#just immediately decided my friend was ungrateful and spoiled

[susiephone]

childhood was just a long series of adults being like "don't judge a book by its cover!" and "treat others the way you want to be treated!" and then turning around and making the wildest snap judgments about people based on TINY amounts of information and expecting you to agree

[niffala]

Regrets

Pairing: Eddie Munson / Steve Harrington

Summary: Steve overhears something he was never meant to. 

Warnings: all angst, asshole Eddie

A/N: No stealing, no reposts, no translations, no feeding to AIs. Comments, reblogs and likes are always welcome and appreciated. 

Main Masterlist   

Steve giddily parked his BMW in front of the school. Looking next to him, he ran his hand over the engraved EMSH on the guitar case, imagining the smile it would cause. It almost felt like a dream, finding someone that loved him as much as he loved them. No more lonely movie nights where the only warm thing to hold was the popcorn. His boyfriend looked after him, accepted him, kissed and held him. He wasn’t alone anymore.

Inside the case held all the stuff Eddie would need to take the best care of his sweetheart; new strings, tools, conditioner, polishing oil and cloths. He couldn't wait til Eddie got home, so Steve decided to surprise him by showing up to Hellfire club. He bounced out of his car, practically shaking with excitement because he knew his Eddiebear would love the gift.

He greeted the kids as they came out, mounting their bikes to ride home.

Dustin huffed, "You coulda told us you'd be here. A ride would be appreciated now and then."

"Quit whining. I haul your ungrateful behinds around all the time."

The boy pointed his chin at the item in Steve's arms, "What ya got there?"

Steve protectively held the case tighter, "Just something for Eddie. He still inside?"

"Yep, he's cleaning up the drama room."

Grinning ear to ear, he continued his path to the building. Lifting his arm to wave goodbye to the kids, “Have a good night guys.”

“You too, loverboy.” A chorus of laughter and kissing noises followed as they rode off.

Under different circumstances, Steve would have playfully chased after them for that, but tonight he was on a mission.

Approaching the drama room, he could see Eddie and his friends through the small window. Putting away the game, tucking away the chairs and turning off the stage lighting. Preparing to push the door open, he pauses when he hears his name.

“...No can do. I'm meeting Steve right after this. I can get beers with you guys another time.”

Steve was touched that Eddie made him a priority in his life. His heart began to soar, only to immediately fall at the next words spoken.

Gareth tsked, “Never thought I'd see you and Harrington together. I mean he's such an asshole. Mr high and mighty always thinking he's better than everyone else.”

“He's always been a judgmental douche. Looked down on all of us in high school. Him and his buddies made our lives hell. Don't know how you put up with that arrogant jerk all these months.” Jeff was equally displeased with Eddie’s choice.

Steve’s brows furrowed while listening to Eddie's friends bad mouth him and mock their relationship. He held his breath, waiting for his boyfriend to come to his defense. Instead, Eddie played into it.

The metalhead rolled his eyes dramatically. “I told you guys a hundred times, we aren’t dating, it's just a hookup. I got Harrington wrapped around my finger.”

Emboldened by his friends’ chuckles, Eddie hopped onto the table, sitting with his legs criss crossed and continued. “Seriously the guy is putty in my hands, will do whatever I say. I'm getting what I can out of our arrangement. No feelings involved. Not sure his majesty has feelings anyway.”

“Why put up with him then?”

Eddie shrugged, “Cause he spoils me. Takes me out and buys me things. And you have NO IDEA the POWER I feel having King Steve on his knees just for me. It's addicting.” He scrunched up his face and bit his knuckle suggestively. Feeding off the attention and approval he received. “But not to worry, I'll be ending it soon. I'm starting to get bored. And I'll rip my ears off if I have to listen to his shitty music one more time.”

“Ughhh,” Eddie fell back, staring at the ceiling, “I need it to be over. Been letting it go on for too long. The gifts and the sex are nice and all, but I need something more with someone with a lot more going on upstairs.” He tapped his head to uproarious laughter.

The air around him was too hot. Steve clutched his chest, feeling something breaking deep within him. Unable to swallow the lump in his throat, he couldn’t hear anymore. He ran back to his car, his vision blurry from the hot tears spilling down his face.

‘He doesn't love me, doesn't give a shit about me at all. He'd been using me this whole time. It was all just to humiliate me. Make me fall in love with him so he could break me and have a good laugh with his friends. How could I be so stupid?'

Steve threw the useless present into the backseat, starting the vehicle and pulling out of the lot as fast as he could. The severe pain in his chest made him wish he could rip out his heart and throw it out the car window, watching in his rearview mirror as it exploded on the roadside.

He couldn't recall a single moment of the drive until arriving at Robin's door. By the time she sat him down, he was sobbing so hard, he could barely get a word out. Robin made him tea, wiped his face with a cool washcloth and rubbed his back until he calmed down. He confessed to her what he heard. She was suspiciously quiet as she listened. 

Before he went to bed, Steve left a message on Eddie's machine saying he wasn’t feeling well and couldn’t make it tonight. He hung up before an ‘I'm sorry and I love you’ slipped out. He didn't want to embarrass himself further. It's not like Eddie would notice or care. It never meant a thing to him anyway.

'I was such a fool to think anyone would actually love me back.’

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

The next day, Eddie stopped over to check on Steve. It wasn’t like him to miss a date, he must really have been sick. Not to worry though because he was fully prepared to nurse his man back to health.

To Eddie’s surprise, Robin answered the door instead… and punched him square in the face.

“What the fuck, Buckley?!” Holding his throbbing nose, he stepped away from the angry woman in case she decided to take another swing.

“Fuck you, Munson! You stay the hell away from Steve.”

“I'll see my boyfriend if I want to.” This was absurd, he tried to move around her to go inside. “What is your problem?”

Robin used all her might to shove him away. “Oh, he's your boyfriend now? Thought it wasn't a relationship and you were just getting what you could out of it.”

“Look I don't know what you think you heard...”

“I didn't. Steve did.”

Eddie froze, his heartbeat skyrocketing. All color drained from his face, his bloody nose slowly dripping onto his shirt in sharp contrast.

“Yeah, he was bringing you a gift and heard everything you and your nasty friends said about him.” Robin shook her head at him, sneering, “He's changed so much, you should know that more than anyone. And he loves you. He doesn't deserve to be treated this way, especially from you.”

“Shit. Shit! It's not what you think. God, I’ve got to talk to him. I...”

“I don't think so.” She wasn’t going to budge.

“But you don't understand, I can explain.”

“No buts, Munson. Because it can only be one of two things.” She held up one finger, “Either you meant what you said last night, which makes you the Grand Poobah of assholes.” 

She held up a second finger, “Or you are too embarrassed to claim Steve as yours and admit you love him back. I honestly don't care which because it still makes you a cowardly piece of shit that broke my best friend's heart and I'm not letting you near him again. Got it!”

Eddie just hung his head and nodded. Wincing as Robin slammed the door in his face.

He remained rooted to the spot, the guilt eating at him. He wished he could go back in time and rip those horrible words out of his lying mouth. He felt sick.

'I ruined everything. How could I be so fucking stupid, why did I say those things?'

Eddie imagined kicking down the door, running to Steve, screaming ‘I love you! I love you! I love you! I'm sorry, please forgive me. I swear I didn't mean a word of it. Not a fucking word. And I'm so fucking sorry. Please don't leave me.’ He'd get on his knees and beg until his beloved took him back.

He's not sure how long he stood there staring at his Reeboks. No sign of movement from inside the house. Finally accepting defeat, Eddie turned tail, fleeing back to his van. He knew he wouldn't get another chance. Why stick around.

Sniffing and wiping at his stinging eyes, he fumbled the keys, dropping them into the dirt. “Fuck!” He rammed his fist into the driver's side door, before bending over to grab the keys.

Unlocking the door and getting in, Eddie sat there staring at his swollen and swiftly bruising knuckles. Something was definitely broken. Wouldn't be able to play for a while. He knew he should be more upset about that, but right now he couldn't care less. He lost his Stevie, his Sunshine.

Eddie gripped the steering wheel as hard as he could, screaming at top of his lungs “FUCKKKKKKKKK!” Out of breath, he leaned his head on the wheel, allowing himself to cry. He was alone, living his worst nightmare.

It was over.

The End

A/N: A special thank you to everyone that has read this. I appreciate you all and I’d love to know your thoughts.

[princess-polls]

This is mostly a very bare bones plot summary mixed with me pretending to be funny.

Alright. Let's talk about Jak.

This is Jak.

This is Daxter. You can ignore Daxter.

Except not really cause they're best friends who should never be separated. Seriously. Don't split them up. Bad things happen otherwise

One night the two decided to ignore the Sage's warning telling them not to go to the spooky island by...

going to the spooky island.

While they're there they get corned by a monster and while fighting it off Daxter falls into a vat of dark eco. Vile stuff that will melt the flesh from your bones then melt your bones as well.

But instead of dying a horrific death Daxter turn into...

this.

He takes it well.

And so that's how Jak's heroic journey begins. Searching for the sage, Gol, who can turn Daxter back to normal. Except it turns out that Gol is the villain who is trying to taint the world completely with dark eco and Daxter ends up sacrificing his chance to change back in order to stop the villains.

Anyways, while the ashes of the Gol are still smoldering they search his lair and find a mysterious item that if you are playing the game for the first time you don't actually get to see because cliffhangers.

But I am talking about the sequels so I'll spoil that what they find is called a "rift gate". After moving the large heavy item from one end of the land, across mountains and volcanic craters and ok they probably just use the teleport gate but my version sounds better to the other side they tinker with it and get sucked into the rift and I should've grabbed more screenshots but I was focusing on Jak.

Jak and Daxter are separated from their friends and end up in Haven City, a wretched hive of scum and villainy. Jak immediately gets captured by the guards and Daxter escapes.

Remember how I said Jak and Daxter shouldn't be split? Well, this is why. Jak spends those two years apart being tortured with dark eco.

He's not the same.

(For those of you unaware, Jak is mute in the first game. This is the very first thing you ever hear Jak say.)

And then it gets worse.

But don't worry, the power of friendship wins and Jak snaps out of it before anything bad can happen. But friends are together again and they can escape the prison.

See the old man trying to mug Jak? See the kid behind him? The kid is important, the old man is not. In fact, punch the old man, it'll make everything a lot easier.

Anyways, why is the kid important?

Because he is literally the only person in the city who likes Jak from the very beginning and that makes him the smartest person in the city.

Just kidding. It's actually because he's the lost heir of Haven City and Jak must help him regain his rightful place.

Just kidding again. The kid is actually Jak from the past. Except they're in the future.

Basically the kid will be sent to the past where he'll grow up as Jak and then Jak and Daxter and their friends will go to the future so Jak can do all the actual work in defeating the bad guys. Like the old man who was trying to mug him earlier (see I told you to punch him).

So Jak sends himself off to the past so he can become the gun-toting badass he'll be in the future. After giving him some life advice.

Anyways, in the third game the city proves that the majority is made up of ungrateful jerks who proceed to

strand Jak and Daxter and Pecker out in the desert wastelands. Jerks.

But they get rescued by Damas. King of Spargus. Also a wretched hive of scum and villainy. But this one is made up of all the people who got thrown out of the first one.

Anyways there's a lot not in screenshots but Jak proves himself in the arena and just in general and Damas takes a liking to the kid. Treats him like the son he would've had if he hadn't lost his son years ago. Even gives him the armor he had been saving for his son.

So, plot happens and I was never very good at 2 or 3 cause I can't shoot the broadside of a barn so I'm leaving a lot out but

Damas lies dying in Jak's arms, asking one thing of him. Find his son. And he hands Jak something to help identify him. An amulet

One that is completely identical to the one the kid from 2 was wearing.

That's right Damas was Jak's father the whole time and they never knew. And, unfortunately, he dies before Jak can tell him the truth.

I won't say what happened to the guy who kidnapped Jak as a boy in the first place cause that's a whole other thing to get into but it's assumed he got eaten.

So, yeah, that's Jak's story. Small town boy who finds out that he's royalty. And a time traveler. But the third game ends with him deciding not to rule, instead wanting to go on more adventures.

It also ends with him cheating on his girlfriend. But it's the writer's fault cause they wrote her out. But don't worry, they get back together in the racing game.

!!!

[kayluh1915]

Ice Cream Cake

Pairing(s): Pedro Pascal/Female Reader

Words: 3,233

Warnings: None

Pedro (in collaboration with your mother) throws you a party for your birthday, but not for the reason you originally thought.

DISCLAIMER!

So, the beautiful Maggie ( @221bshrlocked ) was talking here on Tumblr about an age gap between reader and Pedro and I am HERE👏🏻FOR👏🏻 IT👏🏻 so expect more of this because she's got me hooked. Blame her... when she gets back from her break! I originally planned for this to be FILTHY, but no matter how many times I tried to work it in, it just didn't fit. So, have some fluff instead! Maybe next time, you filthy whores.

This works as a stand-alone, but I do consider it to be in the same universe as Beautiful People. It isn't necessary in the slightest to read that before this, but it is available if you would like to give it a read.

As always, comments are welcomed and encouraged.

You can also follow me on Twitter if you'd like. My life is boring, but I try.

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

It’s a warm summer evening. The frogs are croaking, the fireflies are starting to come out, and the crickets are singing as the sun began to dip over the horizon of the mountain. The perfect kind of evening for bonfires, camping, or even some late swimming. All great ways to spend a gorgeous evening. Far better than being pressed up against the glass of the local community center… in your opinion at least. However, for the sweaty fangirls, the chance of even getting a glimpse of your boyfriend was by far the better option.

“Such heathens.” Your mamaw said, rolling her eyes at the crowd outside. “They should show some dignity.”

“You were young too, Mom. Cut’em a break.” You Mom replied, carrying a plate of homemade peanut butter rolls.

“Well, I’d like to think I’d have more respect than to stare and lust over a local's boyfriend on her birthday, famous or not. He ain’t even here yet for cryin’ out loud!” You reached for one of the treats while your Mom was occupied, quickly stuffing it in your mouth. It was just as delicious as always.

“You should call for more security. If they’re like this when the man ain’t even here, I’d hate to see em’ when he does. Someone’s gonna get hurt.” Your Mom thought for a moment, looking back to the crowd outside that had somehow doubled in just that short amount of time alone.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll get on the phone and let the- Honey, don’t eat all of your aunt Judy’s PB rolls!” Your Mom scolded you once she noticed your stuffed cheeks.

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” You replied, mouth still full.

“It’s the bee’s birthday, Annie. Leave er’lone.”

“Then you can explain to the guests why there’s no rolls left.” The door suddenly opened, the overwhelming chatter from outside piercing the otherwise calm atmosphere of the community center and startling the three of you. You worried for a split second that maybe one of the fangirls had gone rouge and got past the guards or that one of the guests arrived way too early, but it was just your best friend, Emily… thank God.

“Damn, you’d think there was a celebrity nearby or something.” She joked, pointing her thumb back towards the door.

“There isn’t.” Emily’s smirk morphed into pure confusion.

“Whaddya mean? I thought he was supposed to be here around four?”

“Last second table read. Set him back a few hours.” She nodded in understanding, stealing one of the peanut butter rolls from the plate your mom was still carrying. She was about to protest but decided to take the damn treats into the ballroom so they would quit getting swiped in the first place. Even then she had your brother to worry about.

“Well, come on. We gotta go get you all dolled up for your man.” You looked towards the crowd, the mere idea of walking past all of those people green with envy making you nervous. Security guards or not.

“W-we can’t escape out of the back, can we?”

“Nope, they’re lined up back there too. I tired.” You threw your head back with a groan.

“Fuck.”

“There’s security out there, honey. They’ll protect you.” You mamaw said.

“Yeah, c’mon. You don’t wanna start your party in a ratty t-shirt and some jeans, do you?”

Honestly, you didn’t care.

When Pedro asked you what you wanted to do for your 25th birthday, you answered with the what you normally did. Stay home, do nothing, treat yourself to an ice cream cake from Dairy Queen, and maybe have Emily come over.

“When’s the last time you’ve done something special for your birthday?” He’d asked.

‘It’s been years. I’m not the party type and I never have the money to do what I actually want. Even a DQ cake is a decent amount of cash for me.” He paused for a moment, obviously thinking.

“... What have you actually wanted to do?” You immediately knew what he was up to.

“Nope! Don’t even think about it! It’s way too much money. Seriously, a DQ cake at home with you is more than enough.” It wasn’t his idea of spoiling you on your birthday, but he agreed. If that’s really what you wanted, then he’d give it to you. Whether you knew it or not, he’d give you the world if he could.

When you and Pedro visited your mother one weekend, she had asked you the same question. Before you could get out the answer you had given Pedro, she'd already replied with her own.

“You know, you haven’t had a proper party in years. We should throw you one.” You tried again to intervene, but Pedro stepped in.

“I’ll help in any way I can. Mi Abeja deserves something special for her birthday.”

So much for your private DQ cake celebration.

You weren’t ungrateful or anything. In fact, you really didn’t mind it. A day of dancing and good food sounded great and you were thankful to have someone like Pedro that was able to give you that. However, seeing all these people stepping on each other just to get one glimpse of the man you love made you long for that DQ cake.

“Pedro’s tee and jeans are fine.” You answered, Emily clicking her tongue at you and grabbing ahold of your arm. She dragged you towards the door and waved to your Mamaw.

“Be back in about two hours.”

Thankfully, you made it to Emily’s car without a scratch, taking in a huge deep breath once you shut the passenger door.

You wanted to choke her.

____________________

Your hairstylist released the last lock of your hair from the curling wand with a whistle.

“Lookin’ good, cutie! Pedro’s gonna faint when he sees you.” She exclaimed, spinning you around so you could take a look at your freshly styled hair. You cupped the curls framing your face and shook it out a little. Not even you could deny how much you loved being dolled up even if it hadn’t been your idea.

“Thanks, Jo. I love it.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” You got up from the chair and walked over to your couch, picking up the gift box Pedro had given you last week. He’d told you to wear it to your party, but not to open it until then.

“Well, open it! Let’s see what he picked out for you.” Emily exclaimed, obviously more excited about it than you were. Even Jo was peeking over as she got her stuff together.

You pulled the ribbon until it fell slack, placing the box back down on your couch to take the lid off. After fishing through a sea of tissue paper, you finally saw it. A black knee-length dress decorated with beautiful roses and daisies and a pair of black heels that had their own blossom.

