#let alone the TV version he did where he looks like he's trying to seduce someone

[saveugoodmadam]

idk why but this music video is soooo funny to me it's as if someone decided they were going to base it in like. a hostage situation. for no reason. why is he running like someone's after him? why does it keep cutting to him alone in a dark room? blink twice if you need help sir

[sweetchup]

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

————————

Vol. 1: Just Keep Swimming // Ch. 2

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 4,000+

Masterlist

————————

Sounds of horns and shouting filled the air outside as you stood on the packed bus. Cramped in from every side, it was hard for you to tell where you were going. Not as if you were paying much attention anyways.

“Okay, you left fish and pasta in the fridge… he could use the tv or read a book for entertainment while you are gone…what about…” You ramble incoherently to yourself.

Even though the storm hit Athens hard yesterday, your studio art professor was still having classes today. Forcing you to leave Triton alone at home. You shouldn’t be nervous. There was no reason to. After all, Triton is a god, he was hundreds of years old.

But…, he was still a child. No matter how old or what type of being he is. He could still possibly injure himself or get into trouble. And that single fact alone made you feel sick to your stomach.

“Is this how parents feel leaving their child alone for the first time…?” You groan to yourself, leaning your head forward so it hits the window in front of you.

“Now Approaching *Athens International School of Art*. I repeat, Now—“ The robotic voice announces over the intercom. At the familiar name of your college, you squeeze your way through the other patrons on the bus to make your way to the doors.

Sweet, sweet air, you think to yourself as soon as you exit the bus. It was starting to get way too cramped in there. So much so, you wondered if it was a safety hazard. Though it wasn’t as if you were one to talk, you left a little boy alone—

“Argh!” You scream out, slapping the cheeks of your face. You needed to stop thinking of Triton. He was going to be completely fine. But, what if…

“I’m getting too attached already…” You groan to yourself. It had only been a day. One singular Day. But you were already smitten by the blonde haired child. “It doesn’t help that he's absolutely adorable as well…”

“Who’s adorable?” A voice calls out from behind you, making you jump in surprise. Whipping around, you let out a sigh once you identify who it was.

“Bryce… how many times have I told you not to sneak up on me like that…”

Bryce Kroger. He was studying abroad at Athens International School of Art for a year just like you except he was instead an architecture major. You met him by coincidence while taking art history so you didn’t know much about the guy, the only thing being the few stories he told you about his home country of Australia.

“Oi! It’s not my fault you're so skittish!” Bryce banters back with a huff.

“Whatever…”

“Eh? Wait, where you heading?” Bryce questions as he watches you walk away, “I thought you had Studio Art on Fridays?”

“I do. I’m heading to the library first though.” You yell back to the tall male who stayed put where he was standing. Not even bothering to follow you.

“You need to stop studying so much!”

“Shut up!”

“IT’S THE TRUTH!”

“SHUT UP!” You scream back with one final huff before storming off. So what if you studied so much. You just wanted to get good grades in the classes that counted. It’s how you got here in the first place. By working your ass off.

Unconsciously, you feel your hand twitch as you open the library door. So what if you spent hours studying. So what if you didn’t go out with friends that often. So what if you didn’t have a social life. So what—

You feel yourself pause, your expression turning sour. Lonely. That’s what you were. You were lonely. A miserable lonely girl.

“Miss!”

Startled out of your thoughts by the sudden call, you realize you were no longer standing at the front door but instead standing in front of one of the librarians. You must have unconsciously walked up to the front desk while you were lost in thought.

“A-Ah. Sorry, I was just looking for books on Leonar—“

You feel your voice trail off at the end as a book on the counter catches your eye. It wasn’t the gold detailing nor the leather texture. No. It was the simple words of “Greek Mythology: Tales of Zeus” printed neatly on the front.

“…Actually, Do you perhaps have any books about Poseidon?”

You just found something better to do with your time.

—.—.—.—.—

“Damn… this is extremely confusing…” You mumble to yourself as you glare at the pages of notes in front of you. Each book seemed to be a little bit different from the last. “Perhaps I should recap…”

Okay, so what makes sense to you is that Poseidon is the second eldest of three brothers and is the ruler of the seas. The things that don’t make sense are… practically everything else…

You weren’t sure if you wanted to cry or scream out of frustration right now.

According to the books, Poseidon has had many consorts over the years. One of them being Triton’s mother, Amphitrite…

“My mother… can be quite mean to other women. Even to some of the female servants around the palace. She believes that they are trying to seduce my father…”

…but that doesn’t match up with what Triton mentioned last night. According to him, it sounds like Amphitrite scared away any women that would even come near Poseidon. This also leads to another flaw in the mythology books. You doubted that Poseidon would be able to have an affair with any other women with Amphitrite antics, nevertheless have 10 other children with them.

“Triton also never mentioned having any other siblings…”

Letting out a groan, which you seemed to be doing a lot today, you banged your head against the table. It seems like these mythology books weren’t going to be of any help after all. Though…. you couldn’t help but wonder why the books were so off in the first place.

Lifting yourself back up from the table, you glare down at one of the book covers. It was blue, almost silvery in a way, with a giant black silhouette of Poseidon right smack dab in the middle. Or, at least, what Poseidon might look like…

“Well, my father is extremely strong and handsome. All the sea nymphs stare at him with big heart eyes half the time. Oh! B-but, father doesn’t pay any attention to them. Father is not a cheater like uncle Zeus…”

“…Is Father…? Oh. He’s alright… He’s nowhere as bad as my mother. He’s never hit me or anything. He’s just… cold. Extremely cold. He really just ignores me half the time…”

“…I do love my father…I just wished he would at least spare me a glance…you know?…Acknowledge his own son…”

“God damn jerk!” You hiss out in anger as you push the book aside. Your blood practically boiling at even the slightest thought of Triton’s father, Poseidon. He doesn’t deserve to have such a good and nice son like Triton.

However, as much as you want to curse out Poseidon more, you realized class would be starting soon and you really had to get a move on.

“Shit. I can’t afford to be late again.”

—.—.—

“Ugh. Why did the professor have to assign me this type of painter…?!” You whined to Yuri. Class had already ended by then with the professor long gone. The only people left were students that were conversing with others or trying to get a head start on their paintings.

“Well, it didn’t help that you barged into class late for the second time this week, (y/n).” Yuri explained with a sigh as she continued to set up her palette, not even sparing you a glance.

Yuri Saito, Or rather Saito Yuri, was an abroad student from Japan. She was the closest person you knew at the college as you both were similar in many ways. Especially since you were both homebodies.

“I get that but at least I showed up in the fir—“

“(Y/n)!” A voice shouts out interrupting your talk with Yuri. You turn around to see Bella Woods, a student apart of your major, approaching you. “(Y/n). You were part of your student council back in high school right?”

“Uh, Yeah. Why?” You answered hesitantly. You weren’t sure why, perhaps instincts, but you were already having a bad feeling about this situation.

“Well I need your help on something…” Bella explains, her voice trailing off at the end as she grabs something from her bag. It’s a piece of paper, a flier to be exact.

“A…A Cultural Festival?”

Bella nods her head at your words, “Yeah. The college wanted to put something on for the public to show what our art school is all about and Mrs. Yamamoto suggested this. A-Apparently, it’s something schools and colleges do back in Japan.”

“B-But how can I help? Wouldn’t it make sense for someone like Yuri to do this? Since she’s from Japan and all.”

It was the truth. You didn’t know a single thing about japanese culture festivals.

“Hey don’t drag me into this, I’m busy.” Yuri counterbacks with a glare before returning back to her painting.

“Well… you see… The school wanted to change Mrs. Yamamoto’s idea a bit since they really didn’t know anything about Japanese Cultural festivals either. So it’s like a Cultural festival, kind of not.” Bella rambled. You could tell all this information was scrambling her brain as well. “Basically, it’s like a Greek version of a Cultural festival where each major picks a Greek god and plans an event or booth around it.”

“…Okay… So it’s just like a school festival in a way?” You questioned cautiously. This was a lot for you to take in at once.

“Yes. Precisely. We are just taking inspiration from Cultural festivals.”

“Okay. Okay…” You answer as you rub the back of your neck, “I still don’t understand why you need me though?”

“Well, I kind of… kind of saw you reading the mythology books in the library today and we need more people on the planning committee…” Oh, god. It seems like everything is coming back to bite you in the ass, “…Just. Please (y/n), We need your help!”

You let out a small sigh as you watch Bella give you a pleading look, “Fine…”

“Yay—!“

“But…“ You start cutting off Bella’s cheers, “But I’m taking care of something really important right now at home so I can’t always make meetings and things like that. I can help with planning but that’s it. Okay?”

That was correct. As much as you wanted to help Bella and your department out with this festival, Triton was your top priority right now. His care and needs were above all else right now, even your own. So if this would get in the way of that then you would drop this project instantly. Instantly.

“Of course! Oh, thank you (y/n)!” Bella cheers, her body visibly relaxing now that a stress has been taken off your shoulder, “Well, I’m not sure if you're busy right now but… the committee is currently planning two classrooms down… so if you could…”

“I’ll go…” You sighed out. Damn, what’s with you lately. Less than two days ago, people hardly approached you. Now you are as busy as a bee. A person magnetic… Well, more like god magnetic as wel—

Wait, a minute. You feel yourself tense up as a thought flies into your brain. If Gods could travel and spend time on earth, could they live here as well? Just like how Triton wants to?

Shit. What if some that live here are able to identify Triton? You could be in big troub—

“(Y/n)? Are you coming?” Bella calls, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Y-yes.”

It seemed you would have to worry about that later. Not that it mattered right now, you could always just ask Triton when you got home. And even if he didn’t know the answer you would just have to be careful bringing him out of the house. Yeah… you would just do that.

“Guys, I would like to introduce you to (y/n). She’s a fine arts major just like us and knows about mythology. I think she would make a great addition to our group.” Bella introduces you as you enter the room. As you looked around the group of only 4 other people, you realized you really didn’t know anyone.

That is until everyone started to introduce themselves. You never heard of the first three—Brian, James and Kyle—but you found the last name, Marissa Samudra, quite familiar. You wonder if she was that Marissa.

Who you were talking about was Marissa, the hottest girl in school Marissa. Well, at least that’s what all the boys in your major told you. The girl in front of you at least seemed to fit the part. With white silk like skin, light green eyes and dyed coral pink hair, she truly was a sight to see.

“Okay. So shall we get started.” James suddenly spoke up, seeming to want to get the meeting started. You nodded your head in agreement before taking a seat next to Holly. As well as across from Marissa. “Well, I think we should first decide which god we should do. Culinary, Music, Visual performing arts and architecture already have chosen Aphrodite, Hades, Ares and Zeus. (Y/n)…”

You lift your head up at the call of your name.

“…as you know the most about Mythology, who do you think we should pick?”

“Well,…” You feel yourself pause, your palms growing sweaty out of nervousness. You really didn’t know that much about Greek Gods, only the class you took last year and the books you skimmed this morning. You also didn’t expect so many of the main gods to be taken already.

“…How about…”

You needed to think of someone fast. Someone that would satisfy all parties here. Someone that would bedazzle people coming to the festival.

“…Poseidon…?”

Why… Why was that what your brain had come up with? Poseidon? The very god that you were cursing out this morning. Wishing near death upon.

“Fish man?” Brian questioned, letting out a small chuckle at his own joke, “You really want to go with Fish man as our god? Isn’t there anyone better?”

“I think Poseidon is pretty…cool.” You feel a shiver go up your spine as you compliment the man. It was official, you might actually puke. “…He’s the king of the seas. It gives us a lot to work with for his character. Especially since most Fine Arts students are good at realistic elements, we could really do well on painting or using sea life.”

“True… but—“

“I think it’s a wonderful idea.”

You are shocked as you hear Marissa cut Brian off. When you first sat down, she seemed totally uninterested in the topic at hand. Caring more about her hair and nails than anything else. But now, now, she was paying attention to every little thing. You couldn’t help but wonder why. “Oh sorry. I really like the sea. It holds a special place in my heart… you know?”

Oh, that makes sense. You totally forgot Marissa’s paintings were mostly about the ocean and sea. Never drifting off to other topics.

“N-no. That’s actually pretty cool. You know what, we should totally do Posedin… or whatever the dude’s name is. He sounds really cool.” Bryan agrees as he bashfully rubs the back of his neck. Gross, could he make it any less obvious that he was smitten by her. And not in a nice way either.

You feel yourself shiver as you watch him sneak small glances down at Marissa’s chest area. Disgusting pervert…

“Well, with that decided let’s move on…”

…Great… You could already tell this was going to be a long meeting…

—.—.—.—.—

Again, for what felt like the hundredth time today, you banged your head against the wall. This time however it was against the door of your apartment.

“Seriously… a Café…?”

Yes, a Café. That’s the brilliant idea your group came up with. An under the sea type themed café.

In hindsight it didn’t sound all that bad. You could have a couple of students paint some props and decorations. Then another couple of students who know how to cook plan out the menu. Maybe even borrow some culinary students if you were lucky.

But,… there’s that.

Outnumbered three to two, the boys of your group insisted the girls that are serving customers should wear togas. Togas. They stated it was to bring in more customers but it was pretty obvious they had other intentions behind it. Especially since they didn’t even bother waiting a couple of minutes afterwards to ask if Marissa wanted to be part of the waiting staff.

“Poor girl… I feel bad for her.” You mumble to yourself as you pull out your keys, finally unlocking the door to your apartment. You wished you could just beat all those men senseless with a baseball bat. “That’s actually not a bad idea… Could I bring a wooden club and say that it's part of the character? They seem to not know that much about—“

“Miss (y/n)!” You hear shouted as something comes barreling into you. Knocking you onto the ground right as you enter your apartment. “O-oops I meant to only say (y/n)…”

Even though you got the air literally knocked out of you, you still let out a small chuckle as you reached up to run a hand through the perpetrator’s locks. Triton’s blonde locks. “It’s okay. I only told you this morning to stop referring to me so formally. It will take time for you to get used to it.”

Suddenly, you wince at a feeling of pain as you move slightly. Triton sure was strong. You, honestly, wondered if he held back some strength when he jumped at you. If so, you wondered how strong Triton was nonetheless an adult god.

Speaking of an adult god…

“Hey Triton.” The boy lifts his head up at your call, “Do any gods live on earth?”

The boy seemed to take a moment to think, “Well kind of? Not really Greek Gods though. Most of them are too proud to live with humans.”

“Oh well that’s goo— Wait, a minute! Other gods are real as well!?”

Triton nods his head furiously, “Yeah pretty much all gods. As long as it is considered as one, it exists. There’s Nordic gods…, Indian gods…, Oh! Even Buddha. I like Buddha, even though I’ve only met him once. He introduced me to salt water taffy! It’s delicious.”

“I-I see…I’ll try to get you some then. Another time.” As much as you wanted to hide your surprise you couldn’t. Learning that Greek Gods actually existed was one situation but learning that All Gods existed was a whole nother ball game. Did that mean demons existed as well?

“Hey (y/n). Could I ask you a question?” Triton asks, suddenly seeming bashful all of a sudden.

“Sure. What’s up?”

“Could I…” Triton pauses for a moment, “Could I call you…”

You leaned closer to Triton as his voice slowly got softer and softer at the end. His ears and cheeks were bright red as he waited for you to answer. However, you couldn’t answer him as you didn’t hear the last part of what he said.

“I apologize. Could you repeat what you said, Triton? I couldn’t hear the end of it.” You felt bad for asking him to repeat it as his face only seemed to get even more red when you asked.

“I-I… Could I call you… Mom?”

It was silent as his question, or rather request, fell upon your ears. You thought about it for a moment. Especially whether it was morally right for you to have him call you ‘mom’. Even if his true mother was a terrible person, she was still his mother.

Though, then again, She really didn’t act like his mother. Especially in all her hundreds of years of existence of having him. At least from what you’ve heard from Triton. She’s had plenty of chances to show her love for him and she never did.

“Of…Of course you can.”

You feel yourself smile as Triton’s face lit up. And you knew, Deep down inside, that you did the right thing. You would show this boy the love he deserved.

“Hey (Y— Mom.” You giggle at how Triton seemed to practically beam with happiness once the title left his lips.

“Yes, Triton?”

“Could we have dinner right now?”

You feel yourself jump up a little in surprise. Since you stayed later than what you usually would, due to the meeting, you didn’t have anything prepared ahead of time for dinner.

“Ah, yes. Do you think you could wait in the living room while I prepare it?”

“Of course!” Triton answers as he scrambles up off of you. As you make your way to the kitchen—which was technically in the same room as the living room—to start dinner, you find yourself drifting off into your thoughts.

You realized you really hadn’t thought this through. Taking care of Triton and all. Your apartment was small, he didn’t have his own room, he seemed to eat a lot more than a human boy his physical age and so much more.

You wouldn’t be able to buy a bigger apartment right now. Going through college and all. But you could take more shifts at work. After all, it was literally down the street. You were also good friends with the owner of the toy shop next door. You bet he would allow Triton to play with a couple of toys while you worked.

As you continue to list things you would need to take care of Triton especially if it was long term, Triton was watching cartoons on the couch.

“…Wonder cats will be right back!…”

As the show goes to commercial break, Triton feels himself let out a sigh. Television sure was awesome and all, much better than the plays and coliseum matches used to entertain gods, but he despised ads more than anything.

“Who in the world created such a malicious thing…”

Triton’s voice trails off at the end as the ad changes to another. As he stares at the screen, he feels a shiver shoot down his spine. As quickly as he could, Triton changes the channel to another before shakily dropping the television remote. A cold sheen of sweat breaks out all over his skin as he collapses back onto the couch.

To anyone else, the commercial before looked like any normal hair dye commercial seen on Tv. But not to Triton. Especially when he saw something oh so familiar.

“T-that hair color…” Triton feels himself shiver at the thought, “L-looked too much like Aunties. Mom’s…No…

…Amphitrite’s Sister.”

Author Note: Ahhh this chapter contained so much but I knew I couldn’t split it up. Especially if I was doing posting Tuesdays and Thursdays. I was worried that the time frame in between would mess my readers up. Anyways, I hope you enjoyed this Chapter. I know there wasn’t a lot of Triton moments but I wanted to get the ball rolling on the plot so that things and certain characters (*cough* Poseidon *cough*) will appear soon. Well that’s it for now, see you next time :)))

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq

[strangunddurm]

The Cabin

Masterlist

Pairing: Clyde Logan x fem!reader

Word Count: 6.8k

Warnings: PinV sex, unprotected sex, self pleasure, fingering, masturbation, alcohol consumption.

Please accept my offering of my vision of mountain man Clyde.

A hike in the woods was meant to calm your mind and let you focus on yourself for a while; a sort of cheap alternative to going to a spa. However, you were anything but relaxed, and focused on everything except just yourself.

You were lost. Despite spending hours on YouTube trying to learn how to navigate, you had still taken the wrong turn and didn’t notice until it was too late. Thankfully it was the beginning of autumn, so it was still warm outside, and you didn’t need to start worrying about getting cold just yet, despite the sun slowly descending across the horizon.

The crappy phone which you had insisted didn’t need replacing had died long before you realized just how lost you were. You had a particularly bad habit of never charging your phone and it was coming back to bite you in the ass.

You had taken a, supposedly, easy trail. ‘Beginner friendly’ was the description your friend had given you when you asked for tips. You were cursing them mentally in your mind now, their definition of ‘beginner friendly’ was obviously vastly different from yours.

It had been hours, or at least it felt like it. You were steadily making your way through the granola bars you had packed. Your version of survivor mode consisted of trying to eat everything you could see due to anxiety, instead of saving it in case you’d be out here for hours.

It was the same rock you had passed a while back, you were sure of it, convinced that you were officially just walking in one big circle.

You hadn’t seen anyone else out on the trails which were surprising.; you figured trails were usually always packed with curious adventurers.

The snap of a branch pulled you out of your inner monologue, causing you to freeze and your heart to painfully contract in fear. You were sure that this was the moment you would die; a rabid coyote was surely bound to attack you at any moment. Were there even coyotes in West Virginia? You didn’t want to find out.

Turning around to see what it was that had made the sound wasn’t an option in your mind, it really wasn’t. Turning around would, in your mind, mean that you were accepting being mauled to death and despite your sometimes negative output you wanted to live for a while longer.

“Please, please, please don’t be a coyote… pleas-“ You let out a loud scream as a hand grabbed onto your shoulder, instinctively jabbing your elbow back to connect with the somewhat soft stomach of someone who was very much not a wild and crazed animal.

Whoever was behind you let out a low ‘ouff’ sound from your attack but did not seem overly affected otherwise.

“Sorry!” It was a man’s voice, judging from the deep tone of it. You whirled around whilst simultaneously attempting to take a step backwards, resulting in you falling to the ground ungracefully. There was definitely no chance you could run away from him now if he turned out to be less than friendly.

“Who are you?” You shuffled back against the ground, trying to put some distance between the two of you in naïve hope. The stranger, noticing your distress, put his hands out in front of him whilst taking a few steps back, increasing the distance between the two of you.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to scare ye.” You surveyed him sceptically as he apologized. He looked like he was a nice person, but that only went so far, anyone had the ability to look nice. He blended into your surroundings, lacking the bright colours you were wearing; it was obvious that he did not share in your desire to want to be seen. He also looked like he was much more used to the woods than you were (not that it was hard).

“Are ye okay?” His question made you realize that you hadn’t replied, and you were still lying there like a seal on the ground. You stumbled up onto your feet with a huff, grabbing a stick that was laying by your hand just as you thrust yourself up.

It was a small stick, definitely incapable of causing serious bodily harm but you hoped that if you were desperate enough, it could poke out an eye. Or at least scratch it.

You held it out in front of you, wielding it like a sword. It was hard not to miss the smile that flew across the stranger’s face. You were most likely a funny sight, a flustered and oblivious city girl waving a twig. But you felt like King Arthur waving Excalibur and that was all that mattered. One lonely girl pumped full of adrenaline could do a lot of damage with a twig and a mean right hook.

“What do you want?” You spat. A tiny voice inside of you told you that you were being ridiculous. Here he was, a nice man probably just concerned over seeing you wander through the woods, obviously lost, so close to nightfall. But the devil on your other shoulder told you to trust no man, to kick him where the sun doesn’t shine and take off like a bat out of hell.

“I just wanted to see if ye were okay; it gets cold out here at night.” He still had his hands up like he was getting arrested. You considered his words carefully. You weren’t okay, you hadn’t planned on staying out until nightfall. All you were going to do was hike to the top of the mountain and go back down, but apparently, you were too incompetent to even perform that simple task.

“I called out a couple of times, but ye didn’t seem to hear me.”

“Oh,” You dropped the twig at the revelation. It explained a lot; you were after all notorious for getting lost in your thoughts and turning deaf.

“Sorry.” You said sheepishly as you lowered the stick to your side but still grasped it tightly (just in case). You sent him a small apologetic smile even though you didn’t owe him one.

“So, do ye need help?”

“Hmm…” Did you need help? You glanced around you, surveying your surroundings again. It was a lot closer to dark than you were comfortable with. The granola bars were all gone, you didn’t have anything warmer on than the fleece jacket you had dug out from the back of your closet. You had no way of contacting anyone and you were not competent enough to build anything close to a working shelter for the night.

You eyed him again as you thought over your answer. He seemed nice enough, he reminded you slightly of a big, burly bear. He was a behemoth of a man, standing tall and wide with dark hair and eyes, but there was some kindness there that made you feel as if you could trust him.

