling him “sir”, not even noticing how weird his changing voice sounds like. He can see Roxanne winking at him every time he gets called a boy.

 Classes start in the afternoon, so they quickly unpack everything. There are three beds, a small working space and a tiny bathroom with two sinks, clearly meant to just be a quick place to brush one’s teeth (and shave, in men’s case) because of the main bathrooms being collective showers and toilets. A classic, he thinks, considering this seems to be the overwhelming norm in every dorm in the country. He picks the bed closest to the desks, filling his dresser with clothes and some space in the bathroom with a few things here and there. Unpacking his razor reminds him of the seemingly silly joy he feels to finally be able to shave something other than his developing body hair.

Before they part for the afternoon introductory classes, Roxanne wants to go through the “moving list” she has prepared before they left with him. He has made sure to have found a new therapist in Sceaux, a nearby doctor, a supermarket to buy anything he could need… Keeping the note in his belongings, he hugs Roxanne one last time as she leaves the premises and he goes to attend his very first class. His objective is clear: make a name for himself and see if he can make a couple friends, especially in his dorm room.