“Ooooo! How pretty!” Jo cooed, adorning the dress.

“Man, he has a good eye,” Emily added. “That’s beautiful.” You looked over at her with a crooked eyebrow.

“Did you think he couldn’t match colors or something?”

“No, I’m just saying that men usually suck at stuff like this, but he did great.”

After everything was done, you stepped in front of your full-body mirror to take a look at yourself. You hated to admit it, but you actually looked pretty good. Your hair was curled and framed your face nicely as the dress Pedro had got you hugged your body perfectly. You even liked the heels which was a shock. You hated heels, but he had managed to find a pair that weren’t that tall so your feet wouldn’t hurt. It was a very sweet gesture, but you'd still be taking them off before the night was over.

“Shit!” Emily cursed. “Yeah you’re beautiful bitch, we gotta go. You’re going to be late for your own party!” You got back in her car as fast as possible, the heels slowing you down slightly. Despite that, you managed to make it in time, the security guards redirecting you to the upstairs entrance.

“Pedro’s here and they’ve gone wild. You’ll have to go in where the guests come through. There's more of us up there.” Emily complained mildly about having to park farther than she’d like, but you weren’t really paying much attention to her. Since the guard had told you that your boyfriend was finally here, the only thing you could really focus on was getting to him.

You made your way down the stairs slowly but as fast as possible, trying to avoid using the handrails since the decorators had worked so hard on making them look nice. Suddenly, you heard the crowd gathered outside scream, distracting you from your slow descent. You’re glad they did because at the bottom of the staircase stood the man you couldn’t wait to get to, everything but him going out of focus.

He was wearing a maroon button-down tucked into a pair of black dress pants. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing his toned forearms as the black tie sat crooked around his neck. His hair was also slicked back, a few curls defying the gel and coming down to rest on his forehead. His brown eyes were crinkled, his blinding smile causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach almost as much as the trimmed facial hair that framed his jawline.

You continued to make your way down, now using the previously avoided handrails so you could go faster. When you got to the last two steps, he held his hand out for you to take. You gladly did, his calloused hand so large and warm compared to yours. You giggled when the dork pressed a light kiss to your knuckle.

“Are you my Jack for the night?” You teased, earning a snorted laugh from him.

“Nah. Just always wanted to do that. Didn’t think I’d get my chance tonight.” He made sure you came down the last two steps safely, you immediately wrapping your arms around him as soon as your heels touched the tiled floor. You laid your head on his shoulder with a content sigh, Pedro returning the hug as soon as you initiated it, his strong arms holding you tight as he pressed tender kisses to your temple.

“Missed you...” You said quietly, loud enough only for him to hear.

He parted with you ever so slightly to kiss you properly, his lips melding with yours so perfectly that you never wanted to come up for air.

“Alright, alright, break it up you two!” Your dad said, the only thing that saved you from being lost in his lips for the rest of the evening. “C’mon, everyone’s been waitin’ to see ya.” You looked back up at Pedro, smiling wide as soon as you saw that he was staring.

“Stop it.” You laugh. He laughs too, pressing another kiss to the side of your forehead.

“I can’t help it. Mi Abeja looks so pretty tonight.” You reached up to his tie to fix it for him, your eyes focusing on the poorly tied knot that he’d obviously done himself.

“Save it. We have to go greet the family before they blow a gasket.” You said, patting his chest once his tie was finished. He stood next to you and put his hand on the small of your back, gesturing towards the ballroom with his free one.

“Lead the way, honey.”

____________________

The party was well underway by now, the bass of the music thumping hard in your chest as you ate your second piece of birthday cake. It was no DQ ice cream cake, but you couldn’t deny that your aunt Judy could bake.

After the cake was cut, the DJ started playing music, inviting everyone out to the dancefloor. Pedro asked if you wanted to go dance but you turned him down.

“Not yet. I’ll join you once I get my fix on cake.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he left to join your brother and a few of your cousins who were already “cutting the rug” you guessed.

You watched as Pedro loosened up, him and your brother dancing so rediculously that you couldn't help but laugh.

Whether Pedro wanted to believe it or not, he was quickly becoming a Hollywood golden boy. He more than deserved it, but the pressure of it all got to him sometimes and you were ecstatic to see him relaxed for a change.

He’d long discarded his tie, the hair gel barely holding back his curls that started to drape over his eyes that were crinkled up from smiling.

The song they were dancing to ended with one last thud from the bass, the DJ grabbing the mic as soon as it stopped.

“Alright folks, now we’re going to sllooww things down to allow the birthday girl to share a special dance with her love.” You looked up mid-bite of cake, not expecting to be singled out like that.

Pedro walked over to you, offering his hand as the slow song began to play. You quickly swallowed the bite of cake and wiped your mouth off with a napkin, placing your hand in his and allowing him to lead you to the dance floor.

He placed his large hands on your hips, pulling you close and laying his forehead atop of yours as your snaked your arms around his neck. You swayed with him for a bit, the flash of your mom’s camera vaguely registering in your mind, but you didn’t care. It all fades to nothing when you’re with him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said, his mocha gaze full of adoration when he lifted his head away to look at you.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Even for an old man?” You snickered.

“So nice that any other old man could never compare.” He breathed a laugh through his nose, his crooked smile doing things to you.

You continued to sway to the song, Pedro spinning you around a few times before you settled back into your rhythm. You laid your head on his shoulder after a bit, allowing him to fully take the lead. One of his hands left your hip to come up and hold the back of your head as he pressed gentle pecks atop your head.

“I love you so much.” You smiled on his shoulder, one of your own hands tangling into his dark curls.

“I love you too.”

____________________

Later that night, you and Pedro laid quietly on your bed, his arms tightly wrapped around you as you watched TV together. It was super late and you both were exhausted, but neither of you wanted to sleep. You were quickly losing the battle, however. Your eyes starting to droop as Pedro played with your hair.

“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already.” He teased, his voice pulling you from the edge.

“M’sorry. S’been a long day.” You felt his chest vibrate with a chuckle, his mustache tickling your cheek as he pressed a kiss to it.

“I had one more gift for you, but I guess it can wait until morning.” Despite how tired you were, you were curious as to what he could have up his sleeve and couldn't resist looking at him over your shoulder.

“What is it?” He laughed.

“Awake now, are we?” He teased, rising up from the sheets with you and getting up. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

It took him longer than you expected and he made quite a bit of noise, but it was well worth it.

He watched your eyes light up with happiness as soon as your gaze landed on the piece of DQ ice cream cake he was holding in his right hand, a single lit candle atop of it. He was also holding a blue gift box with a white bow, but you were more focused on the frozen treat at the moment.

“Aww, Pedro…” You cooed as he set the cake down in front of you with a kiss.

“Happy birthday, my sweet Abeja.” You blew the candle out and licked the ice cream off the bottom, setting it aside and digging into the slice. You groaned at the taste, the mattress shifting as Pedro sat back down next to you.

“Good?” You nodded.

“It’s DQ ice cream cake. How could it be bad?” He let you enjoy your treat, your attention suddenly shifting to the gift box he’d sat down. You pointed your fork at it.

“What’s that?” You asked with your mouthful. Pedro looked to the box and picked it up, gesturing for you to take it.

“Why don’t you open it and find out?” You gave him shifty eyes, setting your fork down to take the box out of his hands. You took the bow off and set it aside, lifting the lid off the box quickly. You froze when you saw what was inside.

Laying atop white tissue paper sat your passport and a Mickey Mouse ear hat. You slowly took the hat into your hands, only just now noticing the sticky note that was stuck on the other side. It read:

“To DisneyWorld we will go for your special day, to create memories that will forever stay.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until Pedro reached up to wipe a tear off of your cheek.

“How… how did yo-”

“I asked your mom. She said that you’ve always wanted to spend your birthday at Disney but never had the money. I knew you wouldn’t go if I told you about it ahead of time, so your Mom and I worked together to throw you a party so you wouldn’t be suspicious.”

There was no way you could accept something this huge from him. It had to cost him a fortune… weeks of his schedule.

“What ab-”

“Shhh.” He shushed. “None of that. You deserve this, Abeja. You work so hard and barely get anything. Please, let me spoil you just this once.” You wanted to turn it down, the guilt of not helping him pay for it eating you up. Though you knew he was under contract with Disney in the first place and more than had enough money to pay for it, you still didn't want him to think that you were trying to mooch.

However, the look of pure nervousness and adoration on his face melted all of that guilt away.

You sat the hat down and reached for him, hugging him tightly as more tears fell down your cheeks.

“...Thank you.” Pedro let out a breath of air you didn’t know he was holding, his arms hugging you back tenfold.

“No amount of money is worth more than this. I promise you that, honey. You’re worth so much more.”

You ended up falling asleep wrapped in his embrace, the day finally catching up with you. Pedro gently laid down, making sure not to wake you as he situated you to lay atop his chest while he laid on his back. You stirred as he pulled the blanket over the both of you, but didn’t rouse any more after that.

He reached over and turned the TV off with the remote and switched off your lamp, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before drifting off right behind you.

[herewithstupid]

Whewwwwww, was reminded of one of my LEAST favorite forms of manipulation today.

Gonna talk about my grandpa for a moment. I come from a relatively middle class family- not ‘wealthy’, but grandparents helped make sure that we never really struggled for much unless my parents pride was on the line. Now my grandpa was the type that loved giving gifts/money. I learned really quickly not to ask for anything, because if I did, I would get it.

“Seems like a strange problem to have, Stu,” I hear you saying. “Your grandpa wanted to spoil you? Isn’t that a luxury most people wish they had?”

Honestly yeah, of the problems out there like, idk, getting arrested for things out of my control or not being able to afford food- this REALLY is a luxury, first world ‘problem’. So please take my complaints with a relative grain of salt. The main problem came from my inability to accept gifts or express needs for a long time because of this.

See, the definition of a gift is “a thing given willingly to someone without payment”. Payment is not always in the form of money- I may pay someone for a car repair for example by offering an exchange and repairing their carpet. Payment can come in the form of work, money, action, etc. 

So in actuality, my grandpa never gave me ‘gifts’, because they did not come with no strings attached. Money is how he pulled the strings and maintained control in our relatively unhealthy family while maintaining a nice outward view for the world. Guilt trips, bribes- when I went to college, he tried essentially buying his way into my bank account and having me give him the password so that he could keep track of my spending. Gas cards were given with the intention of tracking where I was going. I’ve been screamed at over the phone because he helped me with a home repair- and then I acted ‘out of line’. There were attempts to discourage me from self-sufficiency and “not to worry, he would take care of me”.

Down the line, this led to an inherent mistrust of any gift, whether it be from friend, significant others... basically anyone unless it was completely anonymous and no way to know who the person was- because an anonymous person can’t hold it over my head. I still have a rather bitter belief in my heart that “nothing is truly free”- which really is an excuse to try to close my heart and make out the world as my enemy, when it really comes down to taking an active role in whole I let into my life and maintaining boundaries. A recognition that the world isn’t good or evil- that there are just sick people in it. 

And while the examples I used with my grandpa are obviously extreme- the point of this is the same. If your ‘gift’ can be taken back at any time, if your gift has strings attached, if your gift comes with expectations, then you have no right calling that thing a gift.

This form of manipulation is popular because it does two things. One, it strokes the ego of the person giving the ‘gift’. They get to feel charitable, get to build this narration in their head of being kind hearted, a great friend/family member/lover, selfless and thoughtful, while ignoring their true, less kind intentions. 

My grandpa has control issues, likely stemming from fear (like most defects do). In a life he felt out of control in, where he knew best how everyone should act if they would just do what they were supposed to, this gave the ability for him to gain control over the people in his life. If they were to reject it, it seems ungrateful. It gave him the ability to paint himself as the misunderstood, generous soul- when really all it came down to was making sure a person felt an obligation to ‘act’ how he believed they should and to be able to guilt a person when they stepped out of line of what he believed they should be doing.

And people do this. All. The. Time.

So,

For those of you who have had this happen to you- you should not feel guilty. You are not responsible for a sick person’s actions. And I’m using ‘sick’, because I don’t think lots of people are ‘evil’. I think they are people who don’t know how to cope with the world around them, and are attempting to stay afloat by whatever means they have, even if it means hurting those in their immediate sphere. And if you realize they’ve been manipulating you like this, you have every right to feel hurt, disgusted, violated- all of it. 

For what it’s worth, as some small comfort, they very rarely are doing it ‘at’ you, even if it seems like it. Yes they may intentionally hurt you. But they do this to everyone, because this behavior is all they have. A person who’s only tool is a hammer will use the hammer- even if it destroys the very foundation and network supporting them. And they will be upset at the support network for breaking- because in their mind, what other choice did they have if that was their only tool?

And honestly for everyone, I encourage taking a step back and pausing before you give someone something. Check your expectations. Pause and really consider what you are hoping to accomplish. If it’s to receive something- whether it be a favor, emotional support, validation, a check to be cashed in later, then pause and think about WHY.

I am guilty of this years ago. I would do favors and over-extend myself as a ‘friend’, because in reality, I couldn’t support myself and I wanted to build a safety net of people that felt obligated to take care of me. Understandably, these friends of mine did not like feeling manipulated, and distanced themselves as they should have. It fed into my woe-is-me martyr syndrome of how I was this amazing person that no one understood, and how no one in the world really understood me. 

What are you so afraid of that you have to try to use people in your life and control them in an attempt to protect yourself? 

Because so long as your ‘good’ actions are tainted with attempts to manipulate people in your own self interest, you’ll find your ‘kind’ actions blowing up in your face. I consider it like a Midas’s touch. You’ll sit and wonder why no one wants to be your friend- without acknowledging that your friendship caused more harm than good. It’s not your responsibility to change a person to how you think they ‘should’ be. 

Only to decide whether or not you can accept them exactly as they are on their own journey (wherever that is), and how much of that person you want to allow into your life. The only person you should work on changing and manipulating into a ‘better’ person, is yourself. 

And when it comes to giving gifts, and honestly, interacting with people in general, give only what you can live without having replaced. 

And my personal motto that I’ve always felt better living by: Give without remembering, and receive without forgetting.

[djarinispunk]

Beautiful, Dirty, Rich - Loki Laufeyson Mafia AU

Chapter Four - Spoiled

You had only been back in New York for four days and already you felt as though you needed a break away. You knew that following the whole Paris ordeal and the consequential wasting of your fathers money meant that you were in no position to ask for a vacation. So in turn, you had to settle for retail therapy.

Only it wasn't working, you'd already browsed a number of high end stores by noon only to be left feeling flat and bored. When did shopping become so mundane?

That being said, it hadn't stopped you from spending a hefty amount on miscellaneous items, feeling a sort of satisfaction when you swiped your fathers card. Although it did infuriate you that with his income, he wouldn't even notice your expenditure.

It was a Saturday, meaning the mall was swarming with socialites. Private school pupils gathered by the fountains to gossip. The sugar babies of New York's elites seemed to swipe cards everywhere you turned. It was like a playground for the snobs of society, although, you were in no place to judge, as you cast your eyes down to the mass of bags you had accumulated.

Feeling your phone vibrate in your purse, you groaned, eyes scanning for somewhere to sit, settling when you saw a small café nestled in the corner of the floor you were on.

Not even bothering to check the caller ID you answered the phone with a huff, "Hello?"

"Is that anyway to greet your father?" you had to stop yourself form slamming your head against the glass table, why did you even pick up?

"Sorry, what did you need?" you sighed, wanting the call to be as painless as possible.

"Can I not just call my daughter? Why do I need a reason?" his voice was woven with that accusatory tone he always seemed to use. It was one thing you could pinpoint about his personality that was directly caused by the mafia, he was always so on edge, like everyone was after him.

"Of course not." you tried your best not to snap at him, knowing it would anger him further.

"Anyway, I need you to attend a dinner with me tomorrow night."

So he did need something.

"Uh, sure, what's it for?" you made a mental note to ask Sophia if she too would be in attendance.

"Myself, Laufey and his son are meeting to discuss things."

Things. That could mean anything when it came to the mafia. Who they were going to kill next. Who they were going to sue next. Who they were going to employ next. You hated the uncertainty, it only reminded you of how insignificant you were in the grand scheme of things.

It also reminded you that Loki Laufeyson existed.

After the Gala, you had recouped with Sophia and tried to get all the information that she knew about him. She didn't have much to offer, just rumours she had heard from Charles about his past sexual escapades and childish drama, nothing exciting.

He gave you the creeps.

"So why do I have to come?" you tried not to sound as ungrateful as you were, you didn't want to spend three hours in some stuffy conference room.

"I'm sure Laufey will bring his new wife, and Loki is sure to bring a date."

You tired not to outwardly cringe at the thought of being your fathers date, but you also understood your father didn't have time to find a new wife in the span of a day. So, reluctantly you agreed.

Your father gave you the address of the restaurant you'd be going to with the instruction to, "Arrive at seven, sharp." and with that, he hung up on you, goodbyes weren't a common thing between you two.

You threw your phone into your purse with a deep exhale, you wouldn't even have Sophia to make the dinner less painful. You'd suffer alone.

How dramatic of you.

Deciding you'd had enough of browsing, you got up to leave, catching the glare of the workers whose table you had occupied. You slipped a bill on the table and gave them a tight smile, oops.

You wished you could say you got to the exit painlessly, that you left the mall and walked home in the sun with no troubles. But as always, life wasn't kind to you.

First it was the hair, that familiar black that seemed to shine from root to tip. The hair alone wasn't enough to make you question the identity of the stranger walking only a few feet away from you. However, when you caught sight of the black suit and the company of Charles Buckley, you knew it could only be one person. One person who seemed to be everywhere you turned recently. One very annoying person.

Loki Laufeyson.

Thankfully hadn't seen you make a mad scramble for the nearest store, that store of course, being of the lingerie variety. Your thought process was that if you hid out in there for long enough, he was sure to be gone by the time you regained your composure.

But once again, life wasn't kind to you.

You were seeking refuge by the bra section, pretending to be overly interested in a particular style of lace when you felt that low voice in your ear.

"Wouldn't have thought you were the type to wear white." he said, hands dusting over the material of the straps. His voice was in that tone again, the same he had used at the bar only days prior, it was dangerous how seductive he could be with only his voice.