The thing that eventually won you over was his hand, it was obviously a prosthetic now that you were focusing on him. You hoped that a prosthetic hand meant that it was much less likely that he could grab a firm hold on you.

-

Clyde Logan wasn’t a very talkative man. If you were to google ‘mountain man’ he would pop up as one of the image results. The modern version of course, accompanied by the usual camo gear. You had always had a weakness for the lumberjack flannels and the thick moustache that tickled his lips had you wondering what it would look like drenched in your juices.

But it would be stupid attempting to seduce the grumpy man that had saved you from certain death, right?

He knew so much about the woods and the dangers that were surrounding you, making you realize just how stupid you were to be out there alone. But of course, he didn’t offer you all of this information on his own. No, you had to practically force the words out of his mouth, but thankfully you were the Master of Babble, and he was eventually forced to answer if he ever wanted you to shut up.

You were making your way to his cabin that was apparently just over a mile away. Clyde was leading the way with you practically walking on his heels trying to keep up with his long strides and sneaking looks over your shoulder in paranoia to see if anyone was following the two of you.

Clyde had said that it was too late to return to your car seeing how late it was. Apparently, you had walked in the completely wrong direction from the start and were now a couple of miles away from civilization. He had graciously offered you a sleeping spot in his cabin over the night with a promise to help you back first thing in the morning.

It was picturesque, Clyde’s cabin. Nothing less than what you expected of the man, and surprisingly a lot cleaner than what you had assumed from stereotyping.

“This is so cute!” You admired, sending a small smile up to Clyde with a tilt of your head. He almost looked embarrassed over your praise, only responding with a small huff as he took his shoes off and walking toward the kitchen area.

It was a studio type of situation. Everything was in one room: the small kitchenette, tv-area, and makeshift bedroom. Clyde had flipped a switch which turned on a light that illuminated the entire cabin in a soft glow.

“There’s a bathroom over there.” Clyde gestured to a door on the left, and you couldn’t help peaking in. You hadn’t expected a fully functional bathroom at all, seeing how you were in the middle of nowhere but here it was. And you were so grateful. Going potty in the woods was not on your bucket list.

“Are ye hungry? It’s nothin’ much but I have some sandwiches that we can eat.” Clyde ran his fingers through his hair as he asked the question nervously when you came over after your brief tour of the cabin.

“A sandwich would be great, thank you!” You took it gratefully from his hand as he offered it to you before plopping down on the couch.

You were a lot hungrier than you had though. Your stomach rumbled loudly as you unwrapped the sandwich and taking a bite.

“Have you had this for long?” You said after you had finished chewing your first bite, gesturing with your hand wildly to the cabin.

“Couple of years.” Clyde didn’t look at you as he responded, focused intently on his own sandwich.

He left it at that, not elaborating any further and you didn’t want to cross the obvious boundary he had drawn, so you stayed quiet.

You were never good with silence and awkward situations. When others were perfectly comfortable with silence you just had to talk. Googled had diagnosed it as a symptom of anxiety but you had never actually built enough courage up to actually have a evaluation.

“Do you like to read?” You had taken notice of the overflowing bookcase he had. It was hard not to, it was perhaps the biggest piece of furniture he had, spanning the length of an entire wall.

“Mhmm” Honestly, the hums he would do to answer your questions made you soaked.

“What’s your favourite?” He looked as if he was considering your question, leaning back into his seat and looking up at the ceiling for a moment.

“It would have to be In Search for Lost Time by Marcel Proust.”

“I love that book.”

“Is that so?” You nodded your head with wide eyes, happy to have found a subject to talk about. You loved books, yes, but to be honest you had never read that book. But you were hoping you could wing it enough so that Clyde wouldn’t notice.

“What’s your favourite part?” Okay, so maybe you hadn’t thought it through. You couldn’t hide the small wince you did at his question.

It would’ve been better to have said nothing at all, you just really wanted Clyde to like you. You didn’t know why; it wasn’t like you were ever going to see him again. It was just that there was something about him that made you want to kneel and say, ‘please daddy’ and you didn’t know how to get there with someone so reluctant to talk.

“Ye tryin’ to impress me?” He must be a mind reader.

“Oh, no I just-“ You trailed off, unsure over what to say that would not make you seem as desperate.

He stood up, watching you as he made his way around the room, but he wasn’t moving toward you; instead, he disappeared through the front door without a word.

You deflated like a balloon as the door shut behind him, sinking into the cushions and cursing yourself. Why were you so desperate to impress people? The answer was simple because you were you and you had an irrational need for people having to like you.

-

Clyde wasn’t gone for long. He had simply gone out to fill up on the firewood for the fireplace that you had neglected to notice before.

“It’s supposed to get below 30 here tonight.” Was it rude to say that you were impressed with how easily he did things despite only having one hand? It wasn’t that you expected him to not be able to function at all, it’s just that you were barely functioning yourself with two hands.

It had already started getting just a tiny bit colder, enough for you to have curled your legs onto the couch, leaning on the armrest with a blanket thrown over you. The cold was a fiend that you would never get along with.

“I’m sorry.”

“What are ye sorry for?” He looked truly bewildered over your words, stopping what he was doing and looking up at you from his crouched position.

“I shouldn’t have lied.”

“’S okay.” He continued with starting a fire. “We’ve all told a white lie.”

“That’s true, but I’m usually better at playing it off.” You joked and he shared a chuckle with you.

It was cozy once Clyde got the fire started. He turned off the lamp in the ceiling, muttering something about preserving a battery, opting to turn on another by the bed and then settled back down. He was sitting next to you this time, not across from you in the chair as previously. You could practically feel the heat radiating from his skin, he was so close. The couch was small, only a two-seater, but you suppose that he didn’t need much more seeing how he was only one person.

Clyde crowded your personal space. It felt like he was everywhere around you, suffocating you (but in the best way). He slung his arm over the back of the couch, just barely grazing your back. You were surprised with how forward he was being but decided not to question it too much, figuring he might take it wrong and shy away.

“Yer not from ‘round here are ye?”

“Is it so obvious?” Of course, it was obvious. You told him where you lived and there seemed to be a small glint of recognition in his eyes.

“Ye should get a guide next time, one of the rangers will take ye for free.” It was surprising how caring he seemed to be.

“One of the rangers?” You didn’t want a ranger to show you around the next time.

“Mhmm”

“Can’t you take me?” You diverted your eyes from his face as you asked the question, feigning being shy. You let them trace down his sculptured-by-God body, double-checking for a ring on one of his fingers. There was none, or well you assumed that it wasn't a wedding ring. It didn't look like one, it had more of a class ring vibe to it.

Clyde didn’t respond immediately. He was studying you, analyzing every crevice of your face it seemed like.

It was impossible not to get lost in his eyes. You tried really hard not to at first but gave up way too quickly. You wondered if he knew just how attractive he was. He had to have several ladies running after him, desperate for a getaway in his cabin in the woods.

“Do ye want me to?” He finally asked. It was obvious that he had tensed up at your question. His back was rigid, he was sitting as straight as you had ever seen a person sit.

“Maybe…” You were subconsciously leaning closer toward him, inhaling as much of his sent as you could discreetly. It was very vampire-like of you.

He smelled just as you thought he would. Like pine trees. There was just the smallest undertone of sweat and it drove you wild. It wasn’t usually your scent of choice for obvious reasons but on Clyde… On Clyde it was as if he had been doused in some kind of pheromones that made you completely drenched and mad with want.

You thankfully stopped yourself before you could release the moan that was bubbling in your throat. Who in their right mind moaned to a stranger that they hadn’t even touched over the way they smelled? (Only counting people that weren’t high or drunk, of course).

It was a battle getting you to lean away from Clyde again, but the rational part of your brain thankfully won. You had to dig your nails into your thighs, trying to pinch yourself through the fabric of your pants to bring you back to reality and gain some self-control.

“I’ll take you.” He promised with a nod, looking as serious as always. You wondered if he always wore that expression with everyone. You hadn’t been able to coax a lot of smiles out of him, despite categorizing yourself as a fairly hilarious person and having cracked some jokes on the walk to the cabin.

You sent him a small smile in response, feeling relieved not to have been rejected. That would’ve been embarrassing.

He surveyed you for a while more before finally asking if you wanted a drink.

-

The makeshift bar cabinet that he had was surprisingly well-stocked. Too well-stocked for him to be a raging alcoholic. You questioned him curiously about it. Finding out that he was a bartender was a welcomed surprise. You challenged him to make a drink you had never heard of, and he was quick to deliver.

It was delicious, making it easy to pay him compliments over his talent.

“I own a bar, ‘s called Duck Tape.” It was clear that he was proud over his business, with the way his chest seemed to almost swell with his words.

You told him about your own job, not exactly sharing the same enthusiasm seeing how your job was one of the main reasons for why you needed a stress-relieving hike in the first place.

You’d always been a lightweight. It was no secret; you had an uncanny ability to be able to get hammered on one glass of alcohol. Google told you that it could have something to do with your liver, but you did not want to go to the hospital to find out.

You neglected to think about this small fact when you asked Clyde to make you a drink and you were now suffering the consequences. You were drunk, or at least somewhere over the border of tipsy.

Clyde seemed to have relaxed from the alcohol as well. He was much freer in letting a laugh leave his body which had caused you to jump at first in surprise at the boisterous sound.

He had shuffled closer to you, or was it you that had shuffled closer to him? It had happened without either of the two of you noticing but you didn’t try to move away once you did.

You didn’t speak about anything of significance, not really. It was all nonsense, but you never wanted it to stop. Eventually, you mutually decided that sleep was a necessity if you were going to have the energy to get back to your car in the morning.

“Ye can take the bed if ye want.” Clyde motioned over the back of the couch toward the bed in the corner of the room. You glanced over at it, gnawing at your lip as you considered his proposal. Would it be inappropriate to say that you wanted him to share the bed with you?

The bed was too small for it to be shared in any way that wasn’t intimate which was exactly what you wanted.

You assumed that Clyde was as interested in you as you were of him. His hand was dangerously close to your knee as it sat on the seat of the sofa; if he moved his finger less than an inch it would graze your skin.

“Where would you sleep?” You feigned innocent.

“I’ll take the couch.” He knew what you were doing; you could see it in his eyes. They had grown even darker than before and were hooded as they watched you. It was easy to get lost in them, they were the most expressive eyes you had ever seen.

Both of you knew that neither of you would sleep on the couch that night.

There was a flurry of hands and all of a sudden you were in his lap, grinding down, lips connected to one another.

Clyde was a great kisser. Scratch that. He was amazing. He knew exactly how to make you completely drenched from just a few nibbles and strokes of his tongue against your own. He was a natural (Or a player, but you somehow got the impression that he didn’t lure innocent people to his cabin on the regular for a quick lay).

You could feel how hard he was despite the layers separating his bulge from your core. Hard and large and it made you dizzy to think about.

Clyde was taking his time running his hands up and down your waist, his right hand grabbing here and there, never moving under your shirt despite your obvious eagerness. A roll of his hips elicited a moan from you.

Your own hands weren’t shy in their movements; they were grasping onto his broad shoulders, holding on to the fabric as you tried to pull him closer to you.

He separated his lips from yours with a chuckle.

“Eager, are we?” His crooked grin was panty-dropping worthy.

He trailed his lips down your neck before you could reply, suckling gently over your pulse point.

The moan he pulled from you echoed around the room as you tilted your head to the side, allowing him more room to roam.

Your hands tighten their hold on his shoulders. You had always been extra sensitive around the neck and the combination of his lips and the tickle from his moustache was enough to send you into overdrive.

“Clyde…” You breathed out his name shakily, feeling tingles start to travel from your hands and up your arms from the excitement.

He hoisted you up surprisingly quickly from the sofa, causing you to let out a shriek in surprise.

He was strong. Of course, he was strong, you shouldn’t have expected anything else but still…

He carried you toward the bed, setting you down unceremoniously on the edge. You had to grab a hold of the sheet so as not to fall over.

“I want you to strip.” There was no room for arguing in his voice, and it was exactly what you needed. You didn’t want to have to think about your actions.

He was watching you intently, waiting for you to do as you were told, causing you to frantically reach for the zip of your fleece, pulling it down your arms and then throwing it mindlessly away from you.

Your shirt was the next thing that came off. Clyde’s gaze followed as your shirt revealed more and more skin. You didn’t miss the way he bit his lip hungrily.

Your bra wasn’t perhaps the sexiest thing you owned but you weren’t exactly expecting to be in the situation you were when you headed out that morning.

The bra joined the other items a bit slower. You wanted to drag it out; was it mean that you wanted him to have to suffer just a tiny bit?

You were basking in his obvious admiration of your body as you slowly slid the pants down and stepped out of them, leaving you in just your socks and underwear.

Perhaps it wasn’t the sexiest you had ever looked, but it was the sexiest you had ever felt, and that was the important part.

“Panties too.” He had started palming himself through his pants, huffing out small groans of satisfaction here and there. It had made you drenched and you did not doubt that it was obvious to him just how aroused you were.

You were finally standing there in front of him, completely bare, socks and panties having been removed. His eyes ran over every inch and crevice of you that was visible in the low light.

He was still fully dressed, having just unbuttoned his pants so that he could force his hand down to tug at himself.

“I want you to lay down and touch yourself.” Touch yourself? Couldn’t he do it? You opened your mouth to argue but one look from Clyde made you snap your mouth shut again.

The comforter was soft against your skin as you laid down on your back. You were shy as you separated your legs just enough so that you could slip your hand in between your legs.

The first touch was electric. You had never felt such a reaction from simply touching yourself. Sure, you were an expert in getting yourself off, but it never felt quite like this, not this good from so little.

You circled your bud, applying just the right pleasure that caused you to moan. Your eyes fluttered shut involuntarily, getting lost in the feeling building in your belly.

“Open yer eyes.” He had moved closer, a lot closer, with surprising stealth as you hadn’t heard even a low scuffle of feet. His eyes were commanding the attention of your own as he scolded you.

You withdrew your hand automatically from yourself, moving it up to rest on your belly, thinking that he must want you to stop. You were wrong, however, for his eyes snapped down to watch it and he scolded you once again.

“I didn’t tell ye to stop.” He only moved away once more when he was satisfied with your continued movements.

He walked over to the single chair by the living room table, dragging it with him back over to the bed, placing it by the end where he would get just the right view of you working yourself.

He pulled his pants down before sitting down with a huff. He had gone commando. You let out a whimper of need at the sight.

Clyde Logan was the owner of the most perfect cock you had ever seen. It was so heavy that it had barely been able to bob against his stomach, despite his sitting position.

You arched your neck, trying to get a closer look. It was swollen and huge and pink at the tip. His thumb was working over the head, smearing the precum that had leaked out.

“Ye stopped.” It was a statement, and he didn’t need to give you further instructions for you to once again start moving your hand between your legs.

You let it travel further down this time, to collect some of your wetness with two fingers before bringing it up to your mouth and tasting yourself. Sweet and tangy.

Clyde didn’t make a single sound to let you know if he was affected by your actions, so all you could do was assume that he was, and that was enough to spur you on.

You brought your hand back down, inserting a finger slowly, testing the waters. You were more than ready, your walls giving way easily to the intrusion.

A second soon joined the first and you set a steady rhythm, pumping them in and out with a squelch as your walls clenched around your digits. Your other palm came up to massage at your breast, twisting the nipple between your fingertips.

Your chest heaved with your moans that were penetrating the air. It was hard keeping your eyes open with the overwhelming pleasure you were feeling but you had to stay focus, you didn’t want to miss a second of seeing Clyde slumped from the pleasure of his touch as he fucked into his hand.

“I want ye to make yerself cum.” You were more than happy to give in to this demand. Your fingers were moving urgently inside of you, and your other hand moved on from your breast, coming down to pinch at your clit and then rub tight small circles over it.

The heat that had been steadily building inside of you, blossoming in your stomach, was slowly taking over your entire body now. Your toes were beginning to curl, and you were fighting your eyes from rolling backwards in your head.

And then, it all became too much for you and you let go and the best part of it all rolled over you like tidal waves, washing through you, soaking you with that post-orgasmic glow.

You let your fingers slowly slip out of you, letting your arms fall to your sides as you watched Clyde get up. You didn’t know if he had come, having been too focused on yourself, but it didn’t matter, he still stood at full attention.

Your mouth practically frothed at the sight of him, you could turn rabid from the need that you had for him. A whine slipped out of your mouth, an arm lifting up to reach out for him, needing to touch him.

He came close enough so that your fingers could just barely brush against the fabric of his pants that he still insisted on having on.

Rage took over your body. It was an irrational rage, why did he still have them on? You wanted them off and you wanted them off now. You had to see him, all of him, before you went insane from the deprivation. Was it even possible? To lose your mind over not getting to see another person naked? You certainly thought so.

You sat up, leaning on one of your shoulders as you looked up at him with a glare on your face.

“Take them off.” He was thoroughly amused by your attempt at a demand. You didn’t achieve quite the same rumble in your tone that he had which left no room for arguing, but still, he conceded and pushed the pants down his legs until they were low enough to be kicked off.

His shirt followed soon after, almost hitting you in the face as he threw it carelessly toward the corner of the bed.

You couldn’t help but admire him. A work of art, good enough to be hung in the Met, that was for sure.

You got on your knees in front of him, the height from the bed aiding you in being just tall enough so that you could place kisses on his chest- You placed the first one in the middle, right over his sternum whilst looking up at him.

Your eyes stayed locked as you planted another kiss over his heart, the next on his right pec, and so forth. They circled around one of his nipples, letting your teeth give it a small nibble before pulling it with you just a bit before releasing it and letting it revert to its original state, hard as a rock.

It was starting to get more and more obvious just how affected Clyde was getting, his arousal much more prominent, if that was even possible. You could feel it against your skin, you didn’t want to touch it just yet, dragging it out for as long as you could.

You enjoyed watching him become more and more flustered by your actions. His chest was heavy with each audible breath, cock tapping against your lower stomach, begging to be touched, but you kept your hands away. They were holding on to his thighs, caressing them in small movements that were making their way toward his cock at snail pace.

“Ye gon’ tease me all night?” You let out a laugh at the ridiculous accusation. If anybody had been the one to tease, it was Clyde.

“Are you going to tease me all night?” You threw the question back at him, biting your lip with an innocent smile.

He growled. He actually growled and you could feel how it caused a trickle to roll down your leg.

“Didn’t yer mammy or daddy ever teach ye not to talk back?”

“They didn’t actually” His eyes had steadily grown darker and darker as the evening progressed and were now on the border of black.

He smashed your lips together, grabbing a hold of your face with his right hand with a bruising grip. He kissed and nipped at your lips before pulling back and pushing you back onto the bed.

He was quick to follow you onto the bed as he guided you to lay on your back, spread eagle, with him kneeling between your legs. His hands were on his hips as he watched you. You squirmed under his gaze, trying to create some type of friction anywhere that would aid in bringing you closer to another release.

His kisses started on your inner knee, building their way up at a torturous pace. He didn’t leave a kiss between your legs; instead, he just hovered there so you could feel his hot breath tickle you before continuing.

You were practically sobbing for more when he finally made it to your lips.

“Please, you have to…”

“I have t’ what?” He looked completely serious as he looked down at you, balanced on one hand. He was expecting an answer from you, and you didn’t know what to say. You obviously wanted him to fuck you but for some reason, you were too shy to say it.

“Mhm… thought so,” He hummed before dropping down to his elbows pressing his entire body onto you.

You could feel all of him. His skin was electric against your own and you could feel his length brushing over your clit. He rolled his hips in a small wave and you arched your back from the moan that escaped you.

It had all built up so much that the smallest touch from him could cause you to completely fall apart, despite the orgasm you had had. It was because it was different when Clyde was the one that touched you; your own touch was nowhere near adequate in comparison.

He rolled his hips again, this time applying just a bit more pressure and you couldn’t help but to widen and draw up your legs slightly, wanting to give him easier access.

“I didn’t tell ye tha’ ye could move.” You were trembling from need at his words. You needed more; couldn’t he understand that?

You were reluctant as you started to bring your legs back down, but he (thankfully) hooked his left arm around your leg, stopping its descent. He hoisted it up to rest by the side of his hip as he simultaneously sat back upon his haunches.

“Do ye need me inside of ye?” Your head had started nodding before he could even finish the sentence, causing a wicked smile to spread across his face.

“I need t’ be inside of ye too.” They were the most glorious words you had ever heard.

His right hand gave a tug at his cock, but it didn’t need any more preparation. It was hard and as ready for you as you were him. He grabbed a hold of base, stabilizing it as he dragged it through your sweet and slickened folds before slowly slipping inside.

Your walls easily gave way for him as he finally pushed in due to your overflowing arousal. He stretched you as wide as you would go with little pain and raw pleasure. You were clenched tightly around him, walls squeezing him in a vice grip, trying to draw him in even deeper.

You could feel yourself grow more and more manic in your need as he sunk deeper and deeper into you. It was as if all other senses had disappeared and all you could focus on was his powerful thrusts that were drilling into you.

He kept your right leg at his hips, whilst his other hand was hoisting your left over his shoulder after just a few deep thrusts.

You choked from the warmth that spread through your body from this position. He was deeper than you even knew you could take him. The head of his cock tapping at your cervix with every drilling thrust but there was no pain, only excruciating pleasure that made tears leak from your eyes from happiness.

The carnal need was as fervent within Clyde as it was you. He couldn’t take it slow; his thrusts were forceful and intent on driving you to your next orgasm as quickly as he could.

“Fuck, ye feel good.” Clyde hissed. “Such a sweet an’ tight little pussy.”

Your eyes could barely focus on him, only catching small glimpses of him with his hair plastered to his forehead from the moisture that was collected there. Your hands were grasping onto the duvet, needing something to hold onto in desperation.

His thrusts were precise and well calculated; he hit that spot inside of you over and over again that made you let out guttural moans.

But he enjoyed torturing you and he suddenly came to a halt, retracting from you completely.

“Move over.” He helped to guide you in your haze. Your own movements were thankfully still quick despite your barely lucid mind as you shuffled to the side, and he laid down on the bed.

Clyde’s hand was supporting his base, helping it stand tall, ready for you to penetrate yourself onto it. You threw your leg over his hips to straddle him. You hovered over his cock, looking down to see how you were dripping on to him.

You didn’t stay there for too long before mounting yourself onto it, dropping down with a pant as you engulfed him within you.

The pace you set was frantic, chasing climax. Your hands came down to rest on his chest to better help you push yourself up and down his cock. The sound of your skin slapping against his echoed around the room, driving your wild.

He was a sight for sore eyes underneath you. Lost in the madness and wild from it all. His desire and pleasure were so clear on his face from the way his mouth was parted and the way his eyes admired you, following your every movement.

He used his right hand to help you ram down onto him again and again.

You got on your feet, gaining better leverage than you had had before on your knees, bouncing up and down. You were so, so close; you could feel your orgasm simmering there underneath the surface, you just needed a small push to get there. And Clyde delivered that small push.

“Yer such a good girl, takin’ me so well. You just love bein’ fucked, don’t ye?”

Your walls clamped down on him, legs shaking as you came to a stop, being unable to continue as you fell forward onto his chest, overwhelmed by the pleasure that filled your body.

He received you in his arms, letting his hand caress over your spine as you continued to slightly convulse from your orgasm.

“Such a good girl” He crooned in your ear with a kiss and tug on your lobe.

Clyde wasn’t as sweet when he pinned both your arms to your sides with one of his, holding you in place as he started slamming his hips up into you, chasing his own pleasure.