"I'd hope you wouldn't be thinking about me at all, Laufeyson." you feigned disinterest as you began to walk around the store, him hanging around behind you, following your every move.

"At the thought of you darling, I've done a lot more than think." You turned to glare at him, rolling your eyes in defeat when he wore that cocky smirk. He was so full of himself.

"So you've resorted to stalking me now?"

"You do think highly of yourself don't you dear?" he was smiling at your discomfort, still hot on your tail as you wandered through the boutique.

"I don't know, after the Gala I think I'm right to assume you'd try to talk to me again." you picked up a random pair of underwear, noticing the way the clerk was eyeing you and the man behind you, this way you could buy something and get the hell out.

Loki snatched the hanger form you before you'd protest, scanning the underwear, much to your embarrassment, "Red? How cliché." he smirked, you felt your cheeks heat up; whether it be from anger, humiliation, or a healthy mix of the two.

"You're insufferable Loki. I really mean that." you scoffed, retrieving the panties back and storming away.

But of course, Loki was still following you like a lost puppy, a lost puppy you wanted to kick, "I'm wounded, darling. I really thought we were becoming friends."

You turned abruptly, causing Loki to stumble only ever so slightly. "As an asshole once said to me, don't flatter yourself."

"Quoting me, that's bold." you could see he was enjoying this, much to your annoyance, he liked the back and fourth. You however, not so much.

"No Loki, what's bold is you following me around, commenting on my underwear choices, like the matter has anything to do with you." you snapped, anger seeping into your tone as you tried not to raise your voice too much in the middle of a public place.

Loki was silent for a pause, seemingly taking in your words, but of course his pensive face was just a mask for his childishness as he soon replied with a smirk, "Oh but it will, you'll see." you didn't have time to respond before he spoke again, this time checking his watch, "As much as I'd love to stay and chat I have a dinner to plan. I'll see you tomorrow darling."

And then he was gone, as quick as he came, and you were free to groan, aloud this time. Finally alone, you made your way towards the register, where a slightly bemused clerk was already watching you.

"Boyfriend?" she asked, and you had to stop yourself from declaring her fired on the spot.

"No." you said, the harshness of you voice enough to wipe the playful smile off of her face.

"Oh, okay." you watched as her cheeks immediately went a shade of fuchsia, " Will those be all?"

You looked down at the underwear as you handed it to the clerk, eyes immediately darting to the other pair of underwear, the one you knew you hadn't picked up.

You glared at the pair in your hands.

It was certainly more revealing than the other pair you'd picked up. And the colour? A deep emerald green. Not too dissimilar to the shade of the handkerchief that was sitting in that bastards suit jacket.

You left the boutique with one thought, and that was that you wanted to strangle Loki Laufeyson.

@cynic-spirit

[exrayspex]

ugh earlier tonight my dad was drunk and forlornly mumbling over and over about how all our amazon packages are addressed to him (bc that's the name on The Family Amazon Account), but the contents are never for him.

just repeatedly "always my name, never for me :(" like he's missing out on cool fun things, wah wahh

but like. we don't exactly use the account to buy cool fun things for ourselves? like, the package he was lamenting over was fucking ceramic stovetop cleaner.

and my most recent orders were an mcas medication i just ran out of, a diaper rash prevention cream a friend recommended to help prevent underboob skin issues, and hair dye. before the stove cleaner my mom ordered dog poop bags and zip ties.

like. idk i'm just sick of him constantly wailing about how his life is sooo terrible and hard and but my mom and i are so spoiled and living in the lap of luxury. we patently are not. and if you are gonna decide who has had an easy life out of the three of us, uh, he would definitely be the one!

like the argument that ended in him screaming at me to get a job last week or whenever started bc i complained about how, bc he always wants to go out for dinner so he can drink through it every fri and sat, never get to choose what i get to eat, and often it'll be something he picked up at the store with no input from me that i would rather go hungry than eat. i complained that he gets to go out for dinner every weekend and he never even tries to get me something that i'd like, and that i don't like being dependent on others for food.

and he immediately went off about how i have out so easy, getting waited on hand and got, but he has to work and blah blah blah i'm so ungrateful blah blah poor him blah blah i'm worthless bc obvs people are only worth the money they make

just ugh everything is always about him, he treats everything like it's a competition to see who has the hardest life and if he isn't doted on for winning he gets irate. like one time my mom, who definitely has genuinely had a hard life, said that he life hasn't been the easiest, he literally laughed in her face. laughed in her face! i was so incensed at the cruel disrespect, that's the closest i've ever come to snapping and just attacking him like a rabid animal.

oh and like the other night he tried to say i didn't know such basic things as "the dog likes to bail at the cat when she sees him" bc i spend too much time in my room (being a lazy sack of shit, was the clear implication). like. i still live here you asshole, i know this shit. i spend time with both of them literally every day. i would spend more time with them and out of my room if being near you wasn't so deeply awful!!!

just so sick of him and his shit. the divorce cannot come soon enough. it's just up to my mom to gather her courage and pick a time and do it, and she's working on it. it will be soon, i can hold on until then, i have no other choice. but god do i hate every second of it lmao

[zwritestuff]

Some Things Are Bound To Be (Chapter Eight) - Kyara

A/N: WHAT'S POPPIN HAPPY HOLIDAYS AND MERRY NEW YEAR. I'm sorry for not posting sooner!!! I had writers block and was super busy with school, but now I'm on summer vacations! Writing this chapter was a tad hard because I can't process the fact it's ending. Only the epilogue left my dudes! It's the end of a story but the start of a legacy. I'm not gonna do the sappy speech YET. So, enjoy this monster of a chapter (7.4K) and thanks to Emerald for beta-ing it!!

Read the rest of the chapters | Read on AO3.

Normally, it’s Rita or Tynomi that look down on Kiara with a brow cocked, lips pursed and quizzical gaze—but lately life has been as strange as it comes, so it doesn’t really phase her when she finds the roles reversed.

She’s in her office, going over the contract of a new partnership, pen dangling from her lips, when Rita enters without knocking and tells her they’re going out to this new bar that opened some weeks ago. No, she can’t argue, and yes, it’s imperative she goes. Kiara is sure this is the first time she’s the one looking at Rita with the implicit question of “what are you planning now?”.

“Yeah, I can’t; family dinner,” Kiara says vaguely, going back to look at the contract, though she has to restart the same sentence five times before any of the words stick—not when the only thing she can think of is that she has to break the news to her parents that Kyne and her aren’t “together” anymore, especially knowing her mom never stopped insisting she bring her to family dinners.

Rita goes back to being the one to silently judge her with a brow cocked, her stare piercing right through her. “And I have a feeling you’d rather stab your own foot than attending that dinner,” she says, tone sharp and straight to the point. Kiara clenches her jaw. 

Anyone with functioning eyes and a taste for gossip knows of the rumors going around already, of the whispers saying Kyne and Kiara broke up because of Kiara’s fault, that she was too overbearing, that Kyne couldn’t put up with a spoiled brat like her, and really, it’s whatever. She doesn’t care. It’s not like it’s the first time someone spreads rumors about her that weren’t true, so it’s easy to turn a blind eye on those.

But she draws the line when she hears people talking shit about Kyne.

She doesn’t hear it directly, because everyone shuts up as soon as she’s near, of course, but they sure don’t shut up when Tynomi’s near, or Rita, or even Lena—in fact, it’s almost granted that Lena will get approached to be asked about Kiara and Kyne’s alleged break up the moment she steps foot in any resting room in the whole building; poor Lena hasn’t been able to drink her morning coffee in peace for weeks—, and the things they repeat back to her makes Kiara’s stomach twist in a fit of rage.

Kyne isn’t snarky, or bitchy, or an annoyingly deadpan cold-hearted bitch that drove Kiara mad with her inexpressiveness, least of all an ungrateful bitch that never appreciated anything Kiara did for her. She’s not. Kyne is sneaky glances and deadpan jokes, witty remarks and toothy grins she tries to pass up as annoyed smiles, she’s kindness and care disguised as unbotherness. And God, she misses all of it.

She has also been praying non-stop that neither of those rumors have reached her parents yet. 

Kiara sighs. She hates that Rita is able to read her so well.

“Well, it’s not like I can get out of it,” she says after a long moment, “I already told them I’d go, and I’ve been avoiding family dinners for almost a month, so.” Kiara rests her chin in her palm, chewing on the inside of her cheek.

She had been purposefully avoiding her parents, mostly because their conversations always found a way to go back to Kyne one way or another, and Kiara was running out of excuses to give as to why they weren’t attached at the hip anymore. And after her mother’s insistence, she had agreed to go on Friday to have dinner… With Kyne.

It’s safe to say Kiara had been stressing over arriving at their door alone, rehearsing entire monologues with herself before going to sleep, while she brushed her teeth and even when she spaced out watching TV. She had gone back to the bad habit of chewing her nails whenever she thought about arriving alone on Friday and the awkwardness that will ensue after she drops the bomb.

Rita purses her lips, thinking. “You could have dinner with them and leave as soon as you’re finished.”

At that, Kiara cocked a brow. “Yeah, it might be easier to just cancel the whole thing,” she replies, and it isn’t that much of an exaggeration. 

Knowing her mom, if she opens the night with “I’ve been dumped by the only serious girlfriend you know of”, she won’t hesitate in consoling her like she did when she got her first heartbreak—with an endless pep talk, forcing sweets upon her and insisting she stays with them a few days until she feels better.

She remembers when the whole situation with Abril happened; she had just moved out, but she practically moved back in again after crying to her mother about it.

Rita looks at her, tapping her left foot on the floor, seemingly defeated. But it's Rita we're talking about, so she fixes a smile on her face and clasps her hands in front of her.

“Well, if you change your mind, or if you need help getting out of there, you know where to find us.” She winks at her, and leaves without saying another word. Kiara stares at the door for a second, wondering what’s gotten into her, before going back to reviewing the contract in her hands.

Kiara has the lingering feeling that Rita’s up to something, but she dismisses it in favor of trying to not fall asleep reading contract after contract.

***

Arriving at her parents’ door alone and with a forced smile goes as well as she expected.

Her mother cranes her neck to see if Kyne is coming behind her, but Kiara just pushes her way past the door and urges her in, prefacing everything with an awkward “I have to tell you something.” Rebecca looks at her with a cocked brow, before her expression morphs into a concerned one.

“Oh, honey,” she says, and Kiara gives a long-suffering sigh. “Did anything happen with Kyne? I haven’t seen you two together lately, and I thought--”

“Maman,” Kiara cuts her off, already feeling her stomach churn. She sees her father at the end of the hallway and holds her breath. “I’ll explain it over dinner,” she says, knowing fully well she won’t be able to eat anything.

She catches her dad’s worried glance out of the corner of her eye as she pushes past the living room towards the kitchen. Her mother asks questions to which she doesn’t answer until they’re all seated at the table, and Kiara feels almost nauseous at the sight of food.

She tries to find the strength to say it more than once, but not a noise comes from her. Kiara doesn’t find it hard to break the news to them because they seemed to really like Kyne too—it’s more so that she hoped they could become a real couple, and the story of how they decided to fake date for one event and then kind of snowballed could be told as a funny, quirky story to break the ice at family gatherings.

Kiara really hoped she could bring Kyne as her real girlfriend, and now, she’s not even here as her fake one.

“Me and Kyne broke up some weeks ago,” she lets out in one breath, and has to repeat it a few times, slower, until her parents understand. Kiara immediately says that there aren’t hard feelings between them, that they broke up because they hit a wall and realized that maybe they were better off without each other. That yes, she’s sad, but she won’t be sad forever and that she wishes Kyne the best.

The truth blends in with lies better than she thought herself to be capable, as Kiara tries her best to protect Kyne’s job. She knows her parents wouldn’t be able to fire her just for breaking up with her, but when in doubt…

There’s a heavy silence, until her father speaks.

“Is that so, Kiki?” He questions, one eyebrow raised like when he knows she isn’t telling the truth. Kiara’s breath hitches in her throat—she knows her parents can tell when she’s bullshitting them, but in this particular case she hopes and prays she’s a convincing enough actress.

She may not be gunning for the Oscar, but if she gets her parents to believe her without asking too many questions, she’ll feel like she just won one.

“Yeah, I’ve been trying to-- to get over it. And I didn’t want to worry you, so I said nothing,” she lies with ease, digging nails in her palms as she takes a bite of the meatloaf.

Rebecca looks at her, not with the same look as her dad, but a softer one. She knows that look very well, and she’s already bracing herself for what’s to come.

Her mother goes on a tangent about how this isn’t the end of the world even if it feels like it, that one day she’ll find her person too, and proceeds to tell her again about how she and her dad met for the thousandth time. Kiara just pretends to hear, stuffing her mouth with the food and spacing out every so often.

Everything goes like she expected it to, and she doesn’t have the heart to leave when Rebecca brings out the dessert and tells her about her college boyfriends.

And if God’s timing is always right, Tynomi’s might just be better than His; she gets a phone call from her just when her mom was telling her about the daughter of one of her friends, that recently came out too and is a very nice girl.

“Could you be any more opportune?” Kiara says as a greeting, breathing out a sigh of relief when she locks the bathroom door. She hears Tynomi scoff on the other side of the line.

“Yeah, when you didn’t answer Rita’s texts after an hour we figured it was our calling from pulling you outta there,” Tynomi replies, and Kiara can almost see the shit-eating grin plastered on her face. She paces around the bathroom, chuckling.

“Are you actually going to drag me out of their house? That’d be easier than to come up with an excuse to leave.” 

There’s a short-lived pause, before Tynomi clicks her tongue. “Tell them you have to leave ‘cause we’re celebrating my birthday tonight, that you didn’t realize the hour or some shit,” she suggests, “Which, by the way, isn’t entirely false—I’m surprised you forgot my birthday tomorrow,” Tynomi comments, and Kiara can almost see her checking her nails as she said so, tone ever so casual.

Her eyes go wide as she gasps, face-palming herself. “Fuck, I’m so sorry ‘Nono, I had totally forgotten.” Her tone is apologetic and full of regret, she really didn’t mean to forget; life has been as hectic as it could be, and sometimes she even forgets basic things such as sleeping—lucky for her, Tynomi doesn’t make a big deal out of it, dismissing it with a laugh.

“I’ll forgive you if you get your ass out in, like, five minutes tops,” she says quizzically, and Kiara narrows her eyes.

“Wait—are you waiting outside already?” She asks, opening the door of the bathroom with a smile and her heart pounding in her ears. She hears Tynomi laugh along with someone in the background, probably Rita.

“You’ll find out if you come outside,” she simply says before hanging up, and Kiara rushes to the living room where her parents wait for her.

She tells them in a hurry that she forgot about her friend’s birthday, that she has to leave now to make it, and gives them a kiss on the cheek and a hug before she leaves. Her father hugs her tight, telling her to be careful, and it feels like an omen more than a warning.

Either way, Kiara brushes it off, and the first thing she sees when she steps outside is Tynomi and Rita laying against her car.

“Took you long enough,” Tynomi calls out, waving at her.

***

Everything happens in the blink of an eye.

They ride back to Kiara’s place to help her find something to wear, which considering the size of Kiara’s wardrobe shouldn’t be a task as hard as it is. It feels like a whole make-over montage, throwing clothes over their shoulders and trying things on over and over before they settle on something; a rhinestone dress she barely wore once with a cleavage so deep it would’ve scandalized her parents. Tynomi helps her with her hair, and Rita helps her find an eyeshadow design on her Pinterest board that’s subtle enough to be worn at a bar. 

There are lots of laughs, noise and dumb jokes thrown around as much as clothes, and all the uneasiness Kiara felt at the beginning of the night are all but forgotten. She would give a sappy speech about how much she loves her friends, but she knows their egos don’t need to be stroked any more.

They force Kiara to eat something before they leave when she comments how she hadn’t been able to stomach anything back at her parents’ house. Kiara isn’t sure when food deliveries got so fast, but she has a chicken hamburger before she can say it’s fine. 

It somehow feels like this was all planned out, but whatever, she doesn’t pay it much mind. It’s not unusual for Rita and Tynomi to plan their night outs with a concerning degree of perfection.

“How’d you find out about this bar?” Kiara wonders, fetching her keys and unplugging her phone from the charger.

“Someone from work told me about it, said she came with her friends some weekends ago and their sangria was the best thing she ever tasted,” Rita comments casually, trailing behind Kiara. “And it fills up fast, so we better get going.” She pushes her a bit, and Kiara cocks a brow at her eagerness. The bar must have the best sangria in Canada if Rita is this eager to go.

The drive is rather uneventful, and there’s a bit of back and forth between Tynomi and Kiara for free reign on the aux cord, though Rita settles it by grabbing it and taking over. Kiara wonders if there’ll ever be a day when Rita isn’t the one to settle their childish conflicts for them.

When they arrive, they have to circle around the block a few times to find a parking spot—the street is packed, and just by taking a brief peek inside of the bar you could see inside it’s exploding with people. She winces slightly, mostly because she usually doesn’t like crowded places, but whatever, she’s already there, she’s all dolled up, she might as well make the most out of it. 

Finding an empty table is hard, and once they do it’s one crammed at the very back of the bar, near a door that leads to a patio for smokers. Rita decides to be the one to order the first round, leaving Tynomi and Kiara alone for what feels like an eternity.

“So how did dinner with your parents go?” Tynomi asks to break the ice, putting her phone down, and Kiara twirls a strand of curls on her index finger.

“It could’ve been worse, I guess,” she says, loud enough for her to hear over the noise but soft enough to get drowned by the dozens of voices and the music blasting on the speakers. “My mom had the five stages of grief in the span of an hour; had I known she’d like Kyne that much I would’ve kept my mouth shut.” Kiara makes the motion to rub her eyes, but then remembers her make-up, and ends up massaging her temples instead.

Tynomi scoffs, leaning over the table so she can hear her better. “Yeah, you know how moms can be. Mine still chastises me for letting go this lawyer I was going out with when I still thought I was straight.” She rolls her eyes, making Kiara laugh, “Speaking of Kyne—you haven’t talked to her at all since the, uh, “break up” right?” She questions, furrowing her brow, and Kiara visibly cringes.

“No, I haven’t, we’ve kinda been avoiding each other,” she admits, fidgeting with her fingers. It’s not technically true, though; she had avoided Kyne for the day when she decided to call it quits, but then Kyne had walked straight past her the next day without as much as a second glance, and Kiara, as petty as she can be, decided to not talk to her until Kyne decided to take the first step.