The sounds that came out of your as he rammed himself in over and over again were indistinguishable. You were gushing around him, your entire body vibrating from another orgasm, but he still didn’t let up. His hips were starting to stutter, however, thrusts being off-pace as he pounded into you.

And then a sharp thrust was accompanied by a husky cry as he ejected deep inside of you. He managed to pump into you a few more times as your walls milked him, your mixed climaxes collecting at his base.

You were exhausted, unable to move so he stayed there, deep inside of you as he grew flaccid.

You thought it was a fuck for the history books.

[the-fandom-is-now-my-life]

Hc inverse au! Fem Reader in Victorian era England and ynm characters are in our time.

You are a character in an anime and ynm are in real life

Williams

( he seems like the type to be into really dense, historical mangas)

He first read a manga featuring you when one of his students left their copy on their desk and he had to overview some students while they were using the presentation room.

He mostly just sat in the first row while the group of teens were recording hamlet for the theater class.

He didn't really took the story seriously so he started reading a lady who was trying to seduce a noble for a few pages, he was about to leave the manga given that he supposed it was a hentai but when you poisoned them with the wine cup he found it interesting

The main character had a set of very strong ideals that weren't so common in the historical context, be it strip nobles and royals from benefits, be a suffragette, or something similar .He ate the manga in five minutes

When he returns home (and leaves the item in lost objects, ofc) he checks online to buy the first volume to see if the background and sort are interesting along with every other volume and official light novel and Novella . He usually isn't home from very early to very late at night so it would be Louis most likely the one who receives the box with the books

"Brother, did you buy a box full of comics" Louis asks from the kitchen after he feels his older brother returning home

" oh? They already arrived? I thought they would be here next week" well Louis always was worries about how his brother didn't have any hobbies aside from teaching at the University so he was happy that he found something else to do with his life

He would ask for a sick day on a Monday or Friday so he could plan everything that was needed at his class that day and spend the weekend lazing around and reading the various volumes and the light novels. That day Louis and albert almost cried of happiness, that was the first time he took a sick day in all of his teaching years to take a break

The type of fan who creates theories that everything is symbolism, how they are ambidextrous to show that even if they intend good sometimes their methods are too extreme or how their hat was placed or the color of their clothes show their political affiliation. Nothing can be just a coincidence with him, everything means something

Is a big pain in the ass about historical inaccuracies, be it dress, manners or social hierarchy being off

" But listen this is the late Victorian era, where is their crinoline??/ They are supposed to be a Victorian dandy and the writer wants me to believe they would wear that? In that society?" williams turned on the lights to his younger brother room while walking in circles as if he was trying to calm down

" Williams it's 3 am. Please I want to sleep"

" Oh and don't let me get started when they crossdressed/dressed as lady northinburg, that tight lacing scene made me so angry" he was dragging his words, Louis guessed he was sleep drunk " how much I hate that, karolina or bernadette would kill those producers if they saw it" Louis simply opted to sleep while his brother was ranting about how the hairstyles were al wrong

When speaking of merchandising he appreciates his mature and elegant reputation so he would buy small things like cute stationery and notebooks and a few pens. Most of them either are about the main character, you, or have the anime title or something similar

A few students think that the professor brings some childish pens in case some student forgets one and he doesn't have to give them his mechanical pencil. He actually uses those pens when he is grading the exams. His notebook annotations look a lot cleaner and are more colorfully bc of the markers and pens

When and if your manga gets and anime he would be 100 percent bitching about how they skipped, if you are a minor character, scenes where you are introduced or you character gets development.

" Oh my goodness, they skipped to this ark? And 'the mask'? In that ark we get the development of many characters, yn, edward, Amélie, Alex. We are absolutely robed of their backgrounds and aspirations and how they are all connected"

" Brother be honest with yourself, you only wanted more animated yn, you follow their voice actor on twitter"

" That is not my point!"

Albert

he was watching it when he came late

Albert usually keeps company to his youngest brother until around 5-6 pm, then he leaves for work and returns around 12 am and eats dinner alone mostly.

When he returns from his job the house is more often than not totally dark so he makes his way to the kitchen and microwaves the leftovers and eats silently.

But one day it seems like Louis or williams forgot to turn off the TV before going to bed, he was about to turn it off but decided that watching something with the tv muted wouldn't wake his brothers up and kept watching.

He didn't pay much attention to it at the start but it became routine, he comes home, heats the food, sits down and watches that show so he grew quite fond of it

How much attention he pays to it depends on the type of plot it has, if it is light-hearted humor he would most likely not pay much attention but laugh when a joke came, one the other hand, if it's a more serious he would find it hard to take his eyes away from the screen

Second least likely to buy merchandising, if he buys it's mostly to wear home, a one size too big shirt for a pj (mostly for the comedy anime) or, if they aren't childish and look professional maybe a pocket watch like the one x character uses ( in the more serious one)

Won't buy the mangas if there are any because he is happy watching the animated version and already has to read a lot at work, but if he is gifted the volumes he will read them sparingly, maybe he will finish one volume every week and a half, unlike williams.

Louis

He spends most of his time home because of his illness and doesn't like to stress too much given that it makes the symptoms worse, he enjoys light hearted comedies or cooking in the victorian era or those typical time travelers who now have to live in different situations than those they are used to

He most likely found it after doing all the housework and being bored so he opted to browse the TV or netflix and fell on one specific serie

If it is a comedy he will listen to it while cleaning or cooking, he feels like he does everything faster and the housework is more enjoyable that way.

If it's a cooking related program he will watch as entertainment after doing everything and to get ideas what to cook, he is always surprised with the recipes that your character comes up with, be them savory ( things he will absolutely do the next day for lunch or dinner) or sweet ( things he will make more sparingly given he can't have too much sugar). I think of mangas and series like the duchess' 50 te recipes or shokugeki no soma

If it the third option he was interested on the alternatives to modern things, like how to make a more natural soap with animal fat and wood ash, or how to use certain plants to help a headache or stomach bug.

With merchandising he doesn't buy much, some kitchenware and some bowls mugs and maybe a tea set that isn't much of an eyesore. Overall he isn't all that crazy over that kind of things if there is a cooking book he will definitely buy it

He, like albert, doesn't care much about historical accuracy and if the events that happen are cohesive, he is there to have fun

Fred

He watched it because he heard his classmates talk about it and wanted to join them but was too scared to bother them if he didn't know anything. Baby has the social abilities of an anxious lobster

He comes home from college and looks the anime up in his phone and, like every broke college student, he watches it from an illegal streaming service.

He gets hooked up and stays all night watching it until his clock snaps him out of his trance and makes him drag his feet to his 7:30 am class

Fred tries and fails to talk to the group so, after the lesson, he drags himself to his room to be miserable alone. It's not until he reaches a certain chapter or episode where you say something that make him think, " if you wish to be loved you must face first your fear to be known" he keeps thinking about it, he didn't truly ever talk to the group, he cowarded before even trying.

The next week at that same lecture he approaches the group and tries to make some small talk

" Oh hey uhm i heard the past class that you liked (maga name)" he was this close to running to his desk and act as if nothing happened

" Yeah! You like it too?" The boy seemed to notice fred was nervous

" Yes! I really like it, what is you favorite character? Mine is yn" he certainly didn't have any favorite one before but after this he thinks your character is pretty good " they are really inspiring"

In terms of merch he is broke so there is none, If he had any money to spare he would buy notebooks and even those chibi statues or funko pops

[amydancepants-peralta]

10 and 24 for the festive prompts :)

(please excuse me while I hang my head in shame, for this was 1: received last year, and 2: still didn’t manage to appear before Christmas this year.) 🤦🏼‍♀️ Best laid plans really do be elusive, huh?  @ Anon, I'm sorry this is so late, and I hope you’re still around! ♥️ 

Prompts - 10: I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween! and 24: Secret Santa is bullshit. 

(for the sake of this story and b99′s vague timelines, this is set pre-manhunter and post-casecation).  (ao3)

all the lights are shining (so brightly everywhere) 

Deck the halls with boughs of holly, fa la la la lah, la la lah lahhh …

Amy sighs, tapping her feet - sadly, trapped in a curled up shoe, and does her best to ignore the jingle that comes from its dangling bell.

Tis the season to be jolly, fa la la la lah, la la lah lahhh …

Christmas Carols have always been a favourite of hers, forever singing along to the melody despite being told by many that she really shouldn’t.  They were joyful and uplifting and reminders of everything wonderful about the holiday season.  But tonight, she’s been standing post for three hours, listening to Z-List celebrity covers of sacred songs of hope; and as a result has spent 85% of her time hatching a plan to find the source of the music and put an end to everyone’s misery.

Don we now our gay apparel, fa la la, fa la la, fa la lahhh …

Jake’s off-key singing voice filters in through her earpiece, and a tiny smile finds it’s way onto her face.  

“Troll the ancient yule-tide carol, fa la la la laaaa, la la la laaa! … Wait, troll?  That can’t be right!  Hey Ames, do you think trolls celebrate Christmas?”

Knowing that answering would blow her cover, Amy remains quiet; nodding slowly both to the beat and her husband’s question as the track fades away and a new atrocity begins.  

Seriously, she needs to find out where this music is coming from.  

From underneath her undercover position as Head Elf of Candy Cane Lane, Amy shifts uncomfortably, resisting the urge to tug down the tinsel edged skirt that hovered just a little too high for her liking.  She wanted to burn the bra she had chosen to wear tonight (digging into her ribcage like it did), save for the fact that it was very expensive and very beautiful, and very much worn this evening with the sole purpose of seducing her husband.

Work had descended into pure madness in the past fortnight, with both her and Jake’s schedules descending from holding relative similarities to polar opposites.  And maybe it was the surplus of romantic movies on every single TV channel, or the scores of advertisements reminding her that the holiday season was for being together with loved ones (for Jake Peralta was most certainly Amy’s Loved One) - either way, Amy had begun to miss spending nights alone with her husband something fierce.  

Tonight’s plan had been so simple, it had barely required a binder.  Wait until it’s nearly Jake’s finish time, don sexy lingerie, cover up with comfy clothes and go pick up her unsuspecting husband from work.  Let him unlock the door when finally home, then jump his bones right there on the couch - giving Jake just enough time to discover the red lacy set and look at her the way he always manages to do - like she’s the most beautiful woman in the world.  Then, sexy timez.  Lots of sexy timez.

And it had all been working so well - until she’d shown up at the precinct unannounced (Jake being too distracted to notice the text she’d sent him), and immediately found herself getting wrapped up in a sting her old squad were devising.  

In a spark of true evil, one of Brooklyn’s most elusive drug runners - Art Akemi - had invented a new way to dodge any of his drug shipments from being discovered; deciding to build candy canes around the narcotics so that to the unaware eye, they would appear completely innocuous.  

Unfortunately, one of his most recent handovers had gotten mixed up with actual candy canes, resulting in several innocent members of the public ending up in hospital with mysterious drug overdoses.  It had taken the 99 and their neighbouring precincts days to piece together Akemi’s plans, and just this afternoon Rosa had been given a lead that suggested a handoff with the kingpin and one of his henchmen would be happening at Santa’s Village that very evening.  

It was brazen, to set up an exchange of illegal narcotics in a public access area - particularly, one frequented by children and families alike - but also completely on brand for someone like Akemi.  The squad needed to work fast, and work smart; running through the finer details of their mission when Amy had arrived.    

And yes, perhaps her FOMOW had reached an all-new peak as she listened to the detectives speak, and perhaps she hadn’t really thought about what she was volunteering herself for - but the next thing Amy knew she was Holly the Christmas Elf, toes squeezed into surprisingly curly shoes as she fielded questions from children and waited for any signs of wrong-doing.   

It has been twenty-five minutes since Santa had disappeared to ‘feed the reindeer’ (aka disappearing to the back docks for a quick drag of a cigarette), and just as Amy was beginning to wonder if a search party needs to be called, she feels a gentle tug on her hand, looking down to find a little boy no older than five gazing up at her with awe.

“D’ya think Santa is busy making da presents?"

His eyes are wide - filled with the kind of awe that every child seems to get when they are lulled by the magic of Christmas - and as Amy crouches to match his diminutive height, she can’t help but notice how the unkempt curls on his head remind her of a photo with a similar aged Jake that Karen had once shown her.

(He had been mid-discovery of a fairy garden, one built by his Nana and immediately claimed as his own, and the sheer joy in his face had made Amy’s heart swell, even years later through the faded colours of an oft-cherished photograph.)

“You know, I bet he is.”  Scanning the crowd for that familiar mixture of red and white but coming up blank, she turns her attention back to the little boy.  “Santa’s magic like that, don’t you think?”

The child’s nod is so enthusiastic the tiny curls on his head begin to bounce, turning quickly as his searching father calls out his name.  “Just a little longer, and you can tell him all of your wishes, okay?”

“Da elf said Santa’d building da presents Daddy!”  The child runs back towards his father’s outstretched hand, and Amy gives the adult an understanding smile as he lifts his son back into his arms.  From his undercover position at a nearby popcorn stand; Jake catches Amy’s eye as she returns to her earlier position, giving him a tiny smile when he throws her a wink.  

The topic of parenthood - of them trying to have a baby, one day - had been mentioned by both more than a few times since their anniversary; and the regular use of the word when rather than if ignited a sense of hope in Amy that made her stomach flutter every single time.  While the enormity of it all still scared Jake - still scared Amy, if she were to be completely honest - what always seemed to remain after each conversation was the understanding that even if it scared them: together they’d figure out how to get through it.  

(Last month’s arrival of Miguel’s baby girl Adamaris, and the sight of Jake cradling her in his careful arms, had definitely not helped, playing on a loop in Amy’s mind for several days after their visit.)

“Nothing beats a bit of Santa magic, hey Santiago?”  Jake’s tone is light and playful, and only serves to remind Amy just how much she’s missed talking to him these last few weeks.  

Rolling her eyes slightly, she tucks her head downward, playing the pretence of adjusting her costume as she speaks into the hidden mic.  “Ha ha, Peralta.  Santa is magic, especially to cute kids like that one.  No way was I going to be the one to burst the Santa bubble.”

With a stuttered gasp, Jake slaps a hand against his chest, and a passing stranger gives him the side eye.  “Wait a minute.  Are you suggesting that Santa is fake?!”  

“Santa is real, Peralta.  As is this very real mission to take down Akemi.  Time to focus up.”  Terry’s firm tone breaks through the earpiece, busting into Jake and Amy’s conversation, and a sheepish grin breaks out on Jake’s face.  

“Right you are, sarge.  This is Super Serious Santa Shutdown Situation.”  Shoving several pieces of popcorn into his mouth, Jake waits a beat before continuing.  “Ames wasn’t wrong, tho.  That kid was a cutie.”

The unspoken addition of but ours will be cuter lingers between them, and Amy feels her skin warm up under Jake’s faraway gaze.  

Maybe this bra was going to come in use after all.  

Rosa’s voice cuts through the unsaid, her tone steady as she moves in closer from her position at a nearby payphone.  “Heads up - Santa’s back.  And it looks like they’ve swapped out their player.”

Immediately switching into detective mode, Jake shields his face from the new Santa’s sight as he passes, already very aware of earlier (unsuccessful) run-in’s with the kingpin.  “That really looks like Akemi.”  

“Santiago, can you get close enough to confirm?”

Handing out Christmas tree shaped cookies to the children milling around her position, Amy glances up just in time to catch the replacement Santa as he walks into the village.  With the cocky swagger of a man who rarely pays any consequences for his actions, this version of Father Christmas looked paler and far more arrogant than the man wearing the costume earlier.  

Pushing past the waiting children with barely any acknowledgment of their tiny hellos, New Santa pauses on his way to his plush red throne; snapping his gum and giving Amy a very jolly (read: creepy) once-over with his eyes.  Glancing quickly in Terry’s direction, she gives a subtle nod.  Akemi’s case file has landed on almost every detective in New York’s desk at one point or another, and she’d recognised that hard gaze anywhere.  

“Well, well, well … don’t you look good enough to sit atop my Christmas tree.”

Acutely aware of their audience, and knowing that the red and white striped stockings covering her legs would definitely be restrictive if she needed to go full ninja on Santa’s ass, Amy quickly chooses to plaster on a bright and shiny grin.  “So glad you’ve made it back from the North Pole, Santa.  We’ve got lots of excited children just bursting to see you!”

“Yeah, whatever.”  Akemi leans in, an unwelcome mixture of tobacco and sweat washing over Amy, and it’s all she can do to not recoil in disgust as he lowers his voice.  “I’m only interested in one thing, lady, and once I got it I’m outta here.  But don’t you worry, there’ll be plenty of room on my sleigh for you.”

“Ok.  I don’t give a damn about any Christmas magic, Ames.  If he tries to make you kiss him under that mistletoe, I swear to god I will punch Santa right in the face.”

“Cool it, Peralta.”  Terry’s clenching jaw is almost audible in his response, and Amy takes a slow and calming breath, safe in the knowledge that her squad most definitely has her back. 

“Right.  Yep.  Cool it.   Cool cool cooling it.”  Each member of the team watches from their position as Santa saunters over to his seat, throwing several finger guns to waiting mothers as he goes; and Jake lets out a snort of disgust.  “So … has everyone gotten their Secret Santa present organised yet?  Rosa, you need some shopping tips?”

“No.  Secret Santa is bullshit.”

“It’s a fun holiday tradition that you are definitely participating in and if you picked my name I’d really love a voucher for that sneaker store on 28th.”

“I don’t have you, Peralta.”

“Yep.  No problemo.  Just saying.  In case you do.”

To her right, Amy notices Terry’s unmissable frame break through the crowd.  “Heads up, guys.  Looks like Santa’s buddy has found his way into the queue.”  With his wooly beanie and scores of shopping bags clutched in his hands, their sergeant blended in relatively easily as just another father doing some last minute panic shopping; but they all knew one flex of his oversized muscles would break that facade fairly easily.  

A silence falls over the comms as they watch Santa breeze through child after child, giving them barely any attention as his target draws closer; and slowly both Jake and Rosa close the gap from the other sides.  

Pulling out a poorly wrapped parcel and handing the gift to Akemi, the unshaven man at the front of the queue feigns surprise when Santa reaches into the sack next to his throne, handing the supposed stranger an oversized bag of ‘candy canes’.  

“There’s the exchange.  Boyle, can you confirm you got the footage?”

“With a beautiful slow zoom that really captures the thrum of festive anticipation hovering amongst the crowd, sarge.”

Cringing slightly, Jake shakes his head at Charles’ description as his eyes follow the bag of candy canes, their new recipient now walking at a steady pace towards the exit.  “We’re going to lose this guy if we don’t move now.”  

“Go, Peralta.  Diaz, you run backup.  Amy and I will take care of Santa.”

With a grin, Jake breaks into a fast walk, already focused in his pursuit.  “Alright, taking down a bad Santa in a public environment.  Now it feels like Christmas!”

“We’re going to wait until Akemi has left the village, Peralta.  You know, try not to break a bunch of children’s hearts?”

“You do you, Terry!”  

*

*

There are still remnants of festive glitter in Amy’s hair as she and Jake walk up the stairs of their apartment building several hours later, both of them slightly weary from the hours of paperwork and debriefing that took place after Santa’s Village.  

“Boy, bet thats the last time you come to the precinct and pick me up on your night off, huh Ames?”  The apology is obvious in Jake’s tone, and Amy glances over her shoulder to give him a reassuring smile.  Even if it hadn’t been in her original plan, she still got to spend the night hanging with her husband (although in a slightly different capacity than originally planned), and she was choosing to count that as a win.  (A small win, but a win all the same.)

“Yeah, maybe.”

“I’m really sorry you got pulled into all of that, babe.  I just didn’t see your message in time, or I would have … hey, Ames?”  The touch of his hand against her forearm is gentle, pulling her in with the quiet strength she knows her husband to possess, and Amy turns towards Jake without hesitation.  His eyes search her face, immediately seeing through her concealed defeat, and he really is the only one for her.  “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.  I just …” she feels a blush rush over her cheeks again, suddenly feeling ridiculous as she thinks of how to divulge her secret plan.  The underwire from the damn bra digs into her skin again as she squirms, and if tonight has taught Amy anything, it’s why lingerie like this is only designed to stay on until your partner rips it off seconds after reveal.  

“Babe?”

“It just feels like forever since we’ve had a night at home, just the two of us.”  Jake’s brows knit, and Amy leans in to rest both hands against her husbands chest.  “And I know that work has been crazy lately, and that it’ll eventually calm down again, I just … I’d sorta planned on tonight going differently once you were home.”

“Oh god, and instead you ended up in a glittery elf costume with a creep leering at you.”  Left hand slapping against his face in shame, Jake shakes his head in obvious frustration. 

“I mean, we can mainly blame my FOMOW for that, babe.  It doesn’t matter, really.  If I hadn’t been there, you might have gotten home even later so when you think about it, it’s way better we - mmfph -” the rest of Amy’s argument stops in it’s tracks as Jake pulls her in for a kiss, the gentle but insistent press of his lips against hers casting any other thoughts far to the side. 

The familiar touch of his hands as they roam against the outline of her butt causes Amy to melt entirely in Jake’s arms, resting her arms against his steady shoulders as her fingers slide into his hair.  This - these tiny moments where the world seemed to fade away and all she could feel was Jake - was what she’d been craving for weeks.  

Jake sighs against her lips, letting her tongue slip into his mouth as he shuffles ever so closer to her, and maybe he’d been missing this just as much as she.  

“So,” Jake whispers as he pulls away from the kiss, leaning in to brush his lips against Amy’s once more.  “Time to get this night back in track.”  Another kiss.  “What kind of plans did you make for us, Santiago?”

“Lets just say … the lingerie I’ve got on under here is going to blow your mind, Peralta.”

“Going to blow your mind, title of our sex tape.”

Amy nods, biting her lower lip as she steps out of Jake’s embrace, gesturing towards their apartment.  “But it’s also really uncomfortable.  C’mon, let's get inside before it ends up in the dumpster.”

Jake’s footsteps echo behind Amy’s, hands landing on her hips as she digs for the keys.  “I’m declaring it now, Ames.  Tomorrow night we’re both leaving early and staying in for movie night at home.  Phones off, popcorn, everything for the full movie experience.  We can watch Die Hard and Love Actually and Nightmare before Christmas …”

Amy’s nose crinkles at the last movie, unlocking their front door and tugging her husband through as it swings open.  “Didn’t we watch that last one for Halloween?”

“I don’t care what you say, The Nightmare Before Christmas works for Christmas and Halloween!”

“Jake …”  

“Christmas is literally in the title, babe!”

Pulling him closer, Amy takes a leaf out of her husband’s handbook, silencing him with a definitely not PG rated kiss now that the risk of being discovered by a neighbour had slimmed to none.  

Jake’s arms wrap around her middle in response, holding Amy close as her fingers begin to trace the edge of his buttons, and she lets out a sigh of satisfaction that finally her initial plan was coming to fruition.  

Next time, though, she might add a sub-section into the binder about potential diversions, and how to avoid them (not join them) - FOMOW be damned.  This stuff was way more fun.

[kamechan98]

Candlelight Dinner for Two

When Tony got down to the communal floor he could smell that dinner was being made, but there was no chatter coming from the kitchen. Which was always a little weird, considering that Avengers Tower was almost never completely quiet, whether it be Thor and Hulk fighting over cookies, or Clint pulling pranks on anyone else on the team or being chased by the Hulk, or Tony himself blasting music at top volume in his workshop while working. Bottom line, it was almost never entirely quiet in this tower.