Weeks later, here they are, acting as if they never knew each other, much to her friends’ annoyance.

“Right,” Tynomi continues, “Do you think you two could, like, go back to your lovey-dovey shit if you, y’know, talked like the adults you are?” She inquires slowly, with a tone that betrays nothing, and Kiara cocks a brow—she’s about to ask what she means by “lovey-dovey shit” and assure her on the same breath that there’s no way Kyne wants to talk with her, when Rita settles their drinks on the table.

Thankfully, they don’t bring up Kyne again, and Tynomi doesn’t push for an answer.

***

As much as Kiara really did like the sip of sangria Rita offered her, she takes it easy and nibbles on the same drink for what feels like the entire night. The fun stuff when you’re the designated driver. At least, she gets to be the one seeing how her friends do and say stupid shit, instead of being the one saying and doing stupid shit. 

Tynomi and Rita drag her to the bathroom in separate turns one too many times, and by Tynomi’s fourth time Kiara wonders if they’re plotting something; they always glance around, wary of everyone and everything, asking each and every time if she’s seen someone at the bar that caught her eye, with a tone that betrays nothing yet Kiara couldn't be more suspicious of. She says no, mostly because she’s not in the mood for picking someone up, and really, all of the women she’s encountered exude straight girl vibes.

It’s finally her turn to order another round, and as she perches herself against the counter waiting for the barman, her eyes roam around the room, trying to find any familiar faces, or just judging strangers’ fashion choices when—she catches her glance.

What are the odds that, out of all the bars in a city as big as this, out of all the people she could’ve made eye contact with, it happened to be Kyne the one standing at the other side of the bar, intensely staring back at her?

She snaps out of it when the barman places her order in front of her, Kiara pays him in a hurry and turns on her heels to return to her table. She feels Kyne’s piercing gaze on the back of her neck, but she tries to keep her composure for the love of all that’s holy.

When she returns, Tynomi and Rita are glued to their phones, with smug smiles that would make Kiara suspicious if she was a bit more cunning. She all but slams the drinks on the table, sitting down with a childish pout and her arms crossed. Her friends look at her with amusement, as if they know what just happened. But Kiara says nothing, just stares at her drink.

“What? Did something happen?” Rita ventures to ask, cocking a brow. Kiara scoffs, looking away. She can feel someone’s gaze on her, and she’s not stupid, she knows who it is; she’d just rather act as if she didn’t see anything.

“Nothing at all,” she lies through gritted teeth, nibbling on her drink. Her friends share a look, and Rita goes back to her phone while Tynomi fishes something out of her purse.

“Hey, Kiki, can you keep me company while I smoke outside?” She asks, and Kiara cocks a brow in her direction.

“‘Nono, I literally just came back—”

“Just one cigarette, and then we’ll be back, I promise,” Tynomi bargains with a decided tone that leaves no room for questions. Kiara groans as she grabs her drink; they’re lucky she loves them.

Outside is definitely chiller, and Kiara instinctively takes a sip from her drink as she watches Tynomi lit up a cigarette. They perch themselves against the wall, not really far from the entrance, it isn’t as crowded as inside, but they still bump shoulders with other people more than once. They make small talk, and by the way Tynomi is sneaking glances towards the door, she could swear she’s waiting to see someone. Kiara is about to ask her about it, wondering if she’s been making eye contact with another girl from the bar or something, but then she hears a voice all too familiar behind her.

“Heyyy, Tynomi! You got a light?” Priyanka’s voice booms through the patio, and before she knows it the architect is standing by Tynomi’s side, holding out a cigarette near to her lighter. “Oh, hi Kiara! Didn’t see you there,” she says cheerfully, and she waves without much energy.

“Wish I could say the same thing.” Kiara’s ears perk up when she hears that voice.

She whips her head around, narrowing her eyes, and sure enough, Kyne is standing behind her in all her glory, an unamused look on her face as she inspects her nails as if they’re the most interesting thing in the world.

She gulps. Hard. Fuck.

Kiara tries to recover quickly, to not let Kyne notice the way she affects her, so she cocks one of her perfectly painted eyebrows towards her, and she has no idea what possessed her, but she scoffs slightly before saying, “Well, those sure are some nice first words to say after you’ve been ignoring me for weeks.” She regrets it the moment she says it. Who can she blame for her stupid choice of words? The alcohol? Her cup is still full, and she doesn’t feel the least bit dizzy.

Kyne seems surprised that she heard her, but the surprise doesn’t last much; she glares at her, rolling her eyes with a sarcastic laugh. “As if you didn’t ignore me first! Jeez, whatever happened to “we’ll still be friends once our deal is over”?” She folds her arms, cocking a brow at her, and Kiara wishes she were drunker. It would be easier to have this conversation, since she can practically smell the vodka in Kyne’s breath.

“I tried to end things on a good note, but you stormed off! I tried to give you your space, but then you went ahead and ignored me the next day. What was I supposed to do? Use my status as your boss and force you to talk to me?” She pinches the bridge of her nose, her drink all but forgotten as she hands it to Tynomi, “before I spill it everywhere,” she mutters, and if she weren’t so angry already she would’ve noticed the amused look Priyanka and Tynomi had; like they were watching their favorite soap opera instead of seeing their friends fight in the middle of a fucking smoking patio.

Kyne furrows her brow, folding her arms as she takes a step closer. Kiara stands still.

“I didn’t storm off,” she says, though it sounds like she’s trying to convince herself more than Kiara. “I was upset and confused, and you acting like I wasn’t there when I went to pick you up for lunch didn’t help.” 

She tilts her head. Okay, that’s not what she thought she’d say. “Why were you upset? Calling it quits was your idea,” she points out, “And I have no idea what you’re talking about. I had an emergency call and I had to pacify some architects and an investor, I never saw you waiting for me,” Kiara explains, and something in Kyne’s expression cracks. But as soon as it comes, it goes, and the scowl is soon back on her face.

“Whatever.” She waves a hand to dismiss the topic, but Kiara isn’t done yet.

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“What question?” Kyne sounds defensive, taking some steps back; but the more she steps back, Kiara steps closer.

“Why were you upset? I understand being confused, since it was sudden, but upset?” She leans closer, her height being an advantage as her face ends up mere inches away from Kyne’s. “You suggested we quit days before, I thought you’d be happy to finally be getting rid of me.” She cocks a brow, waiting for an answer, and Kyne’s face betrays nothing—until she looks away, scoffing while what Kiara thinks is a blush creeps on her cheeks.

“I—I don’t owe you an explanation,” she says simply, giving her a daring look. Kiara would say that, yes, she probably does, since she was the one that wanted to quit and then got mad at her for doing what she wanted, but she isn’t able to get a word in before Kyne looks past her towards Priyanka. “Y’know? I think I’m just gonna leave.”

“Oh, well, make sure Bobo doesn’t do anything stupid while—”

“No, I mean I’m going home,” Kyne cuts her off, and Priyanka scrambles for an answer, but before she says anything to convince her, Kyne turns on her heels and goes back to the bar, albeit walking a little wobbly. 

Kiara stands there, perplexed, not really knowing what just happened. She turns around to meet Tynomi and Priyanka’s gaze. Tynomi is pinching the bridge of her nose, while Priyanka looks like she might strangle someone.

“Well, that sure went well,” Priyanka comments, folding her arms, and Tynomi scoffs. 

Tynomi looks at her with a pointed look, then towards the entrance, then back at her, seemingly hoping to not have to say anything before she catches up. “I think this is the part where you go after her,” she finally says, after Kiara just stands without moving an inch.

She blinks owlishly, before she realizes what she just said. “But—but she doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

Priyanka groans, doing the motion of bashing her skull against the wall.

“Fucks sake, not to talk shit about my best friend, but she’s been driving me crazy talking about you these past few weeks. Trust me, just go after her, I’m pretty sure you two will make up.”

“Or make out,” Tynomi points out with a shit-eating grin, and Kiara rolls her eyes, a blush creeping on her cheeks. As much as she’d like that, Kyne is drunk, and—

Oh. 

Oh shit. 

She can’t let her leave alone like that, can she?

Kiara sighs in defeat. 

“Fine. But you and Rita will have to book an Uber.” She turns to leave, and she hears Priyanka saying there’s no need, that she’ll drive them home, and then is when it clicks on Kiara that they had probably orchestrated the whole thing. Jesus. That would make a lot more sense.

She walks past Rita, who merely watches her go without saying anything, elbows her way past the crowd and out to the street. She looks around before she finds Kyne some feet away, leaning on the wall and frowning at her phone. Kiara inhales deeply before she approaches her, and Kyne snaps her head up when she hears her footsteps.

“What are you—?”

“Listen, I know I’m probably the last person you wanna see right now,” she cuts her off, and Kyne seems a bit thrown off. “But I’m pretty sure it’s not safe to get a cab alone at night when you’re drunk. Especially when you’re a woman,” Kiara points out, and Kyne narrows her eyes.

“So what? You wanna share a cab with me?” She inquiries, and Jesus, that would be so much easier. But Kiara shakes her head.

“No, I’m driving you home. My car is parked near here.” It’s more of an order than an offer, she’s sure Kyne can tell, because she crosses her arms and scoffs.

“What makes you think I’m gonna do what you say?” She comes a step closer, wanting to be intimidating, but it doesn’t really work when she has to look up to meet Kiara’s gaze even while wearing heels. Kiara inhales sharply; there’s a million things she wants to say to that, but she’s not sure they’re appropriate for the moment.

“Because Priyanka would kill me if I didn’t, and she would kill you if you refuse,” she says matter-of-factly, and she sees Kyne wince, looking away.

“I knew she was up to something,” she mutters with a scoff. She turns to look back at her almost indignantly, and rolls her eyes. “Fine. Whatever. Lead the way.” Kyne pushes herself from the wall, and Kiara offers her arm for her to hang on. She refuses, but after a few steps she ends up accepting when she almost trips with the air.

It feels awfully familiar, yet so foreign at the same time.

***

The ride back to Kyne’s place is awkward. That’s the only word for it.

Kiara offers her the aux cord as an olive branch, Kyne refuses, and Kiara just settles for listening to the radio.

She tries to ask her how her night had been, Kyne merely replies with a dry “good,” and the conversation dies there.

She attempts to talk to her again when they find out the quickest road to Kyne’s place is blocked because of street repairs, and they’d have to take the long way. But Kyne prefers to ignore her.

Kiara decides to give up, letting the silence be interrupted by whatever song is playing on the radio. She notices how Kyne grips the seat on the curves, squeezing her eyes shut and inhaling sharply; she wishes she was capable of ignoring her, but it’s Kyne, and she can’t just ignore Kyne.

“You okay over there?” She asks politely, eyes firm on the road. Kyne grunts, letting her head fall against the window, her gaze transfixed on the streets.

“I’m just a bit nauseous, that’s all,” she musters, bracing her stomach with another wince, as Kiara turns to the left. “Don’t worry, I’m not gonna puke in your car if you’re worried about that,” Kyne says, finally turning to see her.

“I’m more worried about you than the car, y’know,” Kiara admits before she can think much about it, and she feels her neck burn as Kyne shoots a small smile towards her. “I can slow down if you want me to.”

“No, it’s fine, as far as I’m concerned, I need you to go faster so I can stick my head down the toilet,” she says with a dry laugh, and Kiara chuckles, biting the inside of her cheek. 

They don’t exchange many words after that, only when Kiara checks in with Kyne and she replies with short sentences. Kiara considers it a victory that they’re civil enough to hold a conversation without being snarky, even if it’s for a small bit. When the road is drawing to an end and Kiara can see Kyne’s building, she feels a bit of uneasiness in the pit of her stomach—she wishes they didn’t have to part ways, but she supposes that this is better than nothing.

She parks in front in silence, turning to look at Kyne with a small smile. “You sure you’re okay?” She asks one last time, as Kyne pinches her cheeks and exhales. 

She opens the door, stands still for a second, tries to take a step, but then ends up climbing back into the car, shaking her head. 

“I still feel like the world is spinning,” she announces sheepishly, and Kiara can tell that tone in her voice means “I’m sorry to be a bother.” So she’s quick to reassure her.

“I can walk with you to your door, I don’t mind,” she offers, leaving out the part where she says it wouldn’t be that strange to her; the night of the ball, she had an arm firmly placed around her waist, Kyne was leaning into her, and they were giggling like idiots and life was good.

Kyne looks at her through half-lidded eyes, stays silent for a second too long, and licks her lips before finally speaking. “I’m gonna be honest with you, I feel the vodka battling the pizza I had before, so I need someone to hold my hair while I puke my bad decisions out,” she says, blunt as ever, “Would you do me the honor of being that person?” Her tone is far too cheesy for the context, and Kiara laughs wholeheartedly, nodding as she climbs down the car and goes to offer Kyne her hand again.

She doesn’t dare to take her by the waist—not yet—so she makes sure her grip on her hand is strong enough without hurting her. Kyne seems unbothered, rather concentrated in not tripping on air again, and if she leans onto Kiara more than once, Kiara says nothing about it, hoping she can’t hear her breath catching in her throat.

The elevator is filled with a thick silence, in which they’re on opposite sides, trying to mind their business, but Kiara can’t help to glance at Kyne with a sneaky smile as the girl checks herself in the mirrors, apparently unaware of her stare.

“You can just take a picture, y’know, it lasts longer.” 

Apparently.

She speaks with the calmest voice yet bears the most wicked of grins. Kiara scoffs, looking away, trying to hide her imminent blush behind her hair.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” she says simply. She hears her giggle, and it’s such an intoxicating sound that she can just inhale sharply and mentally berate the elevator for taking so long.

“Sure, Kiki.” She cocks a brow at her, arms folded as she leans back on the mirror. 

Kiara acts as if she didn’t hear her use her pet name and instead twirls a strand of curls with her index finger.

The doors open and Kiara practically sprints out, while Kyne takes her sweet time pushing herself off the mirror and walking up to her, almost instantly latching onto her arm, pressing her cheek against her elbow. It takes all of Kiara’s willpower to appear unbothered by it.

Kyne produces her keys out of her pocket once they’re in front of her door, rushes Kiara inside and shuts it again. Kiara can barely say a word before she sees Kyne kick her heels and run towards the bathroom without crashing into furniture despite being dark. She laughs to herself; apparently she wasn’t lying about her intentions on letting her in.

She kicks off her heels too, rushing when she hears the noises from the bathroom. Kyne is already sitting by the toilet, hair sticking to her sweaty forehead and looking as if she dreads the moment she decided to drink that much. Kiara kneels next to her without saying anything, grabbing a fist full of her hair, and she has to chastise herself one too many times when she thinks this isn’t how she imagined she’d be pulling on her hair before.

She rubs circles on her back without saying anything, and after a long moment Kyne takes a deep breath and tries to stand alone. Kiara flushes the toilet and awkwardly stays there while Kyne hazaphardly takes off her make-up and brushes her teeth. Once she’s done, she takes a clean make-up wipe and sits back with her, taking her chin with her free hand.

“I figured you’d wanna take your make-up off too,” she explains, before she takes the wipe close to her face. Kiara just nods, and Kyne smiles satisfied as she cleans her face.

If Kiara didn’t know any better, she’d say she’s taking her time: not because she’s Kyne and she’s meticulous to the point it’s pathological, but because she’s tracing every line of her face with delicacy, prolonging their time together with an excuse as simple as that.

Kiara fidgets with her hands in silence, unsure of what to say, but like most of their conversations during the night, she says something impulsive just to break the ice.

“I’m sorry for breaking up with you like that,” she finally says, and it’s like a weight has been lifted from her shoulders. Kyne stops mid-movement, whole body tensing, and she sees her gulp before she resumes her work. 

“That’s fine, I’m sorry for snapping at you,” Kyne says softly, tracing the outline of her lips to get rid of her lipstick. Her gaze is transfixed on Kiara’s mouth, and if Kiara was a bit more courageous, she’d just pull her closer and seal their lips together.

Instead, she just inhales sharply and tries to keep her composure. “Do you—do you wanna talk about why you were upset?” She asks, because she’s itching to know. She wants to know if there’s the small chance they’re on the same page regarding their feelings, that maybe she too feels like the air has been knocked out of her lungs whenever they’re this close.

Kyne winces, visibly cringing. “Guess I can’t escape now, can I?” She says with a dreadful tone that she tries to hide with a humourless laugh. Kiara looks at her expectantly, and Kyne sighs. “Fine, you really wanna know?” She tosses the make-up wipe aside and leans back a bit, rubbing her eyelids. 

There’s silence for a moment too long, but Kiara doesn’t push her to talk, whatever it is that she’s building up the courage to say can either make Kiara see heaven or send her straight to hell, so she waits with bated breath.

And then she speaks.

“I was hoping we didn’t have to break up, or that at the very least it would take us a little more to do it,” she admits, but Kiara senses that it isn’t the end of it, so she just stays in silence, with her heart pounding in her ears. Kyne sighs heavily and bites her lower lip, squeezing her eyes shut before proceeding. “And—and I didn’t want to break up with you because I love you.”

Kiara isn’t sure she heard that right. She just stares at her, eyes growing wide as her breath hardens. She feels her face burn in flames, and it doesn’t help when Kyne meets her gaze and all she can see is earnesty.

When she remains silent, Kyne panics and starts to babble. “I’m sorry, I wanted to tell you earlier, but then one of my friends told me some of the rumors about you, and I didn’t want to believe them but it ended up causing me to snap at you anyway, and when I found out the truth and decided to tell you again, you decided to call things off and I didn’t think it would be okay to tell you after that—”

“Kyne,” she cuts off her rant by reaching for her face and cupping it, the space between them growing smaller. Kyne is staring at her lips unabashedly, and it only makes Kiara want to lose control, but she can’t—yet. “I love you too. I’ve known I love you since the night at the ball, but I didn’t say anything ‘cause I didn’t want you to feel pressured to like me back—and the last time I had serious feelings for someone from the company didn’t exactly end up well, so I was afraid history would repeat itself. But now…” Kiara leaves the words hanging in the air, sighing in defeat.

She furrows her brow, tilting her head slightly. “Yeah, about that, not that you owe me an explanation or anything, but I’ve heard the name Abril dropped in some of these rumors,” Kyne says slowly, carefully, but Kiara can’t help the wince that comes out of her.

“Oh,” is all she manages to say, “Oh. Yeah. Abril, she, uh, she was my first girlfriend—or I thought she was. It’s a complicated story.” She squeezes her eyes shut, and almost instantly she feels Kyne’s thumb softly stroking her cheek.

“You don’t have to tell me now if you don’t feel like it, I can wait,” she assures her, and Kiara relaxes under her touch, only then realizing how dangerously close their lips are, Kyne’s hot breath hitting her right in her face. And she doesn’t mind a single bit. “However, I don’t think I can wait any longer to do this--”

Kyne wastes no more time in grabbing her by the shoulders and pulling her into a heated kiss. Kiara is shocked at first, but eagerly kisses her back, scooting herself closer. She’s dreamed of kissing Kyne more than she’ll ever admit to, dreamed of grabbing the back of her throat, with her hands finding her way into her hair and tugging just a little bit on it to bring her closer, hoping Kyne’s hands find their way onto her waist to dig her nails on it while Kiara’s push her into a bed.

There’s no bed in sight here, but Kiara guesses she can’t complain, only to say close isn’t close enough, and that suddenly the temperature in the bathroom is unbearably hot, despite being partially leaning against the cold tiles.

She’s not sure at what point did Kyne end up on top of her, but it’s not like she doesn’t like it.

When they separate briefly to breathe, Kyne hides her face in the crook of her neck, breathing heavily, giving Kiara goosebumps.

“If I knew you’d do that, I would’ve talked to you sooner,” Kiara jokes out of breath, and she feels Kyne smile against her neck, giggling slightly.

“Yeah, we could’ve done a lot more stuff had we gotten out shit together earlier,” she says quizzically, and Kiara’s breath hitches in her throat.

“Well, first off, we’re not doing anything on your dirty bathroom floor,” she begins, ignoring Kyne’s offended gasp and “I cleaned it yesterday!”. “Second, we’re not doing anything while you’re drunk,” Kiara points out, and Kyne whines loudly, but she merely chuckles. 

“You’re no fun,” she complains, sitting up and straddling her while folding her arms. Kiara wishes she could give in and just let Kyne do whatever she wants with her, but she likes to believe she still has some self-control.

“I’ll be more fun in the morning, pinky promise,” she tries to bargain, bringing a hand to her face and stroking her cheek, giving her a cheeky wink. Kyne rolls her eyes, but a tiny smile appears on her face either way.

“If you say so…” Kyne reluctantly gets up and sticks a hand out to help Kiara, and she gives her another kiss when their bodies bump against the other.

Kiara could get used to getting kisses from Kyne all the time.

Hand in hand, she finally gets to see Kyne’s bedroom—the walls are a baby blue, there’s a desk by the window neatly organized with little plastic figurines of a show she can’t recognize, bookshelves filled with books, photos scattered on the walls, a wardrobe in a corner and a bed in the middle of the room full of stuffed animals, with a nightstand on its side. 

Kyne lets her borrow a pijama, and despite her insistence that she can change there, Kiara still goes back to the bathroom to change her clothes. She fetches a glass of water; she’s pretty sure Kyne will need it in the morning. When she returns, Kyne is already tucked under the covers, looking fast asleep.

She slides next to her, leaving the glass on the nightstand and her dress at the feet of the bed, and almost immediately Kyne turns around to place her arm around her waist and tangle their legs together. Kiara chuckles, okay, so she’s not asleep.

“Kyne?” She whispers, Kyne hums in response. “Do you wanna go out on a real date someday?” Kiara asks, and that’s enough to make Kyne’s eyes snap open.

“I’d love that,” she musters, a wide smile spreading on her face as she places a kiss on her jaw. “I love you,” she says, softly and like a prayer, and Kiara sighs happily.

She never thought she’d be able to hear those words.

“I love you too,” she replies, making herself comfortable under the covers, holding her whole world in place as they sleep.

[neon-ufo]

Answering some OC asks

cool-human-98 said:

Since there's not much info about Ness, I'm really interested in what he's like. What do you have on him so far? Of course I'm asking about things that are not spoilers

Ness is 17, which makes him the youngest character in the entire story, and he acts like it too. He’s very careless, loud and free-spirited, with a good sense of what’s right and wrong.

He absolutely doesn’t know when it’s not the right time to have a big mouth and can get himself in trouble by talking too much, or not following directions.

He’s very eager to meet new people, because he didn’t have many chances to do so in the past due to reasons I don’t want to disclose yet.

He makes very quick judgements and will often make a decision in the spur of a moment, not really thinking about the consequences of it. He’s very much led by his heart more than his brain.

He loves comics and power metal, and I think the fact that Gloryhammer is his favourite band says quite a bit about him.

My friend once said he's a personification of the Ultra Pink Monster Energy drink and that’s a pretty good summary of him (thought I’d say he’s more of the Pipeline Punch flavour).

behold-a-bastard-in-this-house said:

Are there any details on Ciril's curse, maybe? As in, how he gained it and when? Thank you much!

Without spoiling too much of the core conflict of the story, Ciril’s curse was basically caused by him being too curious and going to places he shouldn’t have gone to. I am not fully set on the timeline of how long ago he’s been cursed, because it has to be lined up with events regarding some other characters (Mario and Ren), and I haven’t really sat down and properly match it up yet, but he’s been cursed for a couple of years at this point.

The curse slowly saps his energy, making him physically extremely weak; there are times when he can’t even get out of bed, and some days he can only move around with a wheelchair. He’s only 32 years old but looks much older.

While the process of the curse is slow, living with it at this point is terrible, as he’s not just weak, but he also can’t taste food, he’s constantly cold, his overall feelings feel very numb. It’s clearly out to kill him, and he has no idea how to lift it. Because death is his biggest fear, and he feels like he’s running out of time, he’s very desperate to save himself by any means necessary.

Anonymous said:

Does Vivid have a favorite meme?

Dabbing & Minecraft, no questions about it.

blacksheep28 said:

What's Vivid's big dream in life?

He’s not really a person with any big plans for the future, he keeps his options open! One thing he definitely wants is to make things that bring joy to people.

In the current time, he’s an actor in a community theater. Sometimes he plays guitar and sings on the streets and then gives his earnings to those in need, since he loves to perform, but he doesn’t really need any additional income, so he just does what he can to bring some overall good vibes to his community. If any bars have an open stage, you know he’s there. 

He can play a guitar and piano, however he doesn’t want an actual career as a musician, or an actor, as he’d find that restricting. Basically, he’s just vibin’

bayygel said:

Who is most likely to cry when surprise punched in the face? Who is least likely to cry? I hope this question is up to your standards, Jim :) because I for one am very curious!

Vivid is a HUGE weenie when it comes to pain, his pain tolerance is non-existent. He will cower at any threat of pain, despite being pretty muscular and big. Being an actor, he’s able to put up an intimidating charade if necessary, but if his bluff is called he immediately retreats to avoid any further confrontation.

As for least likely.. About half the characters are pretty damn tough. Mario and Barbi would be hard to push to crying through pain (Barbi would cry from frustration sooner than from pain), and Ren is stone-cold. However, Otto is a clear ‘winner’ here, as life got him to a point where he’s too jaded to really care about much anymore, and that includes pain (which he has an extremely high tolerance for, he could probably lose a limb and not care)

Anonymous said:

I don't have a particular question but I'd love to hear more about ren! i guess if you need something more specific then maybe something about her sibling kind of relationship with mario?

Mario and Ren started off on pretty rough terms which caused her to be wary of him for a while. On the other side, Mario felt extremely bad about it and did everything he could to make her realize she’s safe and can trust him. Eventually, she came around and they’ve been really close ever since; he was the first person she ever felt calm with and he helped her a lot when it came to basically learning how to socialize, despite him being a total extrovert and her a total introvert.

Mario is an only child who always wanted a younger sibling, so meeting Ren filled that void for him and he protects and spoils her like a little sister, he’s willing to listen to her talk about her interests even if he doesn’t get it, he takes her out shopping, plays basketball with her, etc. 

Ren is very aware of this and deeply appreciates Mario for it. He’s constantly supportive of her, and while Ren is the kind of inexpressive and quiet person that might come across ungrateful to an outsider, Mario knows better than that and knows that this means a lot to her.

Anonymous said:

On a scale of 1 to 10, how huggable are each of your characters?

Ciril: Not huggable - bony and thin, will greatly oppose to hugs. Em: Somewhat huggable - might oppose at first, but it’s very possible for his motherly instincts to kick in and a gentle hug will be returned. Mario: Huggable - but your bones will be crushed Otto: Possibly huggable? Might not know what’s going on. Alternatively, he might think you’re upset and try to awkwardly pat your back. Ren: Not huggable, will flinch. Barbi: Only huggable for friends, otherwise she will headbutt you in the face Vivid: Extremely huggable. Possibly the most huggable. Will always hug back. King: Not huggable. Will not like it. Ness: Huggable. Will be happy to receive a hug and might spin you around.

Anonymous said:

Did Jojo inspire your characters designs? If so, are there any specific characters who inspired the designs? And on the topic of design, who is your favorite and why?

Araki’s work influenced me in general, not just when it comes to character designs, it basically changed how I look at art altogether. A lot of the characters are directly inspired by stylistic choices, rather than specific characters;

- Crop tops. - While Em was not inspired by Kakyoin directly, he was inspired by how I decided to stylize Kakyoin when I drew him. - Barbi’s hair is inspired by Araki’s rigid style of drawing hair which I love a lot - King’s hair was inspired by Diavolo’s hair, because I interpreted Diavolo’s hair as having a leopard pattern, and that gave me idea for King’s zebra pattern - Similar as with Em, this isn’t a DIRECT inspiration from JoJo, but the way I draw Mario is slightly based on the way I stylized DIO - Ciril’s two-tone hair was inspired by my initial interpretation of Abbacchio’s headband being differently coloured hair on top of his head. - Ren’s pitch black no-shine eyes were inspired by Mista, and her spiky hair is a mixture of Narancia and that 2000s scene style where everyone gelled the hair at the back of their head - The ‘holes’ between the strands of Ness’ hair were inspired by how Reimi’s hair was drawn, I thought that was really cool.

As for my favourite, I’m fond of all of them since I worked on streamlining their designs a lot, but if I had to pick, I think King is generally the one I like drawing the most for some reason. I’m very happy with how Inverness turned out too, and Em being kind of a fashionista is fun to design outfits for.

Anonymous said:

Do any of your OCs watch anime? If so what type?

Ren is a bonafide weeb. Kuroshitsuji is her favourite anime because she loves Sebastian. Her favourite genres are supernatural mystery anime and slice-of-life anime. She prefers older shows and doesn’t really dig the hype of the seasonal shows, though she will occasionally check them out. She generally doesn’t like the Shounen genre. She likes Dragon Maid too, Fafnir being her favourite (as you can see she has a type). She uses Picrew to make her avatars.

Anonymous said:

Who of your OCs is the least athletic? Who's the most athletic?

Due to his current predicament, Ciril is by far the least athletic one, as sometimes he can barely walk. Before the curse, however, he was a traveller, meaning he was in a pretty good condition.

If we don’t count Ciril due to his curse, then Em would be the least athletic one. He’s slim and elegant and makes sure to stay that way, but any work out he does isn’t really preparing him for any serious conditions, he’ll be the first to lose breath if everyone ran a race (not counting Ciril who, frankly, can’t run.)

On the other side, Otto doesn’t look like it and doesn’t live like it, but he’s pretty much peak condition among my characters. He actively works out as a way to cope with the mess that is his life and had military training in the past.

(Mario is also a good competitor for this, being a fitness bro, but he doesn’t have nearly as much experience as Otto, and despite their difference in size, Otto could absolutely take him down.)

Anonymous said:

ideas on how any of your original characters would deal with self isolation/quarantine?

[faewhump]

Unseelie Pet: 13. Chapter

Malachi takes Alex to visit another Fae Lord and his pet, where the promised ‘playdate’ suddenly takes a different route than they expected.

Previous Masterlist Next

Content warnings:  dehumanisation, non-consensual touching (not sexual), drugging (faerie food), noncon kiss, dubcon kiss, mentions of noncon, captor bonding 

Tagging: @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @whumpsideblog @frnkieroismydaddy @slaintetowhump @thewhiteraven73 @galaxywhump

The game Malachi had forced Alex to take part in had rattled him more than he would have liked to admit. He had seen similar and way worse games before, but back then they had been easier to ignore, especially when Rían told him not to worry about the human pets in general. As a pet himself now he’d been aware that he would probably have to join such games, and yet it had come unexpected. Even though he feared and hated Malachi, he still had naively believed that the Fae wouldn’t treat him like that.

Meanwhile Malachi didn’t seem to understand the problem, after all Alex hadn’t been hurt or punished. And besides, some of the other pets had enjoyed the game, so clearly it wasn’t all that bad. Alex still continued to sulk, which Malachi tolerated with a sort of exasperated amusement for a couple of days, before he strictly reprimanded him to watch his tone and behaviour, lest he gave the impression of being ungrateful.

A week after the ball Alex’s routine of feeding his meals to the crows, reading, being taken on walks and fed by Malachi was suddenly upheaved when he was informed that they would visit Lord Cian this afternoon. Alex wasn’t too thrilled; he hadn’t liked the creepy Fae they’d met outside and was a little worried about what the ‘playdate’ with the other pet would entail. But there was nothing he could do about it, and so he didn’t resit when Malachi hooked the leash into his collar and led him to Cian’s rooms.

“I would like to urge you to be on your best behaviour today,” Malachi told Alex on the way. “I will not let you embarrass me in front of Cian again. To make this easier for you, you will not speak at all during our visit. If I should hear only one word from you, the muzzle goes back on. Understood?”

Alex swallowed at the threat, then mumbled an affirmative. He understood, no matter what happened he wouldn’t speak a word.

The other Fae received them warmly in a beautiful drawing room and immediately offered his old friend a seat and something to drink. Peering over Malachi’s shoulder Alex saw Cian’s human pet for the first time. Lukas had reddish brown hair, a small frame and looked younger than Alex, probably in his early twenties. His only piece of clothing was a roughspun trouser, and Alex shuddered at the scars and bruises on his bare chest.

Malachi sat down on the sofa across from Cian and placed one of the pillows on the floor for Alex to kneel upon. Cian didn’t offer his pet a pillow, and so Lukas just slumped at his feet with a lowered head. The skin underneath the dark metal collar around his throat looked painfully raw. Alex remembered the one time he had complained about the fit of his beautiful golden collar, and how Malachi had immediately adjusted it and even put soothing creme on the slightly sore skin.

“Yes, he’s perfectly obedient now,” Cian said, giving Lukas a short kick. Alex winced with him in sympathy. “What about your little human?”

Malachi gently ran a hand through Alex’s hair. “Oh, we’ve been making great progress.”

He continued to pet Alex while talking to Cian and even handfed him a couple of treats from the canapé plate on the table next to him. In turn the other Fae completely ignored his pet. Alex couldn’t stop staring at Lukas, he felt so sorry for him. How must he feel right now? Seeing him in his fine clothes and golden collar, unhurt, clean, and clearly spoiled by his owner…

Up until now Alex had always felt sorry for himself, he’d hated everything Malachi did to him and thought he was suffering. But compared to the way Cian seemed to treat Lukas… Alex was ashamed, if Lukas knew of his previous thoughts, he’d surely think of him as incredibly spoilt, bratty and ungrateful. Alex realised that despite his rebelliousness Malachi treated him quite well.

“Enough of that for now,” Cian decided eventually. “I remember I promised our little pets a playdate, so why don’t you two go ahead and say hello?”

Alex frowned, he’d been explicitly ordered to not speak, so how was he supposed to say hi? He didn’t understand what the Fae wanted him to do and stayed where he was, while Lukas pushed himself to his knees and crawled over. About a three feet away from Alex he stopped, looking down. Confused Alex glanced up at Malachi in question, who merely smiled and nudged him encouragingly. Slowly he moved closer to Lukas, still unsure of what Malachi expected him to do. Lukas seemed to notice his uncertainty and gave him a shy smile, then leaned in to nuzzle at his face. Surprised Alex jerked back; he hadn’t expected that.

Cian chuckled. “Your pet is a shy one, isn’t it?”

“He generally does need some more encouragement to show affection, yes,” Malachi said. “Come on, darling, don’t be rude now.”

Angered Alex turned his head to glare at Malachi. The Fae merely raised an eyebrow, and it was enough to remind Alex of the stern warning to behave he’d given him. Alex took a deep breath and moved closer towards Lukas again, and when the other human carefully nuzzled at his face he didn’t pull back. He knew that Lukas wasn’t doing this out of his free will either, neither of them had a choice in this.

Lukas slowly reached his hands out towards Alex, who gently took them into his and was appalled at how much smaller they were. From up close the bruises littering his body looked even worse, and although Alex had lost weight too lately, he wasn’t nearly as thin and weak as Lukas. The urge to protect the younger man surged through him, but he knew well enough that he couldn’t even protect himself. Alex stiffened when Lukas hugged him, then carefully wrapped his arms around the thin, shivering body.

“Aww, how cute!” Cian cooed. “I knew they’d look adorable together.”

“They do indeed,” Malachi agreed, sounding pleased.

“Hmm, I’m sure they can be even more entertaining, though,” Cian said, then coldly addressed Lukas. “Go on, boy, you know how much I like a show, don't you?”

In his arms Alex felt the other human freeze.

“Yes, master,” Lukas replied meekly, his voice barely above a whisper. He looked at Alex apologetically, then suddenly leaned in and kissed him.

Shocked Alex yelped and tried to pull back, but Lukas held on to him desperately, shaking in fear. What the hell was going on? Was this what the Fae had meant with ‘playdate’? Would Malachi really force him to ‘play’ with this other human, on the floor in front of him? When Lukas finally paused the kiss Alex pushed back, pleadingly turned around to Malachi and whined.

Up until now Malachi had watched the happenings passively, but now he placed a hand upon Alex’s shoulder and made shooing motions with his hands towards Lukas. “Shoo, away with you!”

Lukas recoiled immediately and whimpered apologetically.

“Hey!” Cian complained. “They were just getting started.”

“You know that I don't like sharing what is mine,” Malachi said, his hand closing tighter around Alex’s shoulder.