Tony had gone to his and Steve’s room first, to change out of his suit and into his comfortable jeans and t-shirt before heading into the kitchen to see what was on the menu for the evening. But only seconds after having exited the elevator and before he could head towards the kitchen, he was greeted by Steve, who smiled widely when he saw him and immediately welcomed him home with a soft kiss.

“Welcome home, sweetheart.” Tony felt himself melt in Steve’s arms and the stress that was still there in his body immediately fade away, and all that was left was his undying love for his boyfriend.

“Hi babe.” He pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek before they pulled away slightly, Steve’s arms wrapped loosely around Tony’s waist. “Greeting me at the door today?” He smiled teasingly and raised an eyebrow up at Steve. Steve grinned at him and kissed him on the forehead.

“I have a little surprise for you.”

Tony raised his eyebrows. “Ooh, a surprise? Aw babe, you didn’t have to.” Steve just smiled, gently let go of him, but he kept an arm around Tony’s waist, and started to lead him into the kitchen.

“I just hope you’re hungry, babe, ‘cause there’s a lot of food tonight.”

Tony smiled at him and leaned his head on Steve’s arm. “I’m starving. I didn’t have a big lunch today.” Steve shook his head disapprovingly and scowled at him.

“You never do. The fact that you even had lunch today is a once-in-a-blue-moon thing.” Tony rolled his eyes at him, but his response died in his throat as they walked into the kitchen.

He was greeted with a candlelight room and the smell of carbonara filled his nostrils, Tony’s favorite dish. The table was set, candles were light, a bottle of wine along with wine glasses were placed on the table, along with a big bowl of salad and some garlic bread. Fresh out of the oven too, if the smell was any indication.

Tony stared in awe over the set table, the food and wine, the lit candles and was at a loss for words. “Y-you… you made dinner? This is only dinner for two, what about the others?” Steve shrugged and turned Tony around so they were looking each other in the eyes.

“Well, Clint and Natasha were called in by Fury. Some top-secret mission he wanted them to get to ASAP. Thor is on a date with Jane while she’s in town and Bruce is on a seminar about radiation biology and its implications, so…” He placed his hands on Tony’s waist with a sweet smile on his face. “since it’s just the two of us, I wanted to spoil you a little.” He pressed a soft yet lingering kiss on Tony’s forehead, then his nose and then his mouth.

Tony felt himself starting to smile without realizing it and had to blink a few times so he wouldn’t start crying, ‘cause this was such a sweet gesture and such a Steve thing to do and it was so touching to have a boyfriend that went out of his way to make him happy. It wasn’t something he was used to from his previous partners, except for Pepper, obviously.

He took a breath and turned to his boyfriend with small smirk. “Well, ain’t that sweet of you, babe. I just might keep you around still, Rogers.” Steve smirked back and looked down at him.

“Oh, what a relief. Now I won’t have to cry myself to sleep at night and worry about you leaving me.” Tony smacked him on the shoulder, prompting Steve to laugh, and then grabbed his arm and led him to the table.

“So, what’ve you got for me, stud?” Steve suddenly looked a little nervous and licked his lips, looking over the table and the plates with food.

“Um, I asked Jarvis what your favorite dish was and he said carbonara, so I looked up recipes for it. But I’ve never actually made it before so…” He trailed off and bit his lip, and Tony had to hold himself back from going ‘aaw’ at his boyfriend. He couldn’t help it; Steve Rogers was basically a human version of a golden retriever puppy, eager to please and so cute, both when he was happy or sad or nervous.

Instead Tony placed a hand on his cheek and made Steve face him and smiled gently at him. “I’m sure it’s great, Steve. It just so sweet of you to make my favorite meal when you’ve never made it before just to make me happy.” He smirked teasingly at him to lighten the mood a little. “Even you are a total sap.”

Steve looked mock-outraged at him and turned his nose in the air. “Well, if you’re gonna be like that I don’t think I wanna cook for you in the future, you’ve hurt my feelings Stark.” Tony smacked him on the arm again and moved towards his chair.

“Well, if you’re so hurt I guess I’ll just have to eat all alone then.” But before he could pull out his own chair, Steve was there and pulled it out for him, making Tony stop and look at him with raised eyebrow. “Really?”

But Steve just looked so earnest and smiled. “Just humor me Tony, will ya?” Tony rolled his eyes but did let Steve pull in the chair for him as he sat down, shaking his head with a smile on his face.

“Dork.” Steve smirked, leaned down to kiss him on the cheek and then sat down in his own chair on the opposite side from Tony and gestured to the plates with food.

“Well, help yourself honey.” Tony smirked and took two big scoops of spaghetti.

“Don’t mind if I do, babe.”

The dinner was great, which Tony made sure to say several times to make sure Steve actually knew that Tony liked his cooking and wasn’t just saying it to be nice. And the bastard had even gotten dessert; so when the dinner was finally over and done, Tony was quite certain that his stomach was gonna burst. Still, when Steve got to his feet and started to clean up and do the dishes, Tony got up to help, despite how tired and full he felt. Steve insisted that he could do it himself, but Tony insisted right back that he could help. Might help him digest a little faster too.

Thankfully Steve had dealt with most of the dishes from cooking before Tony had gotten there, so most of it was placing plates and cutlery in the dishwasher, dish the stuff that didn’t fit in there and putting stuff away, so it didn’t take that long. But apparently Steve got impatient after a while, and as Tony was drying the big salad bowl he felt Steve’s strong arms wrap around his from behind, his hands on Tony’s stomach and his chin resting on Tony’s shoulder.

Tony sighed and relaxed almost instantly and he leaned back against Steve’s chest, resting his forehead against Steve’s neck. “Mm, hello there soldier.” Steve didn’t say anything, just held him and pressed a kiss to his temple. Tony chuckled a little, gently pulled a little so he could turn around to face his boyfriend, and looked up at him with a smile.

“Okay seriously, what’s with all the attention? Where did this come from?” Steve raised eyebrow, looking amused.

“And here I thought you liked attention. Was I wrong to assume that?” Tony shook his head and laughed again.

“Well of course not. You should always pamper me and cater to my every need, that’s what you’re here for.” Steve snorted and shook his head, muttering “in your dreams, Stark.” before allowing Tony to continue.

“Don’t get me wrong, tonight was great, I loved it. But you know I’d be just as happy if we ordered Chinese or pizza and just chilled on the couch watching TV. So why the sudden desire to impress? Cooking a big dinner with wine and dessert and everything, why? Is today important? Is there a date I have forgotten, because if I have, in my defense, I have told you I am terrible with remembering dates-“ Steve shook his head with a chuckle and tightened his hold on Tony.

“No, no, nothing like that. I just wanted to. I mean, does a fella need to have a reason for wanting to treat his best guy to a nice dinner every once in a while?” Tony snorted and shook his head.

“Feeling sappy today, are we Rogers? Well, I appreciate it.” He got onto his toes and pressed a kiss to Steve’s cheek. “Thank you, honey. This was perfect, just what I needed.”

Steve’s cheeks flushed a bright red and smiled brightly, if a bit sheepishly and bent down to kiss Tony’s cheek in return. “Well, I’m very glad you did. But I was hoping to give you one more thing tonight.”

Tony raised his eyebrow, amused and smirked. “My favorite dish for dinner, homemade and everything, dessert, cuddles and kisses and now more? Why Mr. Rogers, if I didn’t know better I’d say you were trying to seduce me.”

Steve smirked teasingly, but there was something hungry in his gaze, and his hands made their way from around Tony’s waist and down towards his butt, slowly and gently stroking his ass. “Why Mr. Stark, whatever gave you that idea?” But before Tony could respond, Steve had cupped his ass and hoisted him up in his arms, making Tony yelp in surprise, giving him a blinging smile. “I’m just giving my best guy the attention he deserves, that’s all.”

Tony laughed both in surprise and delight, wrapping his legs around Steve’s waist and his arms around Steve’s neck. He leans in as close as he can to Steve’s face, so close that their noses are touching, and whispers into his ear, “Well then, give away, soldier.”

[tawneybel]

1st Cartoon Crush

That hashtag was trending on Twitter and it made me sad that the first animated crush I remember having is so obscure. But it’s cool that I can actually pinpoint the moment I got into monster transformation haha. 

Other early ones were Nergal Jr. from The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy and Mark Chang from The Fairly OddParents... before he got a human disguise. I was like six. Them and Gil Moss from Kim Possible made me realize I had a type. XD

Memorial Day weekend was good. Saturday was cooler than I thought it would be and I finally was able to go on a day trip with my two besties. The week before I went to a festival and got souvlaki, which is like one of my favorite foods that I don’t get to eat a lot. Ooh, and on Memorial Day proper I got homemade key lime pie. 

Friday the 13th franchise: I finished the original series, will hold off on watching Freddy vs. Jason till I rewatch Elm Street.

Friday the 13th Part VIII: Jason Takes Manhattan: Not as good as the previous one, sadly. Why was the dance room so much cooler than either of my homecomings/proms? More of the movie should have taken place there. I like how Jason just pulled his mask up and those punks left him alone.

Jason Goes to Hell: The Final Friday: It’s been nine films. ‘Bout time they did something to stop him. Also, Jason infests other people, so I get to expand the male possession list. :D   

Jason X: Hockey is outlawed in 2024? Noooo. Anyway, Kay-Em is best robot. I thought Tsunaron said “check her c3rvix.” 

Friday the 13th 2009: Was not expecting to see Jared Padalecki. It was decent. 

The 100: I’m going to get caught up on season six later. McCreary’s cute. And nubile. He reminds me of Halfdan from Vikings, which I oughta start season five of eventually. But the most important thing is that my favorite cockroach, John Murphy, is still alive. 

Mandy feels like a drug-fueled haze, I guess, or someone else’s fever dream. I’ll admit for the first ten minutes I was waiting for it to get better. And, boy howdy, it did. That cinematography. Great dark fantasy that progresses into a revenge horror... fantasy. Now I gotta see Panos Cosmatos’s Beyond the Black Rainbow. (“To me, ya know, a story is kind of like the least interesting part of a film.”)  

Modern and 1983 standards would probably label the title character as plain, so I loved how Mandy Bloom is considered ethereally attractive in-universe. I keep thinking of the seventies as a dull era style-wise but the simple makeup and long hair, which make Mandy look a teensy bit behind the times, isn’t that bad. XD

Also, demon bikers. The Black Skulls were not supposed to be sexy. P3rverse? Yes. Sexy? No. Probably not. I liked the blad3 cr0tch thingy that one dude on the couch had. 

Mmm, I’m just going to make a bulleted list of my other thoughts.

The conversation between Marlene and Jeremiah reminded me of something out of AHS.

Jeremiah trying to seduce Mandy was the skeeviest (fictional) thing I’ve seen all year, probably. 

Seriously, I want to see him interact with Michael Langdon or Kai Anderson. 

Also, the Black Skulls and the Cenobites from Hellraiser would get along along, probably. 

The goblin commercial. 

“You ripped my shirt! You ripped my shirt!” 

Jamie Ashen did what I’d want my husband to do in that situation, and so did Red.

Red let Lucy live because she’s apparently capable of empathy.

The only part I would have cutout was the tiger. That probably sounds weird, because the whole movie is surreal, but it felt out of place.

Halloween 2018 was preferable to the remake from 2007 but I think I like the original the best. At first I was like “Nooo Dr. Loomis? D:” 

The inflating jack-o’-lantern in the opening was funny to me. 

Jamie Lee Curtis continuing her scream queen career for how many years now? Good for her. 

The podcast duo were insensitive b00bs. 

I was wondering why Cameron looked familiar and it turns out his actor played Henry on The Purge TV show. 

What kind of school has a dance on a week night? 

“Well, that was a dumb thing to pray for.”

Nice flash-o’-lantern, Michael.

Happy D3ath Day 2U: Look at Tumblr. Making me censor words like a wiener. You know, I bet I can’t even search “wiener”- Wait, no, I can. Carry on.

You get an explanation for the time loop. Definitely watch the first film, though.

I’m surprised only Ryan got a “clone.”

Dr. Butler was hot when he took the mask off. 

I didn’t like the post-credit scene. They should have kept the deleted scene where Tree got the idea for the magnet thingy. 

I had trouble taking my eyes off the screen. It was good. 

I’m kind of sad the nicer version of Lori couldn’t come with them.

Songs of the Day: “Play with Me” by Thompson Twins and “The Devil Does Drugs” by My Life with the Thrill Kill Kult. I’ve just been thinking about Cool World lately, for some reason. We need like, a male equivalent of Holli Would or Jessica Rabbit. Frank Harris’s toon form is sadly nowhere near as luscious as Brad Pitt. 

[thatishogwash]

Hi!!! If you're still taking prompts and ships, a bokuaka target+spy AU where to get some info from his target, the spy has to flirt/seduce him? Please? Thank you!!!

It’s not exactly Target/Spy so I’m sorry about that but I hope you still like it!

AO3

Konoha was smiling when Akaashi walked into the office.  That, in of itself, was not unusual.  Konoha spent the majority of the time smiling, even when his face was at rest he had a bit of a smile.  But Akaashi had been working with Konoha for years now and knew the man had exactly 39 different kinds of smile.  The one on his face was number 11 and Akaashi’s least favorite smile since it always spelt trouble for him.

It was too early to deal with Konoha and his eleventh smile so he made his way over to the coffee machine and began to make himself a cup.  He could feel Konoha’s amused gaze on his back and he gave a soft sigh that was covered up by the sound the machine was making.

“Good morning Akaashi.”  Suzumeda said, coming out of another part of the office to bring over creamer and sugar right when Akaashi had begun to look for it.

“Morning Suzumeda.”  Akaashi said amiably.  He was still suspicious of Konoha but he would never take that out on Suzumeda, though the more time she spent with them all the more mischievous she became.

“Did you tell him yet?”  Komi asked, most likely coming to sit up on Akaashi’s desk like he didn’t have a perfectly good chair to sit on.

“Not yet, he’s acting as if he pretends I don’t exist that makes the problem goes away.”  Akaashi wondered if he dropkicked Konoha that would make his problem go away.  Probably not, Konoha was quick on his feet when he wasn’t being a lazy asshole.  Suzumeda gave Akaashi an apologetic look but went over to stand with the other two traitors.

Akaashi curled his hands around the warm mug, his fingers were frigid despite the fact that he always wore gloves this time of the year.  He took a deep breath and turned on the other workers, technically his employee’s but that word always sounded wrong.  As his employee’s it felt as if he should have some kind of control over them, but he had lost that years ago.  He could lie to himself and say that he’d fire them if they weren’t so good at their jobs, but he and they knew better.

“What did you do now?”  Akaashi asked, watching Konoha’s grin widen as he turned his monitor towards Akaashi.

“Just got us a new job and this one is a request from an old friend on the police force.”  Akaashi felt surprised at that as he walked over to Konoha’s desk, catching his chair with his foot to pull it over so he could sit and look at whatever Konoha pulled up.

Akaashi ran a private investigation firm.  Despite how most people saw the life of a PI, it was much less glamorous than what they showed on tv or in movies.  It involved a lot of paperwork and research, and hours of sitting in frigid cars waiting for the perfect shot.  It also had to do with cheating spouses and things like leaked e-mails in companies, nothing that the police ever had to deal with.

Onaga had worked for Akaashi years before when he was still in high school.  He was bright and took orders well.  It came to no surprise to any of them when he quit to join the police force.  He rose up the ranks and worked with the blue color task force.  Onaga had lunch with all of them every Thursday unless they were busy.  He had never asked for help on a case before.

“Have you ever heard of the Fukurodani Group?”  Konoha asked, pulling up a picture of five young and fairly good looking men.  Akaashi searched his brain for the name since it did sound familiar.

“They are a tech company?”  Akaashi took a sip of his coffee to give himself another moment to remember what he knew about them.  “They made their first million before they graduated high school, where the five of them attended together.”

“They are certified geniuses.”  Konoha motioned to the picture.  “The company is worth billions now and that’s not including each individual net worth.  It’s been a decade and they’ve still managed to stay on top of an ever changing world of technology.  People fight over a chance to intern there, let alone work there.”

“Not to mention that they are young and beautiful.”  Komi piped up helpfully.  Konoha pointed to Komi and nodded his agreement.

“For Onaga to be involved it must mean they are suspected of doing something illegal?”  Akaashi asked.

“Incredibly so.”  Konoha sighed.  “Onaga was investigating, he found a way in through one of their close employees but he was found out.  Onaga suspects that they know the whole police department now so none of them can possibly try and get in to get information.”

“He thinks we can help?”  Akaashi asked dubiously, looking at the picture of the finely dressed men who earned more in a day than he would earn in his lifetime.

“Well, one of us in particular.”  Konoha switched to another picture.  “This is Bokuto Koutarou and next to him is his ex boyfriend, do you see what Onaga saw?”  Konoha’s grin was positively devious because it was clear why Onaga had come to them because Bokuto Koutarou, who was apart of the Fukurodani Group, his ex boyfriend had a striking resemblance to Akaashi.  There were key differences, Akaashi couldn’t help but notice.  Bokuto’s ex was clearly a model, his hair artfully dishelved instead of the windblown mess Akaashi couldn’t do a thing about on top of his own head.  His skin was flawless, his eyes sharp while Akaashi couldn’t seem to get rid of the dark circles under his eyes no matter how much he slept.

“He’s a better looking version of me?”  Akaashi asked flatly.  “I don’t see how that helps if they’ve broken up.  Why would Bokuto want a step down or someone who reminded him of his ex at all?”

“Because he’s heartbroken.”  Komi answered.

“And you’re beautiful.”  Suzumeda spoke up, making Akaashi’s lips tip up in a smile despite himself.

“How am I even supposed to get close to him?”  Akaashi asked doubtfully.

“Funny you should ask that.”  Konoha was really going to be the death of him, Akaashi knew that now.

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

Akaashi should have gone into a maths major like his parents had suggested.  If he was an accountant he wouldn’t be expected to dress up as someone's ex boyfriend and be at a party that was well above his wealth and comfort zone to schmooze a man who was probably an asshole.  Akaashi couldn’t imagine Bokuto any other way, nor the other four from the Fukurodani Group, especially if they were participating in illegal activities.

Akaashi had done research on all five members, plus the business they had all built together.  Onaga had sent over what he had managed to pull together before he had been caught.  The five members were Bokuto Koutarou, Kuroo Tetsurou, Ogano Daiki, Gora Masaki, and Sawamura Daichi.  They had all attended the same high school, though Bokuto, Kuroo, and Sawamura had been friends for longer than that.  They had worked on a program that had made them millionaires before they had even graduated high school.

Things progressed quickly from there.  They amassed enough wealth to start their own tech company, and as Konoha had stated after ten years it was doing quite well.  The five were on practically every list from wealth to looks, if there was a list about the rich and beautiful then they found themselves on it.

Though Gora and Ogano had their own apartments, Kuroo, Bokuto, and Sawamura all lived together in a beautiful mansion that was now hosting a party to celebrate the decade of their success.  Konoha, jack of all trades that he was, managed to get a coveted invite.  Akaashi hadn’t asked how he had procured that, sometimes ignorance was bliss.

“-flirting with you.”  Akaashi glanced to the people who had stopped near where he was standing.  He barely managed to contain his surprise when he instantly recognized them as Kuroo and Sawamura, two members of the Fukurodani Group.  Akaashi hadn’t thought of a plan to get close to Bokuto, who always seemed to be surrounded by a swarm of people as he basked in the attention.

“Jealous?”  Sawamura asked, eyebrow raised and voice a bare whisper as he gave his taller companion a cheeky grin that slowly shifted into concern.  “Tetsu, you’re not really jealous-”

“Hey, hey- oh holy shit I’m so sorry!”  The one person Akaashi had been trying to track down had ended up crashing right into him, sending his flute of champagne splashing onto his expensive rental tux.  Akaashi cringed at the deposit he wasn’t getting back.

“It’s alright, I should have watched where I was going.”  Akaashi said but Bokuto was already scrambling to grab napkins before running back and patting Akaashi’s chest.  “Um- it spilled on my sleeve?”  Bokuto paused and Akaashi saw his entire face turn red.

“Uh no, he’s shutting down.”  Kuroo said from behind Akaashi, sounding far too amused.

“It’s alright, really.”  Akaashi assured Bokuto, slipping the napkins out of his hand and handing over the flute before trying to soak up the spilled champagne.  “I moved at the wrong moment, I was trying to subtly give your friends some privacy.”  Akaashi shot Kuroo a pleased look when he watched the other man flounder slightly.

“Nice!”  Bokuto laughed, face returning to his normal golden tan though a faint pinkish blush settled on his cheeks rather nicely.  “Honestly I’m surprised they haven’t snuck off yet.”

“Bo!”  Both men scolded Bokuto.  “He could be a reporter.”  Kuroo gave Akaashi a suspicious look.  There was nothing about Kuroo and Sawamura dating each other, if they were they were keeping it tightly locked up because Akaashi even knew that Sawamura had three rescued dogs and each of their names and birthdates, he knew far too much about each man.

“Just an unfortunate plus one for a friend.”  Akaashi shrugged.  “I was actually trying to find some place to step out to, I wasn’t feeling too well.”  It wasn’t hard to fake sheepishness at that admittance.

“You do look pale.”  Bokuto pressed his face close to Akaashi’s, who tried not to be too insulted by that.  He was pale after all.  “Oh!  Come on, I know the perfect place you can sit down.”  Kuroo tried to say something but Bokuto already had his hand around Akaashi’s wrist and was pulling him through the party at an almost alarming speed.

Bokuto Koutarou was not at all what Akaashi had expected.  He had read all about the high school athlete turned tech genius who had barely managed to graduate high school.  Akaashi would be lying if he hadn’t seen the numerous pictures of Bokuto running shirtless, he seemed to do that a lot and people loved taking pictures of it, or him at a beach surfing, sometimes he was spotted running with one of Sawamura’s dogs.  He was handsome, built thick and strong with some of the nicest muscle definition Akaashi had ever seen.  He had expected someone to fit that image, full of himself and his capabilities.  But Bokuto actually seemed concerned about Akaashi, a man he had known for precisely three minutes.  He seemed excitable like a puppy and the suit fit him extremely well.

“Bokuto you don’t have to do this.”  Akaashi said before he was pulled out of the main hall where the party was being held.  Several large security guards turned their way before quickly looking away.

“It’s fine, sometimes I need a break too and they all just keep asking me about-” Bokuto sucked in a deep breath and those big shoulders caved inward, as if trying to protect himself from invasive questions about his ex.

“About?”  Akaashi pried as he was pulled into a room.  “Your colorful hair?  Or where on earth did you get a tie with dinosaurs fighting robots?”  Akaashi teased him, finding it almost natural to do so.  Bokuto laughed, a loud and booming thing as he motioned to a couch in a room with computers.  Akaashi sat down with not-so feigned relief.  He had to borrow a pair of dress shoes from Konoha, who was a full size smaller than Akaashi.

“It’s neat right?  My niece bought it for me as a present for tonight.”  Bokuto leaned against one of the desks that contained a computer on it.  Akaashi glanced around the room and Bokuto did the same.  “This is our office!  I mean, it’s mine, Tetsurou’s and Daichi’s though Daiki and Masaki come over a lot.  Masaki not as often since he started dating that super model, she’s even taller than me! She’s awesome, Tetsurou bet her she couldn’t pick Daichi up and she did it.”  Bokuto laughed at the memory and Akaashi found himself smiling automatically even as his mind ran with possibilities.

Akaashi had expected to be led to a room full of personal computers.  He had a thumb drive in his pocket that could copy information from them but he obviously couldn’t do it with Bokuto standing there.

Akaashi wasn’t a very good actor.  Komi told him he needed to emote better but it never really worked.  Luckily all Akaashi had to do was rub his eyes a little and slump his body just the smidgen before Bokuto was leaning forward with worry once more.

“I’m sorry Bokuto, I guess I’m more light headed than I thought.”  Akaashi apologized.  “It’s my own fault for not eating today.”

“You need food then!”  Bokuto jumped up.  “Just rest here and I’ll get someone to make you something, stay right here!”  Bokuto ran out of the room and Akaashi was left staring in surprise.

How sweet and unsuspecting Bokuto was.  It made Akaashi feel guilty but he pushed that aside as he strode to one of the desktops, glancing at everything and taking a guess it was Kuroo’s.  Onaga had said their biggest suspect in the whole thing was Kuroo, who did strike Akaashi as the cunning type.  Perhaps he had gotten greedy and wanted more, even though they all had more money than they knew what to do with.

Akaashi started up the computer and put the thumb drive in.  His eye caught on the pictures next to the computer.  One of a tall and lanky woman who looked a surprising amount like Kuroo himself.  There was an old school photo of the five members sitting on what looked like stairs to the school, laughing and eating out of each others lunches.  A third was of Sawamura, fast asleep on a couch with three large dogs sprawled out around and on top of him.

Akaashi had seen some of the worst society had to offer.  He was constantly seeing cheating spouses and siblings who stole from one another.  He was used to thinking the worst of people, it had come naturally over the years as he was proven again and again that if something was put in front of a person and they thought they wouldn’t get caught, they would take the chance.  It had made him jaded at a young age, he admitted that, but he couldn’t quite explain the members of the Fukurodani Group.

By all accounts anyone who worked there had nothing to say but good things about the company itself and the men who ran it.  Everyone came away with glowing recommendations and the company had even helped out an employee who had lost her house to a fire.  The five men seemed as close as could be, constantly being photographed together either working or vacationing.  They gave money to charities, they worked for nonprofits, and despite the fact that they lived in nice places and drove good cars they really didn’t show how wealthy they were.  Even the mansion the three members lived in was modest when considered how much they made.

For once Akaashi hoped that information was wrong about them, that they weren’t involved in anything illegal.

The door knob started turning and Akaashi reached over to turn off the screen but didn’t have time to sit back down as the door swung open and Bokuto entered with his usual energy he seemed to approach everything with.  Akaashi turned, using his body to block the thumb drive that was still stuck in the computer.

“I’m sorry, I got curious and was looking at the photos.”  Akaashi apologized as he motioned to the photos.  Bokuto closed the door with his foot, his hands occupied with a plate and holding a tall glass of water.  He squinted at the photos before placing the plate and cup onto the desk.

“Tetsurou’s kind of a sap.”  Bokuto grinned toothily and Akaashi let out a relieved laugh as he glanced at the pictures once more.  He knew from his advanced research on all of them that Kuroo’s mother had died when he was 20 and he had disappeared from the public eye for nearly an entire year.  “Don’t let anyone know, he has a reputation to uphold after all.”  Akaashi laughed once more at that.  Kuroo did indeed have a reputation.

“Thank you for taking care of me.”  Akaashi had to distract Bokuto so he could extract the thumbdrive and hope there was enough information on it to help clear or confirm Onaga’s suspicions.

“You’re welcome.”  Bokuto grinned.  He really was handsome.  The ex had been quoted saying Bokuto had a lot of problems that the ex really couldn’t deal with, his ups and downs were too frequent and he was too much all the time.  Akaashi thought the ex might be the worlds biggest moron.

Akaashi leaned forward and brushed his lips against Bokuto’s, at the same time he slipped the thumbdrive out of the slot and pressed it into his palm.

“O-oh.”  Bokuto backed up, eyes wide and cheeks flushed.  Akaashi pressed a hand against his mouth, only half feigning his horror at his impulsive action as he pocketed the thumbdrive at the same time.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have done that, please forgive me.”  Akaashi bowed before making a quick retreat.

“Wait!”  Bokuto shouted as Akaashi opened the door, nearly slamming right into Kuroo.  He bowed in apology once more before dodging around Kuroo and walking swiftly down the hall.

Akaashi shook the idea that anything would happen between him and Bokuto.  He had even given a false name to get into the party, he had lied and snuck in to gather information.  Bokuto could even be helping in the illegal activities.

There was no hope for them.

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

Konoha was wearing his number eleven grin when Akaashi walked into the office two days later.  He chucked his empty travel coffee cup at Konoha, who dodged easily and that grin only widened.

Akaashi had passed off the thumbdrive to Ogana and had not spent the night looking up the various pictures and information floating around the internet about Bokuto Koutarou.  He knew it was a bit stalkerish but he couldn’t help himself, every time he closed his eyes he saw the wide smile and trusting look, as if no one would ever hurt him willingly.

Akaashi didn’t even have to ask Konoha what his grin meant this time because there was the biggest bouquet Akaashi had ever seen on his desk.  Actually it seemed to consume his entire desk, with the healthiest and prettiest of flowers artfully arranged.  Akaashi approached it cautiously before glancing around.

“Looking for this?”  Konoha asked, holding up the card because of course he had read it before Akaashi.  Akaashi cursed Konoha’s ability of being a morning person as he snatched the card out of his hold and opened it up.

Akaashi!  You didn’t have to sneak in, you could have just asked.  Call me if you want the virus removed. XXXOOO

Akaashi blinked down at the card in confusion before looking at the flowers.  He had no idea how Bokuto even knew his real name, let alone his place of business.  He pulled out his phone and dialed Ogana’s number.

“I’m sorry Akaashi, I can’t speak right now.  That thumbdrive you gave us contained a virus and um- there’s- there’s no nice way of putting it, it’s porn.  So much porn and it spread to all the servers.”  Akaashi let out a long sigh as he looked at the number printed on the card.

“I think I know someone who can get rid of it.”

[aion-rsa]

The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 14 Review: Yokel Hero

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This The Simpsons review contains spoilers.

The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 14

The Simpsons season 32, episode 14, “Yokel Hero,” is an alternate take on the “small-town talent goes nowhere” trope. Cletus Delroy Montfort Bigglesworth Spuckler, voiced by Hank Azaria, picks and grins his way to the edge of country music stardom, prodded by true believer, Homer Simpson. Yes, this isn’t the first time Homer’s discovered a country singer, which is addressed in the episode. But he was drunk then, and had to drive miles off the beaten path. In “Yokel Hero,” he is also drunk, but this time he is walking.

The episode opens auspiciously. The gang is assembled at Moe’s Bar celebrating Carl’s birthday, which leads to an inspired melodic addition of “and Lenny more” to the greetings. It’s a special day, like Canadian Thanksgiving or Jewish Arbor Day, and Moe does things right. He even oils the barstools. Marge doesn’t appreciate it when she calls asking for Homer, which sets up the groundwork for the subplot. What price is freedom? Homer has someone at home angry that he might crash his car and die before dinner. But single guys, like Carl, Lenny and especially Moe, can drive off a cliff free as a bird. In a way, this is a foreshadowing to Cletus’s impending dilemma, which makes it something to sing about.

The episode is filled with songs, as this season has been generous with. It opens with Homer’s homage to “Singing in the Rain.” He dances like a tipsy Gene Kelly, while singing lines like “peeing in the drain … what a glorious feeling I’m blotto again,” and even finds a rhyme to bond him in friendship with Kirk Van Houten. The scene is ample evidence never to try and dance your way out of a public intoxication stop.

Homer first realizes the depth of Cletus’ music while in the drunk tank. The off-the-grid Hillbilly from Rural Route 9 is locked up for moonshining, and has deep blues. Of course, every small-town jail has a guitar, so Cletus gets not only a chance to countrify his emotional turmoil, but turn down a chance to electrify it. His simple melodies and lyrics which both rhyme and apple blossoms with tasty possums resonate with Homer, who vows to turn his life around, or at least take a detour.

This all happens very quickly, even the opening theme and couch gag are skipped, and the episode begins closing credits before the opening ones. We get a lot of information about Cletus’ family. Some it is contradictory to what we’ve thought we knew. He says still loves the gal he got pregnant when “they was 16.” In “Yokel Hero,” Cletus says Brandine Spuckler is his cousin, but in earlier episodes he’s said “of all the cousins I could’ve married, you was my sister.”

You might think Cletus is from a family of Goobers, but that’s his wife’s side. Cletus comes from a long line of no-accounts. He may not be able to resist a good pyramid scheme, but he knows BTS’s Jungkook. Cletus is the character who points out there are still two more acts to follow, and specially whittled credits to boot. Cletus is much more astute than the surface shows. There is a deep knowledge underneath his wisdom that has nothing to do with information.

He is, of course, a graduate of the Mississippi Institute of Trailer Trash. He also got a cultural education while squatting inside a closed Blockbuster, where he conceived his kids Be Kind and Rewind. Cletus knows the Andy Griffith-starring vehicle A Face in the Crowd is far closer than Homer’s insistence he is living A Star is Born, whichever version. Cletus is, however, of the opinion the 1932 film, What Price Hollywood?, which all four A Star Is Borns were based on, is the better movie.

The country singer in A Face in the Crowd was also found in a drunk tank, and had an inordinate amount of clout when it came to what his fans would do for him. The scene where Wiggum’s car is overturned by Cletus fans mirrors a scene where Griffith’s character tells a whole bunch of people who are listening to him on the radio to go down for a swim at a wealthy local household.

It is amusing how, in his management notebook, one of Homer’s first revelations is “people like good songs.” For an audience which has jars for both tips and teeth, songs about kids and a bellyful of ribs are as golden as Cletus’s first true love. This guy is the real Yokel Ono. Of course, his songs reach the audience. They are simple, painful and forged on generations of moonshine swilling. Cletus is immediately the cover boy on “Washboard,” “Backwoods” and “Entremanure” magazines. The show makes commentary on the country music industry only obliquely. Cletus now considers his family to be the Taylor Swifts, Carrie Underwood, all of them Mumfords.  

Cletus is right about being afraid of success. He’s heard the celebrity stories. Even though Lurleen Lumpkin (Beverly D’Angelo), the country singer Homer managed before nationwide fame, sold 12 gold records, she spent the end of her career headlining a series of famous rehab centers. The Simpsons has never been above a little name dropping, but they really score big on Mr. Ed. Repurposing Saturday Night Live’s “the horse is a corpse” wordplay, we learn the beloved TV legend was a heroin addict. “This horse was on horse? Of course, of course” is a classically twisted line.

Even though Cletus notices, in person, “Elin” looks nothing like she did in the Nemo movie, we learn the actor/standup/talk show host is exactly as she seems. When she’s not dancing alone in her dressing room, she’s making the audience dance in punishment for not applauding loud enough. God forbid you look her billboard in the eye. 

The story rises and falls so quickly, it might appear rushed, but it does play out fully, and was probably arranged this way so Albert Brooks could take over the final act. There really is no one who talks like A. Brooks. When he says he loves you, you feel loved. When he tells you you’re going to be bigger than Campbell’s Soup, you can believe Tomato Soup is an unreachable pinnacle. His spiel about how there are so many Netflix specials they should call them “Netflix normals,” and riffing on the Obamas is standup sitting down. He pitches a dinosaur animated musical to his basketball client because he could jump out of a tree and sing a song like a small dinosaur. Part of this tells us what a bullet Cletus dodged, but most of it was just to let a veteran guest mouth off. The Simpsons love Brooks, and usually reserve this kind of off-course riffery for Dan Castellaneta.  This is the reason there is no couch gag or opening, this may have been tagged on but it had to be.

Moe continues his sad sack journeys. He makes two sets of keys for Homer’s car, which he is holding until Homer isn’t drunk. The unspoken punch line to this is that it could be years before Homer is sober. Two more seasons have been added to The Simpsons, and that’s enough to drive anyone to drink. Moe turns that around by taking Homer’s car to be washed because it makes him “feel like a man who owns a car.” A very sad comment on an already sad life.

Both Cletus and Homer grow in this episode. Brandine shows Cletus how he was seduced by “promises of short underwear and professional haircuts.” Homer learns not to pause too long when Marge asks if he wants to disregard his wishes. Even Chief Wiggum learns you just might have the next national superstar locked up in a holding cell. As long as the evidence room is filled with cellos and hacksaws, he is a captive audience.  

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The Simpsons delivers an extremely nuanced take on several well-worn themes. We know “Yokel Hero” will come to a predetermined end, because Cletus is a series regular and forever stuck in his local role. He will never see his dream of an all-American family moonshine distillery with not a single American employed come to fruition. But the concluding factors are unique. Homer makes a great point when he says he wasn’t playing god. This is an original character. Even though it is a role he played before, he learned nothing from it. This makes the episode fresh. Homer continues to hold on to the emotional purity which bonded him with the message and messenger of the music. Cletus’ final advice, “What happens in jail stays in jail, unless you’re breaking out of jail,” is classic down-home, common sense comedy.

The post The Simpsons Season 32 Episode 14 Review: Yokel Hero appeared first on Den of Geek.

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[cherrystreet]

"should we just search romantic comedies on netflix and see what we find?" so, i totally come to you with every fic idea that pops into my head. but like, i reeeally need little snippets of the times harry and louis decide to put on netflix. like, after takeout arrives or for movie night with the lads or to pick a new show to watch because they just finished the office (us version this time). or even when they're bickering and get passive aggressive over what to watch for said movie night

This is a little different than what you wanted but that’s only because I don’t know how to write domestic pieces so I hope this is okay and ily xx

It didn’t start as a routine.

The first time it happened, it was a Tuesday night filled with too much homework, the October weather already too cold for Harry’s liking. The blinking cursor on a blank Word document seemed to be mocking him, laughing at his inability to form a cohesive thought after working nonstop for the past four hours. Eventually, he abandoned his endless string of papers, walking aimlessly around his apartment for the better part of an hour in an attempt to find something better than writing 5,000 words on Game Theory. Nothing jumped out at him, so he continued to shuffle around, sighing obnoxiously, until his roommate Sam hollered from the other room, “If you don’t cut it with those pathetic noises, I’m going to punch you in the throat.”

Harry frowned. “I’m not even being loud,” he yelled back.

“Shut up and do your homework.”

“But my brain is fried–”

“Harry, enough.”

“Ugh.” He kicked off his shoes and slumped down onto the couch, staring at the clock as the minute hand steadily ticked forward. Somehow, watching time was more appealing than reopening up his laptop and forcing himself to write another word.

Sam was right. Absolutely pathetic.

“What should I do?” he asked after a few minutes, eyes nearly glazed over.

“The fuck should I know,” Sam replied, finally appearing around the corner. “Go down to the Hub.”

“It’s too cold out for that. And it’s raining.”

“Order some food.”

“I don’t have any money on me.”

“Watch a movie.”

“Nothing good is on.”

“How would you even know?! The TV is off!”

Harry shrugged. “Gimme your Netflix password. Maybe new stuff has been added.”

“Will you finally stop talking?”

“Maybe.”

Sam reached for the remote to the TV. “Thank God.”

 It took about 17 minutes of “Chopped” for Harry to send out a text to everyone he could think of, a simple Come over. Everyone’s here. He didn’t want to sit alone, just wanted to unwind with the company of some friends. Sam was clearly no help, just kept yelling from his bedroom to keep the volume down, that “some people actually take their classes seriously, Harry.” And saying that everyone was already gathered together wasn’t technically a lie. Sam was there. And his fish. And the cast of “The Office,” currently streaming from the main TV in the living room.

Whatever. Semantics. People would be there shortly. People to talk to him and not tell him to shut up.

Twenty minutes later, Louis was standing in front of Harry, sweatpants too big and glasses smudged.

“Shut up,” he said, tugging on his hoodie strings. “What is this?!”

So much for that, Harry thought. “What?”

“You said people were here. It’s just you.”

“Is that so bad?”

“If I wanted to spend the night doing nothing and listening to someone drone on and on about nothing, I’d put on a Bob Ross special.”

Harry furrowed his brow. “Bob Ross is extremely talented…”

“Bob Ross is dead. And boring. And he never would have tricked me into coming here on a shitty Tuesday night under false pretenses.”

“I thought other people would show up!” He squished deeper into the couch cushions. “You gonna leave?”

Louis groaned and kicked Harry’s shoes out of the way as he climbed onto the couch beside him. “No. I came all the way here.”

“It’s, like, a nine minute walk…”

“Yeah, nine minutes in the wind and rain. You better have food as compensation. And why the fuck are you watching the British version of ‘The Office’? Why do you hate yourself? Give me the remote.”

Harry shook his head, standing up to grab snacks, wondering how constant abuse was the better alternative to staring idly at the wall.

The following Tuesday, Harry turned in his biochemistry assignment early, cracking his knuckles as soon as he his submit. It felt good to get rid of a week’s worth of studying, to not have to look at it anymore, and he slipped out of his jeans and into his most worn pair of pajama pants, the hole in the knee stretching with every wash. It didn’t take long for the couch to mold perfectly to his body, the apartment warm and quiet, Sam out for the evening. It was relaxing. It was welcoming. It was. Not what Harry wanted.

“Hey, I’ll order pizza,” he said through the phone’s receiver. “Dominos, if you want it.”

“I always want it,” Louis replied. “Cheap shot.”

“Pepperoni?”

“Ugh, Harry, can’t Steve Carell wait? We know what happens.”

“But it’s my favorite episode and I wanna watch you watch it.”

“I’ve seen it before.”

“I’ve never seen you watch it, though. Lou, they have a fucking benefit for rabies. Rabies. I need to see your face when Michael donates a giant check to a disease that’s already been cured.”

“Oh my God,” Louis snorted, but Harry could tell he was wearing him down. “Alright, whatever, fine, but make sure it’s extra cheese with the pepperoni.”

 Seven days later, Harry did much less arm twisting, just casually mentioning they were up to the start of season five. Louis texted back, Don’t start without me. I’ll know if you’re lying.

Harry sucked in his cheeks, smile worming its way out, anyway. Wouldn’t dream of it.

The last Tuesday of the month, Louis was knocking on Harry’s door without bothering to ask if he was busy. Harry let him in graciously, snacks already on the coffee table and blankets on the arm of the couch.

And just like that, Tuesday became Harry’s favorite day of the week.

It’s been five months since Harry and Louis created their non-date date night, and they’ve gone through nearly everything on the Netflix list that moderately sparks their interest. Comedies, dramas, documentaries, musicals… They’ve watched them all, not too picky, hunkering down together to enjoy a casual night of TV. And neither one of them got bored of it, never asking to cut the night short or go out to do something else. Harry loves having the time to unwind, loves the fact that he has something so comfortable to count on, loves Louis’ company more than just about anything.

And that’s why he snaps when Louis doesn’t show up on Tuesday night in late March, the Netflix home screen nearly burned onto Harry’s retinas, waiting for Louis to walk through the door and pick the movie. He taps his fingers along his thighs, annoyed, wondering where the hell he could be. Nine o’clock comes and goes, as does ten o’clock, and by 11:30, “The Holiday” playing quietly in the background, Harry is less angry and more concerned that something horrible has happened. Louis doesn’t answer his phone the second time Harry calls him, or the third, but he does by the ninth, beyond irritated when he picks up.

“Harry, what the fuck,” he says, his voice tight. There’s a lot of background noise but Harry can’t figure out where he might be. “You had better be fucking dying.”

Harry skims his finger along the frayed edge of the blanket, suddenly embarrassed. “No, but, like, where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m at Ian’s. Is that why you called 100 times? Are you for real?”

“Why aren’t you here?” he says stupidly, his face hot. Who’s Ian? He hates him, regardless. “‘m watching Cameron Diaz try to seduce that hot British guy…”

“Jude Law?!”

“Yeah, him, and, like–”

“Harry, you called me nine times to talk to me about Jude Law.” It’s not a question.

“No,” he starts, “I didn’t. I called you nine times to ask why you stood me up.”

“Did we have plans?”

Harry looks down at his lap. “I mean, not verbal ones, but you always come here on Tuesdays and you’re not here now and–”

“Ian wanted to get a drink before he headed to Spain for the rest of the semester,” Louis says, cutting him off. “I didn’t think I needed to cancel a stupid friend hangout to do that. You’re kind of acting like a crazy boyfriend.”

“It’s not stupid and that’s not…” He starts to argue, but stops himself short, his heart racing in his chest. He knows he’s being irrationally angry and insane and, well, idiotically jealous, and now that Louis’ had to go ahead and say the B word, it’s ricocheting through his brain like live wire, sparking and hot. The thing is, they’re not boyfriends, because that’s not a line they’ve ever crossed, but just about everything they do - Tuesdays and otherwise - might argue that fact. They meet each other after class for coffee, they call each other on Sunday mornings, they spend school breaks at each other’s homes. Harry carries Louis’ backpack, Louis buys Harry dinner, they steal one another’s clothing… They share a fucking blanket on Harry’s Goddamn couch every single week, their knees brushing together, sending shocks up Harry’s spine, Harry unable to stop himself from stealing a series of unsubtle glances at Louis’ profile, his cheekbones, his lips. Fuck. His temple throbs and he does his best to swallow around the lump in his throat. Boyfriend. “Okay, yeah, you’re right, I’m sorry,” he chokes out.

Louis breathes through the phone for a beat too long. “I’m safe. I wasn’t kidnapped. I just… We’ll hang out later, alright?”

He doesn’t sound angry anymore, but Harry feels too antsy to keep talking. “Yeah, later. Bon voyage to Ian. I’ll see you this weekend or something.”

“Okay,” he replies. “Or something.”

Harry hangs up the phone with a thousand words on the tip of his tongue, but he swallows every single one of them and wills himself to stop thinking about the fact that he’s gone and lost his mind over his best friend spending the night out with a guy who isn’t him. He should be here on this couch, thigh pressed up against Harry’s, and this is not the way it was supposed to go. None of it was.

He must doze off at some point, because the next thing he knows, there’s a bang on the door, followed by a tinny voice mumbling, “Please let me in. I’m tired and cold.”

Harry flicks on the hallway light and pulls open the door as quickly as his body will allow himself to, finding himself face to face with a pink-cheeked Louis. “Lou, it’s…” He looks over at the clock. “Two in the morning.”

Louis shrugs, worming his way inside. “Yeah, well. I’m two hours late for our date. Sorry about that. You still watching ‘The Holiday’?”

He bites back his smile, body feeling like it’s deflating. “Finished it earlier. Should we just search romantic comedies on Netflix and see what we find?”

“That… Sounds like the worst idea I’ve ever heard.”

Harry snorts, closing the door behind him and follows Louis into the living room. Louis’ already making himself comfortable on the couch, yawning. “Then what do you suggest?”

“We haven’t checked out the horror genre in a while.”

“Yeah, for a reason.” He sits beside Louis, lets Louis drape his legs across his lap. Like a magnet, his hand immediately goes to grip Louis’ ankle. “I get nightmares.”

Louis looks up at him from under his lashes, blinking slower than usual, and it makes Harry’s stomach twist. Maybe he’s tired. Maybe it’s something else. “Big baby.”

“Yeah,” he says, smirking, thumb drawing circles across Louis’ skin. “That’s me.”

Neither of them say anything else, nor do they move, and Harry’s trying to find something to say that isn’t something clicked for me tonight, but Louis speaks first, licking his lips.

“Sorry I stood you up,” he says softly, grabbing for the remote and selecting the first title on the menu, not looking at Harry. “I was a dick about it.”

Harry shrugs, inching his way closer, watching the way the screen’s colors dances across Louis’ face. “It’s alright. Just missed you.”