Cian huffed. “Come on, pets playing isn’t serious and just for entertainment, it’s not sharing. Of course I know your preferences, but I really wouldn’t have expected this to be a problem. It's really fun to watch, and since your pet clearly doesn't have any experience, this would be the perfect opportunity for it to learn from Lukas… which could improve your enjoyment as well.” He winked.

Unsettled Alex moved back to press himself against Malachi's legs, looked up at him and whined pleadingly. Malachi slid a hand into his hair, and Alex leaned into it. Maybe if he was good enough Malachi wouldn’t force him to do this. He wanted to ask him to please not to, but the threat of the muzzle successfully kept him quiet.

Malachi smiled at him, then turned back to Cian. “I’m sorry, but this human is mine,” he stated. “And I am too possessive of my pet to allow anyone else – be they faerie or human – to touch it.”

Relieved Alex sunk back against Malachi’s legs, he hated how grateful he felt towards the Fae for declaring him his.

“Alright, alright, it’s your choice,” Cian appeased, sounding a little disgruntled. “What a pity though...” His eyes raked over Alex, then fell upon Lukas. He snapped his fingers. “Heel, boy.”

Lukas, who had cowered shivering on the floor, trying to make himself as small as possible, quickly obeyed. The two Fae Lords smoothly picked up their conversation again, and Alex slowly allowed himself to relax. He stayed close to Malachi, feeling oddly safe and protected by his side. Across from him Lukas had slumped at his master’s feet again, eyes unfocused and not looking up or reacting in anyway.

Watching the other pet Alex felt almost overwhelmed with pity, he just hoped that Malachi would never let him end up like this. For the first time he was incredibly glad that it had been Malachi who’d found him that night, and not someone like Cian. In a way he had been very lucky. It was hard to hate Malachi seeing how much nicer he was compared to other Fae. In contrast Malachi was very soft on him, giving him so many luxurious things, taking care of him even though he rebelled at every turn… And he was incredibly beautiful. Glancing up, Alex thought that wouldn't mind kissing him as much as he had minded Lukas.

The moment they entered his room again, Malachi immediately began fussing all over Alex.  

“You did so, so well, my darling,” Malachi praised and guided Alex to sit at the dressing table so that he could remove the make-up. “You behaved so perfectly; I am very proud. Such a good pet, staying quiet and obedient all throughout. And when you looked at me with those adorable big eyes and made those sweet, sweet whines…”

Malachi removed the ornate drop earrings from Alex’s ears and replaced them with a pair of small pearl studs. Ever since he had spontaneously pierced Alex’s earlobes he’d forced him to constantly wear earrings to keep the piercings open.

“I am sorry you were frightened like that, though. I thought Cian knew better, but apparently not.” Malachi sighed and shook his head. “That dirty mutt shouldn’t have kissed you like that.”

“It…it wasn’t his fault,” Alex mumbled. “Lukas didn’t want to either. Cian forced him.”

Malachi’s hands faltered for a moment, then he continued to comb Alex’s hair. “Quite right, I’m afraid,” he admitted.

Alex licked his lips nervously, collecting his courage. “Is there… is there a way we can help him?” he asked quietly. “Cian seemed so… cold to him, and he was hurt…”

Malachi chuckled. “You want to help someone you’ve only just met?”

“Yes.”

“That is quite adorable of you, but I’m afraid there’s nothing we can do. It’s Lord Cian’s choice how he treats his pet, as it is the prerogative of every Fae.”

“Do many Fae treat their pets like that?” Alex’s asked, his eyes flitting to Malachi’s in the mirror. “Or… or start to when they get bored?”

“It varies, I’d say. But I’m afraid that it isn’t uncommon,” Malachi replied. “Why, are you that I will get bored and stop spoiling you?”

Alex shrugged, but his expression said enough. Malachi turned him around and cupped his cheek, titling his head up.

“It’s alright, sweetheart, there’s nothing for you to worry about,” he said gently. “I would never treat you like that; I promise. I love my darling pet way too much for that.”

Alex’s eyes widened. “Really? You… you love me?”

Malachi smiled. “Of course I do. And you should know that unlike you I truly cannot lie.”

“Oh,” Alex said tonelessly. He didn’t know how to feel about this revelation, didn’t know whether he should be relieved, disgusted, happy or scared … But when Malachi slowly leaned in to kiss him, he didn’t move away.

The Fae’s lips were unexpectedly soft and gentle, and he kept the kiss unhurried and short. It felt… nice. Alex was confused, he knew he shouldn’t like this, he really shouldn’t… and yet it felt good. Eventually Malachi pulled back, somehow both too soon and not soon enough. Alex looked down, unable to meet his eyes.

“There’s no need to be shy, my sweet,” Malachi said, still holding Alex close, and ran a thumb over his cheek.

Alex made a disagreeing sound, he wasn’t shy, he just hated the decisions he made recently. A part of him screamed at him to push Malachi away and refuse to let the Fae touch him again, but instead he leaned in closer, rested against Malachi’s chest and allowed himself to relax into the comfort.

“Good boy,” Malachi whispered and pressed a kiss onto his hair. “My perfect darling.”

[rem289]

Q: Why are you writing this post?

A: Because during the Christmas holidays I started to receive attention from the Zootopia fandom which led me to re-discover some concepts that I thought I had made clear, and since this didn’t turn out to be true, I am forced to reiterate them.

Q: What happened?

A: I discovered that someone had reposted, obviously without my consent, an old comic of Aoimotion and mine on reddit, a site I don't like and on which I had already said not to publish my actually and old contents. This repost "reminded" this fandom of my existence, and after this event some people came to ask us questions such as "when Nick and Judy would reappear in our work?" and the like.

You can imagine how much it bothered me, so I went to reddit and wrote to immediately delete the content. Unfortunately, doing this I couldn’t help but notice how the post had become a place to waste insinuations and insults aimed at me and Aoimotion. In particular, the comments of three users stood out: @ggctuk , @owningsuperset7​ and @hammytotherescue

Q: Why did these users get your attention?

A: ggctuk, which I have no idea who they are, have proclaimed themselves as the narrative voice of the events that have taken place between us and the fandom, providing a lot of incomplete and, in the worst case, completely wrong information, about why we left the fandom and about the alleged "abusive behaviors" we had against translators.

Owningsuperset7 spoke about us (like he does every time the occasion presents itself to him), defining us ungrateful towards the fandom "that had fed us". But "fed" in what sense? It seems to me that we have been those who have definitely "eaten" very little… or likes can be monetized, just like the views on youtube, and I didn't know it? Did they break the keyboard in order to put those likes on our works? If it’s so, I'm sorry, but I certainly wasn't the one who pointed the gun at their head to follow my work. Always remember that paying attention to a work is always and only a reader’s choice. No creator has power over these phenomena, we just create and publish, the rest is always an unknown factor. So expressing yourself as a seduced and abandoned lover on an old and free work doesn’t make you a victim, it only makes you ridiculous. Anyway, I know the subject, who had already decided in the past to talk on DeviantArt before I blocked him, and I decided not to tell him anything in that moment, also because, what can you say to a person who clearly has problems that go beyond fandom? Sometimes ignoring is the kindest choice you can make.

Hammytotherescue instead claimed that he and I were friends in the past, before the duo formed by me and aoimotion became toxic. Since I had no memory of this person and I hate when someone alludes to relationships with me that don't exist, I wrote to him privately on Tumblr asking him if he could kindly refresh my memory about this "friendship" he was bragging about.

Q: How did it end?

A: The conversation, which I report below because I, unlike him, have nothing to be ashamed of, is as follows:

As you can see, Hammy never replied to my last message . But in reality the story was not over. A few days ago, in fact, I discover that the user in question "vented" in the post of reddit, not under my comment (so that I received notification of his reply) but in response to another comment that had been left to me. Showing, as always, the incredible maturity of these people.

After reading this comment, I decided to act by reporting the user on reddit, but the answer I received can be summarized as: "since you are a content creator, you deserve insults regardless." In short, a response as useful and smart as the people who gave it to me. So don’t worry Hammy, you won't be banned from reddit because the only braincell shared by you users agrees that defining a toxic and manipulative person is, to quote one of the wise moderators I talked to, "a fairly typical level of criticism". All is well that ends well.

Q: You mentioned "concepts to reiterate". What would they be?

A: Let's start by denying what ggctuk wrote in that reddit's post, given how much popularity his comments have gained.

My split from this fandom started because I simply lost interest in Nick and Judy and preferred to do something else, something of my own. Black Jack gave us the opportunity to invent many original characters and they was those I wanted to work on. We have never worked for ulterior motives other than having fun together. When we recognized that we no longer have anything to give to this universe, we declared it openly and closed this chapter of our "artistic life". This split could take place in a peaceful and calm way, I would have taken my own path and you yours, since it was obvious, since BJ times, that you had very little interest in our original contents. You also reiterated this between the lines of these last comments, so really, I make a terrible effort to understand your logic of contents belonging to your fandom. It's not your fault, don't worry. You have been spoiled by this entrenched habit of creating any anthropomorphic animal and attributing it to your precious and super-nutritive fandom. Once you labeled this attitude at heresy, now everything is fine as long as it helps you keeping this universe going, honestly, I just pity you. However it seems that your obsession with me prevents you from accepting the fact that my life would have continued even without this fandom and that I would have lived very well even without the amount of likes that fanarts could give me. Indeed my life would be even more beautiful if I didn't have to waste time like I am doing now.

Both me and aoimotion together gave you a lot, and in the end we simply got it back. Jack is a prime example: yes, he is a character born from the scratches of Zootopia's artwork, but thanks to our work he has evolved to the point of becoming a completely original character. This fandom has not been able to accept it and until the end has tried to claim him as its own, and even now it can’t accept that we have instead taken him back, and even less can you bear that we are successfully using him in our original works, which is why you insist so much on his "Disney" origin, as if this defines his identity, and for months you have made fun of us saying that we were claiming something that belongs to Disney as our own. Unfortunately, beyond a doodle and a hint of a hypothetical background, Disney has absolutely nothing. Whatever weight you have attributed to "Jack Savage" is only thanks to our work, Disney has nothing to do with your mania and it has nothing to do with everything we've built up over the years. Still, you took our job and stuck it over the "Disney" label, and that was even when Black Jack was long gone, so don’t use that excuse anymore. You even tried to attribute Cynthia to the Disney universe by calling her "Skye", since you are so desperate to keep your fantasies going, and when you had nothing more to say, you said that my art style was "clearly inspired by Disney". Did you think I could condone such an attitude? I suppose these statements derive above all from the certainly very poor culture that you have of the world outside the fandom (or fandoms), however there are artists who WORKED for Disney, who TEACHED drawing techniques at the Disney Academy and who work at own productions with that style, without anyone attributing anything to the major. If you don't believe me, try using the web for something constructive, like doing some in-depth research on the subject.

As for the matter of our alleged abuses on translators, I will only say two things: the translations started because of my naivety, and we prohibited them because the translators abused their role and went out of control, acting as if the comics belonged to them and / or as if there was a special relationship of complicity between me and them. I'm sorry I gave false hopes to these people, unfortunately I didn't have time to realize the misunderstandings that were being created and how our work was being used. There is a clear difference between the fan content and the original content, so now more than even, less our work passes into the hands of others, the better it is for us.

Now let’s analyzing the brilliant messages of Hammy, both on Tumblr and on reddit:

In both cases, what I see is a desperate need to cling to Rem's "pretty" facade while simultaneously demolishing the person behind Aoimotion. These insinuations suggest that the only possible Rem to conceive for your narrow minds is the kind and lovely one, and everything I say and do that does not fall within this definition is the work of aoimotion.

I will never go into detail about the dynamics between me and her, because frankly it’s not your business and I don’t want to give you further ground to cultivate your absurd speculations and your degenerated ideas. If you have decided to treat us as two two-dimensional characters of some fourth category fan fiction born from your fragile minds and then feel disappointed or offended by my attitude or a severe response I can give you, you cannot help but blame yourself and not who is my friend .

But you have to get it into your heads that when you talk about us in a personal way, you refer only on the basis of two web profiles. You don't know us personally and above all you don't know me. Being an extremely reserved person, I always decided to use social networks to share my artistic side or my interests related to entertainment, nothing more, nothing less. "Rem289" has always been only a blog, a showcase on the web, I’ve never attributed a real emotional and above all personal value to it, even before Zootopia. For the rest I prefer to live my personal life off the web. Unfortunately, you have been so careless as to decide to hit my personal sphere, my friendships and my affections. So no, Aoi didn’t take over between you and me, but the person behind Rem289 took over and you paid the consequences.

Still on the subject of aoimotion, it seems that the moment this comment was written on DA has remained particularly impressed: https://www.deviantart.com/comments/1/765376682/4647911119

This great insult, which among other things is attributed to her as if I didn’t think the same (if not worse) about you, has become the new reason why aoimotion is ugly and bad and is the reason why she deserves to be insulted and disparaged at the slightest opportunity, even during a conversation with me in which she’s not involved in any way.

Now, since this term seems to me rather dated to be used as a matter of indignation during your debates, and since I still find it rather ”soft” to use to outline my intolerance towards you, in order to give you another thing to think over, I will give you an attribute which seems more correct to me: you are sick. Confronting you is like talking to someone who has been brainwashed. You are a broken record that always says the same things over and over again. I can't even feel sorry for you, what I feel is just a great sense of unease. (Of course there are people that still participate in this fandom and are perfectly normal, but those are exceptions and they already know we think good of them.)

And it’s precisely your illness that prompted me to dissociate myself so violently from the fandom. Not aoimotion, as you have been saying for months between an insult and another that you address to her because perhaps you are too afraid of me to address them directly to me, which is rather contradictory since I should be the sweet and pretty one of the duo. After all, it's better to treat me like a poor brainless fool who lets herself be manipulated rather than admit that I also have my own ideas and that, you don’t say, you don't like them.

Q: In any case, you have no right to deprive your fans of old content they love so much, you just want to be spiteful! Why did all your old WildeHopps comics disappear from the web?

A: The decision to delete the contents created by me relating to the fandom from my web platforms or those shared with my partner was not born in the least out of spite or "punishment" towards the members of the fandom. It was a decision made to dissociate my name and my current work from fandom, because unfortunately it created difficulties for my image and real difficulties for readers to understand (you can go on and say that if people think your work is still Zootopia-related is not a big deal, but I assure you it is). All that came after, are only and exclusively speculations built on purpose to find the most sinister reasons of why it happened. Publishing content is only an accessory part of the job itself, a percentage of the process. Deciding to publish, not publish or cancel a publication is at the pure expense of the author, and no consumer has the right to impose his will on the creator. I understand that they are perhaps too complex concepts for you, since it’s clear that you are used to measuring the value of things based on the likes they receive, but this current of thought also exists and I hope it will be useful to you someday, in the remote possibility that decide to take moments of deep reflection (which would be more and more useful than tapping your fingers on the keyboard).

(Little curiosity: in the last few weeks we have forwarded about twenty reports to various sites to remove our old contents posted there without our permission. Not only all twenty reports have been accepted, but the contents have all been removed in less than 12 hours from the date of reporting. This is to remind you that if we don’t want our content on the web, we have them removed and it’s the reposters who pay for it, not us.)

Q: Well, however you can't force us not to talk badly about you or aoimotion, in fact, you can't stop us from believing that she's been manipulating you for years. Almost certainly it’s she who is writing this post without your knowledge, isn't it?

A: The people of the web are notoriously lazy and are therefore often uninformed and constipated in developing their own concepts. They spit sentences without even knowing what they’re talking about, they choose "comfortable" truths, such as the fact of attributing to aoimotion every not nice word that comes from me, and when this phenomenon is reflected on real persons, unfortunately it’s quite difficult to manage.

We are attributed with labels, words, concepts, faults, relationships that don’t belong to us and that are difficult to get away from. A simple comment or a wrong statement towards a person can spread like wildfire and end up marking them for life. Needless to say, these conditions often prevent these same people from continuing with their activities, which instead are healthy, in a serene and peaceful way. Even now, instead of drawing, I’m writing this latest post to defend me and my partner from your sick slanders. Those who allow themselves the luxury of damaging the "active personalities" of the web are people who fully enjoy anonymity behind a screen, and often people who have the matter of regulating them (like the reddits moderators, who are a joke at best) limit themselves to considering certain behaviors "ordinary” in the creator / consumer relationship. The mere fact of normalizing certain behaviors doesn’t smooth out the rules of civilized life, makes these "authorities" complicit and therefore only adds a problem. It’s more than evident that some people are not yet able to distinguish the boundary that exists between objective opinion and direct and personal insult, but from people who lose sleep at night because they have been defined as “lunatic” I don’t expect anything less. Who knows what you will do now that I have called you sick.

I conclude with a message to the interested party:

@hammytotherescue​: I don't know how old you are, however, judging by what you write and how you write it and how you act, I deduce that you should not be more than 14-15 years old. Unfortunately I regret to tell you that the fact you are a minor doesn’t mean that you don’t have to take responsibility for your actions, and if you still have doubts about understanding where you have gone wrong I advise you to ask your parents for advice. I gave you the opportunity to confront me but you ran away to cry on a public platform. Hasn't anyone taught you that real life doesn't work like that? If, on the other hand, you are an adult, I sincerely feel sorry for you, I say this from the bottom of my heart.

I know how comfortable it is to hide behind a group or in this case a fandom to vent one's dislikes towards the individual. This time you and your friends have received the same treatment, you have not caught generic appellations addressed to the fandom but I decided to speak to you personally. My only advice is to use this experience to learn how it behaves on the web, and when you have learned it, you could teach it to all your friends, perhaps starting with @owningsuperset7​.

For @ggctuk: I hope you will appreciate my effort in writing this long post, as so the next time you talk about us again, you can use it as a reference to explain how things went 🤗

[lazylazyhowl]

bilious (of snakes and cherry blossoms - sasusaku)

bilious (adjective) – sickly; cranky, ill-humored

[Sakura’s not well. And Sasuke commits high treason. Fluff. No really.]

—

“Oi, bastard, what’s been crawling up your ass lately?”

Sasuke spares Naruto a quiet glare, setting the teapot down on the table mat, and returns to the omelet on the stove. That was literally their first interaction since the bastard grunted (and also glared) at Naruto after opening the door for him.

He sighs and reaches over the table to pour himself a cup.

Naruto may not be the brightest minds around, but he knows this isn’t just the usual early morning mood. The bastard has been a stick in the mud for days now, the few times Naruto has run into him, and not even the offer of a spar managed to clear that up.