He can actually hear Louis swallow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

Louis nods, biting at his bottom lip. He’s nervous. Harry exhales once he notices. “Can I stay over tonight?”

Harry isn’t sure what the implications are behind his question, or why Louis’ bothering to ask when he’s never asked before - usually just passes out on the couch or on Harry’s bed, curling up into a ball on the edge of the mattress - but it’s clear something has changed, based on the way Louis is looking up at him. He’s never looked at Harry like that before.

“Yeah,” Harry murmurs, “Lou, whatever you want.”

He doesn’t remember closing his eyes, doesn’t remember leaning in, but then there’s just breath between them, and then not even that, just skin on skin, warm and sweet and entirely too perfect. And Harry has no idea what’s playing on the screen in front of them, but it’s decidedly his new favorite film.

[emilyplaysotome]

Part 37 - The Bachelorette

Down the Voltage Rabbit Hole is an ongoing story about our MC, who could easily be anyone in voltage fandom. She woke up in hospital bed only to discover that she’d somehow been transported Voltage universe.

This story is ongoing, so if you missed a part, or are new to the story, please use the link to the masterpost below to catch yourself up:

https://tinyurl.com/k4rrxna

Part 37 - The Bachelorette

I am not, nor have I ever been a religious person.

It’s fair to say that I am one of those people who would classify myself as “spiritual” in the sense that I like the idea of reincarnation better than heaven and hell, which has always felt so binary to me. 

I believe in the fact that we, as human beings, are limited in our understanding of the world around us. I have always considered myself to be agnostic, and I believe if God, or some higher power does in fact exist, he/she probably isn’t as petty as the God I learned about as a child in the bible stories that come to mind.

With that said, this particular God who ruled all over the heavens as king, appeared to be as petty as the God from the old testament.

“My poor little Zyglavis,” he said with an amused smile that I didn’t trust for a second, “Oh well! I suppose the events to come will provide me with great entertainment...and that’s really all I can ask of someone as insignificant as yourself.”

It was clear that this God was an omnipotent, all powerful shit-stirrer, and being aware of that fact I thought it unwise to rock the boat any more than I already had. I simply bowed my head in response, as I tried to formulate the best way to provoke him into giving me answers to all the questions that I was currently kicking around in my head.

When I found myself unable to find the right words, I found myself muttering an, “Um,” which turned out to be just as successful in inciting the king to engage with me further.

“Yes? Speak up human.”

“Your highness...you said I had a week. What do you mean by that?”

“The tome Huedhaut found - the door. I’ll be sure to give you a personal send off then.”

“But why in a week, why not just send me back now?”

“Because where would the fun in that be? The second I heard your thoughts to take someone home with you, I felt compelled to intervene. Giving you a deadline will only serve to make it a more enjoyable viewing for me.”

I had to chuckle at that - the king of the heavens was far more of a troublemaker than I ever anticipated. 

It was clear that intervention was not quite what he was after, and it would be more accurate to say that he wanted to shake things up and then bask in the afterglow. What he craved was obviously reality-tv style entertainment at the hands of a few Goldfish and one of his most trusted ministers. 

Not wanting to let him down, and seeing as how I have always been a fan of reality shows, I decided to take the bait and appeal to his desire for what I would consider to be good, trashy television.

“I’ll make a deal with you,” I said, fully aware of how brazen I was being towards a creature who could smite me with the snap of his fingers.

“A deal with me?”

The king of the Gods’ smile hid something darker, but I didn’t let that scare me. I was in the home stretch so to speak, and I was determined to win the otome game that I’d been playing these past few weeks.

“I get three overnight dates. One with each guy. At the end of the week I choose one of them to return home with me and you see to it that he’s able to do so...even if that means losing one of your ministers.”

“Oh-ho!”

It was suddenly clear where Leon had picked up that small quirk of his, and the King, visibly amused cocked his head to the side.

The idea of three overnight dates with three men, resulting in one winner evidently intrigued the king, as I figured it would. After all, the Bachelorette had built its entire franchise on this concept, and had managed to keep itself alive and booming for over a decade after it first premiered on television. 

If that format was good enough for millions of Americans I had to figure it’d be just as good for a God who loved a little drama.

“You know it’s forbidden for a Goldfish to lay with a God, do you not?”

“I do. But part of my deal with you, is that you allow it - you give us your blessing.”

“And what am I getting in return?”

“Entertainment. Each night this week you’ll be able to tune in and see what happens. Don’t you want to see if I’ll be able to seduce a man as steadfast as Zyglavis? Isn’t that why you were encouraging me to try moments ago? You want to test him. You want to know if his loyalty towards you can be swayed. But if it can...I get him. Do we have a deal?”

“We do.”

The king of the heavens seemed delighted at the prospect of watching me as the Bachelorette, and with a far off look in his eyes, muttered something to himself about being able to part with anyone other than his beloved Scorpio. Upon hearing that I wondered if Scorpio and the king might be lovers (considering his clear attachment), but seeing as how it was none of my business, and not wanting to engage the king further, I bowed once more and began to exit the bath.

“Goldfish.”

I paused, worried that the king might throw another curveball my way and timidly turned back to face him.

“Choose wisely. Good luck.”

With the snap of his fingers he was gone, and my time as the Bachelorette was just now beginning.

I’d watched a fair amount of reality tv in my day and knew full well what I was going to get myself into with these overnight dates. 

For once, the speed at which feelings grew between people in this world seemed to be beneficial, and I pondered how, on my overnight dates in a fantasy suite, I could accurately gauge the interest of “forever” with a man who I’d only known for a short amount of time.

On the show, The Bachelor(ette) they kept things vague in terms of how far things progressed sexually between the contestants, but knowing that I was going to be headed home in only a week made me certain insofar as how I wanted to handle things. 

I’m sure there will be many who would judge me for this, but I knew that I’d need to sleep with all of them (unless something happened on the date that prompted me to change my mind), in order to properly evaluate our sexual chemistry, along with our long term potential.

Back in Zyglavis’ room, I changed into my pajamas (not quite ready for bed) and sat at Operation GTFO HQ with my slice of cake and laptop. 

I had planned on starting to write lyrics for Revance, but with a new project fresh in my mind, I decided to focus on planning my last week in this world. Having been familiar with the king of the Heavens from the game back home, I knew him to be a trickster, who often set up situations for his own amusement. 

Even though he’d told me that he would send me home personally, I considered the fact that he might not be telling me the truth. He was the type of God who often did what would amuse him most, and if that involved me being stuck in this world, it was obvious that he’d have no qualms as far as backing out of our deal.

For the time being, I would stay committed to reclaiming my independence while going on my Bachelorette style dates. 

If the king were to back out of his promise to send me home, I hoped that Huedhaut and the other Gods might be able to get me back under the assumption that I returned to my old self and shook off the characteristics that kept me stuck in otome-ville.

With all this in mind, I did what I did best and put together a tentative plan for the week to come.

Tomorrow (or today, seeing as how it was 2:30 A.M.), I would go to Ryo’s cafe and whip up Revance’s lyrics for them. 

Once they were approved, I would ask the band to wire me payment for the songs which would hopefully cover a shopping spree on Sunday. Like any notable Bachelorette, I was going to need a fabulous wardrobe for my upcoming dates. 

The king of the Heavens was unfamiliar with the production value associated with a show like the Bachelorette, and in order to curry his favor I wanted to deliver. This meant using the money from Revance on gowns, hair and makeup, in addition to planning extravagant dates designed to create a real life fairy tale experience.

Once I secured the funds needed to bankroll a week of luxury and glamor, I would coordinate the first (and what may very well be the last) meeting of my restaurant club for Sunday night, knowing that Sakiko, Chisato, and the Conte MC would most likely be available. With a girls only friend date on the horizon, I then would assert my independence using the rest of Saturday as a day to bide my (alone) time by attempting to stretch my new fun-loving, free-spirited muscles.

I would have a “Treat Yourself” evening. 

I’d see a movie, go to a park, or maybe even try my hand at creative writing or read a book...anything that made me feel good. In this bizarro version of Tokyo there were plenty of things to see and do, and while most of the settings had been used as date backdrops, I was going to check them out myself.

With my Saturday now planned, I shifted my focus to what needed to be done on the following day.

On Sunday, I’d spend the morning and afternoon shopping with the money from Revance. Next, I’d need to book three different fancy hotels for my overnight dates - Tuesday/Wednesday, Wednesday/Thursday, and Thursday/Friday. 

I knew the schedule was aggressive, and that there was a nonzero chance I would be able to get all three men to agree, but I’d promised the king a show and I was determined to give him one.

It made the most sense to try and schedule Jin on Tuesday/Wednesday, seeing as how we’d just had a great date together and it would be easy enough to tell him that I couldn’t get him out of my head and wanted to see him again. He’d offered to take me out even if I was leaving Tokyo, so morally and ethically I didn’t feel bad on taking him up on that.

I figured having an overnight date with Shun during the Wednesday/Thursday time slot would be too aggressive (seeing as how I’d accepted his job offer and he was now my new boss), and planned to go out with him last, using our time at work together in order to line that up in the most natural way possible.

This meant that Zyglavis got my time Wednesday/Thursday, and I felt myself smiling with anticipation as I pictured what a date with him would look like. 

Unlike the other two men on my roster, Zyglavis was the most reserved. It was apparent that both Shun and Namba would have no qualms spending the night with me, but Zyglavis...he was a different story.

On that note, sexual chemistry in a relationship is something that has always been important to me, and while I knew that most of these nights would be awkward and chock full of navigating each other’s likes and dislikes, I hoped to walk away with a real understanding of how each man was in bed.

Was he communicative? Giving? Selfish? Tender? Rough?

I wanted to know before I could make my final choice, and I worried that convincing Zyglavis to break the rule of the heavens and lay with a Goldfish (despite the king’s blessing), might be an impossible task.

I sighed, alone in the empty room as I finished the last bite of my gateau slice, picturing Zyglavis somewhere in the heavens completely in the dark as to the fact the King had paid me a personal visit. 

It was obvious to me that he was the frontrunner in my heart, but that did not necessarily mean that he would be the best choice for my life back home. 

With such a short amount of time left, I’d need to really separate the fantasy of each man from the reality of what life with them would look like back in New York. Strong feelings and passion only go so far, and the most successful relationships are often between two people who share a deep mutual respect and friendship that results in an ability for them to grow as individuals, together.

On paper, Shun seemed to be the best fit for me. 

We worked in similar fields and I knew that he’d be able to easily find employment in New York. He was a cosmopolitan man who enjoyed the finer things in life, so living in New York City would suit him quite nicely. I could see him being a great plus one with my inner circle, charming them with his looks and manners, while also being able to hold his own in our conversations.

With this said, I needed to know if he was capable of being more than a charming, pretty face.

I worried he might be too much of a playboy for my tastes. I had little to no time to convince him to remove his mask for me, but I knew that before I could commit to him I would need to see who he was underneath his slick, creative director facade. 

I knew that I wanted someone who was kind and caring, and who, when things would get tough as they inevitably did in life, wouldn’t cut and run to something that seemed “easier”. 

Whereas Shun struck me as someone who preferred ease in his relationships, I knew that Namba could handle a rocky road from time to time. In the short amount of time we’d spent together, I was certain that he possessed the ability to be there for me in the way I wanted someone to be. 

The problem with him was his lifestyle. 

He’d told me himself that he’d been in the force for half of his life. He’d worked impossibly hard to move his way up to the high ranking position he was currently in and I couldn’t see him giving all that up in an attempt to join the NYPD or something similar back home.

I knew how close he was with his team and I worried that taking him home with me would force him into a world in which he was isolated and miserable. A scene of living with him in my studio apartment flashed through my mind, except this time he was depressed, smoking out a crack in the window while complaining about how gross and deplorable the city I lived in was.

Crime in New York City was so drastically different than crime in bizarro Toyko. Would he be able to handle terrorism? Murder? Sexual Assault? 

Or would the cruel world I came from destroy his optimism for life, and slowly beat him down day after day.

Finally, there was Zyglavis who would be trading in his unlimited cosmic powers for an itty bitty living space (literally speaking seeing as how I live in a small New York City studio apartment). 

He was the biggest wildcard of the group, and I had to think it was unlikely that should he be the one to join me he’d be able to keep his powers or immortality. With that in mind, could I even ask him to step foot through the door knowing that committing to me meant he’d be stripped of everything he found familiar. 

Furthermore, if he were to agree to do so, then what?

Zyglavis hadn’t worked a day in his life in the human realm. Would he be able to happily acclimate to his new life as a Goldfsih? Or would he lose patience with things and grow to resent me for dragging him along with me?

These questions weren’t going to get answered tonight, and with my eyelids growing heavy I decided to pick my planning back up tomorrow. 

I closed my laptop, hiding all traces of my upcoming plan should Zyglavis return prematurely and got under the covers, snuggling up to the pillow he’d laid on the day we’d almost kissed. It still smelled faintly of his hair and the lavender smell from the baths, and I hugged it tightly, quietly wishing that I'd see him sooner than I expected.

With the room pitch black, I found myself drifting off into a peaceful slumber.

That night, I had two dreams that felt more like a vision, and less like a mishmash of my subconscious trying to process the day. 

Both scenes took place in the King’s throne room, and I watched as the same conversation played out in two different ways. 

In the dream, Zyglavis was in his true form, which I had yet to see in real life. He was more beautiful than I could even attempt to describe, and in both scenarios I stood off to the side, as if I were an invisible bystander.

In the first scenario, the King had been the first to speak.

“Zyglavis, I have paid your Goldfish a visit.”

Zyglavis blushed fiercely, breaking eye contact with the King and said, “It would be inaccurate to describe Ami as ‘my’ Goldfish, but with that aside, why have you done so if I may inquire?”

“She and I have come to an understanding. She will be allowed to take a man from this world home with her, should he give his consent, and you are in the running.”

“Me?”

The king chuckled, seeing through Zyglavis’ feigned surprise.

“Yes. She even went so far as to demand my blessing...which I gave her. You should feel free to have your way with her.”

Zyglavis blushed furiously, unable to mutter anything other than, “Yes, your highness” as he stared down at his feet.

“But hear this - should you chose to go with her you will no longer be a Minister of Punishments. Scorpio will succeed you, and though you will be able to return to this realm once the mortal dies, you will be unable to return to the high position you currently hold. Gods will no doubt talk, and it could be entirely possible that upon your return you will be considered the disgraced God of Libra by your peers.”

“I see.”

“However, note this. True love is something that alludes both men and Gods in their lifetime. Many will go through this life never knowing what it is to experience something so priceless. If this is in fact love, you would be foolish to turn your back on it. Consider these words.”

“Yes your highness.”

With that, the king smirked and dismissed Zyglavis. He started to leave and then paused. Sensing his unease the king addressed him once more.

“What is it?”

“These...other men. Who are they?”

The king chuckled, clearly tickled to see his stoic minister showing signs of petty jealousy.

“Zyglavis. Fear not. You are a God. And a man is no match for a God.”

Zyglavis gave the king a small nod, and with that he exited. 

The king turned towards me, and breaking the fourth wall smiled, as he snapped his fingers.

A bright light flashed before my eyes and I saw the two together once more. In this second scene, Zyglavis was the first to speak.

“Your highness, you wanted to speak with me?”

“Yes, Zyglavis. As you know, I have paid the Goldfish a visit.”

“How did it go?”

“Swimmingly,” the king said, laughing at his own bad joke, “I have given you both my blessing. You should not feel as if you have to hold anything back.”

Zyglavis smirked, “I don’t think that will be necessary. Taking advantage of a woman’s affection is not my style.”

To that, an angry look flashed through the king’s face.

“Zyglavis - you will put aside how you normally proceed to ensure that she picks you. I cannot have her taking anyone from this world home to hers.”

Zygavis’ expression became stoic and obedient, “Yes, your highness.”

“My trusted Minister. I knew I could count on you.”

“You honor me your majesty.”

The king smiled, and then as if something unpleasant crossed his mind he became serious and asked, “Tell me, do you feel badly at all for the Goldfish?”

“A little, but it is for the greater good - the logical way to proceed. I look forward to the time when I can return to serving you and the Department of Punishments once more.”

“Very good. You are dismissed.”

With his head held high, Zyglavis coolly turned and exited the room. Just as he had in the first scenario, the king broke the fourth wall and with a harsh look, addressed me directly.

“One is true, one is false. Which one? That I cannot say…Choose wisely Naomi.”

He snapped his fingers, and I jolted awake, covered in sweat and breathing heavily.

Daylight streamed in through the windows, and I checked the time to see it was 10 in the morning. 

I put a hand over my racing heart, reminding myself that it had just been a dream. However, as quickly as that thought crossed my mind, I turned to see something on the nightstand that hadn’t been there before.

Almost as if he wanted to hammer the point home, I picked up the card which had my name, my real name, on the envelope. 

It read:

Not a dream Naomi - One true. One false. Choose wisely or go home alone.

I sighed aloud, realizing how difficult my last week was going to be. Now that the king of the heavens was involved, I had opened myself up to unforeseen challenges, no doubt in the interest of making things more interesting for him.

I had been the one who was foolish enough to suggest a “Bachelorette” style competition in order to secure who would accompany me home, and like any good reality producer the king had merely stirred the pot.

To be continued…in Part 38

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[tracelii]

Miss You

Some more post-eyesagao shenanigans/angst/different adult!AU. This is for both of my frendos who are working so hard I love both of them u can do, you guys, you can do!!! @poketin @ellieofmidnight

“Oh yes, I’m definitely leaving you.” He spoke over the phone. “I’m meeting her now. It’s over, man, sorry.” Ian paused, then “Damn, that’s a lot of girlfriends. I guess I can’t compare.” But he chuckled. “Yea, it’s an old high school friend, I guess we’ll catch up and then I’ll head back your way, okay?” The male lifted his head, looking around for any familiar faces. Annoyance crossed his face, but it didn’t last long with the phone still over his ear. “I love you too, you idiot.” He felt the need to whisper- not that he was embarrassed, but he did so with a goofy grin he’d definitely have to get rid of before his friend arrived. “Yea. See you later.”

It was a typically cloudy day, specks of rain beginning to reveal itself, but still Ian held off on moving inside. It had been like this all day, and to be honest, it was kind of nice. Cloudy, and sort of cool, with tiny beams of sunlight sometimes escaping the cover. It wasn’t raining totally, so as long as she showed up soon, the cover of the table umbrella should keep them dry.

Speaking of, where was she? Ian looked around again. People were coming and going outside of the café, not busy enough to be called ‘busy’, but certainly alive this late afternoon. People sat at the surrounding tables, also not worried that it would start raining. They laughed and ate amongst themselves, and Ian tried hard not to stare- he knew he had a resting bitch-face and didn’t want to scare off the locals, sitting at this table by himself.

“Ian?”

He lifted his head at the call of his voice, and had a snarky reply ready to let loose, but took a moment to take in the sight before him. There, smiling warily, was his old high school friend, Elsa.

After what they had been though, ‘friends’ seemed like a tame word. She was more like… his annoying-ass sister who he had to look after as they both faced the unknowns of the void, the place he would be stuck in his sleep, and also the demon terrorizing their friends and driving them insane. She also occasionally looked after him too, he had to admit.

But that was such a long time ago. High school seemed like a far off nightmare that he definitely didn’t want to recall, even as he was doing It right now. He grimaced.

“Do I look that bad?” She pointed at him. “Hey, nice beard. And hair.”

“No.” He said. “I mean, you don’t look your best, unless this is your best, then you look fine.” Ian said casually. He pointed at the open chair waiting for her.

“Honestly, I cant tell if that’s an insult.” She took a seat, and rubbed at her eyes. “I’m just a little tired, is all. I haven’t been sleeping.”

“That’s what I mean… You look like you rolled out of bed two minutes ago.” Ian sighed out of his nose- He wasn’t meaning to be mean, especially on after not seeing Elsa for some odd years, but something about her was just sticking out, and he couldn’t pick it. Her hair was pulled in a messy bun, and she was wearing sweat clothes, and underneath her eyes were dark. He started to empathize with the possible worry in her expression “Are you… alright?” He asked.

“Who me?” She waved at him as if he was being silly. “You don’t get to be an asshole now, Mcqueen.”

An irked smile twitched at the corner of his mouth. That sounded a lot more like her, at the very least. “I’ll be sure to open every conversation with an insult from now on.”

“That’s the Ian boy I know!” Elsa leaned forward, a kind smile finally gracing her face. “So… whatcha been up to?”

“Uh. Life stuff.” Ian said. He knew the question would inevitably come up after not seeing Elsa for so long, and yet he had no answer available. “Work. Boyfriend. Stuff.”

“Very gay, I love it.”

“Work is not gay. It’s the least gay thing in my life. It’s homophobic.”

“Someone at your job is homophobic?”

“No, working is homophobic because I hate it.”

Elsa snorted, and shook her head. “You’re an idiot.”

“Not more than you are.” Ian shot back. “So—what have you been up to?”

“Uh…” Elsa said slowly. “Life stuff?”

“Mmhm, A+ original answer.” Ian sipped on this previously abandoned water, but he kept his eyes on Elsa. There was something… there was still something off. She still looked…. Not all there. He didn’t know how to describe it- like… if Elsa was, at her best or even at her worst, 100% Elsa, right now she was like… 85% Elsa.

Even back then, when all that shit was going on at school, Elsa remained ‘100% Elsa’. It was the most admirable thing about her- how she managed to keep true to herself even in the most shitty of situations.

“Well I mean… I’m not dating anyone.” She shrugged, finally glancing away from him, and letting her gaze wander onto the street. “Me and Mimi have been off and on, but she’s visiting some family in Europe for a few months, so we haven’t talked too much.” She shrugged again. “Work stuff. Uh…” She rubbed the back of her neck now, just for the movement. “Been trying to get in contact with Traci and Ellie for a tiny bit. Just texts so far. They’ve been super busy.”

“So I’m you’re last resort.” Ian said with a chuckle. “You know I’m gay, right?”

“Listen, you fuc-���

“Can I take your order?”

They both looked at the waitress who unknowingly arrived just in time. Ian, gifting Elsa with the sassiest smirk he could muster, just ordered a muffin and some tea. It was a good morning snack since he’d eaten before coming here.

“Uh… Nah, I’m good.” Elsa shifted again. Ian noted it this time, she just kept… moving. Making the motions to make the motions.

“Water?”

“No thank you.”

Ian eyed her now as the waitress, just as confused over the situation, politely let them back to their conversation as she went to put Ian’s order in.

“Is this… a money thing?” Ian asked. “Do you need money?”

“I’m not broke, but thanks, you’re welcome to spend all your money on me if you’d like. I hope the brutalboyfriend isn’t too mad at you being a sugardaddy.” Elsa said warily.

“Elsa, there’s something going on.” Ian finally cut in.

For a second, they stared at each other, and Elsa’s lips parted as she grasped for words to compile into some sort of answer.

“No.” Ian cut her off before she began. “There’s something… off. I’ve seen you tired before. All those nights you couldn’t sleep in school, you were still you. Even when--- even when it should have impossible, you kept your chin up. I know it’s been a while, but there’s something—“

“I thought--- I thought I was in the void.” Elsa said breathlessly. “A few months ago I thought I went back to the void.”

Ian’s mouth hung open. “-wrong. What? What?” The void didn’t disrupt him as much anymore- he still had to interact with the mysterious place he went to as he slept, but it only happened every once in a while- once a month. If he kept them happy, they would leave him alone, that was pretty much it. “You’ve been to the void?” As far as he knew, the void (as it was somehow a ‘where’ and a ‘who’ at the same time) rather plainly disliked Elsa. It was he, Ian, who started bringing her along with him every night (back when the void forcefully whisked him away every time he slept) when Anti was trying to scare Elsa out of trying to save Ellie and Traci by giving her nightmares.