Tch, ungrateful bastard.

Sakura is in the throes of another coughing fit in a different room. Naruto rests his chin over knitted fingers and watches as Sasuke flips the omelet one last time before turning off the fire. He’s come straight over without breakfast, and the delicious fragrance of burnt egg and oil is making his stomach grumble.

But he’s sure the bastard hasn’t bothered to make extras for him.

Seriously ungrateful.

After packing the food into a bentō and cleaning up (it’s amazing, in a sense, to see the bastard be all domestic), Sasuke returns to the table with a plate of sliced tomatoes and sits down across from him, pulling out a scroll to read.

Naruto raps prosthetic fingers on the table as he nurses his tea.

“Oi, you.”

Sasuke offers no indication of acknowledgement. Out of sight, Sakura is coughing again.

“You didn’t argue with Sakura-chan or anything, did you?” he says and sees the beginnings of an even fouler mood whirling in mismatched eyes.

“It’s so rare that you’re home.” That stumps whatever anger that was there, and Sasuke glances away (and Naruto feels bad for hitting where it hurts but-). “You better not be showing that sourpuss mug to Sakura-chan every day, bastard.”

“You’re noisy.”

Naruto swears, sometimes it’s like he never grew a day over twelve. “Now look here-”

The sound of bare feet patter along the hardwood floor, and Sarada appears in the doorway, fully geared—for a mission, he believes. “Lord Seventh! Good morning!” A grin broke over her face that Naruto can’t help reciprocating.

“Morning, Sarada-chan!”

“What are you doing here? Boruto said you were super busy with something.”

“Just thought I’d drop by and check up on your Mama.”

“Oh, you shouldn’t have-”

He puts the teacup down with a decisive clink and waves a dismissive hand. “Is she better?”

She giggles. “Much! Mama’s been raring to go back to work.”

“Uh-uh!” He wags a finger. “I said two weeks and I meant it.”

“Yes! She’s coming so please remind her.”

Sarada comes into the kitchen. “Oh, morning, Papa!” Sasuke hn’s back and tells her breakfast is on the stove, but Naruto doesn’t miss the sharp glare briefly directed his way. Seriously…

“Just what is your problem these days, bastard?”

Sasuke stares back at him for a length, before succinctly answering: “You.”

“Why I oughta-”

“Don’t mind Papa, Lord Seventh. He hasn’t been sleeping well.”

He looks over to Sarada popping a couple of bread slices into the toaster and notching it. She leans against the bar with a look that says, I have dirt, and Naruto smirks conspiratorially at the juicy notion.

“Oh, and why is that?”

“You see, Mama’s been-” is all he manages to hear before a fist unceremoniously crashes against the side of his face with a force strong enough to dislocate his jaw.

The bastard doesn’t hold back at all, he thinks; and disperses.

.

.

.

“Nuwhyo!!” He jolts upright in his seat, gaining Shikamaru’s immediate look of concern.

“What’s wrong, Hokage-sama?”

Naruto blinks a few times, the ugly crunch of a broken jaw still ringing in his ears, and he can only be glad physical sensations do not get transferred back as well. Once the shock wears off, a great sense of unjust washes over him. (He wanted that dirt, and he’s about 99% sure he’s entitled to it as only best friend to Uchiha Sasuke!).

He slams a hand over the documents on his desk and bares his teeth, ignoring the slightly spooked Shikamaru before him.

“Bastard!”

.

.

.

“What happened!?” Her voice is still a little hoarse and probably shouldn’t be used for shouting.

Sakura rushes to the kitchen following the sounds of skirmish to see her husband standing over a chair ajar on its back. His shoulders are tense and the muscles in his back coiled for battle.

“A-anata?”

“Aa, Sakura.” He relaxes his stance and goes to pick up the chair. “I made breakfast.”

She glances over to the bar to find Sarada with hands still covering her mouth in muted horror. Independent of the atmosphere, the toaster beside her emits a cheery ding and ejects two nicely browned slices, filling the kitchen with the mellow scent of fresh toasts.

“Papa!”

“Hn.”

“How could you!?”

“Eat your breakfast, Sarada. You’ll be late.” He sits back down where Sakura assumes he’s been sitting before, if the plate of tomatoes is any indication.

“Papa is seriously shannaro sometimes!” Sarada shakes her head and begins spreading jam on the toasts. “Mama, do you want toast?”

She coughs from a sudden itch in her throat. “Just, one please, sweetie.”

She looks at the half-empty teacup across from her husband, then back to him as he lazily munches on a slice of tomato while reading his scroll.

.

.

It’s only him and her by the end of breakfast, and after cleaning up, they move to the living room. Or more accurately, he drags her over to the couch as soon as she is done drying her hands.

“W-what is it?” She tries to catch his gaze for clues to no avail as he sits her down on one end.

“Stay there.” He imparts and leaves the room. When he returns, he simply hands her a scroll, much to her growing confusion.

It’s the medical scroll she’s been reading to kill time since Naruto practically grounded her. She’s not surprised Sasuke knew which one it was amongst the hundreds in her study, followed her as he did the past few days, but that doesn’t explain much.

Her husband can be absolutely cryptic sometimes.

He sits down next to her and Sakura nearly jumps off the couch when she feels his hand on her thigh. “A-anata!?” His head is already on her lap, a warm, pleasant weight, and it hits her again how much she misses him, even after spending nearly a week joined at the hip with him.

He shuffles around for a comfortable position and settles for lying on his side.

“Anata, I don’t think-”

“It’s the fifth day,” he says, eyes resolutely closed; and everything makes sense.

She smiles, putting the scroll down, and brushes his bangs away from his face. “Honestly, Sasuke-kun…I told you I didn’t want to get you sick.”

“And I told you it wasn’t your problem.”

For that, she pulls hard at his cheek. “It is, too.” He tenses from the pain. His eyes snap open and a purple marble stubbornly glares up at her. She holds that glare, waiting to hear his comeback.

He doesn’t have one. His gaze drops away, and he closes his eyes again.

“I don’t care if I get sick,” said in an almost petulant mutter, and she releases him.

“But I do, Sasuke-kun.” She smooths over the red on his cheek, fingertips glowing green. “I do.”

“Hn.”

She can’t help a small, wry grin then. “So you’ve been sulking and decided to take it out on Naruto.” When she felt Naruto’s chakra signature abruptly disappear from their home, she’s had her suspicions, but really…

Sasuke shrugs against her, but she can tell he’s a lot less nonchalant than he tries to appear. “He was being nosy.”

She raises an eyebrow at him. “You punched the Hokage because he was being nosy?”

In a quick motion, he rolls over to his other side and buries his face against her, his nose nuzzling her bare skin and sending a flush of colors to her cheeks. His arm wraps around her back in a firm hug. “Stop squirming. My head hurts.”

That was his cue for her to heal him, and the finality in his voice means her schedule for at least the rest of the morning is set. Running her hand through his hair, she sends weak chakra pulses into his scalp and discovers what she already knows: he doesn’t have a headache.

She shakes her head but continues to massage his scalp. She supposes she will spoil him today. And if he catches her cold, well that’s on him.

As his gradually steadying breaths warms her stomach, she smiles to herself.

Her husband really is shannaro sometimes.

[loki-is-my-god-of-mischief]

You Idiot! (Young!Remus Lupin x Female!Reader)

A/N:  So this is a sort of prequel to 'Took You Long Enough'. This is set in the third year of the maraurder era, so no one is an animagi yet. I looked up what the diver symbolises and I have changed the 'lover' description to 'someone close to you'.

Took You Long Enough

________________________________________________________________

Reader POV I hate divination. It's so pointless. I mean who would want to spoil their own or someone else's future by practically telling them what happens. UGH! Half the stuff that people 'predict' don't even come true. "What do you see Miss Malfoy?" "Huh?" Yes, well done me. You just proved to the whole class you excellent range of vocabulary. "In your tea cup Miss Malfoy, what do you see." "Oh...um..." Why does the stupid professor choose me out of everyone. "I suppose I can see someone diving?" "Here let me see" The professor says whilst gesturing to show me the cup. I hand over my tea cup and the professor nods. "Yes, well done. There is a Diver in your tea cup. Can anyone tell me what a Diver symbolises?" The professor asks the class. A know-it-all Ravenclaw sticks their hand up. "I can professor." They open their divination book. "It says in here that a Diver symbolises 'A great and unexpected piece of news which will lead to a fortunate discovery, it also reveals deception from someone close to you.' ooh someone is lying to you Malfoy" They reply with a snicker. I immediately settle a glare on Sirius. "What do you have planned now Siri, some prank no doubt" He looks affronted. "Why do you assume it's me when they mention deception. I swear (Y/N), for once, it isn't me." Even though he has lied in situations like this before, I know he is telling the truth. It's in his eyes. But then, who is lying to me. Probably no one since divination is a load of crap. All of a sudden there was a load bang behind the Professor. I look toward them and see them covered in purple paint. Sirius bursts out laughing "Haha, shouldn't your stupid tea leaves have warned you about that professor. Haha that was a good one, right (Y/N)?" He laughs hysterically whilst looking at me. "You have something to do with this Miss Malfoy? Why am I not surprised?" "No, I swear. I had no Ide-" "Enough! You and Mr Black have detention for the remainder of this week-" I suppose it can't any worse. "-With Argus Filch. Class Dismissed." I turn a viscous glare to Sirius. "What? How was I supposed to know he would blame you for this too." I suppose he's right there but I'm still angry he got me detention with Filch. ________________________________________________________________ Remus POV Classes are over now and I'm waiting with James and Peter in the Common room for Sirius and (Y/N). When they walk in Sirius looks guilty and (Y/N) looks angry. "What did you do now Sirius? Why is (Y/N) angry with you?" "Because Remus. Sirius decided to pull a prank on the Divination's Professor and get the blame on me too so now we both have detention with Filch." She states angrily. Ouch. Not with Filch. I can see James and Peter  grimace from beside me. They probably had the same thoughts as me. "Don't worry (Y/N), It can't be that bad." James says trying to lighten the mood. "Oh yeah? Did I forget to mention it's detention for the rest of the week." we both grimace again. So it is bad. "It will be alright (Y/N), you'll see." I state smiling, she is going to love what I have planned. "Yeah, sure. Let's just get this over with Sirius." She mutters angrily whilst marching out of the common room, Sirius following behind like a dog with it's tail between it's legs. James looks at me weirdly for a second. "What do you have planned Remus?" "Oh, Just a little surprise for Sirius, is all." ________________________________________________________________ Still Remus POV It's time for (Y/N) and Sirius' detention to finish. I spent all this time asking what Sirius had done to get the detention, the  the rest of the time setting up my surprise for Sirius. The door opens and out walks Filch then (Y/N). Filch marches away, glad to have been done with them and I make my way over to (Y/N). "Where's Siri?" "Finishing cleaning, he'll be out in a minute. What are you doing here?" "You'll see, and might I just say...You'll love me for it." At least I can dream. "O..Kay?" Just then the door opens again and Sirius walks out. I then use wand without them seeing and they Sirius is drenched in Yellow and Black paint. "UGH!...What they hell!" "Okay...haha...I...Believe you...Remus haha...When you said...love you for it haha." (Y/N) barely gets out around her laughter. Seeing her laugh so hard and Sirius covered in paint causes me to laugh too. "What the hell Remus?" Sirius shouts at me. "I figured you should act a bit more Hufflepuff and tell the Divination Professor that (Y/N) had nothing to do with your prank. So I thought I would get you started by giving you a total colour make-over." I reply still laughing slightly. "As much as I hate being covered in paint...You right. I'll tell him tomorrow, promise." "You better! and thanks Remus." (Y/N) says smiling. ________________________________________________________________ Next Day Reader POV I can't believe that Sirius actually got me off the detention. Well I guess I have Remus to thank for that. God that was so funny, Sirius still has some yellow paint stuck in that god forsaken birds nest he calls hair. Speaking of thanking Remus, why is he in the common room all alone. "Hey Remus, what are you doing here alone?" I say whilst watching him jump. "Hey (Y/N) didn't see you there. I guess I kinda got lost in thought and didn't realise everyone had left." "And Sirius, James and Peter just left you down here. Those ungrateful sons of witches." How dare they! "It's alright, I appreciated the time to think." He smiles, god I love that smile. Remus is always so thoughtful to others. Even yesterday, he pranked Sirius just because he had got me detention. "Would you mind some company?" I ask. "I would appreciate it, thanks." He replies, still with that smile. "I just wanted to thank you for what you did for me yesterday. If it wasn't for you I would still have detention." "So you don't have it anymore?" "Nope, Professor let me off once Sirius explained it was all him." "That's good." We sit there in comfortable silence for a while until I notice he is starting to look sad and withdrawn. Remus POV I'm glad she doesn't have detention anymore. I hate it when she is angry or sad for that matter. She is such a rare, beautiful, carefree person that I don't want her to ever be upset. It is wrong when she is upset. *sigh* I shouldn't even be thinking this. She is an amazing person that I love so much and what am I?...A monster. That's what. She would never even give me the time of day if she knew. I'm probably putting her in danger right now just being her friend. No. I have to tell her, then maybe she will leave me alone. It would kill me..but she would be safe. "Remus?" I'm brought out of my thoughts by her wondrous voice. "Are you ok?" "I have something I have to tell you...Your probably not going to like it." "Remus...You worrying me." "(Y/N)...I'm....I'm a monster....A hideous beast. I'm a werewolf." I say not looking at her anymore. "What?" She says so quietly that if I wasn't a werewolf I wouldn't have heard it. Although, If I wasn't a werewolf we wouldn't be having this conversation. "I know you probably hate me right now, and you want nothing more than to see me dead. That's totally fine, I would too If I were you an-" "You Idiot!" I was started by her interruption. "Huh?" "How dare you!" I knew it, but still hearing her hate me is still painful. "How dare you assume that I would hate you!" I kno-...wait...what? "What?" "I don't hate you. Your my best friend, I don't care if your a werewolf. And If I here you call yourself a monster or a hideous beast again I will hit you so hard that your head will still be ringing a year later. You are none of those thing Remus." She states fiercely. With the look in those (E/C) eyes, I can tell she believes every thing she said and I shouldn't even think about arguing with her. "You don't hate me?" I have to be sure. I don't want this to be some cruel trick. "Of course I don't. Your never going to get rid of me Remus, we are stuck together. Marauders forever remember?" "Yeah...I could have sworn you were going to hate me though. Don't tell the others though. I want to do it, eventually." "Sure, but why not now." "They will probably hate me." "I repeat my earlier words Remus, 'You Idiot!" She says with a laugh. I soon join in.

[classic80sand90smovieloves2]

Meeting and being courted by Louis de Pointe du Lac

(Not my gifs)(Requested by anonymous) (I might make poly headcanons for him and Lestat: though I might have already done so I honestly don’t remember)

- You met Louis when Lestat was trying to please him and get him to stay with him. You were Claudia’s sister so when you came home to find a blonde vampire who was also a complete stranger sweeping your sister into his arms you were more than a little terrified and confused. 

- He decided he could kill two birds with one stone; get Louis to stay because he was responsible for Claudia being turned and get him to fall for you. Long story short you were taken to his castle and turned before Claudia was.

- Once Claudia had wrapped her arms around Louis Lestat informed him that he had another surprise and he brought you out.

 “She is all yours my friend.” 

- You could hear a pin drop as you entered; Louis could only think about how beautiful you were and that because of him you would be forced to live the same hell he was living in at that very moment. 

- You had expected him to be beautiful; after seeing Lestat you assumed all vampires were attractive but he was nothing like you imagined. He was angelic, godlike even and you could feel yourself already being drawn to him.

- Lestat was very pleased when he saw the looks you were giving each other but soon became distressed when Louis avoided you. He had gotten that ungrateful whiner a larger coffin that was now going to go to waste because he was too obsessed with being miserable. 

- You had fallen for him the moment you saw him but after time you began to think Louis hated you. Lestat reassured you it wasn’t true but you found yourself not wanting to be in the house with them knowing the man you who you cared so deeply for didn’t even want to look at you. 

- You packed your bags and kissed Claudia goodbye, disappearing as Louis and Lestat were gone. You were sure they would take good care of her and she seemed far more attached to them then she was with you. 

- To say Lestat was furious when they arrived home would be the understatement of the century. Claudia really hadn’t put up much of a fight when he demanded she tell him where you went.

- You hadn’t gotten far when Lestat came and angrily dragged you back, muttering about the predicament he had on his hands. He sat you down once you were “home” and asked if you wanted him to turn someone for you so that you would stay; he had grown quite attached to you himself. 

- The two of you were shocked when Louis shouted out a harsh “No!” from his spot in the corner of the room. You quickly turned to look at him, watching as he stalked over to you and pulled you along with him as he made his way to his room. Once he closed the door he pushed you against it and kissed you.

- You still to this day aren’t sure exactly what came over him but you think he had gotten jealous even thinking about you wanting another person. It’s the only explanation that really makes sense to you. 

 “I thought you hated me.”

 “I tried.”

- You spent the night making up for lost time and spent the day in his coffin  with Claudia sneaking in alongside you in the early evening. 

- You were much like Claudia, sleeping for a few hours in your own coffin before  carefully creeping into his where he would wrap you up tightly in his arms. You cherished the quiet moments you spent huddled up with him waiting for the sun to disappear below the horizon.  

- He’s very protective of you. After what happened to his wife and child along with him knowing just how evil Lestat could be at times he most definitely does not like leaving you alone.

- He’s not extremely jealous or possessive but would rather you stay by his side and keep away from humans or other vampires you may come across. 

- You’re going to be spoiled; anything you could ever dream of would be yours the instant you implied that you were even slightly interested in it. 

- There’s constant affection coming from him. He hasn’t been in a proper relationship in centuries and definitely misses the feel of it. On that note ~ he has been alone with Lestat for that very long amount of time and that calls for a great buildup of sexual tension and repressed urges.

- He loves watching you with Claudia or whenever you’re doing anything domestic. It has an odd soothing effect on him that he just can’t explain.

- You rarely fight but whenever it would happen it would be a very rough and emotion filled scene. You would give him the silent treatment and avoid him which would rightfully make him fairly upset and extremely tense especially when he knows you’re spending more time with Lestat.

- Sometimes you would creep into Lestats room when the sun is up; finding it hard to spend so long in solitude. Ever since you were turned you hadn’t really spent a night alone and before you and Louis got together you would stay with Lestat.

- Claudia would be the reason you spoke to him again. She would angrily march up to you and drag you behind her tiny body until you were in the same room as him. He would stand up immediately and wrap his arms around you as he apologized, you couldn’t help yourself as you practically melted in his arms. 

- None of your arguments are about anything truly serious so it isn’t hard to forgive him. And if you’re ever the one needing to apologize after a fight just stand between his legs and cup his face in your hands while you give him your sincere apology, he’ll forgive you instantly it’s like magic. He can never really stay mad at you.

- If you ever fight with Lestat Louis finds it kind of amusing to watch; the two of you bickering is quite the sight to see. But Lestat is a sadist and enjoys watching you and Louis argue for an entirely different reason. 

- Him playing with your hair as you lay your head on his shoulder.

- His hand is always on your waist or holding your hand whenever you are out of the house. He wants to show everyone that he’s courting you and that you belong to him.

- He’s almost always the perfect gentleman. He always opens doors for you and lends you his hand when helping you into your carriage (I guess).

- There’s a very specific scene in my mind with him holding your hand as you walk down the steps of your carriage all the while he stares down a group of men who are ogling you. He’s just watching them closely before you call for his attention once more and he leads you to wherever you were going. (I hope this makes sense lol)

- There’s a lot of buildup before he kisses you ( just think of that scene with Armand in the movie when you probably thought they were about to kiss; love that scene).

- Really passionate kisses and spontaneous groping. He loves pinning you to things as well

- He’s a very honest person; he also can’t keep things from you for very long before he explodes from guilt. He’s an extremely guilty person in general; it’s just a fact.

- He’s incredibly strong and is always picking you up and spinning you around. He loves doing it when you’re dancing together usually as Claudia plays the piano.

- Him calling you darling, dear, my love, and sugar after a few centuries pass.

- Traveling with him and Claudia when the deed is done. 

- He tries to keep you away from Lestat for the most part; Lestat is extremely jealous of this and kisses you in front of him just to be petty and spiteful. A threesome will ensue at some point we all know it.Your boyfriend is his boyfriend and you are to be his as well. There is just no way Lestat would have you be just Louis’s and not his too.

- His eyes seem to constantly be on you which is honestly flattering considering how perfect he is.  

- Rubbing his shoulders as you sit behind him on a sofa. You usually do it to keep him calm/calm him down while Lestat annoys him or tries to argue. 

- He would feel an urge to kill anyone who hurts you even if they just accidentally bump into you,same goes for anyone who disrespects you; it’s usually because Lestats like a little devil on his shoulder.

- Comforting him when he gets upset about his wife and child. You’re always able to brighten him up and make him less melancholy.

- He’ll be telling you how much of a monster he is and how you should really not stay with him as he pulls you closer and snuggles into you.

- He loves laying on any squishy part of you. 

- There’s so many apologies for having you turned.

 “Louis if I wasn’t turned I wouldn’t have met you and that would have been the true tragedy.”

- He’s such a stressed fucking individual like just hold him in your arms and calm him down before he snaps in half. Although he can honestly be such a drama queen.

 “I love you.”

 “Say it again?”

 “I love you.”

 “…One more time please.”

- Kissing your neck but not to be an asshole like Lestat would.

- Him making sure Lestat doesn’t overstep any boundaries or manipulate you.

- He reassures you that he will only and always love you after he feeds because we can all see how sensual they look when they suck someones blood. 

 “You are mine right my love.”

 “Of course my dear.”

- Occasionally you wake up to roses scattered around your coffin. You’ll find him sitting on one of the many couches waiting for you to walk in with one of the softest smiles you’ve ever seen on his face. 

- Anything you ask; anything at all, he will do for you.

- Holding hands as you watch the sunrise in movies.

- He always comforts you. It doesn’t matter if you’re only slightly upset or extremely depressed; he’s always going to be there for you.

- Tight Hugs.

- Braiding or just playing with his hair, he pretends he doesn’t like it but he loves the feel of your hands in his hair.

- Hearing stories from when he was young; especially if you get together now a days rather than way back then. (We all have our own different fantasies)

- Him laying out on the balcony rail as you stand beside him; occasionally leaning over him and planting a kiss on his lips. It never fails to make him smile.

- Small smirks whenever you kiss his cheek.

- So many ‘I love you’s’ you’re drowning in love. As well as compliments all the time.

- It’s quite clear that you’re not going to be able to leave anytime soon. His little undead heart couldn’t take the loss.

“I need you my love.”

- You would stay together; just you, him and Claudia living out the rest of your eternal lives like husband and wife.

[fox-guardian]

Brat

((Whoops this is kinda long oof))

"Mr. Hyde". It just seemed a tad too formal for the little man that was currently spinning in Mr. Utterson's office chair, so he and Dr. Lanyon mostly called him simply "Hyde", or when he was being naughty, (which was often) "Edward". Other names they gave him included "boy", "young man", "dear boy" if they were feeling nice, and "Little Eddie" if they were feeling mean (Lanyon used that one more often than Utterson). These names often acted as punishments in and of themselves as Hyde despised them, and after a bit of pouting he would usually behave at least a little bit better.

A few names they would never use intentionally were "child" or "brat" accompanied with adjectives such as "insolent", "ungrateful", "spoiled" and other similar things. They would only end up using these in moments when Hyde's behaviour would become absolutely unbearable, and cause them to lose their composure. Calling him by these names usually resulted in a tantrum, and that was never fun.

Back to the office chair Hyde was currently spinning in, it was the only spinning chair in the house and Mr. Utterson happened to like it quite a bit. It was comfortable, convenient, and looked quite nice in his cozy little office space. He became increasingly annoyed as Hyde spun faster and faster in the chair, making it wobble and creak.

"Edward, please stop spinning in that chair, you're going to break it," said Mr. Utterson, sternly.

"No I won't," replied Hyde, grinning, his voice dripping with smug mischief as he continued spinning, throwing his cloak about to make it flow around him.

"Edward," repeated Mr. Utterson with an authoritative pause, "I told you to stop."

"And I don't want to," he said, giggling as he pushed off the desk again to gain momentum. The chair swayed.

Dr. Lanyon was standing by and decided he didn't appreciate Hyde's disobedience either, "Edward, he told you to stop spinning, now stop."

"Hmmmm, no~", he started laughing as he spun faster, proud of his defiance. No one could put an end to his fun.

Mr. Utterson furrowed his brow and crossed his arms, "Young man, we told you to stop, now stop."

He stopped spinning, making solid eye contact with Utterson for a moment. "Make me," he challenged, and went back to spinning, throwing his head back and laughing as he did so.

Mr. Utterson took a deep breath to compose himself. Today was already a bad day for him, as he didn't get much sleep the night before due to one of his beloved cats having made a mess on the floor in his parlour room around midnight. He tried to keep calm and collected as he approached Hyde and reached out, catching his cloak and stopping his wretched spinning.

"Hey!" Hyde practically shouted, turning around to face Utterson standing behind him. He had to steady himself a bit as he was now a tad dizzy.

"You told me to make you stop and I did, now get out of the chair and come downstairs." He was very certain in his words, the terms non-negotiable. Well, a reasonable person would think so, at least.

"No! I want to keep spinning! It's fun," Hyde turned his seat back and forth a bit, as if demonstrating how much fun he'd been having.

Dr. Lanyon butted in impatiently, "Yes, yes, I'm sure it was loads of fun, boy. It's just that we've no time nor patience for you to be breaking Mr. Utterson's things."

Hyde protested, looking almost offended, "I'm not going to break it! I'm being careful!"

"And we don't care. Now come downstairs, Mr. Utterson seems to have a task for you to do." The two gentlemen formed a metaphorical brick wall of command that couldn't be broken. They were going to be stubborn in their wishes whether Hyde liked it or not. He was going to leave that chair and go downstairs whether he liked it or not.

Well, he didn't like it. And he would not take this sitting down. Except for the fact that he was, in fact, still sitting in that chair and planned to remain that way.

He crossed his arms in defiance, "No."

"Edward..." Mr. Utterson said.

"No, I will not 'get up and go downstairs,'" he made dramatic quotation gestures as he said this.

"This is not a debate nor a favor you can decline, young man," Mr. Utterson replied, "You will get out of that chair like a good boy or we can go back and forth just like this all day long."

"Then I guess I'll just have to get comfy," Hyde mocked, settling in the chair. He then spun it around once until it came to a stop in front of Utterson again.

He looked incredibly peeved, "If you do that one more time I just might-"

He dared, spinning it again while maintaining smug eye contact for as long as possible.

Mr. Utterson had been having a bad day. Mr. Utterson already did not like Hyde, not many people did. Mr. Utterson was already upset with Hyde's existence for several reasons. Mr. Utterson was already irritable from lack of sleep. He was tired, annoyed, missed his friend Jekyll terribly, and this smug little man just had to go and make it even worse.

"You iNSOLENT, SPOILED BRAT!"

It was strained, loud, and full of seething hatred. Not a tone people were used to hearing come from the mouth of the dull yet very lovable Mr. Utterson. He turned away, immediately knowing his mistake, running his hands over his face in frustration as he mumbled about the day he's had. As he attempted to regain his composure, a growl was heard, and it raised into a soul-grating roar.

"I am NOT A BRAT!!"

This was immediately followed by the sound of a cane spinning through the air and the wood of the office's door being split by said cane's handle getting stuck in it like a hatchet, less than a meter from Dr. Lanyon's shoulder.

Hyde then leapt to his feet and flipped Utterson's desk, sending everything that was on it onto the floor.

"I HAVE TOLD YOU HOW I HATE BEING CALLED THAT YOU KNOW I HATE IT AND YET YOU STILL USE IT LIKE YOU JUST WANT ME TO HAVE A FIT!!" He shouted at Mr. Utterson, who was only just now turning around to face him.

He brought himself together enough to speak to Hyde in a mostly calm tone, "Edward, I didn't mean to say that. I've had a very lo-"

"I AM NOT A SPOILED BRAT!!" He grabbed a heavy bookend from a nearby bookshelf and flung it into the wall, denting it.

Utterson took a deep breath, "Edward, please, I'm trying to apologi-"

CRASH

Another bookend flew through the window, accompanied by Hyde's strained, raspy screaming, which has now become largely incoherent ramblings and angry noises.

Lanyon walked up to the tiny man, "Alright, calm down you little.... something." He wrapped his arms around Hyde, trapping his arms to his sides, and lifted him up with all his might (He was ridiculously heavy for someone so small).

Hyde kicked and screamed, "LET ME GO! I'M NOT A BRAT! I'M NOT A BRAT! I'M NOT I'M NOT I'M NOOOOOOOT!!"

He eventually grew tired and calmed down, no longer kicking nor screaming. Lanyon gently set him down, his arms and back tired from holding him up so long, and let him slump to the floor in a sad heap.

Utterson kneeled down in front of him, now having collected himself properly, "I'm sorry Edward. I didn't mean to say that. I've had a very long day and you had driven me to my wits end..." he sighed, "but I shouldn't have called you that. It crossed a line, and for that, I'm sorry."

Hyde looked up from under his ragged mess of curls, "...Fine."

It was not really "fine." Utterson knew this, Lanyon knew this, everyone in the room knew exactly what Hyde needed to accept his apology.

Utterson sighed and opened his arms, "...Come here, boy."

Hyde's eyes lit up, and he even smiled a bit. He practically jumped into Utterson's arms, pressing his face into his shoulder and wrapping his arms around his neck. Utterson closed his arms around Hyde's body with little enthusiasm, but it was enough. Hyde let out a long sigh before finally letting go and standing up.

"Apology accepted," he said, seemingly already in a much better mood, "Meetcha downstairs!" He then rushed out of the room, and from the sound of it, slid halfway down the stair railing before tumbling down the rest of it.

Utterson and Lanyon looked at each other with mutual annoyance, and started putting the desk back into place.

((I've been in a writing mood lately, just exploring stuff we may not see in the canon comic, at least not for a while. I hope this wasn't too all over the place.))

[writinginthesecrettrees]

It’s my birthday. 

I hate my birthday.

I’ve been sitting here, trying to think of a good one, and I think the best might have been in 1983, when I was born. All downhill from there. I’m gonna write a bit about my birthdays over the years. It’s long. It’s really just for me.

Because my birthday has never actually been mine, you see. My birthday has always been about other people. What my mom thought would be fun, and never mind if I wanted to invite the neighbor to my party and never mind that he’s mean to me, we have to be nice. It’s what good neighbors do. Or the year that none of my friends came to my party. That’s a fun high school memory.

Or the year that my high school had a dance on my birthday. Freshman year, and I thought “Hey, let’s just do that,” and went with my best friend. Unfortunately, my ex-boyfriend (we “went out” for about a month before I realized that, while I liked talking to him and we had some shared interests, I wasn’t attracted to him) decided that my birthday was the day to try and get back together with me. I didn’t know how to handle it, so my friend and I went into the locker room (dances in the school gym, locker rooms available for restroom purposes) and hung out there until a teacher asked us what was going on. Because he was right outside, and standing there until I would talk to him. She went out and told him he had to leave us alone.

He spent the weekend sending me really scary emails. Like, 10 to 20 a day. When I went to school on Monday, he was still sending them. Subject lines like “IF YOU THOUGHT YOU WERE SCARED AT THE DANCE...” I didn’t know what to do, I’d never dealt with something like that. Luckily, I was a TA first period, for a teacher with a free period (Dr. B, I still love you!). I told her what was going on, showed her the emails. He was still sending at that moment, because his first period class was Internet which was an actual class at my school in 1998 where we made hotmail accounts and built angelfire webpages.

So Dr. B printed out my inbox, just the inbox with the subject lines and showing how many emails I had received just that morning, and took it to the VP in charge of security (our school had four VPs). Ex-boyfriend got called out of class, had a talk with the VP, campus security, the actual police, and, worst of all, his mother. He didn’t bother me after that. But it’s still a wonderful birthday memory.

Things got better after I stopped trying to have parties, but it lets the real crap stand out more. Like the way that people I don’t speak to, who don’t speak to me, decide that my birthday is the day to feelings dump on me. I’m expected to answer their calls, or call them to thank them for the card or whatever, or else I’m the ungrateful spoiled brat.

I’m not gonna go into the friends who have vanished from my life, and me from theirs, who still pop up to say happy birthday on social media. I deleted Facebook, so that’s no longer an issue.

There’s my dad. My dad and mom divorced when I was three, and when I was six my mom got a restraining order and he lost visitation because of his habit of alcoholism and taking me six hours away and not bringing me home on time. I’ve actually got my mom’s old file of legal papers and letters to both my dad and grandma and their responses. So my dad was a deadbeat, and that sucks. Facebook let him find me again a while ago, so now he’s like a creepy jumpscare every birthday. Normal “Happy Birthday I love you” sorts of messages (paragraphs and paragraphs worth) but there’s a lot there that’s unresolved, and I get to have it all dragged up again every year. Happy birthday to me.

There’s also my stepdad. He’s basically been my dad since I was seven, and he actually adopted me when I was eleven. A while back, he decided that drugs, porn, and hookers are more fun than having a family, and skipped out. I actually tried to keep a relationship for a while. Then one year, maybe four years ago, I didn’t reach out on Christmas. And the holiday went by with no communication. And then his birthday went by, and mine, and Father’s Day, and Thanksgiving, and the next Christmas too. And suddenly it had been over a year and there had been zero contact. And that was nice.

Too nice to last, though. He popped up around his birthday (it’s in March) the next year. I ignored it, because I was really enjoying not having awkward dinners with him where he said stupid things and acted like it was deep, or awkward visits where I had to sit and look at over an hour of slideshows of his new family (they don’t speak English, he only speaks English, it’s very confusing to me), or look at his stupid rock collection that’s really the only thing he cares about. 

He popped up on my birthday, too. “Wife and I would love to have you come over for dinner tonight” was pretty much the text I received, on my birthday, late afternoon. At the time, I lived about an hour’s drive away, two with traffic, and he knew that. He also knows that I hate last-minute plans, especially last minute plans that require me to drive over an hour to get to. Also, it being my birthday, I already had plans with my mom and sister. Yeah, the plans were just “get Thai food and watch Netflix,” but I’m BIG into the low-key birthday. And I was in the middle of a major depressive period at the time: I love baking, and I love making cakes and stuff, and I’d been planning on making some sort of fancy thing (one year I made lemon cake with orange blossom buttercream and candied orange slices to decorate, and it was gorgeous and delicious and I make good cake is my point) but I ended up just buying a cake that year. Which is rare.

So anyway, he pops up hoping to claim hours of my birthday at the last minute (also I hate his wife’s cooking), and I just ignored it. Went with my mom to get the food, and while we were waiting... Surprise! Stepdad and his wife walked into the exact restaurant we were in. He ducked down and pretended like he hadn’t seen us.

Awkward. Happy birthday to me.

Which brings us to this year. This year, and I’m already braced for impact, because stepdad emailed my mom about “What’s Kelly’s address so I can send her a birthday card? I’d ask her but she never answers me.”

Which is crap, because whenever he asks me an actual fucking question, I respond. I don’t respond immediately to pictures of his new puppy, or a baby flamingo that he thought looked funny, but “Hey, Kelly, what’s your address?” gets an answer right away. I know this, because:

Literally the last texts sent. Edited out the actual address, but that’s it. So literally the last time he texted me was to ask my address, and I immediately responded to that. And yeah - I didn’t respond when he said “love you” because I’ve got some issues with him. Like, went looking for a card to send him for his 60th birthday (milestone year, didn’t want to just ignore it) and I was very frustrated at the lack of “I don’t want to talk to you but I can’t ignore this birthday” cards. Hallmark, you’re missing a market there.

When I had to change my number, I let him know right away. Only reason I didn’t update him when I moved was because he’d never mailed me anything. Or visited. In the five years I was living there.

So now I get to look forward to a card for my birthday. Yay. And I know there’ll be an awkward call with his mom, my grandma to look forward to. It’s really hard having a relationship with her when I don’t have one with him, and when I have so much negativity towards him.

You know what, this has gotten way longer than I meant it to. I’m just gonna end it now.

Happy birthday to me. I hate my birthday. I’m maybe going offline for my birthday. And turning off my phone. I don’t want to deal with people today.