“Here’s your order.”

Dumbfounded, he stared at Elsa glance out into the lack of traffic as his muffin and tea was set before him. The waitress probably had asked him something- probably if he needed anything else, but his eyes were wide and he was frozen. He didn’t say anything, and the waitress quickly excused herself.

“No… No.” Elsa said quietly, once the girl had left. “I thought it was. It was…. I was dreaming. It felt real at first, but I can tell the difference. Dreaming eventually feels like dreaming. Being in the void was like being wide-awake the whole time.” She looked down.

Ian remembered to breathe, and looked down at his almond poppy muffin as unspoken relief washed over him. “Okay.” He said, and sighed again. “Sorry, I jumped to conclusions. What about… the dreams?”

“It made me realized that I missed them.”

Ian, for the millionth time paused, leaving Elsa the chance she needed to elaborate.

“Uhm… the girls.”

“The… void girls.”

“Yes.”

“The ones who seduced you and tried to keep you in the void and tried to kill me. The ones who were like… evil versions of you and Traci and Ellie.”

“Uhm… They were, misunderstood. Anti made them, yea, and they did try to kill us at first, but they changed.”

“They weren’t real.”

Elsa winced. “They were. Even before they had our faces, they were part of the void… but Anti gave them an identity.”

“Your identity, Elsa.”

“No—I mean--- they became their own people!” Elsa said. Her body was tense. “You---- you just don’t get it.”

“Yea, I don’t.” Ian shot at her. “They’re long gone. What do you want with them?”

“Uhm…” Elsa said again. “I… have you see them, when you go to the void? Do they say anything about me? I… I wonder how they’re doing all the time. I worry about them.”

“Elsa, I haven’t—I haven’t seen them.”

A shiver ran though the girl’s body, and she grew embarrassed. “Wow… wh… what a relief. Hey, hows everything in the void anyway?” Her eyes focused on his muffin, then his tea, then her hands. She avoid his critical expression. “Judy still there? The plant, I mean. Does it grow? Does the tv still have those stupid knobs? The couch still comfy?”

“You… You miss everything, don’t you?”

“Huh?”

“You miss me.” Ian said slowly. “You miss the void. You miss the void girls. The real girls.”

“N--… No-“ Elsa shook her eyes, but they next time they met, he held her gaze with a challenging one of his own. “I don’t miss them!” Her voice shot up, cracking, then she nervously looked around- a few people were looking, and she ducked her head. “No, I just… Maybe—Maybe if I can just go back to the void. You can take me back there. I just want to see them- I want to make sure theyre okay.”

“Elsa.” Ian said slowly. “I’ll even admit. They weren’t totally evil. And you saw something good in them that I didn’t see in them- that Anti didn’t even see in them… but they’re just part of the void. I know you’ve been wanting to check on Ellie and Traci, and hang with them again, but you cant use the void and Grace and Kelly to fill that. You’re missing it, and belive me, I got that, sometimes the void felt like—I don’t know, that it gave you purpose outside of school shit. But that’s in the past for you- its almost in the past for me. You have to move on.”

“Ian.” Elsa said, her voice trembling now. “They need me to take care of them-. They need me.”

“Who. Which ones are you talking about?”

“Ellie.”

“Ellie?” Ian questioned.

“No! I said Kelly, you heard me. I know Ellie’s a grown-ass woman, she can take care of herself.”

“You said Ellie because you miss her.” Ian said. “And you think that even if you find Kelly and Grace, that it’ll fill what you miss about your friends. Did you really try to contact them? I spoke with Traci just last week. She’s not that hard to get a hold of. Are you sure you tried to contact them?”

“Ian you’re fucking confusing me. I never was talking about Traci or Ellie.” Her voice twisted unpleasantly as she tried to keep a cap on her volume. “You’re… you’re putting words in my mouth.”

“I’m not going to take you to the void.” Ian said, his voice sharp.”If you really missing something you need to connect with your friends. Your real friends.”

“Fuck you.” Elsa’s voice was quiet, but shook with rage- with—grief. “They would call me if they wanted to. They’d come see me if they wanted to, Ian. But Grace and Kelly cant do that. I’d… I’d even like to see Chelsa again.” Tears spilled from her eyes. “I just need to see them, I just need to make sure they’re okay, okay? How dare you try this psycho-analyzing bullshit on me.”

Ian leaned in closer to her. “I don’t know how to help you, but this isn’t the way. How about we just---“ There were certainly eyes on him. “Lets just head back to my place, and talk about this.”

“In the void?”

“No.”

“That’s what I thought.” Elsa shoved at the table, knocking over Ian’s water, and knocking the air out of him just a bit as the table bumped against the body. He coughed, and raised his hands as the water spilled in his lap, then started climbing up to his feet. “Elsa-“

“Stay the fuck away from me!” Elsa stumbled as she stood up after another shove parted her from the table enough to stand. Her world spun, and she gripped the table, but she laughed harshly, and stood up again. “Why did I think you’d ever want to help anyone but your god-damn self.”

“Elsa!”

But Elsa’s head was pounding, and she could feel hundreds- millions of eyes on her. She shook her hand, rubbing at the tears, shed and unshed, and rushed out of the fenced in group of tables.

Ian went up to go after her, but by time he had dug his cash to leave for the tea and muffin, she was nowhere to be seen. He gritted his teeth, trying to politely pull attention off of him. He opened his phone as it rang, and put it up to his ear, but moved onto the sidewalk, looking for sight of her.

“Listen, I’ll have to call you back.” He said quickly, and hung up. Surely, his boyfriend or whoever the hell that even was would understand.

-----

The girl blinked as she looked at her phone, the ‘call ended’ screen blinking at her. “Wow…” he sounded in quite a rush. Her grey-ish, blue-ish eyes spotted her bag and she tugged it off the turntable baggage claim.

Ellie turned back to the familiar Japanese airport, and smiled a bit to herself, feeling at home once again. She couldn’t wait to see her apartment and her friends (if Ian ever remembered to call her back). A thought occurred to her, and her expression brightened as she moved to hail a taxi.

She could probably hang with Elsa! They needed time to catch up, honestly- they hadn’t spoken in so long…

“I hope she misses me as much as I miss her.” Ellie said to herself with a chuckle.

[ethicallysourcedhumanmeat]

Practically Impractical 35

[ < ][first][ > ]

[Masterpost][AO3]

“You look angry.”  He didn’t mean to actually make her mad, he was pretty sure that was just her morning face with how much they had to do before lunch today but as soon as he’d said it she managed to actually look angrier and he could see where he’d been mistaken. “O-oh, okay Cal, ok, sorry,” he holds up his hands.  “Didn’t mean it I swear.”

Her face softens and she looks tired. “You promised me, you know?  I know this is frustrating but you’ve made your point.”

“Could you elaborate?”  He can’t help the goofy grin on his face, he’s not sure what he did.

“I mean, it’s not like he’s going to figure it out, but just please stop messing with T ok?”

He laughs, “Cal, Babe, Jagi, my messy princess,” she groans and wrinkles her nose, “when have I had a minute to mess with T?  I am up to my neck setting all my security accounts up so all I need to do are maintenance while we’re away, Babe.  I haven’t had a second to mess with Zen or Yoosung let alone hack into the US military.”

“If it’s not you,” she shakes her head, “I mean he thinks he pissed of a clerk, it’s possible I guess.”  He holds out his arms and she falls into them, “I’m sorry Saeyoung, ugh I’m the worst.”

He laughs, “You are like the top ten worst things to ever happen to me.”

She groans and he kisses her hair.  “What time is lunch?”

This was not what he’d had in mind. It made him uncomfortable. Not Calliope and Ms. Kang being friends, he knew they would both respect his boundaries but it seemed they had few boundaries between themselves. He’d spent years molding his assistant into, well not this.

Not the woman standing on a table dancing with his girlfriend. Not that Saeyoung seemed to mind, he observed. Jaehee had recently stopped wearing her glasses, she’d started growing out her hair. He knew Calliope had encouraged her to.

“Even if you’re Dad is suddenly into Jaehee,” Calliope had chided when he’d complained. “He’s not going to seduce my best friend, and even if he tried do you really have such a low of an opinion of Jaehee, to think she’d be into him?”

She’d been right but still this display was not at all to his taste. It didn’t last though and when the song ended the two of them collapse laughing against one another while Saeyoung cheers and Zen looks confused.

“I don’t want to sound, you know,” Yoosung says beside him, “but that was kind of weird right?”

Jumin starts to answer that, yes he also thought that was strange but Yoosung continues.

“Maybe it’s just because it was Jaehee and Callie.”

“Perhaps you should invest more time into people closer to your age,” Jumin suggests instead.

She’s laughing, leaning against her bestfriend and wishing that this was just a regular night. Saeyoung grabs her around the waist and pulls her off the table swinging her in a wide arc and setting her down in time to see Zen awkwardly helping a blushing Jaehee down.

Lunch had turned into a whole afternoon and a bottle of wine had turned into cocktails and then shots, and even Saeyoung was drinking. Jumin had rented out a small restaurant Callie made sure he’d doubled his offer before they left, parting ways with the rest of the RFA she’d shoved her keys at Jaehee and insisted that she go back to the house with Saeren. She and Luciel would be staying with Jumin tonight.

She’d cut straight to Jumin’s shower when they got back, she might shower three more times, just thinking about 14 hours on a plane made her want to never step foot out of the stream of hot water. She breathes deep in the steam and rolls her shoulders, her neck, does her physio stretches. She’d promised Jumin she would wear the brace for the whole day tomorrow, just to ease his mind, but the thought made her cringe. She was almost free.

Jumin’s penthouse is quiet when she finally forces herself out of the shower. She slips into her room and changes into a pair of leggings and a sweater, her uniform Yoosung had teased her. She can hear soft music playing, the music Jumin leaves on for Elizabeth when he’s not home and reaches down to where the fluffy white cat is stretched across her bed and scratches her behind the ears.

Elizabeth makes the funny little noise that Saeyoung calls kitty activation and rolls over onto her back. Callie lays down on the bed next to her. She was even going to miss this cat. Her family was supposed to come here for Christmas this year, they’d been planning is since early summer, and Jumin had even offered to cover their airfare as his gift to Callie.

Despite the hassle of finding someone to cover the homestead for a week, her parents had been disappointed when she’d let them know the plans had changed, and she dreaded having to tell them that she was legally married with zero ceremony.

“Ok, I know, pushy,” she says when Elizabeth puts her paws on Callies face and gently pushes her away. She gives the cat one more belly rub before she pushes herself off the bed and goes to see what Jumin and Saeyoung are doing.

It’s not common for them, and when she’s sees them there in the open floor of the living room she slows her pace and watches. They loved one another, as much as she loved them both, she’d never doubted that, but opportunities for them to be close like this did not happen often, not where she could see them.

Saeyoung’s cheek rests against Jumin’s shoulder, his arms loose around the taller man’s waist, Jumin’s chin resting against the top of Saeyoung’s head, one hand playing gently with his hair, the other draped over his shoulder, they swayed to the soft ambient music that came from speakers all over the penthouse.

She smiles, the sight of them warms her heart, of course they’ll miss one another as much as she’ll miss being the three of them, as much as they appreciate just being two sometimes, being three was their natural state. As awkward and formal as the arrangement had started it had become genuine care very quickly.

She goes to the kitchen and gets a bottle of water from the fridge, she knows they’ve heard her when she slips onto the sofa and stretches out, the way they stiffen slightly knowing they’re being watched, the way Saeyoung tightens his arms around Jumin just a little before letting them drop, the way Jumin buries his nose in Saeyoung’s hair just before they separate.

They smile at her and shuffle around the penthouse for a minute. Jumin pours himself a glass of wine, Saeyoung grabs a soda from the fridge, something kept there just for him. Elizabeth saunters out of the bedroom and jumps into Callie’s lap, Jumin sits down behind where Callie sits in the middle of the plush sofa instead of his usual chair by the window, he pulls his girlfriend and his cat back until she’s leaning with her head rested against the same shoulder that had cradled her husband’s cheek so recently.

Jumin turns on the TV, and they listen to Saeyoung rummaging around the kitchen while they argue over which Holiday movie to watch. It’s not long before Saeyoung swings his legs over the back the couch and lands in Callie’s lap startling the cat. Callie laughs while Jumin scolds him, he just laughs and stretches his legs over the arm of the sofa, his head resting against her stomach.

Elizabeth doesn’t stay gone for long, she leaps up onto Saeyoung this time and stretches herself along his shoulder so that her head also rests on Callie. She purrs loudly when Jumin pauses briefly in his search on a children’s version of A Christmas Carol. Saeyoung and Callie cheer.

“Really, this is for children,” he groans. “I was hoping we could watch Alistair Sims, or the one with Michael Caine as one of the ghosts.”

“Three against one,” Saeyoung laughs.

“Michael Caine is in this though.”

“His co-stars are puppets,” Jumin frowns.

“Muppets!” Saeyoung and Callie correct.

Callie is the first to fall asleep, she makes it to the end of the movie and insists they watch another Muppet Christmas movie, falling fast asleep before the opening credits even end. Jumin attempts to change the channel but both Elizabeth and Saeyoung protest. They discuss moving Callie to the bed but they’re very comfortable in their pile on the sofa.

Saeyoung falls asleep as the second film ends, and Jumin puts on Alistair Sims’ Scrooge. “They’re bad influences,” he mumbles when Elizabeth makes a small sound of protest.

He’s not far behind Saeyoung, falling asleep to the sounds of rattling chains. His last thought a wish that he could be boarding a plane with them tomorrow.

Leaving had been a production. Everyone had met them in the airport, complete with the Paparazzi that followed Jumin waiting, phones and camera’s flashing when they got out of the car. She suspected the incident at the restaurant had spurred this renewed interest and hid her face in Saeyoung’s sweater while Jumin’s security made a barrier between them and the crowd.

She cursed under her breath that she’d let Jumin talk her into wearing the brace for the flight, his peace of mind had been one thing but the reporters yelling accusations at them was a totally different story. She was relieved to see the rest of the RFA, to be ushered as a group through security, to not have to worry about customs until they landed.

Saeren is waiting for them at their gate. Not interested in the long goodbyes. They say their goodbyes, and Callie finds herself trying to find places in carry on for a few small gifts for Max from Yoosung and Jaehee. They gatecheck the boys computers, Callie’s guitar and find their seats.

The flight does not go well. It’s long, Callie hates flying, and Saeren has never flown. They’re four or more hours from landing when Saeren’s nails dig into her arm. Saeyoung is asleep in the aisle seat and she’s in the middle.

He’d been on edge all morning.

“You ok?” She asks, but she knows he’s not. A quick glance at her phone and she knows he probably should have taken his meds somewhere over the Atlantic.

He shakes his head slowly.

She can recognise the signs of disassociating; she suspects he might be verging on the edge of a panic attack. She squeezes his hand. “Try to visualize playing something on your guitar, I’ll see if I can find your pills.”

He breathes in and nods.

Saeyoung wakes up as she’s pushing past him. She’s already on edge, and she knows she has two little pills in her purse if her own anxiety decides to manifest any more. She trips over his feet and he catches her.

“You ok?” He asks.

She laughs, tries to be quiet about it but it comes out as a wheeze. “Which bag is Saeren’s?” She says quietly and Saeyoung instantly turns to his brother. She grabs him by the face. “Which bag?”

He stands up, helps her look. They check all the their carry on, and find nothing. A few people around them have woken up, and Saeyoung has gone with flight attendants to look in the bags they’d checked at the gate.

She slides back in next to Saeren. His breathing his precise, and calculated.

“Hey,” she says. “Do you remember what bag you put them in?”

She can see his fingers twitch, he’s still playing guitar in his head, he doesn’t miss a beat when he turns and looks at her, through her. “Black,” he says, “I think there’s a pokemon keychain Max gave me on it.”

“Shit bud,” she says through her teeth, “I think you checked that one.”

“What?”

“That’s not any of the bags we have right here. Seven is checking the computer bags but I don’t think—”

“Fuck!” His fist slams against the wall and she can see the eyes on them. A flight attendant moves towards them but she puts her hand up and shakes her head. Saeyoung his behind her shaking his head.

Callie pushes her armrest up and slides closer to her brother in law. She slides her hand into his and squeezes. She reaches between her feet with her other hand and pulls her purse into her lap. She fishes around until she finds the bottle Jumin’s doctor had given her. It was supposed to be one pill per flight. “You take these right?”

He looks at the bottle suspiciously for a moment and nods. “You only have two left.”

“I only had two to begin with, for emergencies. Kinda seems like one.”

Saeyoung is still standing at the front of the plane with the flight attendants, they look deep in conversation.

“I take a higher dose than these, I’d need both.”

“It’s fine. I know it’s not everything but it’ll help right?” He nods slowly, let’s go of her hand and takes the bottle. After he takes them he puts his headphones on and leans forward his head in his hands and she rubs his back. By the time Saeyoung is sitting beside her again Saeren is practically in her lap, sleeping. It’s not long before Saeyoung is asleep on her shoulder and she’s wondering how many tiny airplane glasses of wine she’d have to drink before she could be asleep too.

She’s relieved when they finally get through customs and there’s no one waiting for them. No crowd of friends, no family, no reporters. Just the usual airport bustle. She points Saeyoung to the rental car line up and tells him to wait. Their bags somehow end up being in the first batch on the conveyer belt, she practically throws them off, digging into the back with the Pokemon keychain until and tossing Saeren his pill bag.

They’re pushing the cart to Saeyoung in the rental line when someone grabs her from behind and swings her around.

“Hey, hey, hey!” She yells pulling away and turning.

Her niece is cackling behind her, doubled over.

“Yeah, funny Nina, Jesus Christ,” Callie catches her breath.

“Sorry I’m late, you were easy to find though, Uncle Wyatt said to look for the soulless child-bride.”

“Are you kidding me? This isn’t even my husband.”

“Husband?!” Nina squeals. “What!”

“I’ll get my idiot brother,” Saeren says shaking his head.

“Tell him his idiot wife found a ride,” she frowns.

“You’re married though,” Nina asks. “No one told me.”

“No one knows yet, don’t tell Oma and Opa, we rushed it for court, it’s not a big deal we haven’t actually done a ceremony or anything.”

“Secrets and lies, Aunty Cal,” Nina scolds.

“What are you even doing here, shouldn’t you be with Celia and T?”

“It’s Gilles year and he let me decide between going to Quebec with him or staying with Oma and Opa until he comes back this weekend. “

“I wonder how that’s gonna end up being my fault?”

“Nah,” Nina laughs. “Mom and Uncle T dropped Max off last night and you were already on a plane so they can’t blame you.”

“Oh I’m sure they can find a way,” Callie laughs. “Max is already at Mom and Dad’s though?”

Nina nods.

Saeyoung is there then, lifting her and spinning her like Nina had just done.

“Alright someone help me take the torture sleeve off so I can defend myself,” Callie growls.

“No way!” Nina and Saeyoung laugh. But Saeren helps her loosen what she can’t reach and she shoves it into a suitcase without looking.

“So what, is that like a sympathy thing?” Nina laughs while Callie stretches her arm, the three of them following her niece to parking.

“What did your Mom tell you about my accident?”

“Accident? She didn’t, she just said you hurt yourself and I figured it was the usual, you look fine now. What happened?”

“Uh,” Callie pales.

“Car accident,” Saeren says.

“It even made the American news, Oma stranded Wyatt in Korea. I’m surprised you didn’t see.”

“So it was bad?”

“I mean it should have been worse, we were all pretty lucky, but I was in the hospital a while and I’m still doing physio.”

“Down to twice a week though,” Saeyoung cheers and they high five.

“I only really need to wear the sling at night, I should be cleared after my next appointment with the surgeon, which will be whenever this bullshit is over I guess.” Callie helps the boys shove their suitcases in the trunk of her parents big Buick.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Nina says when they get into the car, “Uncle T is freaking out.”

Callie grunts. “He seemed pretty confident when he was threatening me in the hospital.”

“What?” Saeren and Saeyoung ask.

Callie waves them off.

“I don’t know I try to tune them out when Uncle T comes over. But just before I left he came over with all this paperwork and he kept yelling about pictures, and lawyers.”

“Well it’s nice to know I can afford a scary lawyer on my own.” Callie smiles.

“And it only cost you two sprained fingers to fix his picture flow,” Saeren laughs.

“What?” Nina asks?

“It’s nothing, I hit a stalker.” Callie shrugs.

“And that stopped pictures for Uncle T?”

“The stalker was a PI he hired.” Saeyoung clarifies.

“She was selling pictures to trashy magazines,” Saeren adds.

“Isn’t your new life exciting.” Nina laughs.

[stay-neurotic]

“A key to success is to play the hand you were dealt like it was the hand you wanted.”

I never wanted to leave Juan. He gave me no other choice, and in his absence - in my grief, my sorrow - I dove into a lifestyle that I had never tried before in an effort to make the most out of this horrid new reality. I began to regard everything as an adventure. The world was teeming with possibilities. I didn’t want to be alone in my apartment - our apartment no longer - so I devoted every moment of my time to distracting myself. Partying. RPing. Going out with coworkers. Going out with boys. Inviting friends over. Anything. I pushed the limits of how wasted I could get. I did some risky things born of a self-destructive mindset. I rethought the ways I interacted with every single person in my life. And I saw all of this as exploring and recreating myself.

And in a sense, I was. But it wasn’t some journey of “discovery” - it was just whom I chose to be for a time. It was a mask that crumbled the moment I let him back in and knew, deeply and terrifyingly, that I wanted nothing more than to have him back in my life.

I hesitated, but not because of him. In my heartbreak I dismissed his actions as selfish and cruel and reasoned that he didn’t care about me, after all. And I did this because I didn’t understand them - couldn’t fathom a reason for them beyond, “everything I thought I knew about him must have been wrong.” This dismissal was necessary if I wanted to purge the love I had for him from my heart and move on.

But then I reached out to him, thinking I was safe, and he reached back. And we knew we needed each other - in one way or another. If not lovers, then friends. And we talked and he explained, and I understood. He read the book that helped me love him, those years ago. He saw himself in it far more than I ever did, and all the things he wasn’t sure why he did, he finally understood.

His codependency manifested in a psychological addiction to weed. It manifested in minimizing and martyring himself. It manifested in a cycle of never sharing his needs, then lashing out because his needs weren’t being met. It manifested in rebelling unfairly against me whenever he felt controlled.

He was unhappy, he said, and never realized it was his own fault. He saw how it hurt me - how desperately I tried to keep us afloat as he was pulling further and further away. And he hated that he was hurting me. But codependency is a cruel master (as I know all too well). It bound his hands, his eyes and ears. He was drowning in denial and too afraid to leave me. He had brought up the notion - several times - and every time I had shot him down. “Breaking up is not the answer. None of this is unsolvable. We can work through it.” And he would back down, disagreeing silently but saying nothing. And so I tried harder and harder while he whittled away what he thought were numbered days.

Then he saw an out: a girl at work who liked him. A nonissue otherwise - but a tool to him. He walked the edge of flirting, spending just enough time with her to arouse suspicion. When I voiced my concerns he lashed out, then backed off and tried to work with me to soothe my fears. Then, later, went back on his promises - convincing me that I simply misunderstood what he had meant when he first made them. And, feeling controlled, he would respond with rebellion and push the envelope even further, breeding even more insecurity. The cycle escalated until I was a nervous wreck, controlling and jealous, convinced my boyfriend was cheating on me and then guilt-tripping myself for even entertaining the notion. It was the worst month of my life.

Mind, none of this was intentional. None of it was a consciously made decision. Juan himself hardly knew what he was doing - he was thinking in the moment, in terms of, “I want to hang out with Rhiannon. But Rachael will be upset. I’ll just tell her I’m meeting someone else.” And then, “Why do I want to hang out with Rhiannon so much? It’s just because Rachael is being super controlling to me right now. I don’t want to go home to that environment.” (Yes, his head was up his ass.) And when he looked back upon this time with clarity of thought, and could see it for what it was...he was horrified. He was appalled at himself. He broke down in tears in my office chair just talking about it. And he finished that book and got himself into therapy (every Wednesday now from 11-12).

He knew during that time that I would only put up with so much. He crossed one line I had drawn; I forgave him and gave him another chance, but warned that it would be the last. Then he crossed it again. And I had no choice if I wanted to stay true to my word. I was suffering, and he had proven I would keep suffering if I stayed at his side. And he got exactly what he wanted - we broke up without him having to leave me. It was his ‘easy’ way out.

Post-breakup, we danced the world’s darkest tango. He was sleeping on my couch and I was ever aware of when he was home, when he was working, and when he was “out” (I.E. with her. Whether he actually was or not, it was the same to my grieving mind). And of course it was understandable - he could hang out with the girl that was infatuated with him and showered him in praise and affection, or he could spend time at home with his sulking ex. I understood. But it hurt like nothing else in this world. And when he’d come home I’d be in such disarray. I snapped, I lashed out, I said things I’m not proud of. I didn’t want him around me anymore.

Yes, you do, a part of me whispered. You want him more than anything. That’s why it hurts. And it was true. And when I wasn’t acting on the former feelings, I was acting on the latter. I seduced him. I lapped up the fear and pain in his eyes when I rode him, feeling powerful for the first time in a long time. I watched his neck for the hickeys she’d leave, and I hoped she saw the ones I gave him. It was vile and ugly.

But there were moments, too, when - fleetingly - our love returned. On the drive back home for Christmas, when we were trying to be friends, some otherworldly force was pulling us unrelentingly together those five long hours. At two in the morning he pulled to the side of the road and we made love to each other in the passenger seat quite literally as though we would never get to again. It was a moment I don’t think I’ll ever forget.

And later on, when we’d get drunk and I’d invite him to my bed, all I could ask beforehand was: “Have you kissed her yet? Have you fucked her yet?” And all I could ask afterwards was, “Please stay.”

I was desperate. I wanted him, no matter with whom else I had to share him. I was clinging onto something that was no longer mine. And every time I reached for his hand in public, or stared at his lips for just a little too long, I saw something behind his gaze I could not and would not identify.

On New Years’ Day, he hit me over the head with this: “I’m going to date her.” And I screamed and cried and would not accept it. You said you would never date her; you told me you were already getting fed up with her; regardless of me this is a terrible decision for you; you’re choosing this unhealthy, unstable relationship over the five-year friendship you and I have shared. You’re choosing her over me! And he wouldn’t respond but to keep repeating the same phrase: “If you have to cut me out of your life because of this, then I’m okay with that.” As if it made me feel better to hear.

And I thought he was uncharacteristically stiff the entire time; and I learned later it was because it was a lie. He knew he was leading me on. He knew he was keeping me from healing, because we hadn’t let each other go. And no matter how many times we said, “This has to stop,” it didn’t. So he cut ties the only way he thought would work. Like our breakup, rather than say the truth, he searched for an ‘easy’ way out.

With me out of his life, he hung out with her more and more. He cried to her about me and simultaneously used her to try and get over me (while I was using other boys to try and get over him). He ignored the parts of himself that needed changing, ran away from his guilt and sorrow, and gave his friends watered-down versions of what had happened. He numbed himself to the world and eventually said yes to Rhiannon’s badgering, fine, okay, let’s date. I guess I have nothing else left to lose. A week and a half later they were done; he realized from day one what a terrible mistake it was and yet, still didn’t have the courage to outright break up with her: as far as she understood it, they were “on a break” because he still hadn’t gotten over me. She’d blocked him and they avoided working together, but I’m sure by now news has gotten around to her.

It does comfort me to hear him complain about the things she did; the primitive part of my brain, where insecurity and pettiness reside, loves it. Still, I can’t help but feel pity for the way Juan used her. (In the end, though - what did she expect? That he would leave a three-year relationship for a girl he barely knew, and they’d live happily ever after? Even when he did “leave me for her,” so to speak, she treated him with such disrespect...I still don’t know how to feel about this.)

Where was I going with this? He took me to a park, he explained everything. He told me about the threesome that didn’t happen because Jayla’s friend grabbed his arm and said, “mine!” and it gave him flashbacks to me and suddenly everything felt wrong. He told me what he understood now about himself and about how he’d been dodging responsibility this whole time.

We hugged for just a little too long, and I pulled away crying because I knew I wasn’t ready. I didn’t know if I wanted it. But we missed each other so much, neither wanted to leave the other’s company. We went back to my apartment to watch tv. We kissed. We slept in each other’s arms. We talked, and talked, and talked.

And within days I said goodbye to the bootycall numbers in my phone, uninstalled Tinder, kept my overnight things packed because I took them to his place so often. Despite this, I hesitated to commit again. I know Juan well, and I know when I see change. I know the look of determination in his eyes that means he’s committed to a cause. The fault wasn’t with him. But this new lifestyle - wild and free - that I’d cultivated...there was no possibility of failure, there. No potential to be hurt. I enjoyed it immensely (because at the time I had to; it was my coping mechanism), and the past few months with Juan had left a bitter taste still lingering on my tongue. I didn’t know how different things would be if I gave him another chance. I didn’t know which I wanted more.

The question was not whether I still loved him. The question was - is this risk worth it?

And in the same vein - if I say yes now but find later that the answer is no, how willing am I to break his heart?

Notice, readers, that I used the past tense. The question was.

Because I found my answer. Because damnit, if there’s anything in this world worth risking, it is love. And he owns my heart until it stops fucking beating.

[idle-flower]

dear yuletide author - 2018

Thank you for your time and attention, and I hope your wishes are granted this holiday!

Likes:

I prefer plot and angst and adventure to fluff, though a nice warm fluffy scene can make a good dessert at the end of the pain and suffering. I lean more to f/f and m/f than m/m. I enjoy forbidden relationships. I love exploring the 'what if' spinoffs of a small change in a canon. I swoon for lovers who take dramatic risks to protect their loved ones.

I also enjoy detailed description of clothing/furniture/jewelry/pretty things in general. Not just heaping up brand names, but sensory detail.

Dislikes:

Please avoid sweeping tropey AUs like 'what if noir' or 'what if everyone was in high school'. I'm REALLY picky about comedy so it's probably not a good idea to go for wacky funny stuff. No excited rambling about pregnancy or babies. (Older kids are okay.) While I am okay with pretty dark stuff, please don't gorily torture characters to death on screen. If people gotta die, limit the details! I am generally not keen on crossovers. I dislike PWP unless it is exceedingly hot smut (see below).

Smut:

I don't require it, but I do read a good bit of filthy porn.

Kinks I find interesting: mild bdsm, pain mixed with pleasure, dubcon, sibling or cousin incest, strap-ons, futanari and other magical appendages, teasing, teenagers, drugs/magic with interesting effects, people making terrible decisions due to being emotionally overwrought or really really horny

PLEASE NO: 

rape or painful sex that one party is not enjoying at all, inserting anything edible (licking off boobs is okay), aggressive face-fucking, choking, degradation, scat/watersports, bukkake, parental incest, anyone younger than teen, emphasis on 'virgin blood' (some writers make it a huge deal with tearing pain and fountains of blood, please don't).

Mathnet / Square One TV

Kate Monday

Kate Monday was my idol and unrecognised crush. Her solving any short mystery and being awesome will please me. 80s, modern, California, globe-trotting, whatever. Could even go for a bit of an X-Files gag, where Kate and George are assigned to something really spooky and he believes the mystical explanation and she sticks to logic and numbers (and is proved right in the end). No shipping needed.

Optional crossover: Inspector Gadget. Penny Gadget grows up and joins the Mathnet team and Kate is her mentor and they do nerdy things together with NO BLONDE JOKES. No sassy Legally Blonde stuff, no overcoming sexism, just pure competence porn where they are good at what they do and everyone takes them seriously and it never occurs to anyone to doubt them just because of their hair/gender. I'm not shipping them together romantically though, too much age gap for my taste. But if you wanted to indulge me ridiculously, Kate could have a wife and Penny could be inspired to consider a girlfriend.

PLEASE NO KATE/GEORGE. George is married and I prefer Lesbian Kate.

It would be weird to go smutty here honestly. Keep it T?

Poison Ivy (1992 film)

Sylvie Cooper, Ivy

I was struggling through the confusions of puberty, Ivy was hot, this film left an impression on me. In a way it's perfect as it is, and trying to build any sort of happy ending for Ivy feels out of place, but on the other hand there's a lot of loose ends left after the story.

Throughout the film, there's a lot the audience never knows about Ivy, including her legal name. Did Coop know it? (Maybe, probably.) Did her father? (Quite possibly not). How do they handle all the legal responsibilities of her death? Were Ivy's stories about the aunt she was staying with true? How do they break the news?  How does her funeral go?  

What do Sylvie and her father have to say to each other about Ivy after the truth comes out? Does he admit everything that he did? How does he handle the guilt? How do they rebuild their relationship?

What is school like, afterwards? What rumors escape? How does Coop handle them?

Or - what if Ivy survives the fall? Seriously injured, possibly paralysed, but alive? How do they deal with her, once the truth comes out? Do they cover up her crimes? Do they keep her in their home? What happens to their relationships?

For AUs, what would have happened if Ivy had met Coop when they were several years younger, so she couldn't get her hooks into Darryl as easily? What if they met at summer camp and Ivy was just as messed-up and needy but the situations were different? What if the movie plot is actually a fantasy younger-Ivy spins about her future to her fascinated-and-appalled friend, who then has a chance to react to it?

Smutwise, I'm fine with Sylvie/Ivy, I'm okay with Darryl/Ivy but I would rather he not be the focus of the story (Sylvie catching them having sex has possibilities, or Ivy thinking about Sylvie while seducing Darryl)

The Parent Trap (Hayley Mills version)

Sharon, Susan

Two girls who are rivals clashing with each other are exiled to a camp cabin together to learn to get along. What better setup for sparks to fly?

Yes, that's right, I'm requesting twincest. I want the girls to develop a romantic and/or sexual relationship, BEFORE they realise they're actually related.

Ideally I'd like to read the whole trajectory from them being sent off together, the attraction building, and once they're established as a relationship, THEN have them find out they're twins and have to deal with the repercussions. Are they horrified, or determined to stay together? How does that affect their plans for their parents?

But I'm also fine with just plain smutting this and leaving the rest of the story for another day. How might these two get together, when they don't know any better? Catfight that turns into hatefucking that turns into something deeper? One of them is sick/injured/sad and the hurt/comfort melts their hatred for each other? They get curious about how alike they really are and check each other out naked, because 'we're both girls so it doesn't really count', and events get way out of hand?

If the incest squicks you, I will settle for after-the-film fic showing them trying to settle into their new lives together, dealing with each other's old school friends and so on. "Surprise twin" must lead to some interesting reactions, surely, and sharing everything won't always be easy when they don't have a common enemy to gang up on.

Darkangel Trilogy - Meredith Ann Pierce

Erin, Aeriel

OTP territory here.

I read the first book when I was fairly young and was, like many, drawn into the dangerous romance between Aeriel and Irrylath (though surely even then I must have felt it was slightly unfair that the text 'okayed' it by saying he wouldn't be beautiful if he wasn't still good inside?). I didn't find the other two books until much later, when I was older and more dubious about the 'romance' of a beautiful but abusive vampire whose true character she knew nothing about. Imagine my amazement as rivals and uncertain feelings began to cast doubt on that original romance... and maybe, just maybe, ended with the girl getting the girl. (And beyond that, letting me eat my cake and have it too, by building up Irrylath a little and giving the lovers of my childhood a brief beautiful moment together.)

So, okay, I have a lot of feelings about this canon. In my personal version of what-happens-next, Erin and Aeriel totally become lovers, Irrylath goes on a quest to try and win her back and in the process of his journey of personal discovery finds that he's actually happier elsewhere, and he and Aeriel at last meet again and then part as friends, content... but that's a whole novel in itself, at least.

Possible prompts:

A love scene between them in the series's poetic style (no need to be kinky here! just romantic)

One of them telling the tale of how they fell in love to their daughter? (These two can totally have science babies together.)

Some of Erin's adventures on her own in the time that they're separated during the books, and how she discovers and deals with her feelings about Aeriel?

Or the love epiphany on Aeriel's part, after the books - how does she realise her feelings are more than friendly, how does she reconcile them with her feelings for Irrylath? Perhaps while Erin goes on a trip alone to visit the Sea-of-Dust and Aeriel is alone with her thoughts?

World-building, figuratively and literally! What is life like in NuRavenna? How do they go about the process of restoring the world? What tools do they use and what do they look like? Spin me a picture!

While I dislike pregnancy fluff, pregnancy angst/drama might be possible here. What if that one night with Irrylath had a very unexpected result? Given Aeriel's new position and the history of the water witch, would she be panicked at the prospect? Would she be pleased to have a part of Irrylath with her always, or tormented by the reminder? How would Erin feel? Would Aeriel feel compelled to give the child away because of her responsibilities? Given her own history how would she feel about that? Will it even be possible for her to carry a child to term without more intervention, given her new body and all its changes? What if she ends up needing Erin's input somehow to stabilise the baby, resulting in a child born from all three of them?

[modernpolymath]

Eurovision Semis #1

a.k.a. Aria’s running commentary.

Intro:

Mel, I don’t know how you’ve kept getting these assignments, but please don’t stop. I know GBBO isn’t around anymore, but please don’t leave just because you are now our default entertainment presenter. 

Ukranian rap/hip-hop artist? Eyesore? I’m confused. 

Okay so top of head braid ponytails are a thing now? Is this a trend I’ve missed out on.

Who are these three guys? I don’t think I could pronounce their names if I tried. Having three presenters is weird enough, not having a male-female double act is just wrong. I still think they missed a trick with not bring Verka back. EPIC FAIL UKRAINE.

#eurogenius The term is accepted.

I wonder if they actually speak French, or if he just learned these phrases. 

“And the odd horsehead.”

Their smiles are REALLY WIDE. 

And we’re off!!!

Sweden:

First act to ever start backstage? I mean sure, why not. 

I can’t get over these super 90s suits. The haircuts and the mock turtlenecks. Also his suit is purple? Props for diversity though. 

And I just gotta say: didn’t we move past the treadmill performances when OK GO did it like 8 years ago?

WHAT IS WITH THE OKAY SIGN????

I think Sweden is trying to go retro and reclaim their former glory.

Georgia:

I LOVE THIS ALREADY. Her hair. Her cape. Her dress. Red and fog and minor keys. YES. 

That eye make is on point. Wink on point. 

CAPE IS OFF. THE CAPE IS OFF. 

I think she can actually sing...? Or not. She does well until the refrain, so I don’t know. 

FIRE FIREFIREFIREFIRE We have our first fire!

I really want to like this song. And I think I do.

OH SHIT, it looks like she stole the UK’s ball graphic. 

EPIC END. 

“Several key changes and a cloak.” Mel knows whats up.

Australia:

“Which I don’t feel bitter about in any way.” Say it Scott. We all hate them.

OH MY GOD he’s in the graphics in the background. OZ!! I think you figured out how Eurovision works. Sorta. Hot guy who can sorta sing, over-do it on the effects

I am distracted by his lack of socks.

This song needs something more.

MORE FIRE

When I meant more, I didn’t mean riff Issiah, you’re not a strong enough singer for that. So In that, good job Aussies, you put forward an appropriate contender this year. You have learned your place.

“Another sockless man on stage.” MEL KNOWS WHAT’S UP.

Albania:

What’s with all the ballads this year? 

Her eyes are so big.

Albania’s feeling like the white, purer version of Georgia. 

Wind machine. We have wind. 

I’m not sure she can walk in this dress.

Whoa? Did we move from sort of clock to a futuristic floating world? Don’t get it, but sure. 

At least this song picked up more than Oz did. But it still needed to drop the beat or something. It just stayed so constant. Meh.

Belgium:

It’s so Mumford and Sons. But wow, the audience is so into it. 

I am not entirely sure she’s singing more than 2 notes. 

This song is good but your staging sucks. 

UGH all of these ballads need to pick it up mid-song. They’re so monotonous. This one in particular. 

She should have sung in her head voice the WHOLE TIME. 

She seems like a super sweet girl who is maybe a bit overwhelmed. 

Montenegro:

YES YES YES SLAVKO

WAIT IT’S DETATCHABLE?!??!?! I am slightly less impressed now.

Nevermind. OMFG I love this entire thing so much already. 

This whole thing is so Eurovision. 

PANTS PANTS PANTS

Rock it to the stars. Yes let’s do that. These pants need to shining down on us at all times. 

This overhead shot of him laying down on his face is amazing. 

It’s cheating if you twirl your braid with your hand! THERE WE GO. 

I get the feeling this is probably a better to watch on TV than in the audience. 

“Absolute quality.” MEL KNOWS WHAT IS UP.

Finland:

This postcard posing is so Finland.

Fog so much fog this year. 

First singer who is actually singing and singing to the way their song is written. 

I still don’t get this song though... I mean I kinda get it, but the lyrics with the composition doesn’t make sense to me. Also is this a Eurovision song? Maybe? 

IS THAT A BURNING PIANO?!??!?! No, just a bit of fog, but I’ll count it. 

We’re red and angry now. 

I do honestly like this song, and she may be one of the best signers in the competition.

Azerbaijan:

OH MY GOD I LOVE THIS POSING AND LOOK SO AMAZING YES YES YES

Azerbaijan, super props for making up for your rather sucky act last year.

This act is amazing. It is so out there, but it’s also so amazingly perfectly Eurovision? In a way that Germany’s last year was not but tried to be this. 

They are committed. Is she seducing a man with a horse head? Are these people actually members of the band, or just prop men? I don’t know but it’s working. 

Consistency and thematic integration A++ for Azerbaijan.

“Only at Eurovision.” “We have told Finland their piano is on fire.” CALLED IT.

Portugal:

“That means if you think she’s rubbish tonight you cant even tell him.”

Oh, we have a mini-stage!

What.... what is this? 

Don’t get me wrong, I love jazz and lyrical contemporary music. I go to jazz clubs for fun. But I.... what is this? What happened to Eurovision this year? 

Okay, but he’s adorable. And I 100% love the audience for getting into it with him. 

Is this ballad year though?

“Pure art alert.” True story. I feel like this is Australia 2016 all over again: Portugal came back to win and forgot that this is not an event you send your best artist to. 

Whatever, I’ll take it. 

Greece:

Ooofffff, harsh entrance girl. 

This is traditional Eurovision right here. 

I don’t even have anything to say about this act other than it’s a back to basics. Half-naked men, electric upbeats, high notes, dancibility, light shows, some odd staging gimmick. 

Yup.

Poland:

VIOLIN

Here’s our quintessential be yourself, be stronger, ballad. 

WIND MACHINE

This is very Rise like a Phoenix.

Could she be bound any tighter to get some cleavage out of her though?

Have I won ESC Bingo yet?

UBER WIND 

Moldova:

EPIC SAX GUY

Violin and sax and tuxedos.

This song will so get stuck in my head for the next 3 days....

EPIC SAX GUY

This leg move can’t be good for your hips though. 

Because I can’t get it the beat out of my head, it’s probably going onto the finals. 

Iceland:

Damn girl. You’re postcard is A+++++++++++. Be my friend. “In her spare time, she likes to bathe in unicorn tears.” YESSSSSSSSS

This is like Jessie J meets Madonna meets Gwen Stefani. And I’m kinda of digging it?

Capes are in this year. 

Her shoes are AMAZING

Iceland is my lady crush of ESC 2017. It’s official. 

I so wish this staging was more epic though. 

WAIT WAIT WAIT HERE IT COMES

Laser show, lighting breakdown. Where’s the wind????

Awesome. Yes, more please. 

Czech Republic:

Wait, isn’t their country now Czechia or something??

I appreciate this outfit?

CZE is probably winning best use of lighted floor award tonight. 

I think this song would have been much better received earlier in the night. 

She can sing though. Which is always nice. 

Cyprus:

“Lots of sockless behaviour this evening.” MEL KNOWS WHAT IS UP.

This song has promise, despite your ankles showing. But maybe that’s a positive to show off your footwork?

LOOK IT’S RUSSIA’S BLOCKS FROM LAST YEAR!

Camera work is good on this one. 

Okay the silhouette thing is cool. 

Sorry CZE, Cyrpus just stole your staging award. This whole performance is really well thought out and maybe a bit too good for ESC? I’ll allow it. 

Armenia:

Okay, I was going to count Armenia out 20 seconds in, but then the beat picked up and the camera jumped. Good. 

This has got to be so much better on TV than in person. 

I kinda dig this song. My pole dancing self would totally rock to this.

FIRE

Dancing is good. 

Slovenia:

He’s cheeky. 

I do like this song, I’ve heard it before. It just get weirds at point. Like maybe there should be the opera guy in here somewhere?

You know, it’s basically like a Josh Groban song.

Latvia:

Group act, bring it!

WHAT IS THIS 

Neon. Crazy eyes. Insane hair. I don’t get this outfit. I don’t get this song. I don’t get this staging. Am I missing something?

Oh, well here it is. Maybe this is it. 

Nope still don’t get it.

My TV stream is confused by what to do and how to render all these lights and colours. Pixelation central.

I just don’t get it. Is this Georgia all over again for me?

Voting:

These guys are too stiff. Please just stop trying to be funny. 

OH MY GOD - bringing it back to the OMFG new scoring rules and how fucking stressful that was. I am so ready for it again this year. 

I am still not over the political FU that has happened over this song and over Eurovision. I mean, on the one hand it’s just a song competition, but on the other, shit man, this is why Eurovision has a ban on political songs. That said the Drama has been delectable.

VERKAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA  YES. Okay, but still. Ukraine fail that this wasn’t your host. I will never forgive you. Yes yes, Jamal’s great, but we really want Verka and laughs. Ukraine you’re not keeping it fun enough. 

“Wazitgutenuf.” I swear, I am normally good with accents, but wow, Aleks is taking this to a whole new level of speed and incomprehensibility. 

Moldova - duh, of course. 

Azerbaijan - I am so glad, I am so down with this whole thing. 

Greece - eh, sure, it’s traditional, but I thought others were better. 

Sweden - I dunno, this feels like a thank you more than deserved.

Portugal - I am secretly really happy?? He’s adorable.

Poland - nope, sorry, no. You were fine. Iceland was WAY better.

Armenia - okay, sure, but I don’t think you’ll hold up. 

Australia - fiiiinnnnnneeeeee.

Cyprus - totes, 100% well deserved. 

Belgium - ugggghhhhhhhhhhhh, I want to like this song, but it was as shitty performance. 

Montenegro was robbed in that you know this is what Eurovision is about and really he should have gone through on that alone. Ultimately, it wasn’t a strong performance though....

I’m pissed about Iceland. She should have been there. 

At least some of the crazy and stupid slow songs didn’t make it. 

BRING ON ROUND 2!!!